(no subject)
Title: one for every sin (and none for his father)
Pairing: Mohinder Suresh/Kurt Wagner
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Neither Heroes nor X-Men are mine.
The lighting in Mohinder's apartment had a tendency to play tricks on his eyes, so when he thought he saw a flash of blue skin in the gap between Kurt's glove and the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he wrote it off as impossible. His father had been looking for people with gifts--special abilities--not blue skin.
So when Mohinder finished fixing his guest a cup of chai after pointing him in the direction of the restroom and found that Kurt had finished and was sitting on the couch after removing his sweatshirt and losing his glasses, Mohinder dropped the cup of chai in surprise. As Mohinder mopped up the mess, he sat down on the couch next to Kurt and starred at the other man.
"You're blue," he said. "Literally blue."
Kurt sat uncomfortably on the couch, but he returned Mohinder's gaze with level yellow eyes.
"Do you mind?" asked Mohinder softly, gesturing with a hand.
When Kurt shook his head, Mohinder reached out and touched his blue skin tentatively. He ran his fingers tenderly down the man's temple, across the hard surface of his cheekbone, over the soft flesh of his check. His skin was smooth, but ridged, where the man had had some type of religious scarification preformed in the past.
It was only when Mohinder's fingers reached the edge of Kurt's lips that he realized how intimate he was being. He pulled away quickly, blushing slightly.
"My apologies," he said. "I'll go make some more chai."
Before Mohinder could get up, however, Kurt grabbed his wrist.
"Stay," he whispered.
"Sure," said Mohinder, settling back down onto the couch.
After Mohinder had contacted Kurt and explained that he wanted to get a sample of Kurt's blood and DNA if Kurt was willing, Kurt had consented--but only under his conditions. Since Kurt was the closest Mohinder had come to finding one of the people his father had spent his life searching for, he was determined not to screw things up.
So when Kurt reached out and touched Mohinder's own face, replicating the exact movements of Mohinder's fingers on his skin, Mohinder let him. His skin tingled beneath the touch and he almost felt disappointed when Kurt pulled his fingers away when he got to the edge of his lips.
His disappointment disappeared when Kurt shifted his body on the couch until he was straddling Mohinder. The man's warm thighs on either side of his was a new experience for Mohinder and the warmth caused his groin to ache.
He had been with other men before, but it had never been this intimate, nor had it ever been this slow.
Kurt kissed Mohinder, running the edge of his sharp, elongated teeth along Mohinder's bottom lip. Mohinder coughed and sputtered, taken back when Kurt slipped his tongue into his mouth. When he recovered, though, he surprised Kurt by kissing him back more forcibly than Kurt had kissed him.
Eventually Kurt broke the kiss and used the opportunity to tear off the glove on his right hand with his teeth. When Mohinder first saw Kurt sink his canine-like teeth into his gloved finger, he was afraid that the man would snap his finger in two, but after Kurt pulled his glove off and Mohinder saw that the finger he had bitten into was stuffed to give the illusion of having five fingers on each hand, he relaxed--but only until he saw that Kurt only had three fingers including this thumb.
To Mohinder's increasing surprise, he saw that no fingers had been amputated, but rather, Kurt must have been born with only three. Mohinder wondered if it was a side-affect of his gift. He also found himself wondering what else was different about Kurt's physiology.
(A tiny part of Mohinder even wondered if having three-fingers made Kurt better at handjobs.)
All of these thoughts were driven out of Mohinder's mind when Kurt bit down on his ear a second later, just hard enough to breath to catch in his throat. Then Kurt undid the buckle on Mohinder's belt with surprising ease and pulled the elastic of his bright orange boxers back and slipped his hand inside.
(Suddenly Mohinder knew the answer to this previous not-thought; it was yes.)
Mohinder did not curse often, but as Kurt's fingers circled around his cock, Mohinder exhaled a string of Hindi against Kurt's ear. He saw Kurt's lips twitch and a smile slide onto his face out of the corner of his eye.
As Kurt stroked his cock experimentally, Mohinder's breathing became more and more shallow. Only having three fingers on each hand caused more pressure to be directed through each of the fingers in turn, and consequently, the fingertips squeezing Mohinder's cock caused his balls to swell and grow tight.
When Mohinder felt himself hard so quickly, he shoved Kurt's sweatshirt up and ran one palm over the surface of his chest and stomach. He was amazed to find that the scars that covered Kurt's face didn't stop there. They ran down his neck, across his chest and stomach and disappeared beneath the waistline of Kurt's pants.
Leaning forward, Mohinder kissed one of the scars between Kurt's nipples. He ran his tongue over the raised surface of Kurt's skin, tracing the lines of the scar with the tip of his tongue delicately. He blew over the wet trail and gave a small smile when he felt Kurt shiver at the sensation.
Encouraged, Mohinder unzipped Kurt's pants and cradled the man's half-hard cock in his own palm carefully. In response, Kurt pulled away from Mohinder and kicked off his pants hurriedly, pushing them onto the floor. He was fully naked now.
Mohinder started to do the same and remove his own clothes, but Kurt twitched his tail and a second later, Mohinder was pleasantly startled to find it encircling his wrists. Kurt's tail was stronger than Mohinder expected it to be, but it was warm against his skin and didn't burn like rope might have.
Kurt removed Mohinder's pants and boxers with some difficult and pushed his shirt over his head, so his chest was naked, but his shoulders, which were still threaded through the arms of the shirt, remained ensnared. The t-shirt stretching across his back half-pinned his shoulders, making it increasingly difficult for Mohinder to move his upper torso.
When he tried to sit up, Kurt pressed him backwards and shifted on his haunches so that he was crouched over Mohinder's cock.
"Wouldn't you prefer something to lubricate the -- ?" Mohinder started to ask when he saw what Kurt was about to do.
He was cut shorter when Kurt guided Mohinder's cock to his entrance and lowered himself gently.
Mohinder felt his hips twitch as a slow, stroking sensation shot through his groin. He forgot all about the olive oil that he had wanted to give Kurt a second ago. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch.
Kurt released Mohinder's wrists from the grip of his tail. Just as Kurt lifted himself to slide down Mohinder's cock again, Mohinder felt him press his legs forward.
(If Mohinder had been able to concentrate on anything other than the way that his cock fit in Kurt so wonderfully, he would have realized that he had never been in this position before.)
Kurt was straddling either side of his abdomen, stroking Mohinder's cock with his entire body. Just then Mohinder felt something touch the tender skin of the entrance to his anus. Mohinder barely had time to process the fact that Kurt was teasing him with his tail before Kurt lowered himself on Mohinder's cock again slowly, antagonizingly.
(If Mohinder had realized he had never been in this position before, he would have realized he liked it. A lot.)
Suddenly Mohinder breathed in sharply and shuddered and thrust his hips forward slightly and then it was over and he collapsed limply beneath Kurt. Kurt, who had been working his own cock methodically with his hand for the last few minutes, came a few seconds (and a few strokes) later.
They stayed like that, weary and exhausted and sticky, for a few moments before Kurt spoke.
"Do you want to see my gift?"
"Very much so," said Mohinder.
(Mohinder had not given much thought to what he expected Kurt's gift to be--or what it involved, but if he had, he would never have expected Kurt to hug him.)
Kurt wrapped his arms around Mohinder and pulled him up into a sitting position on the couch. There was a loud crack and a second later, Kurt was holding Mohinder in the exact same position, but instead of sitting on Mohinder's couch, they were on the floor of his shower.
Mohinder coughed. The smell of brimstone filled his nose and lungs and his stomach was suddenly reeling. Kurt held him until he recovered.
(Had Mohinder expected Kurt to hug him, he would not have expected to enjoy it so much. Or miss it so much when he finally let go.)
"That's your gift?" asked Mohinder finally. "Teleportation?"
"One of them," said Kurt cryptically.
"What about your scars? Are they part of your gift?"
"No," said Kurt. "They're angelic symbols."
"Why so many?"
"I have one for every sin."
As he spoke, Kurt turned over the wrist of his right arm and dug the fingernails of his left hand into it, starting to carve another symbol into his blue skin. Mohinder felt his stomach twist again, but this time it had nothing to do with brimstone.
"Stop," he said, placing his hand on Mohinder's wrist.
Kurt's eyes flashed up to meet Mohinder's and Mohinder was started to see how calm Kurt looked. Mohinder stood, pulling Kurt to his feet, and turned on the water to the shower. As it scorched his skin, Mohinder eased the temperature down. Then he pulled Kurt close and kissed him again, feeling his water-slick skin slide beneath his fingers.
He felt Kurt wince as the hot water stung his freshly-cut skin. He felt him try to pull away, but Mohinder only tightened his grip on his arm and held it beneath the water.
Pressing Kurt against the wall, Mohinder twisted his arm behind him and ground his hips against the man's ass.
"Why do you do it?" he asked, grinding Kurt along the tiles of the edge of the shower.
It took Kurt a minute to catch his breath, but when he answered Mohinder, his voice was filled with conviction. "Because I believe in God."
(Mohinder didn't recognize the tone in Kurt's voice, but it sounded so familiar.)
Even though it was against Mohinder's nature as a scientist--as someone seeking the truth--to accept such an answer, he thought he might know exactly what Kurt meant.
Kurt might believe in the Father, but Mohinder believed in his father. Or at least he wanted to.
He wanted to believe that his father hadn't wasted his life in vain. Hadn't died in vain.
So Mohinder fucked Kurt again, against the wall in the shower.
And this time, after they finished, he used the hair-cutting scissors in his bathroom to carve the symbol from his father's book onto Kurt's shoulder. He dug the edge of the scissors into his blue skin, making a thin s-shape before he etched the lines across it; one on the upper right, two on the bottom left.
For his father.
When he was done, he let the scissors fall onto the floor of the shower and watched the water from the shower wash them clean.
(It was only as he stared at the crude design on Kurt's shoulder that Mohinder realized Kurt sounded like himself.
It sickened him.)
*
After Kurt left, Mohinder destroyed every reminder of him except for the DNA and blood samples he let Mohinder take before they parted.
(Sometimes, Mohinder thought that everything he did--everything he suffered--was for his father's sake.)
The one reminder that Mohinder could never get rid of, however, was his couch. It never stopped smelling like brimstone.
(Well, not quite everything.)
Pairing: Mohinder Suresh/Kurt Wagner
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Neither Heroes nor X-Men are mine.
The lighting in Mohinder's apartment had a tendency to play tricks on his eyes, so when he thought he saw a flash of blue skin in the gap between Kurt's glove and the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he wrote it off as impossible. His father had been looking for people with gifts--special abilities--not blue skin.
So when Mohinder finished fixing his guest a cup of chai after pointing him in the direction of the restroom and found that Kurt had finished and was sitting on the couch after removing his sweatshirt and losing his glasses, Mohinder dropped the cup of chai in surprise. As Mohinder mopped up the mess, he sat down on the couch next to Kurt and starred at the other man.
"You're blue," he said. "Literally blue."
Kurt sat uncomfortably on the couch, but he returned Mohinder's gaze with level yellow eyes.
"Do you mind?" asked Mohinder softly, gesturing with a hand.
When Kurt shook his head, Mohinder reached out and touched his blue skin tentatively. He ran his fingers tenderly down the man's temple, across the hard surface of his cheekbone, over the soft flesh of his check. His skin was smooth, but ridged, where the man had had some type of religious scarification preformed in the past.
It was only when Mohinder's fingers reached the edge of Kurt's lips that he realized how intimate he was being. He pulled away quickly, blushing slightly.
"My apologies," he said. "I'll go make some more chai."
Before Mohinder could get up, however, Kurt grabbed his wrist.
"Stay," he whispered.
"Sure," said Mohinder, settling back down onto the couch.
After Mohinder had contacted Kurt and explained that he wanted to get a sample of Kurt's blood and DNA if Kurt was willing, Kurt had consented--but only under his conditions. Since Kurt was the closest Mohinder had come to finding one of the people his father had spent his life searching for, he was determined not to screw things up.
So when Kurt reached out and touched Mohinder's own face, replicating the exact movements of Mohinder's fingers on his skin, Mohinder let him. His skin tingled beneath the touch and he almost felt disappointed when Kurt pulled his fingers away when he got to the edge of his lips.
His disappointment disappeared when Kurt shifted his body on the couch until he was straddling Mohinder. The man's warm thighs on either side of his was a new experience for Mohinder and the warmth caused his groin to ache.
He had been with other men before, but it had never been this intimate, nor had it ever been this slow.
Kurt kissed Mohinder, running the edge of his sharp, elongated teeth along Mohinder's bottom lip. Mohinder coughed and sputtered, taken back when Kurt slipped his tongue into his mouth. When he recovered, though, he surprised Kurt by kissing him back more forcibly than Kurt had kissed him.
Eventually Kurt broke the kiss and used the opportunity to tear off the glove on his right hand with his teeth. When Mohinder first saw Kurt sink his canine-like teeth into his gloved finger, he was afraid that the man would snap his finger in two, but after Kurt pulled his glove off and Mohinder saw that the finger he had bitten into was stuffed to give the illusion of having five fingers on each hand, he relaxed--but only until he saw that Kurt only had three fingers including this thumb.
To Mohinder's increasing surprise, he saw that no fingers had been amputated, but rather, Kurt must have been born with only three. Mohinder wondered if it was a side-affect of his gift. He also found himself wondering what else was different about Kurt's physiology.
(A tiny part of Mohinder even wondered if having three-fingers made Kurt better at handjobs.)
All of these thoughts were driven out of Mohinder's mind when Kurt bit down on his ear a second later, just hard enough to breath to catch in his throat. Then Kurt undid the buckle on Mohinder's belt with surprising ease and pulled the elastic of his bright orange boxers back and slipped his hand inside.
(Suddenly Mohinder knew the answer to this previous not-thought; it was yes.)
Mohinder did not curse often, but as Kurt's fingers circled around his cock, Mohinder exhaled a string of Hindi against Kurt's ear. He saw Kurt's lips twitch and a smile slide onto his face out of the corner of his eye.
As Kurt stroked his cock experimentally, Mohinder's breathing became more and more shallow. Only having three fingers on each hand caused more pressure to be directed through each of the fingers in turn, and consequently, the fingertips squeezing Mohinder's cock caused his balls to swell and grow tight.
When Mohinder felt himself hard so quickly, he shoved Kurt's sweatshirt up and ran one palm over the surface of his chest and stomach. He was amazed to find that the scars that covered Kurt's face didn't stop there. They ran down his neck, across his chest and stomach and disappeared beneath the waistline of Kurt's pants.
Leaning forward, Mohinder kissed one of the scars between Kurt's nipples. He ran his tongue over the raised surface of Kurt's skin, tracing the lines of the scar with the tip of his tongue delicately. He blew over the wet trail and gave a small smile when he felt Kurt shiver at the sensation.
Encouraged, Mohinder unzipped Kurt's pants and cradled the man's half-hard cock in his own palm carefully. In response, Kurt pulled away from Mohinder and kicked off his pants hurriedly, pushing them onto the floor. He was fully naked now.
Mohinder started to do the same and remove his own clothes, but Kurt twitched his tail and a second later, Mohinder was pleasantly startled to find it encircling his wrists. Kurt's tail was stronger than Mohinder expected it to be, but it was warm against his skin and didn't burn like rope might have.
Kurt removed Mohinder's pants and boxers with some difficult and pushed his shirt over his head, so his chest was naked, but his shoulders, which were still threaded through the arms of the shirt, remained ensnared. The t-shirt stretching across his back half-pinned his shoulders, making it increasingly difficult for Mohinder to move his upper torso.
When he tried to sit up, Kurt pressed him backwards and shifted on his haunches so that he was crouched over Mohinder's cock.
"Wouldn't you prefer something to lubricate the -- ?" Mohinder started to ask when he saw what Kurt was about to do.
He was cut shorter when Kurt guided Mohinder's cock to his entrance and lowered himself gently.
Mohinder felt his hips twitch as a slow, stroking sensation shot through his groin. He forgot all about the olive oil that he had wanted to give Kurt a second ago. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch.
Kurt released Mohinder's wrists from the grip of his tail. Just as Kurt lifted himself to slide down Mohinder's cock again, Mohinder felt him press his legs forward.
(If Mohinder had been able to concentrate on anything other than the way that his cock fit in Kurt so wonderfully, he would have realized that he had never been in this position before.)
Kurt was straddling either side of his abdomen, stroking Mohinder's cock with his entire body. Just then Mohinder felt something touch the tender skin of the entrance to his anus. Mohinder barely had time to process the fact that Kurt was teasing him with his tail before Kurt lowered himself on Mohinder's cock again slowly, antagonizingly.
(If Mohinder had realized he had never been in this position before, he would have realized he liked it. A lot.)
Suddenly Mohinder breathed in sharply and shuddered and thrust his hips forward slightly and then it was over and he collapsed limply beneath Kurt. Kurt, who had been working his own cock methodically with his hand for the last few minutes, came a few seconds (and a few strokes) later.
They stayed like that, weary and exhausted and sticky, for a few moments before Kurt spoke.
"Do you want to see my gift?"
"Very much so," said Mohinder.
(Mohinder had not given much thought to what he expected Kurt's gift to be--or what it involved, but if he had, he would never have expected Kurt to hug him.)
Kurt wrapped his arms around Mohinder and pulled him up into a sitting position on the couch. There was a loud crack and a second later, Kurt was holding Mohinder in the exact same position, but instead of sitting on Mohinder's couch, they were on the floor of his shower.
Mohinder coughed. The smell of brimstone filled his nose and lungs and his stomach was suddenly reeling. Kurt held him until he recovered.
(Had Mohinder expected Kurt to hug him, he would not have expected to enjoy it so much. Or miss it so much when he finally let go.)
"That's your gift?" asked Mohinder finally. "Teleportation?"
"One of them," said Kurt cryptically.
"What about your scars? Are they part of your gift?"
"No," said Kurt. "They're angelic symbols."
"Why so many?"
"I have one for every sin."
As he spoke, Kurt turned over the wrist of his right arm and dug the fingernails of his left hand into it, starting to carve another symbol into his blue skin. Mohinder felt his stomach twist again, but this time it had nothing to do with brimstone.
"Stop," he said, placing his hand on Mohinder's wrist.
Kurt's eyes flashed up to meet Mohinder's and Mohinder was started to see how calm Kurt looked. Mohinder stood, pulling Kurt to his feet, and turned on the water to the shower. As it scorched his skin, Mohinder eased the temperature down. Then he pulled Kurt close and kissed him again, feeling his water-slick skin slide beneath his fingers.
He felt Kurt wince as the hot water stung his freshly-cut skin. He felt him try to pull away, but Mohinder only tightened his grip on his arm and held it beneath the water.
Pressing Kurt against the wall, Mohinder twisted his arm behind him and ground his hips against the man's ass.
"Why do you do it?" he asked, grinding Kurt along the tiles of the edge of the shower.
It took Kurt a minute to catch his breath, but when he answered Mohinder, his voice was filled with conviction. "Because I believe in God."
(Mohinder didn't recognize the tone in Kurt's voice, but it sounded so familiar.)
Even though it was against Mohinder's nature as a scientist--as someone seeking the truth--to accept such an answer, he thought he might know exactly what Kurt meant.
Kurt might believe in the Father, but Mohinder believed in his father. Or at least he wanted to.
He wanted to believe that his father hadn't wasted his life in vain. Hadn't died in vain.
So Mohinder fucked Kurt again, against the wall in the shower.
And this time, after they finished, he used the hair-cutting scissors in his bathroom to carve the symbol from his father's book onto Kurt's shoulder. He dug the edge of the scissors into his blue skin, making a thin s-shape before he etched the lines across it; one on the upper right, two on the bottom left.
For his father.
When he was done, he let the scissors fall onto the floor of the shower and watched the water from the shower wash them clean.
(It was only as he stared at the crude design on Kurt's shoulder that Mohinder realized Kurt sounded like himself.
It sickened him.)
*
After Kurt left, Mohinder destroyed every reminder of him except for the DNA and blood samples he let Mohinder take before they parted.
(Sometimes, Mohinder thought that everything he did--everything he suffered--was for his father's sake.)
The one reminder that Mohinder could never get rid of, however, was his couch. It never stopped smelling like brimstone.
(Well, not quite everything.)