__In public Challenge -- Decency (Claire/Nathan, Mohinder)
Title: Decency
Rating: R
Spoilers: Allusions to Five Years Gone and Distractions, thats about it.
Pairings: Nathan/Claire...interpret Mohinder's involvement as you wish.
Characters: Nathan, Claire, Mohinder
Genre: Romance, humor
Warnings: PWP, underageness, the big bad cesty squick
Summary: Nathan has an unexpected cabinet meeting, as if that wasn't bad enough, Claire is bored, and is determined to entertain herself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. I'm not making any statements about 'not condoning such relationships' because I find it stupid that anyone would think me writing a challenge fanfic would imply I did.
AN: I'm not even trying for accuracy in presidental/cabinet meetin mechanics. Assume Nathan shuffled things around when he got in.
This is set three years before Five Years Gone, with no references taken from graphic novels as to how it really went.
Take it as a happy AU stroll down smutlane.
--
Decency
"You want to do this here?"
A blank look.
"Now?" He clarified. Because that was really the issue. Well, to be specific, it was really the golden haired terror fighting back giggles crouched under his desk that was the issue.
But he couldn't tell his senior science advisor that. Not in front of the idiot representative, anyway.
"You scheduled it, Mister President."
He reisted pointing out that it was his aide that had scheduled this very inconvenient meeting, not him. Only because it would look bad in front of the people crowding into his office.
He heard a faint snicker, and he sent a warning kick after the hiding girl. It would not do to be caught in a position like this--aside from the whole 'pretending she was dead so people didn't wonder how she was the only survivor of the distaster' thing, this would make the Lewenski scandal look like a couple of teens eloping in the summer.
Of course, he couldn't dismiss them all now without a PR stink, either. So he was stuck with cramped legs and a hyper active teenager through...god knew how long these people would talk.
He almost thought his advisor shot him a sympathetic glance, but it was gone as soon as it had come. He might have imagined it entirely. Given how boring meetings like this were, however, he was unsure.
Usually, the man would slink out halfway through, and abandon him to his own fate. This time his advisor lingered in the background without showing any signs of leaving. Of course, it was only an hour-and-a-half in.
He couldn't recall most of what was said, because he was eternally distracted by the one who seemed to have developed a terminal case of ADD in the time period of, oh, the first fifteen minutes of the discussion.
It had been hellish to keep her from drawing attention without being pinned with bizzare vaguely concerned looks. (Which were always a bad thing, because they led to vaguely threatening newspaper articles)
Still. He thought he'd handled himself pretty well when they'd reached midway point without incident.
Then she had to go and get an idea no (Was she 18? 19? God, he needed to remember that sort of thing) teenager stuck in a dignified meeting should get.
He downed his cup of water so quickly it sloshed his suit jacket, in an effort to mask the choked sound of alarm that escaped him when he felt something tug open his perfectly pressed ultra expensive completely not-supposed-to-be-yanked-open pants.
He coughed, and spoke briskly to usher away the startled expressions of the cabinet members that filled his office, flashing them his best politician's smile. "Hiccups. Only sure way to deal with them."
He personally thought it would have come off better if his voice hadn't...wibbled quite like a blonde ex-cheerleader had just...
He bit back an incriminating groan as he felt a warm, almost rough tongue flick along...ohh she had to stop this--this was completely, utterly, totally insane!
He shifted slightly, with the intent of escaping her somewhat. (He was sure that was his intent) It was just his luck that it only afforded her a better angle.
He thought he was going to chew his own tongue off as those glossy lips made their way to his base, thin tongue darting in so deliciously inappropriate ways.
Fingers gripped the desk so tightly his nails dug into the leather lining on the top of it. Now she was ruining his career, his life, and his furniture in one fell swoop.
"Are you alright, Mister President?" His defense minister asked, standing up in alarm.
"I'm fine!" He hissed, waving him down. "Just..."
...Supressing the urge to tangle his hands in the hair of his supposedly dead daughter, and thrust without any rhyme or reason into her welcoming mouth until he saw stars and she gagged with the effort of catching him.
Had he mentioned she was only barely legal, even if she weren't supposedly dead and, oh, his illegitimate daughter?
God, he was doomed.
He would have groaned in frustration, but given the circumstances, that would have been very...compromising.
Not that it would matter very shortly, when he completely lost control thanks to the silently moving young woman who'd snaked between his legs. (It was the quietest she'd been in an hour)
He almost didn't hear his scientific advisor dismissing the others with some sort of excuse about health or such. Which was entirely due to the fact that his world had shrunk to about the size of his desk, and the unbelievable sensations flooding his mind.
Hands flew to the arms of his chair, gripping for dear life, as his head ground into its backing, every shred of his control exerting itself to the breaking point. A strangled cry finally wrenched free of his control as his completion erupted throughout him with barely a moment's warning.
His scientific advisor was smirking at him across the room as coherence slowly drifted back to him.
"What, Mohinder?"
"I've told you before, Nathan..." Mohinder sighed, amusement clearly written across his features as he walked toward him, and leaned on the other side of the desk. "Next time Claire visits, inform me ahead of time so I can make sure you don't get an audience."
The culprit, Claire, laughed from under the desk, and scrambled out to look over at the dark-skinned man. "If we did that, Mohinder, you wouldn't get to show off every time."
Nathan shook his head, as Mohinder laughed. They were going to be the death of him one day, he just knew it.
He gave a grudging smile, and shrugged when Claire pouted, and Mohinder gave him an expectant look.
Whatever his eventual damnation, the interim would make it wholly worthwhile.
End
--
AN: I know, I was supposed to make the...Sycream fic...but this was nagging at me! I had to! Don't give up on it, Mel, it's still on its way.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Allusions to Five Years Gone and Distractions, thats about it.
Pairings: Nathan/Claire...interpret Mohinder's involvement as you wish.
Characters: Nathan, Claire, Mohinder
Genre: Romance, humor
Warnings: PWP, underageness, the big bad cesty squick
Summary: Nathan has an unexpected cabinet meeting, as if that wasn't bad enough, Claire is bored, and is determined to entertain herself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. I'm not making any statements about 'not condoning such relationships' because I find it stupid that anyone would think me writing a challenge fanfic would imply I did.
AN: I'm not even trying for accuracy in presidental/cabinet meetin mechanics. Assume Nathan shuffled things around when he got in.
This is set three years before Five Years Gone, with no references taken from graphic novels as to how it really went.
Take it as a happy AU stroll down smutlane.
--
Decency
"You want to do this here?"
A blank look.
"Now?" He clarified. Because that was really the issue. Well, to be specific, it was really the golden haired terror fighting back giggles crouched under his desk that was the issue.
But he couldn't tell his senior science advisor that. Not in front of the idiot representative, anyway.
"You scheduled it, Mister President."
He reisted pointing out that it was his aide that had scheduled this very inconvenient meeting, not him. Only because it would look bad in front of the people crowding into his office.
He heard a faint snicker, and he sent a warning kick after the hiding girl. It would not do to be caught in a position like this--aside from the whole 'pretending she was dead so people didn't wonder how she was the only survivor of the distaster' thing, this would make the Lewenski scandal look like a couple of teens eloping in the summer.
Of course, he couldn't dismiss them all now without a PR stink, either. So he was stuck with cramped legs and a hyper active teenager through...god knew how long these people would talk.
He almost thought his advisor shot him a sympathetic glance, but it was gone as soon as it had come. He might have imagined it entirely. Given how boring meetings like this were, however, he was unsure.
Usually, the man would slink out halfway through, and abandon him to his own fate. This time his advisor lingered in the background without showing any signs of leaving. Of course, it was only an hour-and-a-half in.
He couldn't recall most of what was said, because he was eternally distracted by the one who seemed to have developed a terminal case of ADD in the time period of, oh, the first fifteen minutes of the discussion.
It had been hellish to keep her from drawing attention without being pinned with bizzare vaguely concerned looks. (Which were always a bad thing, because they led to vaguely threatening newspaper articles)
Still. He thought he'd handled himself pretty well when they'd reached midway point without incident.
Then she had to go and get an idea no (Was she 18? 19? God, he needed to remember that sort of thing) teenager stuck in a dignified meeting should get.
He downed his cup of water so quickly it sloshed his suit jacket, in an effort to mask the choked sound of alarm that escaped him when he felt something tug open his perfectly pressed ultra expensive completely not-supposed-to-be-yanked-open pants.
He coughed, and spoke briskly to usher away the startled expressions of the cabinet members that filled his office, flashing them his best politician's smile. "Hiccups. Only sure way to deal with them."
He personally thought it would have come off better if his voice hadn't...wibbled quite like a blonde ex-cheerleader had just...
He bit back an incriminating groan as he felt a warm, almost rough tongue flick along...ohh she had to stop this--this was completely, utterly, totally insane!
He shifted slightly, with the intent of escaping her somewhat. (He was sure that was his intent) It was just his luck that it only afforded her a better angle.
He thought he was going to chew his own tongue off as those glossy lips made their way to his base, thin tongue darting in so deliciously inappropriate ways.
Fingers gripped the desk so tightly his nails dug into the leather lining on the top of it. Now she was ruining his career, his life, and his furniture in one fell swoop.
"Are you alright, Mister President?" His defense minister asked, standing up in alarm.
"I'm fine!" He hissed, waving him down. "Just..."
...Supressing the urge to tangle his hands in the hair of his supposedly dead daughter, and thrust without any rhyme or reason into her welcoming mouth until he saw stars and she gagged with the effort of catching him.
Had he mentioned she was only barely legal, even if she weren't supposedly dead and, oh, his illegitimate daughter?
God, he was doomed.
He would have groaned in frustration, but given the circumstances, that would have been very...compromising.
Not that it would matter very shortly, when he completely lost control thanks to the silently moving young woman who'd snaked between his legs. (It was the quietest she'd been in an hour)
He almost didn't hear his scientific advisor dismissing the others with some sort of excuse about health or such. Which was entirely due to the fact that his world had shrunk to about the size of his desk, and the unbelievable sensations flooding his mind.
Hands flew to the arms of his chair, gripping for dear life, as his head ground into its backing, every shred of his control exerting itself to the breaking point. A strangled cry finally wrenched free of his control as his completion erupted throughout him with barely a moment's warning.
His scientific advisor was smirking at him across the room as coherence slowly drifted back to him.
"What, Mohinder?"
"I've told you before, Nathan..." Mohinder sighed, amusement clearly written across his features as he walked toward him, and leaned on the other side of the desk. "Next time Claire visits, inform me ahead of time so I can make sure you don't get an audience."
The culprit, Claire, laughed from under the desk, and scrambled out to look over at the dark-skinned man. "If we did that, Mohinder, you wouldn't get to show off every time."
Nathan shook his head, as Mohinder laughed. They were going to be the death of him one day, he just knew it.
He gave a grudging smile, and shrugged when Claire pouted, and Mohinder gave him an expectant look.
Whatever his eventual damnation, the interim would make it wholly worthwhile.
End
--
AN: I know, I was supposed to make the...Sycream fic...but this was nagging at me! I had to! Don't give up on it, Mel, it's still on its way.