Fic: Stolen Memories
Title: Stolen Memories
Pairing: Matt/Haitian
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The head of Homeland Security isn’t as alone as he thought.
Prompt: slashyheroes15 04. Dream
Matthew. The voice flowed into my mind, twining around my thoughts like silk: unfamiliar, deep, and resonant, with more than a hint of an accent. I froze, straining to sense where it had come from. I had thought I was the last one left in the office. The merest whisper of a sound behind me made me turn, without even a guess of what to expect.
Leaning almost casually against a wall was the one man whose thoughts I had never been able to touch, the man who never spoke. My partner, if you can call him that. The Haitian. “Did you…”
He raised a finger to his lips. Yes, Matthew. He beckoned me closer, probably deciding that even that much communication was too… whatever it was that made him stop talking in the first place. I took a few steps towards him, and still the hand compelled me forwards, closer, closer.
I’m not sure what I was thinking, if I was thinking at all. The very strangeness of the situation, the silence and intensity, made it seem unreal, like a dream. A dream I’d had, long, long ago; lost to the mists of time until all that was left was a dim feeling of familiarity. And so when his dark fingers slid over my cheek, I let my eyes close with a sigh. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be having some conflicting reaction, but I really couldn’t see why, or even how this wasn’t right. Those fingers, strong yet gentle, drew my head slowly in until I could feel warm breath wafting over my lips. “What…” I murmured hazily, and then all sound was muffled as our mouths connected, so very softly.
Do not worry, Matthew. My knees felt weak; from the sound of his voice in my mind or the light pressure of his lips, I couldn’t say. He seemed to sense that, and his other arm slid around me, steadying me against him. The heat of his body was like a catalyst, triggering responses in muscles which completely bypassed rational thought.
Not that I’d exhibited any of that this night, either.
I pushed closer, molding my flesh to his, and his to the wall. My tongue slid into his mouth, claiming it for my own. It felt right, and that was all that mattered. Who would care what I did, anyway? Janice was gone, caring for our son, giving him a better life than I ever could. All that I had was a job, and a few contacts. And a partner, who never spoke, never even seemed to feel, until this. Whatever this insanity was, I needed it. I needed the contact, needed to feel alive. Needed to feel like someone cared whether I lived or died. Not because I was useful, but because I was Matthew Parkman.
His hand had slid around to the back of my neck, holding me tenderly, encouraging me in the silent language of touch. His other hand, resting still in the small of my back, drew me closer until our hips met. It wasn’t until then that I realized how hard I really was; the contact was enough to make me groan desperately for more. Yes, Matthew. The thought caressed everything that I was, mind, soul, whatever you want to call it. It sent sparks flying down my spine and through every part of my body. I growled harshly, my hands tearing at his clothes in savage fervor. I’m sure his shirt lost at least a few buttons in my haste to get it open, but he didn’t seem to mind. I pushed the fabric aside, my hand seeming so pale against his dark skin. Fingers trailed along his chest, exploring the play of his muscles with each shallow breath.
I looked into his eyes, clouded with lust matching my own in its intensity. I asked a silent question, and got an answer, though I couldn’t put words to either. He dropped his hands to his pants, making quick work of the belt and zipper and letting them fall to the floor, unheeded. My breath caught as I gazed at the magnificent figure revealed, even though I’d never considered a man in this light before. He seemed the most desirable thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t bother to deal with my shirt; it was fine where it was. All that I really needed was to get my slacks off, and I did. Quickly. A smile touched his silent lips when I’d accomplished that, and a hand reached to me. Now. The word echoed in my head, deep and rich, and I moaned loudly.
And then I was pressing him to the wall again, but this time his leg curled around my hip. I didn’t need any encouragement to take what I wanted, and I drove myself into his willing body. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced, so real and solid while also seeming to be happening in another time, another place, another world, another life. Here and gone at the same time. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn’t need to know anything. I just needed to feel.
I braced my hands on the wall to either side of his body, moving hard and fast within him. I was quickly spiraling out of control. I’d never felt anything this intense before. Not with Janice, or any of the girls I’d been with before her. A continuous string of sounds fell from my lips; groans, grunts, moans, whimpers, I just couldn’t keep any of it in.
Ah, yes, Matthew. His hands tightened around my shoulders, and he threw his head back in voiceless bliss. It was… unnerving, but seemed to fit.
I pressed my face to the join of his neck, breathing in his scent; strong, like the man himself, tinged with sweat, but not unpleasant. I thrust again, harder than I could have thought possible, and nails pricked my flesh through the thin barricade of cloth as his grip tightened even more. My name sounded in my head, over and over, washed with pleasure and pleading need. I just couldn’t take much of it; before long my body convulsed with the currents of euphoria that ran through me, exploded from me, ripped my soul apart with the strength of feelings I couldn’t contain. My unstoppable cry didn’t have time to die away before a silent yes echoed through the air and his own climax claimed him, splashing my shirt with his come. I leaned against him, panting, for a long moment.
When I finally got my breath back, I murmured, “That was…”
I know, Matthew. I know. A hand gently brushed my hair back from my forehead, then fingers pressed lightly to the center. A flash of realization struck, and I only had time to think the question before darkness claimed me.
How many times had we done this?
Pairing: Matt/Haitian
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The head of Homeland Security isn’t as alone as he thought.
Prompt: slashyheroes15 04. Dream
Matthew. The voice flowed into my mind, twining around my thoughts like silk: unfamiliar, deep, and resonant, with more than a hint of an accent. I froze, straining to sense where it had come from. I had thought I was the last one left in the office. The merest whisper of a sound behind me made me turn, without even a guess of what to expect.
Leaning almost casually against a wall was the one man whose thoughts I had never been able to touch, the man who never spoke. My partner, if you can call him that. The Haitian. “Did you…”
He raised a finger to his lips. Yes, Matthew. He beckoned me closer, probably deciding that even that much communication was too… whatever it was that made him stop talking in the first place. I took a few steps towards him, and still the hand compelled me forwards, closer, closer.
I’m not sure what I was thinking, if I was thinking at all. The very strangeness of the situation, the silence and intensity, made it seem unreal, like a dream. A dream I’d had, long, long ago; lost to the mists of time until all that was left was a dim feeling of familiarity. And so when his dark fingers slid over my cheek, I let my eyes close with a sigh. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be having some conflicting reaction, but I really couldn’t see why, or even how this wasn’t right. Those fingers, strong yet gentle, drew my head slowly in until I could feel warm breath wafting over my lips. “What…” I murmured hazily, and then all sound was muffled as our mouths connected, so very softly.
Do not worry, Matthew. My knees felt weak; from the sound of his voice in my mind or the light pressure of his lips, I couldn’t say. He seemed to sense that, and his other arm slid around me, steadying me against him. The heat of his body was like a catalyst, triggering responses in muscles which completely bypassed rational thought.
Not that I’d exhibited any of that this night, either.
I pushed closer, molding my flesh to his, and his to the wall. My tongue slid into his mouth, claiming it for my own. It felt right, and that was all that mattered. Who would care what I did, anyway? Janice was gone, caring for our son, giving him a better life than I ever could. All that I had was a job, and a few contacts. And a partner, who never spoke, never even seemed to feel, until this. Whatever this insanity was, I needed it. I needed the contact, needed to feel alive. Needed to feel like someone cared whether I lived or died. Not because I was useful, but because I was Matthew Parkman.
His hand had slid around to the back of my neck, holding me tenderly, encouraging me in the silent language of touch. His other hand, resting still in the small of my back, drew me closer until our hips met. It wasn’t until then that I realized how hard I really was; the contact was enough to make me groan desperately for more. Yes, Matthew. The thought caressed everything that I was, mind, soul, whatever you want to call it. It sent sparks flying down my spine and through every part of my body. I growled harshly, my hands tearing at his clothes in savage fervor. I’m sure his shirt lost at least a few buttons in my haste to get it open, but he didn’t seem to mind. I pushed the fabric aside, my hand seeming so pale against his dark skin. Fingers trailed along his chest, exploring the play of his muscles with each shallow breath.
I looked into his eyes, clouded with lust matching my own in its intensity. I asked a silent question, and got an answer, though I couldn’t put words to either. He dropped his hands to his pants, making quick work of the belt and zipper and letting them fall to the floor, unheeded. My breath caught as I gazed at the magnificent figure revealed, even though I’d never considered a man in this light before. He seemed the most desirable thing I’d ever seen. I didn’t bother to deal with my shirt; it was fine where it was. All that I really needed was to get my slacks off, and I did. Quickly. A smile touched his silent lips when I’d accomplished that, and a hand reached to me. Now. The word echoed in my head, deep and rich, and I moaned loudly.
And then I was pressing him to the wall again, but this time his leg curled around my hip. I didn’t need any encouragement to take what I wanted, and I drove myself into his willing body. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced, so real and solid while also seeming to be happening in another time, another place, another world, another life. Here and gone at the same time. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn’t need to know anything. I just needed to feel.
I braced my hands on the wall to either side of his body, moving hard and fast within him. I was quickly spiraling out of control. I’d never felt anything this intense before. Not with Janice, or any of the girls I’d been with before her. A continuous string of sounds fell from my lips; groans, grunts, moans, whimpers, I just couldn’t keep any of it in.
Ah, yes, Matthew. His hands tightened around my shoulders, and he threw his head back in voiceless bliss. It was… unnerving, but seemed to fit.
I pressed my face to the join of his neck, breathing in his scent; strong, like the man himself, tinged with sweat, but not unpleasant. I thrust again, harder than I could have thought possible, and nails pricked my flesh through the thin barricade of cloth as his grip tightened even more. My name sounded in my head, over and over, washed with pleasure and pleading need. I just couldn’t take much of it; before long my body convulsed with the currents of euphoria that ran through me, exploded from me, ripped my soul apart with the strength of feelings I couldn’t contain. My unstoppable cry didn’t have time to die away before a silent yes echoed through the air and his own climax claimed him, splashing my shirt with his come. I leaned against him, panting, for a long moment.
When I finally got my breath back, I murmured, “That was…”
I know, Matthew. I know. A hand gently brushed my hair back from my forehead, then fingers pressed lightly to the center. A flash of realization struck, and I only had time to think the question before darkness claimed me.
How many times had we done this?