YET ANOTHER HEROES ANONYMOUS KINK MEME
In celebration of my return to bad-tv-boyfriend Heroes, I present to you all:
Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:
1) ALL characters MUST be 16 or older and sentient (ie, no beastiality unless someone's a werewolf) to play.
2) NO "seconding" prompts! It's annoying to the prompter and the readers, and I will delete any " ( Read more... )
Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:
1) ALL characters MUST be 16 or older and sentient (ie, no beastiality unless someone's a werewolf) to play.
2) NO "seconding" prompts! It's annoying to the prompter and the readers, and I will delete any " ( Read more... )
He chuckles out loud. If you want a little privacy, I can-
-No, Matt thinks back at him. You don’t have to go.
His laughter catches in his throat. Peter doesn’t know what to say to this. He should be rolling over, or getting up despite Matt’s protests, or doing anything but what he’s actually doing, which is continue to look at Parkman’s face, and watch him as he closes his eyes.
Then, Peter closes his eyes too. The covers around him seem to make way too much noise as he slides his hand down to his pants, but he’s past the point of caring. Might as well not let Matt have all the fun, plus, Peter's pretty sure that once he comes, he'll be able to fall asleep more easily afterward.
He thinks about motion, at first. Quick shot of movement, and sounds begin to match up with the images. Low groans. Bare skin on skin, and after a few moments of delving into his private fantasy, Peter begins to feel himself grow hard.
Hard, harder. He imagines lips touching his over and over again, hands reaching out to grasp him…
Big hands. Soft, too. It isn’t until Peter has his own fingers down the waistband of his boxers that he realizes: he’s thinking about Matt’s hands. And then, a split-second later, he feels the intense rush of Parkman's ability - his ability too, now - the push and the pull of breaking into someone’s mind, and having someone else break through into his.
It’s more than fantasy, and so much more than reality. It’s in his dick, in his head, it’s everywhere. Peter draws in a deep, low, shuddering breath as he lets Matt’s images collide into his own. They’re both in the same bed when they’re really not, shoving aside clothes and sheets to expose matching pale skin, flesh that’s slick with sweat and sudden desire.
In his mind, Peter ends up on top of Matt, and he bends down, pressing his lips against the other man’s in a fierce and harried motion.
Matt bucks up from underneath. Peter can feel him, stiff against Peter’s right thigh. It all feels real, so real, and without even bothering to wonder how this all started, Peter realizes that he needs this moment so incredibly badly that he might burst at any time. He focuses on the image of Matt’s face, the touch of their chests and legs and cocks rubbing against each other…
He’s drawing closer to the edge, and Peter doesn’t even need to physically touch himself anymore to get that intense, pulsating desire.
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A thin coating of lube appears on his hand, covering most of it like a transparent glove, and he chokes out a grunt of laughter at the convenience of it all. He brings his fingers down, first stroking Matt a bit as he relishes in the other’s stifled moans.
Can I? he asks, the words coming as haltingly as they would if he were actually speaking.
Yes, Matt pleads, from underneath him and in the other bed. Do it. Please. Oh, God…
Peter spreads Matt’s legs further with his own, and he teases Matt’s hole with his index finger. He pushes it inside, then. Slowly, up to his first knuckle, and he draws it out with just as much care.
Please… Matt insists. Peter presses in again, adding another finger with the first, and then, when he thinks Matt is ready, he moves to align the head of his cock just so.
Grunting silently, he eases himself inside. Matt reaches out, gripping onto Peter as the skin of his stomach rests against the underside of Parkman’s dick. The weight of the mental push and pull continues to add to the intensity of the action, but Peter holds his orgasm at bay, biting it back as much as he can in his mental and physical mouth.
He slides halfway out, hissing between his teeth, and Matt jerks underneath him. Then he thrusts back in again, then almost out, building up a rhythm with Matt’s pelvis. Every time he reenters, his minds presses into Matt’s, and when he draws away, he can feel Matt’s mental force pushing into his own headspace.
This, Peter decides as he slides into Matt again, is his new favorite power.
After rocking back and forth for what seems like eternity and too short a time, he quickens, driving into Matt so forcefully that he can hear the dull thump thump thump of Matt’s head knocking into the wall behind him and the squeak of the creaky bedsprings.
Come on, he thinks, roughly fucking Matt now. Come on, come on…
I’m close, Matt tells him, and Peter knows that they have to time it just right. He briefly falters, nearly slipping out of the mental lock they have on each other, but plunges back into Matt again as he steadies his grip on the situation they’ve both built up within each other. He clamps on, with his mind and his hands on Parkman’s waist, and…. and…
Peter’s eyes snap open as he jolts up in bed. The rush flows through him, so powerful that he cries out without warning. It’s as though a rolling wave has broken in his consciousness; the heat and passion and intensity of Matt’s mind melding with his. His hand is well away from his own, real cock, yet he comes in his pants as quickly, as effortlessly as he used to when he was a kid. Only, this is more than that. This is more than all of the orgasms he’s had in his entire life, combined. It lasts much longer too, and all Peter can see is white, before he falls back against his pillow and realizes just exactly how damp he is all over. The ebb of the release tears away his last vestiges of mental energy, and his brain feels like it has run and flown as many miles as his body has for the past few days.
Still panting, his eyelids flutter exhaustedly as he glances over at Matt again. He’s gasping for air as well, also sinking back into reality.
They both look at each other, exchanging weak smiles as they both lie in their barely-tousled sheets.
Again, Peter doesn’t quite know what to say - he’s not even sure he can talk out loud, at this point - but Matt says everything for him, in a hoarse murmur:
“Thank you. For saving me. For… for everything…”
At this point, Peter realizes that he doesn’t need to speak. He knows Parkman understands how he feels, and right now, he’s ready to let himself go completely, and sink into the depths of unconsciousness. Finally, he’s ready to fall asleep.
So, still lying on the single bed with his head turned toward Matt, Peter closes his eyes and does so.
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I bow to your talent, unknown, lovely author. You spoiled me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
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