porn battle fic: Suddenly Awake
Title: Suddenly Awake
Fandom: Heroes
Character/Pairing: Mohini (Mohinder) Suresh/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2344
Summary: Mohini Suresh spends most of her life half-awake and drifting. Then, her father dies.
Note: Mohinder has always been female for this one. Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle 8; prompt: genderbend, liar)
Suddenly Awake
Mohini Suresh spent a good part of her life drifting. In most of her childhood photos, she was either asleep or half-awake.
"She doesn't feel there's enough holding her to this world," one of her aunts told her mother.
Mohini's mother interpreted this to mean she was not a good enough mother. Her neglect was causing her daughter to retreat into the blackness of sleep.
Frequent outings, new, dresses, saris, and Mary Janes. Supriya Suresh indulged her daughter in an attempt to keep her. Still, Mohini fell asleep on the way to the fairs and celebrations. She enjoyed them while she was there, but lost the memories of the events when she went to bed. She couldn't wear the dresses and saris when she wanted to and the Mary Janes hurt her feet.
When indulgence failed, Mohini's mother turned to discipline. Sleeping during the daylight hours was punished with a slap or denial of a meal. Mohini learned to stay awake.
But then she began to wander.
After school Mohini would turn left instead of going right or go right instead of left and continue walking until she came to some familiar place. She walked through the markets, listening to the patrons and vendors haggle over prices. She walked through the wealthy neighbourhoods, peaking over the walls and through the gates at the gardens and foreign cars. A few times she walked through the slums, too young and ignorant to be afraid.
The world, previously uninteresting, suddenly opened up. The smell of market spices, the lilts and drawl of the women so unlike her mother were more beautiful and terrifying than anything Mohini had seen her in her dreams.
She was punished, of course, but neither pain nor a growling stomach could prevent her from taking these trips.
"We'll see what your father has to say about this," Supriya cried.
Chandra hadn't been home when Mohini's wandering began. He'd been America working on his research. He didn't call often, and when she did he spoke to Mohinder for only a few minutes, asking her about her studies and grades.
When Chandra arrived home, it was dark and Mohini had just retired to bed. Seeing that she was still awake, Chandra came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.
"Your mother is only worried about you," he said. "You are our only child, and a girl at that. She doesn't want to lose you."
"I know," Mohini replied.
"So, no more gallivanting off to places unknown?"
It took a moment for Mohini to reply. She wasn't like other children. She'd never learned to lie properly and could never tell her parents what they wanted to hear. "I'll try."
Chandra sighed, shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh, Shanti," he whispered, patting Mohini's leg.
)(
When Mohini finished primary school, it was decided she would be sent to England to complete her secondary schooling. Without the approval of the Western educational system, Mohini's opportunities would be limited. She left Chennai on a sunny day in the middle of August and arrived in London on a cold wet night.
Her aunt and uncle expected a good Indian girl, who would cook sambhar and rasam, be rarely seen and heard, and fuel their nostalgia for India. Instead they received a girl who questioned them at every turn and loitered around the city with kids who lived in council housing.
Her aunt and uncle called her rebellious, Mohini liked to think of herself as a scientist.
Hypothesis: Being a friend of Jasmeen Moore is much better than being a friend of Deepa Maharaj.
Evidence: Jasmeen has more friends than Deepa and they've become Mohini's friends. Jasmeen shares her make-up and gives her tips on how to dress and how not to sound like a freshie.
Conclusion: Hypothesis was correct.
Hypothesis: One has more fun at party while smoking marijuana.
Evidence: She has more fun at Peter Rendall's party even though the music was shite and there weren't enough boys. She had more fun than she did at Jasmeen's party, which had better music and more boys.
Conclusion: Hypothesis also proven correct.
Hypothesis: Ryan Thompson would be a good boyfriend because he's attractive, tall, and a lot of girls say he's good in bed.
Evidence: Ryan forgets their six month anniversary. He cheats on her with some girl in an alley behind a pub. She never comes when they have sex.
Hypothesis: Incorrect, though it was fun while it was lasted.
Despite her social experimentations, Mohini did well in school. If she didn't her aunt and uncle's complaints to her parents would seem valid and she would be on the first plane back to India. She did well, most of all, because she feared her father's disappointment.
When Mohini received a scholarship to Oxford, Chandra sent her a card, congratulating her. He was not home when she returned to Chennai for the summer.
She graduated Oxford twice with a Bachelor and then a Master of science. She then went on to do a PhD in Parapsychology. She didn't believe in the theories of psychokinesis or telepathy, but she continued with her classes and research, as it was something do. When she received her final degree, there were offers to teach and join research teams. Mohini turned them all down, choosing to return to Chennai.
She stayed for a few months, helping her mother in the garden and assisting her father and his colleagues at the University of Madras. There were long hours in the day when she had nothing to do. Mohini spent them sleeping or wandering the city.
"You have no purpose," Supriya told her one night.
"Did I ever?" Mohini replied in a tired voice.
She didn't know what, but there was something in her mother's silence.
They were in the middle of the monsoon season when Mohini decided to leave. A small suitcase was all she took to Sydney. She allowed her parents to assume she was going there to find a job, a life. Mohini stayed in the city for a month with an old friend from Oxford before travelling to Perth then New Zealand.
For the next four years, she wandered and drifted, only knowing where she would be the next day, never the next month. She taught science in private schools in Thailand, worked as a bartender in Spain, answered phones and booked appointments at National Geographic's office in Washington.
Mohini expected Chandra to be disappointed in her. His indifference stung.
She was in Rio de Janeiro when she received word of his death. For the first time in her life, Mohini experienced insomnia.
She expected to travel to New York, collect her father's body and return it to Chennai. She didn't expect to find out Chandra had been murdered because of his research. Research Mohini had never believed in or supported. She didn't expect to have a gun turned on to her, to visit the apartment of a psychopath, or meet Peter Petrelli.
Hoping to forget and move on, Mohini returned to Chennai to scatter Chandra's ashes.
A dream convinced her to return to America.
)(
There was something quietly disarming about Zane Taylor. When he'd asked to accompany her on her trip to find other meta-humans, Mohini had noticeably hesitated.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my hands to myself," he said.
It shouldn't have been enough to convince her, but it was. Zane, with his Converse sneakers Ramones t-shirt, and lithe build, seemed like the type who spent a lot of time hanging out in bars, but still didn't know how to approach a woman. He wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't widely experienced, either. He was used to being just friends with a woman.
She did most of the talking on the long drives in between destinations. She told him about skinny-dipping in Jamaica, surfing in Thailand, getting sick in Paris, and staying in the worst hostel in Munich. Zane listened attentively, asking questions now and then. She had to prod him to get him to tell his own stories. Unlike her, he'd never been anywhere special, hadn't done anything remarkable either.
Mohini asked him about his mother after she'd spent an hour on the phone with her own. "She likes snow globes," Zane replied, looking out the window. She knew not to press the issue.
"What about your father?" he asked the next day. "What was he like?"
Mohini shrugged. "He was a brilliant scientist. Far ahead of his time, I suppose."
"No. What was he like as a man?"
There were a million things she wanted to say, but none of them would be true. "I don't know."
Mohini was silent for the rest of the ride.
That night they stopped at a motel. Mohini spent half an hour in the shower, washing away the dust and grime of the road. Afterwards, she painted her nails a vibrant blue that reminded her of the sea surrounding Santorini.
In the middle of a reality dating show, there was a knock at her door. Zane stood outside, hands in his pocket, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said.
Mohini allowed him into the room, wondering how long she would have to spend breaking down her father's theory again.
"You travelled all over the world for years. What were you looking for?"
No one had ever asked her that before. Though she was loath to admit it, Mohini had never been very good at self-reflection. She'd never bothered asking herself either.
"I don't know," she admitted.
Zane was looking at her in way that caused Mohini to shift from side to side, suddenly aware of herself. He looked at her as if he was trying to figure her out, taking her apart with his eyes to see how she worked. She couldn't tell if he would put her back together again when he found out what he needed to know.
"I'll see you in the morning," Mohini said, moving towards the door.
Zane grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. She was about to tell him to get out when he kissed her. His hand was on the back of her head, she couldn't pull away.
She'd never entertained the idea of sex between them. He'd never been attractive to her until now.
Mohini opened her mouth, allowing Zane's to deepen the kiss.
Everything she assumed about him was wrong. She'd thought of him as the kind of man who allowed his partners to lead him, who did as he was told.
Zane was nothing like that.
Kissing her violently, he led her to the bed. Gently shoving her on to it, he smirked at her before tugging off his shirt. Mohini wanted to touch the expanse of skin, run her hand along his chest. She sat up, reaching out to touch him. Zane swatted her hands away, pushing her onto her back.
Mohini helped him undress her, wiggling out of her shirt as he pulled down her shorts and panties. When Zane's gaze swept over naked skin she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Mohini had been told she had a pretty face, but she was also too thin according to her mother. She barely had any tits and if it weren't for the slight curve of her hips she could've been easily mistaken for a teenage boy.
"You're beautiful," Zane said, as if he knew her thoughts.
It wasn't a line. Zane was looking at her as if his conclusion was irrefutable. No one had never looked at Mohini that way.
Parting her legs, Zane shoved his face into her cunt. Mohini's arched her back, moaning loudly as Zane licked and sucked her clit, two fingers inside her. A deliberate graze of his teeth against her and her legs began to tremble, her orgasm inevitable. Zane shoved her legs even further apart, his free hand on her hip holding her down. He curved his fingers inside her, brushing against a spot that caused her breath to hitch. Fingers stroking inside her, Zane made slow circles around her clit. Another graze of his teeth and she there, her body convulsing and shaking.
Overwhelmed by the heat, the pain and pleasure, Mohini forgot Zane. When all three had mostly subsided, she suddenly became aware of him naked and on top of her. She had no time to marvel at the feel of his skin against her own, as Zane tilted her hips and thrust into her. He wasn't wearing a condom. Mohini couldn't bring herself to care.
Zane fucked her like a man possessed. Missionary position first, their fingers laced together, arms above her head. Their gazes locked, Mohini could tell what he wanted: to unravel her, to make her come apart. She wouldn't think about what came after.
Zane pulled out and maneuvered her onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air. He fucked her slowly like this, but with the same intensity. There would be bruises on her hips in the morning.
Her second orgasm was building when he pulled her on top of him. She rode him with one hand on her chest, the other on her clit. Zane's eyes were closed, and he was gripping the slats of the headboard. She felt his body become tense before he came, wet warmth flooding her. It was the push she needed. Wit a hoarse cry, Mohini came, collapsing on top of him.
It sounded as if she'd put a seashell to her ear. Mohini could hear nothing but what sounded like the roar of waves.
Zane ran his hand through her hair absently. "I'll help you," she thought she heard him say, but she couldn't be sure.
Although she was exhausted, Mohini couldn't sleep. It didn't feel like insomnia this time. For the first time in her life she felt truly awake.
She looked over at Zane's sleeping form and smiled. For the first time in her life, she felt rooted.
End.
Alternate Link: Heroes, Mohinder Suresh/Sylar, genderbend, liar
Went shopping yesterday and bought a really nice summer dress from H&M for $10. While I was there I saw stone-washed Mom jeans I hope to never see on anyone. I really do hate the kind of clothing that tries to make people look they raided their mother's closet and are being all ironic.
it looks like I'll be spending the summer teaching. I'm cautiously happy because anything can happen.
Fandom: Heroes
Character/Pairing: Mohini (Mohinder) Suresh/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2344
Summary: Mohini Suresh spends most of her life half-awake and drifting. Then, her father dies.
Note: Mohinder has always been female for this one. Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle 8; prompt: genderbend, liar)
Suddenly Awake
Mohini Suresh spent a good part of her life drifting. In most of her childhood photos, she was either asleep or half-awake.
"She doesn't feel there's enough holding her to this world," one of her aunts told her mother.
Mohini's mother interpreted this to mean she was not a good enough mother. Her neglect was causing her daughter to retreat into the blackness of sleep.
Frequent outings, new, dresses, saris, and Mary Janes. Supriya Suresh indulged her daughter in an attempt to keep her. Still, Mohini fell asleep on the way to the fairs and celebrations. She enjoyed them while she was there, but lost the memories of the events when she went to bed. She couldn't wear the dresses and saris when she wanted to and the Mary Janes hurt her feet.
When indulgence failed, Mohini's mother turned to discipline. Sleeping during the daylight hours was punished with a slap or denial of a meal. Mohini learned to stay awake.
But then she began to wander.
After school Mohini would turn left instead of going right or go right instead of left and continue walking until she came to some familiar place. She walked through the markets, listening to the patrons and vendors haggle over prices. She walked through the wealthy neighbourhoods, peaking over the walls and through the gates at the gardens and foreign cars. A few times she walked through the slums, too young and ignorant to be afraid.
The world, previously uninteresting, suddenly opened up. The smell of market spices, the lilts and drawl of the women so unlike her mother were more beautiful and terrifying than anything Mohini had seen her in her dreams.
She was punished, of course, but neither pain nor a growling stomach could prevent her from taking these trips.
"We'll see what your father has to say about this," Supriya cried.
Chandra hadn't been home when Mohini's wandering began. He'd been America working on his research. He didn't call often, and when she did he spoke to Mohinder for only a few minutes, asking her about her studies and grades.
When Chandra arrived home, it was dark and Mohini had just retired to bed. Seeing that she was still awake, Chandra came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.
"Your mother is only worried about you," he said. "You are our only child, and a girl at that. She doesn't want to lose you."
"I know," Mohini replied.
"So, no more gallivanting off to places unknown?"
It took a moment for Mohini to reply. She wasn't like other children. She'd never learned to lie properly and could never tell her parents what they wanted to hear. "I'll try."
Chandra sighed, shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh, Shanti," he whispered, patting Mohini's leg.
)(
When Mohini finished primary school, it was decided she would be sent to England to complete her secondary schooling. Without the approval of the Western educational system, Mohini's opportunities would be limited. She left Chennai on a sunny day in the middle of August and arrived in London on a cold wet night.
Her aunt and uncle expected a good Indian girl, who would cook sambhar and rasam, be rarely seen and heard, and fuel their nostalgia for India. Instead they received a girl who questioned them at every turn and loitered around the city with kids who lived in council housing.
Her aunt and uncle called her rebellious, Mohini liked to think of herself as a scientist.
Hypothesis: Being a friend of Jasmeen Moore is much better than being a friend of Deepa Maharaj.
Evidence: Jasmeen has more friends than Deepa and they've become Mohini's friends. Jasmeen shares her make-up and gives her tips on how to dress and how not to sound like a freshie.
Conclusion: Hypothesis was correct.
Hypothesis: One has more fun at party while smoking marijuana.
Evidence: She has more fun at Peter Rendall's party even though the music was shite and there weren't enough boys. She had more fun than she did at Jasmeen's party, which had better music and more boys.
Conclusion: Hypothesis also proven correct.
Hypothesis: Ryan Thompson would be a good boyfriend because he's attractive, tall, and a lot of girls say he's good in bed.
Evidence: Ryan forgets their six month anniversary. He cheats on her with some girl in an alley behind a pub. She never comes when they have sex.
Hypothesis: Incorrect, though it was fun while it was lasted.
Despite her social experimentations, Mohini did well in school. If she didn't her aunt and uncle's complaints to her parents would seem valid and she would be on the first plane back to India. She did well, most of all, because she feared her father's disappointment.
When Mohini received a scholarship to Oxford, Chandra sent her a card, congratulating her. He was not home when she returned to Chennai for the summer.
She graduated Oxford twice with a Bachelor and then a Master of science. She then went on to do a PhD in Parapsychology. She didn't believe in the theories of psychokinesis or telepathy, but she continued with her classes and research, as it was something do. When she received her final degree, there were offers to teach and join research teams. Mohini turned them all down, choosing to return to Chennai.
She stayed for a few months, helping her mother in the garden and assisting her father and his colleagues at the University of Madras. There were long hours in the day when she had nothing to do. Mohini spent them sleeping or wandering the city.
"You have no purpose," Supriya told her one night.
"Did I ever?" Mohini replied in a tired voice.
She didn't know what, but there was something in her mother's silence.
They were in the middle of the monsoon season when Mohini decided to leave. A small suitcase was all she took to Sydney. She allowed her parents to assume she was going there to find a job, a life. Mohini stayed in the city for a month with an old friend from Oxford before travelling to Perth then New Zealand.
For the next four years, she wandered and drifted, only knowing where she would be the next day, never the next month. She taught science in private schools in Thailand, worked as a bartender in Spain, answered phones and booked appointments at National Geographic's office in Washington.
Mohini expected Chandra to be disappointed in her. His indifference stung.
She was in Rio de Janeiro when she received word of his death. For the first time in her life, Mohini experienced insomnia.
She expected to travel to New York, collect her father's body and return it to Chennai. She didn't expect to find out Chandra had been murdered because of his research. Research Mohini had never believed in or supported. She didn't expect to have a gun turned on to her, to visit the apartment of a psychopath, or meet Peter Petrelli.
Hoping to forget and move on, Mohini returned to Chennai to scatter Chandra's ashes.
A dream convinced her to return to America.
)(
There was something quietly disarming about Zane Taylor. When he'd asked to accompany her on her trip to find other meta-humans, Mohini had noticeably hesitated.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my hands to myself," he said.
It shouldn't have been enough to convince her, but it was. Zane, with his Converse sneakers Ramones t-shirt, and lithe build, seemed like the type who spent a lot of time hanging out in bars, but still didn't know how to approach a woman. He wasn't a virgin, but he wasn't widely experienced, either. He was used to being just friends with a woman.
She did most of the talking on the long drives in between destinations. She told him about skinny-dipping in Jamaica, surfing in Thailand, getting sick in Paris, and staying in the worst hostel in Munich. Zane listened attentively, asking questions now and then. She had to prod him to get him to tell his own stories. Unlike her, he'd never been anywhere special, hadn't done anything remarkable either.
Mohini asked him about his mother after she'd spent an hour on the phone with her own. "She likes snow globes," Zane replied, looking out the window. She knew not to press the issue.
"What about your father?" he asked the next day. "What was he like?"
Mohini shrugged. "He was a brilliant scientist. Far ahead of his time, I suppose."
"No. What was he like as a man?"
There were a million things she wanted to say, but none of them would be true. "I don't know."
Mohini was silent for the rest of the ride.
That night they stopped at a motel. Mohini spent half an hour in the shower, washing away the dust and grime of the road. Afterwards, she painted her nails a vibrant blue that reminded her of the sea surrounding Santorini.
In the middle of a reality dating show, there was a knock at her door. Zane stood outside, hands in his pocket, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said.
Mohini allowed him into the room, wondering how long she would have to spend breaking down her father's theory again.
"You travelled all over the world for years. What were you looking for?"
No one had ever asked her that before. Though she was loath to admit it, Mohini had never been very good at self-reflection. She'd never bothered asking herself either.
"I don't know," she admitted.
Zane was looking at her in way that caused Mohini to shift from side to side, suddenly aware of herself. He looked at her as if he was trying to figure her out, taking her apart with his eyes to see how she worked. She couldn't tell if he would put her back together again when he found out what he needed to know.
"I'll see you in the morning," Mohini said, moving towards the door.
Zane grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. She was about to tell him to get out when he kissed her. His hand was on the back of her head, she couldn't pull away.
She'd never entertained the idea of sex between them. He'd never been attractive to her until now.
Mohini opened her mouth, allowing Zane's to deepen the kiss.
Everything she assumed about him was wrong. She'd thought of him as the kind of man who allowed his partners to lead him, who did as he was told.
Zane was nothing like that.
Kissing her violently, he led her to the bed. Gently shoving her on to it, he smirked at her before tugging off his shirt. Mohini wanted to touch the expanse of skin, run her hand along his chest. She sat up, reaching out to touch him. Zane swatted her hands away, pushing her onto her back.
Mohini helped him undress her, wiggling out of her shirt as he pulled down her shorts and panties. When Zane's gaze swept over naked skin she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Mohini had been told she had a pretty face, but she was also too thin according to her mother. She barely had any tits and if it weren't for the slight curve of her hips she could've been easily mistaken for a teenage boy.
"You're beautiful," Zane said, as if he knew her thoughts.
It wasn't a line. Zane was looking at her as if his conclusion was irrefutable. No one had never looked at Mohini that way.
Parting her legs, Zane shoved his face into her cunt. Mohini's arched her back, moaning loudly as Zane licked and sucked her clit, two fingers inside her. A deliberate graze of his teeth against her and her legs began to tremble, her orgasm inevitable. Zane shoved her legs even further apart, his free hand on her hip holding her down. He curved his fingers inside her, brushing against a spot that caused her breath to hitch. Fingers stroking inside her, Zane made slow circles around her clit. Another graze of his teeth and she there, her body convulsing and shaking.
Overwhelmed by the heat, the pain and pleasure, Mohini forgot Zane. When all three had mostly subsided, she suddenly became aware of him naked and on top of her. She had no time to marvel at the feel of his skin against her own, as Zane tilted her hips and thrust into her. He wasn't wearing a condom. Mohini couldn't bring herself to care.
Zane fucked her like a man possessed. Missionary position first, their fingers laced together, arms above her head. Their gazes locked, Mohini could tell what he wanted: to unravel her, to make her come apart. She wouldn't think about what came after.
Zane pulled out and maneuvered her onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air. He fucked her slowly like this, but with the same intensity. There would be bruises on her hips in the morning.
Her second orgasm was building when he pulled her on top of him. She rode him with one hand on her chest, the other on her clit. Zane's eyes were closed, and he was gripping the slats of the headboard. She felt his body become tense before he came, wet warmth flooding her. It was the push she needed. Wit a hoarse cry, Mohini came, collapsing on top of him.
It sounded as if she'd put a seashell to her ear. Mohini could hear nothing but what sounded like the roar of waves.
Zane ran his hand through her hair absently. "I'll help you," she thought she heard him say, but she couldn't be sure.
Although she was exhausted, Mohini couldn't sleep. It didn't feel like insomnia this time. For the first time in her life she felt truly awake.
She looked over at Zane's sleeping form and smiled. For the first time in her life, she felt rooted.
End.
Alternate Link: Heroes, Mohinder Suresh/Sylar, genderbend, liar
Went shopping yesterday and bought a really nice summer dress from H&M for $10. While I was there I saw stone-washed Mom jeans I hope to never see on anyone. I really do hate the kind of clothing that tries to make people look they raided their mother's closet and are being all ironic.
it looks like I'll be spending the summer teaching. I'm cautiously happy because anything can happen.