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Entry tags:
Heroes Fic: Simple, Uncomplicated
Title: Simple, Uncomplicated
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I make no profit.
Notes: I have this urge to write porn for Matt/Mohinder. I just do. I'm going with the flow for now. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
storydivagirl for betaing.
Summary: It's familiar and it's easy -- the way sex with buddies is always simple, uncomplicated.
When it happens, it doesn't take Matt by surprise. It's not that he was expecting this -- far from it, really -- but he reads the signals well enough. It's late at night, dark, and they're both in Mohinder's double bed.
("You're welcome to stay with Molly and me, while you get everything sorted. As long as you don't mind sharing a bed," Mohinder had said during Matt's last week at the hospital; Matt had shrugged, smiled, and said, "You're talking to a guy who's been married so long that sleeping alone in a bed feels weird." The sharing-a-bed thing has stayed, despite Mohinder's early offer to buy two singles and if Mohinder hogs the covers, Matt snores, so it comes out even.)
This is the first time it happens. Mohinder rolls onto his side, leaning against Matt and Matt can feel his hard-on pressing into his hip. He can feel it and so can Mohinder, but Mohinder doesn't pull back, doesn't make an excuse, doesn't act embarrassed. He just mutters, "I can't sleep."
(Back in Matt's first year as a cop, he hung out more with the guys, went over to their places to watch football games. Dave used the same tone when he said, "Those cheerleaders sure are something, huh?" and stretched his arms above his head, pulling his clothes tight and making his erection obvious.)
It's familiar and it's easy -- the way sex with buddies is always simple, uncomplicated -- so Matt smiles into his pillow and says, "I might be able to help with that."
"Really?" Mohinder's voice is low, breathy, full of promise in the darkness.
Matt reaches over, a little clumsy in the dark and slides his hand down until he's palming Mohinder's cock. The hiss he gets in return is rewarding.
"Can you be quiet?" he asks, pushing the sweats down to Mohinder's hip, just enough to free his cock.
"Yes," Mohinder replies, sounding confused.
"Don't want to wake up Molly," Matt explains, pulling himself up and shuffling down the bed, under the covers. He finds Mohinder's cock by touch, sucks on the head lightly while he rearranges his weight on his knees, his feet hooked over the end of the bed. Then he really starts sucking, bobbing his head a little, using a hand to stroke the root of Mohinder's cock, to ghost fingers over the tender skin of his balls.
It's been a while since he's done this. Since before he met Janice, really. He's used to doing it drunk, while he knelt in front of some couch, but it comes back easily enough. It's all about the heat in his mouth, the weight on his tongue, the stretch of his lips. It's the taste and smell of sex and sweat and bodies; the strength of hips and thighs, muscles clenching, a hand tight in his hair as someone fucks his mouth.
But Mohinder doesn't do that last bit. He keeps his hips still, apart from the occasional upwards twitch, and his hands are gentle, soft, whispering over Matt's head, fingers sliding lightly over Matt's scalp.
Mohinder stays quiet. His breathing is slow and measured, catching a little more as his hips twitch, as Matt keeps sucking, the taste getting stronger on his tongue. When Mohinder comes, he holds his breath, shoulders lifting off the bed but perfectly quiet as the flavour floods Matt's mouth.
Matt swallows -- less mess to clean up that way -- and drops his face to Mohinder's hip, grabbing at his own dick and stroking fast. He's hard and turned on -- always turned on by sucking cock, always -- and one of Mohinder's hands is still resting against his head, fingernails scraping across the nape of his neck as he jerks off quickly, rushing for the finish.
He comes on the sheet. It's low enough on the bed that the wet spot shouldn't be a problem.
After a few breaths, he pushes himself up and crawls back to his side of the bed. He stretches out on his stomach, dragging the pillow under his head, and says, "Night."
He's asleep before he hears if there's a reply.
***
The second time starts with a hand on his hip. It's been nearly a week since the first time and Matt hasn't worried about it. He knows how these things go: two guys let off a bit of steam and then ignore it the next day. Normally, it’s ignored forever; no one talks about it, nobody admits it, and it doesn't happen again.
(The only exception was Dave, the way he'd said two days later, "There's another game on Saturday. If you want to come over and watch it, you've got to bring the brewskis.")
It's not a big deal, and Matt doesn't expect it to happen again, but it does. One night, in the perfect darkness of their shared bedroom, Mohinder rolls over, lays a hand on Matt's hip and asks, "Having trouble sleeping?"
Matt says, "Something like that," and this time it's easy to rearrange his legs and arms on the bed, to find Mohinder's flushed cock in the dark, to coordinate hands and mouth, and listen for the things that make Mohinder's breath catch.
This time, he stretches his legs out flat, rocks his hips against the mattress as he sucks. He pays more attention to the twitches of Mohinder's hips and manages to get a hand on his own dick, jerking off as Mohinder comes in his mouth.
It still takes him a few breaths to recover, though. A moment of panting against Mohinder's skin before crawling over to his side of the bed and falling asleep.
***
The third time, Mohinder doesn't say anything. He just slides a hand over the curve of Matt's hip, and Matt gets to his knees, slides down the bed, closes his eyes and sucks cock.
***
After the third time, it falls into a routine. It's not as regular as doing the dishes or as planned as providing the meals, but it's familiar. It doesn't happen every night because some nights Mohinder stays up reading, some he's overseas lecturing and sometimes they both fall asleep early. But every so often, Mohinder will slide into bed, reach over, and lay a hand on Matt's hip.
One night, Matt gets a little bold, a little daring, and drops a kiss to Mohinder's tight stomach on his way down. Then he sucks Mohinder's cock as hard as he can, as deep as he can. For once, he comes first -- hand around his dick -- and has to pull off for a moment to get his breath back. He mumbles out, "Sorry," and then finishes the job.
***
It's been weeks, and Matt's possibly developed a Pavlovian reaction to Mohinder's hand finding his hip. These days, that's all it takes to get him hard: lying in the dark and feeling a hand on his hip. He's used to that hand and what it means, and even half-asleep he finds himself moving down the bed, nuzzling the root of Mohinder's cock as he finishes waking up.
He feels that hand and he starts moving down the bed, so it takes him by surprise when Mohinder grabs hold of his arm, fingers on his bicep, and pulls him back up. Matt stops for a minute, listening, scanning for Molly's mind, trying to see if she's awake. It's quiet and she's dreaming about turtles -- her latest love at the pet store -- so he lets his mind go blank and turns toward Mohinder.
"What?" he whispers, keeping his voice low. In this dark, he can't really see Mohinder. He can make out the bridge of his nose, the dark curls against the pillows, the outline of his face, but it's not enough to read his expression.
"Not so fast," Mohinder says, matching Matt's volume. "You're always…" a pause, then a huffed sigh, "…rushing, like a train without brakes. Just, for tonight, not so fast."
"Sure," Matt says, not giving in to his petty urge to point out that even if his blow jobs are rushed, it hasn't stopped Mohinder from coming every time. It's a bit of an insult, but fine. This is what it is. It's two guys getting off, nothing more complicated than that; it's not something that requires worrying about the other guy's tissue-thin ego when he's not doing it right.
So Matt slows down, licks softly along Mohinder's length, teases his tongue across the slit, holds onto Mohinder's cock and takes forever sliding his mouth up and down it. It works. Mohinder draws up his legs, thighs bracketing Matt's shoulders, straining his hips upwards as he starts dragging in ragged gasps. He whispers Matt's name once, hands not on Matt's head but on his shoulders, clawing into the muscle, and then Matt picks the rhythm up, sucks harder and swallows as Mohinder comes.
When Matt jerks himself off, he does it hard and fast because he knows what he likes. He doesn't see the point in stretching it out. Sex between friends is about convenience and orgasms, it's not about hearts and candy.
Except Mohinder doesn't seem to agree because when Matt drags himself up to his side of the bed, Mohinder leans up on one elbow and says, "That wasn't precisely what I meant, but thank you," and leans forward to kiss him.
Matt reacts quickly, turning his head to the side, so the kiss only brushes his cheek. "Night," he says, pulling back and twisting to lie on his side, facing away from Mohinder.
From the lack of movement behind him, the way the mattress doesn't wobble under him, Matt knows that Mohinder stays propped up on an elbow. Matt nearly holds his breath, waiting for Mohinder to speak but Mohinder only rolls back to his side of the bed.
***
The next few days pass and Mohinder doesn't reach for him. Matt reminds himself that it doesn't matter.
It's almost convincing.
***
After a week, Matt's pretty sure it's over. It's the longest they've slept in the same bed without messing around -- well, since this started -- and Matt decides he's fine with it. It's buddy-sex, it's supposed to be simple and uncomplicated, strings-free and no obligation to continue. He doesn't sulk or mope around the place, doesn't whine or get grumpy. He keeps the atmosphere of the tiny apartment as friendly as it's always been and joins in when Molly teases Mohinder about his lack of knowledge about Disney classics.
He gets undressed at night same as always, changes into a t-shirt and shorts, turns off the light, and gets into his side of the bed. Sometimes he goes to sleep before Mohinder comes to bed, sometimes after.
Sometimes Matt lies awake and listens to Mohinder's slow, regular breathing as he falls asleep.
***
Matt finishes putting Molly to bed and heads to his shared room, and is surprised to find Mohinder in there already. He's sitting on the end of the bed, wearing sweats and a long-sleeved top against the constant cold that only he feels.
The light's still on so Matt goes ahead and starts undressing, changing into sleeping clothes. "Early night?" he asks Mohinder, pulling the t-shirt over his head and keeping on the boxers he's worn all day.
Mohinder walks over -- as he's dressing, so Matt doesn't see until he pulls the t-shirt down -- and then slides a hand to the soft curve of Matt's waist. "I'm not sure what's going on here."
Matt shrugs, but he doesn't step away. He doesn't step closer, either. "That makes two of us."
"You don't make life easy, Matthew Parkman," Mohinder says, and in the clear light, Matt can see the earnest expression on Mohinder's face, the downward slant of his lips that make him look hurt and confused. He drifts forward slowly, and Matt realises -- a second later and it would have been too late -- that Mohinder's going to kiss him. He jerks his head back just in time.
"What is going on here?" Mohinder demands, stepping away, pacing over to the other side of the small room. He sounds annoyed, but Matt's still glad to have the space between them.
"What was going on," Matt says, "was two friends having casual sex. A couple of guys getting off."
Mohinder narrows his eyes, watching Matt like he's a specimen on a slide. "Then what changed?"
"Nothing’s changed. You stopped reaching for me, and I figured..." Matt shrugs, letting the thought hang in the air.
"You pulled back when I tried to kiss you."
"What's kissing got to do with sex?" Matt asks, and the question sounds stupid, even to him. "And before you make some sarcastic reply, I like kissing as much as the next guy. But the whole buddy-sex thing is about getting off -- getting your dick sucked, whatever. It's not about... It's not about anything else, okay?"
"I don't understand," Mohinder says, sharp accent stressing the word and Matt nearly speaks, thinking that his sentence is finished, "your reluctance to try other things that would feel good."
"It makes it harder, okay?"
"Harder to do what?"
"Harder to remember that--” Matt shrugs. He wishes he had turned the light off before this started. It would have been an easier conversation in the dark, where he's only distracted by Mohinder's deep accent, not the curve of Mohinder's lips and the endless darkness of his eyes. "Buddy-sex is supposed to be simple, uncomplicated. No obligations, no promises. It's just sex. It doesn't mean anything."
(He may be slow on the uptake sometimes, but Matt's not stupid. He learned his lesson with Dave. He'd taken things for granted and thought frequency meant something. And then he'd gotten stuck making conversation with Dave's idiot girlfriend.)
"And if you kissed me, you would find it harder to remember that sleeping with me is inconsequential?"
"I'd find it hard to maintain the distinction, yeah." Feeling exposed, Matt crosses his arms. "It is what it is, okay? String-free cocksucking or nothing but friendship. Those are your two options."
"There should be a third option," Mohinder says, walking towards Matt. He reaches a hand out, cups it around the side of Matt's neck, and Matt flinches. Mohinder keeps his hand there, cool against Matt's skin. "There should be an option with obligations, with promises."
Rolling his eyes, Matt points out the obvious. "That's called dating. There are at least three teachers at Molly's school who'd be happy to go out with you if you'd just ask. I could look after Molly for the night. It wouldn't be a big deal."
"I'm not interested in the staff at Molly's school. I'm interested in you."
"That's not a good idea."
Mohinder smiles. It's a kind smile, a beautiful smile, and it makes Matt ache for things he can’t have. "I think it would be a very good idea."
"We're raising a kid together and--"
"And what, Matthew?"
"And I'm not good at relationships. Ask my ex-wife." That last word hurts more than he expected, like it scraped his throat as he said it.
"I'm a very intelligent man." Only Mohinder could say that and not sound arrogant. "You should have some faith in that."
Matt forces out a rusty chuckle. "Sure, your intelligence is going to stop me screwing this up."
"No," Mohinder says, stepping forward until Matt's back is pressed against the wall. He settles his arms on each side of Matt's head and leans in close. "But it does allow me to see that in the past, you have clearly made bad choices when it comes to sex and have chosen people who either did not recognise who you are or did not act accordingly."
Matt presses his palms flat against the wall, pushing against the cool plaster, as Mohinder leans even closer, breathing his words against Matt's lips. Nose resting against nose, and Mohinder's lips so close to his that Matt can feel the heat from his skin, and Mohinder is pressed up against him, chest and hips and thighs... Matt closes his eyes without noticing.
"You should have faith in me. That I'm smart enough to understand why Molly considers you her hero--"
"Because she's a ten year kid and I lucked out on being the first one to find her," Matt interrupts.
"That I'm smart enough to see when you sell yourself short and how often you do it," Mohinder continues with firm certainty. "And that I'm smart enough to treat you the way you deserve."
"I'm pretty sure my ex-wife's already got that--"
This time Mohinder interrupts, closing the miniscule gap between their lips. Matt tenses, instincts telling him to pull back but there's nowhere to go. It takes him a moment to recognise how gently Mohinder's kissing him, one hand on Matt's cheek, lips warm and barely parted against Matt's. It also occurs to him that they're standing in a fully-lit room and this is the first time he's ever kissed Mohinder. It takes him by surprise.
It’s even more surprising that he finds himself kissing back, opening his mouth and running the tip of his tongue lightly over Mohinder's lips. It's slow and questioning until Mohinder takes control of the kiss, licking his way past teeth and tracing over the ridges along the roof of Matt's mouth. Matt moans, the sound echoing loud in his own ears.
Embarrassed, he pulls back, "Sorry, Molly--" but Mohinder cuts him off with a quick peck and says, "Promises are not always a bad thing, Matt."
Matt gives a little nod. His face feels flushed, like he's blushing, and he really hopes he isn't. In this light, Mohinder would see for sure. "It's just been a while since I've believed in them."
"Then have faith in me." Mohinder kisses him again and for the first time in a long while, Matt thinks that maybe -- just maybe -- he can trust this to work out.
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I make no profit.
Notes: I have this urge to write porn for Matt/Mohinder. I just do. I'm going with the flow for now. Thanks to
storydivagirl for betaing.Summary: It's familiar and it's easy -- the way sex with buddies is always simple, uncomplicated.
When it happens, it doesn't take Matt by surprise. It's not that he was expecting this -- far from it, really -- but he reads the signals well enough. It's late at night, dark, and they're both in Mohinder's double bed.
("You're welcome to stay with Molly and me, while you get everything sorted. As long as you don't mind sharing a bed," Mohinder had said during Matt's last week at the hospital; Matt had shrugged, smiled, and said, "You're talking to a guy who's been married so long that sleeping alone in a bed feels weird." The sharing-a-bed thing has stayed, despite Mohinder's early offer to buy two singles and if Mohinder hogs the covers, Matt snores, so it comes out even.)
This is the first time it happens. Mohinder rolls onto his side, leaning against Matt and Matt can feel his hard-on pressing into his hip. He can feel it and so can Mohinder, but Mohinder doesn't pull back, doesn't make an excuse, doesn't act embarrassed. He just mutters, "I can't sleep."
(Back in Matt's first year as a cop, he hung out more with the guys, went over to their places to watch football games. Dave used the same tone when he said, "Those cheerleaders sure are something, huh?" and stretched his arms above his head, pulling his clothes tight and making his erection obvious.)
It's familiar and it's easy -- the way sex with buddies is always simple, uncomplicated -- so Matt smiles into his pillow and says, "I might be able to help with that."
"Really?" Mohinder's voice is low, breathy, full of promise in the darkness.
Matt reaches over, a little clumsy in the dark and slides his hand down until he's palming Mohinder's cock. The hiss he gets in return is rewarding.
"Can you be quiet?" he asks, pushing the sweats down to Mohinder's hip, just enough to free his cock.
"Yes," Mohinder replies, sounding confused.
"Don't want to wake up Molly," Matt explains, pulling himself up and shuffling down the bed, under the covers. He finds Mohinder's cock by touch, sucks on the head lightly while he rearranges his weight on his knees, his feet hooked over the end of the bed. Then he really starts sucking, bobbing his head a little, using a hand to stroke the root of Mohinder's cock, to ghost fingers over the tender skin of his balls.
It's been a while since he's done this. Since before he met Janice, really. He's used to doing it drunk, while he knelt in front of some couch, but it comes back easily enough. It's all about the heat in his mouth, the weight on his tongue, the stretch of his lips. It's the taste and smell of sex and sweat and bodies; the strength of hips and thighs, muscles clenching, a hand tight in his hair as someone fucks his mouth.
But Mohinder doesn't do that last bit. He keeps his hips still, apart from the occasional upwards twitch, and his hands are gentle, soft, whispering over Matt's head, fingers sliding lightly over Matt's scalp.
Mohinder stays quiet. His breathing is slow and measured, catching a little more as his hips twitch, as Matt keeps sucking, the taste getting stronger on his tongue. When Mohinder comes, he holds his breath, shoulders lifting off the bed but perfectly quiet as the flavour floods Matt's mouth.
Matt swallows -- less mess to clean up that way -- and drops his face to Mohinder's hip, grabbing at his own dick and stroking fast. He's hard and turned on -- always turned on by sucking cock, always -- and one of Mohinder's hands is still resting against his head, fingernails scraping across the nape of his neck as he jerks off quickly, rushing for the finish.
He comes on the sheet. It's low enough on the bed that the wet spot shouldn't be a problem.
After a few breaths, he pushes himself up and crawls back to his side of the bed. He stretches out on his stomach, dragging the pillow under his head, and says, "Night."
He's asleep before he hears if there's a reply.
***
The second time starts with a hand on his hip. It's been nearly a week since the first time and Matt hasn't worried about it. He knows how these things go: two guys let off a bit of steam and then ignore it the next day. Normally, it’s ignored forever; no one talks about it, nobody admits it, and it doesn't happen again.
(The only exception was Dave, the way he'd said two days later, "There's another game on Saturday. If you want to come over and watch it, you've got to bring the brewskis.")
It's not a big deal, and Matt doesn't expect it to happen again, but it does. One night, in the perfect darkness of their shared bedroom, Mohinder rolls over, lays a hand on Matt's hip and asks, "Having trouble sleeping?"
Matt says, "Something like that," and this time it's easy to rearrange his legs and arms on the bed, to find Mohinder's flushed cock in the dark, to coordinate hands and mouth, and listen for the things that make Mohinder's breath catch.
This time, he stretches his legs out flat, rocks his hips against the mattress as he sucks. He pays more attention to the twitches of Mohinder's hips and manages to get a hand on his own dick, jerking off as Mohinder comes in his mouth.
It still takes him a few breaths to recover, though. A moment of panting against Mohinder's skin before crawling over to his side of the bed and falling asleep.
***
The third time, Mohinder doesn't say anything. He just slides a hand over the curve of Matt's hip, and Matt gets to his knees, slides down the bed, closes his eyes and sucks cock.
***
After the third time, it falls into a routine. It's not as regular as doing the dishes or as planned as providing the meals, but it's familiar. It doesn't happen every night because some nights Mohinder stays up reading, some he's overseas lecturing and sometimes they both fall asleep early. But every so often, Mohinder will slide into bed, reach over, and lay a hand on Matt's hip.
One night, Matt gets a little bold, a little daring, and drops a kiss to Mohinder's tight stomach on his way down. Then he sucks Mohinder's cock as hard as he can, as deep as he can. For once, he comes first -- hand around his dick -- and has to pull off for a moment to get his breath back. He mumbles out, "Sorry," and then finishes the job.
***
It's been weeks, and Matt's possibly developed a Pavlovian reaction to Mohinder's hand finding his hip. These days, that's all it takes to get him hard: lying in the dark and feeling a hand on his hip. He's used to that hand and what it means, and even half-asleep he finds himself moving down the bed, nuzzling the root of Mohinder's cock as he finishes waking up.
He feels that hand and he starts moving down the bed, so it takes him by surprise when Mohinder grabs hold of his arm, fingers on his bicep, and pulls him back up. Matt stops for a minute, listening, scanning for Molly's mind, trying to see if she's awake. It's quiet and she's dreaming about turtles -- her latest love at the pet store -- so he lets his mind go blank and turns toward Mohinder.
"What?" he whispers, keeping his voice low. In this dark, he can't really see Mohinder. He can make out the bridge of his nose, the dark curls against the pillows, the outline of his face, but it's not enough to read his expression.
"Not so fast," Mohinder says, matching Matt's volume. "You're always…" a pause, then a huffed sigh, "…rushing, like a train without brakes. Just, for tonight, not so fast."
"Sure," Matt says, not giving in to his petty urge to point out that even if his blow jobs are rushed, it hasn't stopped Mohinder from coming every time. It's a bit of an insult, but fine. This is what it is. It's two guys getting off, nothing more complicated than that; it's not something that requires worrying about the other guy's tissue-thin ego when he's not doing it right.
So Matt slows down, licks softly along Mohinder's length, teases his tongue across the slit, holds onto Mohinder's cock and takes forever sliding his mouth up and down it. It works. Mohinder draws up his legs, thighs bracketing Matt's shoulders, straining his hips upwards as he starts dragging in ragged gasps. He whispers Matt's name once, hands not on Matt's head but on his shoulders, clawing into the muscle, and then Matt picks the rhythm up, sucks harder and swallows as Mohinder comes.
When Matt jerks himself off, he does it hard and fast because he knows what he likes. He doesn't see the point in stretching it out. Sex between friends is about convenience and orgasms, it's not about hearts and candy.
Except Mohinder doesn't seem to agree because when Matt drags himself up to his side of the bed, Mohinder leans up on one elbow and says, "That wasn't precisely what I meant, but thank you," and leans forward to kiss him.
Matt reacts quickly, turning his head to the side, so the kiss only brushes his cheek. "Night," he says, pulling back and twisting to lie on his side, facing away from Mohinder.
From the lack of movement behind him, the way the mattress doesn't wobble under him, Matt knows that Mohinder stays propped up on an elbow. Matt nearly holds his breath, waiting for Mohinder to speak but Mohinder only rolls back to his side of the bed.
***
The next few days pass and Mohinder doesn't reach for him. Matt reminds himself that it doesn't matter.
It's almost convincing.
***
After a week, Matt's pretty sure it's over. It's the longest they've slept in the same bed without messing around -- well, since this started -- and Matt decides he's fine with it. It's buddy-sex, it's supposed to be simple and uncomplicated, strings-free and no obligation to continue. He doesn't sulk or mope around the place, doesn't whine or get grumpy. He keeps the atmosphere of the tiny apartment as friendly as it's always been and joins in when Molly teases Mohinder about his lack of knowledge about Disney classics.
He gets undressed at night same as always, changes into a t-shirt and shorts, turns off the light, and gets into his side of the bed. Sometimes he goes to sleep before Mohinder comes to bed, sometimes after.
Sometimes Matt lies awake and listens to Mohinder's slow, regular breathing as he falls asleep.
***
Matt finishes putting Molly to bed and heads to his shared room, and is surprised to find Mohinder in there already. He's sitting on the end of the bed, wearing sweats and a long-sleeved top against the constant cold that only he feels.
The light's still on so Matt goes ahead and starts undressing, changing into sleeping clothes. "Early night?" he asks Mohinder, pulling the t-shirt over his head and keeping on the boxers he's worn all day.
Mohinder walks over -- as he's dressing, so Matt doesn't see until he pulls the t-shirt down -- and then slides a hand to the soft curve of Matt's waist. "I'm not sure what's going on here."
Matt shrugs, but he doesn't step away. He doesn't step closer, either. "That makes two of us."
"You don't make life easy, Matthew Parkman," Mohinder says, and in the clear light, Matt can see the earnest expression on Mohinder's face, the downward slant of his lips that make him look hurt and confused. He drifts forward slowly, and Matt realises -- a second later and it would have been too late -- that Mohinder's going to kiss him. He jerks his head back just in time.
"What is going on here?" Mohinder demands, stepping away, pacing over to the other side of the small room. He sounds annoyed, but Matt's still glad to have the space between them.
"What was going on," Matt says, "was two friends having casual sex. A couple of guys getting off."
Mohinder narrows his eyes, watching Matt like he's a specimen on a slide. "Then what changed?"
"Nothing’s changed. You stopped reaching for me, and I figured..." Matt shrugs, letting the thought hang in the air.
"You pulled back when I tried to kiss you."
"What's kissing got to do with sex?" Matt asks, and the question sounds stupid, even to him. "And before you make some sarcastic reply, I like kissing as much as the next guy. But the whole buddy-sex thing is about getting off -- getting your dick sucked, whatever. It's not about... It's not about anything else, okay?"
"I don't understand," Mohinder says, sharp accent stressing the word and Matt nearly speaks, thinking that his sentence is finished, "your reluctance to try other things that would feel good."
"It makes it harder, okay?"
"Harder to do what?"
"Harder to remember that--” Matt shrugs. He wishes he had turned the light off before this started. It would have been an easier conversation in the dark, where he's only distracted by Mohinder's deep accent, not the curve of Mohinder's lips and the endless darkness of his eyes. "Buddy-sex is supposed to be simple, uncomplicated. No obligations, no promises. It's just sex. It doesn't mean anything."
(He may be slow on the uptake sometimes, but Matt's not stupid. He learned his lesson with Dave. He'd taken things for granted and thought frequency meant something. And then he'd gotten stuck making conversation with Dave's idiot girlfriend.)
"And if you kissed me, you would find it harder to remember that sleeping with me is inconsequential?"
"I'd find it hard to maintain the distinction, yeah." Feeling exposed, Matt crosses his arms. "It is what it is, okay? String-free cocksucking or nothing but friendship. Those are your two options."
"There should be a third option," Mohinder says, walking towards Matt. He reaches a hand out, cups it around the side of Matt's neck, and Matt flinches. Mohinder keeps his hand there, cool against Matt's skin. "There should be an option with obligations, with promises."
Rolling his eyes, Matt points out the obvious. "That's called dating. There are at least three teachers at Molly's school who'd be happy to go out with you if you'd just ask. I could look after Molly for the night. It wouldn't be a big deal."
"I'm not interested in the staff at Molly's school. I'm interested in you."
"That's not a good idea."
Mohinder smiles. It's a kind smile, a beautiful smile, and it makes Matt ache for things he can’t have. "I think it would be a very good idea."
"We're raising a kid together and--"
"And what, Matthew?"
"And I'm not good at relationships. Ask my ex-wife." That last word hurts more than he expected, like it scraped his throat as he said it.
"I'm a very intelligent man." Only Mohinder could say that and not sound arrogant. "You should have some faith in that."
Matt forces out a rusty chuckle. "Sure, your intelligence is going to stop me screwing this up."
"No," Mohinder says, stepping forward until Matt's back is pressed against the wall. He settles his arms on each side of Matt's head and leans in close. "But it does allow me to see that in the past, you have clearly made bad choices when it comes to sex and have chosen people who either did not recognise who you are or did not act accordingly."
Matt presses his palms flat against the wall, pushing against the cool plaster, as Mohinder leans even closer, breathing his words against Matt's lips. Nose resting against nose, and Mohinder's lips so close to his that Matt can feel the heat from his skin, and Mohinder is pressed up against him, chest and hips and thighs... Matt closes his eyes without noticing.
"You should have faith in me. That I'm smart enough to understand why Molly considers you her hero--"
"Because she's a ten year kid and I lucked out on being the first one to find her," Matt interrupts.
"That I'm smart enough to see when you sell yourself short and how often you do it," Mohinder continues with firm certainty. "And that I'm smart enough to treat you the way you deserve."
"I'm pretty sure my ex-wife's already got that--"
This time Mohinder interrupts, closing the miniscule gap between their lips. Matt tenses, instincts telling him to pull back but there's nowhere to go. It takes him a moment to recognise how gently Mohinder's kissing him, one hand on Matt's cheek, lips warm and barely parted against Matt's. It also occurs to him that they're standing in a fully-lit room and this is the first time he's ever kissed Mohinder. It takes him by surprise.
It’s even more surprising that he finds himself kissing back, opening his mouth and running the tip of his tongue lightly over Mohinder's lips. It's slow and questioning until Mohinder takes control of the kiss, licking his way past teeth and tracing over the ridges along the roof of Matt's mouth. Matt moans, the sound echoing loud in his own ears.
Embarrassed, he pulls back, "Sorry, Molly--" but Mohinder cuts him off with a quick peck and says, "Promises are not always a bad thing, Matt."
Matt gives a little nod. His face feels flushed, like he's blushing, and he really hopes he isn't. In this light, Mohinder would see for sure. "It's just been a while since I've believed in them."
"Then have faith in me." Mohinder kisses him again and for the first time in a long while, Matt thinks that maybe -- just maybe -- he can trust this to work out.