(no subject)
Mohinder starts awake; someone is in his motel room. Pale, dawn light filters in through the window, illuminating the hall. A familiar shape is caste there. “Eden?” Mohinder sits upright, a cool sweat beginning on his brow he twists his hands up in his sheets. “You’re… dead,” he breathes.
“Are you sure about that?” A riotously lilting bark of laughter clings to the air. Mohinder swallows, shaking his head before he understands why.
She is next to him in a flash, and if this is a dream he will have to applaud his subconscious. She is wearing an off-the-shoulder black tunic that disappears below the bed skirt. Her dark hair and dark dress give her an amorphous appearance, as if she could melt into the floor.
“Did you miss me, Mo-hinder,” and the way she draws out the word is positively sinful. Mohinder can’t think of a thing to say, can only think listlessly that this must be a dream.
Apparently she has nothing to say either because then she’s sliding up and into his lap fluidly, smiling a familiar smile, but it’s just something else Mohinder can’t place in his sleepy state. He decides then that he won’t fight this. Something keeps niggling Why dream about her now? But he pays it no mind, and Eden is already removing his tee-shirt.
Her fingers are slender and chilly as they move across his chest and shoulders, causing him to shudder. He brings his hands up to rest on her hips lightly, marvelling at the softness of her. She begins to rock against him, straddling his thighs. Then she’s leaning towards him, long fingers around his neck. Mohinder’s eyes widen, but then their lips brush, and any earlier apprehension falls to the wayside.
Mohinder’s arms move up to Eden’s back, crushing the smaller frame to his own as the kiss deepens, her delicate hands tangling in his curls. She lets out a soft moan that is lost in the confines of Mohinder’s mouth. He smiles, tugging her shirt up and off, breaking the contact of their lips.
She is rubbing against him now, nipples hard and pronounced against the fabric of her bra. Eden reaches down in between them to stroke Mohinder’s hardness through sheets and boxers. His breath comes in short spurts, arms tightening around her. She grins wolfishly, pulling back to toss the sheets aside and slip out of her jeans.
Mohinder whimpers at the lost contact, even as Eden settles back down on his hips, nipping at his neck gently. He bucks involuntarily upwards, making more unintelligible noises as their pelvises meet. She seems similarly affected as she throws back her head and grinds against him.
They writhe for a long time, all shallow breath and static electricity. When their lips meet again for a short kiss it literally shocks them, and Eden laughs. A tremor goes through Mohinder at the jolting sound but then she is removing his boxers and her own panties and all thought goes dim.
She positions her opening at the head of his cock, wrapping her spindly arms around his neck. Not wasting any time she impales herself fully along the length of it, screaming out into the night. Mohinder clutches her close because he thinks if she moves it will be all be over entirely too soon.
She draws her body up so that Mohinder is barely inside of her, then drops back down languidly, pulling cries of want from Mohinder’s kiss-swollen lips.
“Beg me,” she says hoarsely, tugging on his hair and remaining perfectly still. The request is so quiet and obscure, Mohinder is not sure he’s heard it correctly, but he takes no chances.
“Please,” he exhales, looking up at her with brown eyes heavy with lust. She smiles impishly, and he knows he’s seen that look before, but the pace is building and there is no room for analysis.
Her speed escalates and crescendos, pulling from Mohinder his release and a litany of incoherent sound. He falls back on the bed, bonelessly, a small smile of satisfaction lighting his face.
He looks up at Eden, unseeing, as her figure slowly shapes into a much more familiar one. He blinks owlishly as Eden disintegrates, replaced by Zane, who looks almost as confused as he is.
What a fucked up dream, he muses as the other man’s lips come own upon his. At first he responds, in the sloppy dream-like state that he was in. He wound his hands in the paler man’s hair, crushing their lips together harshly. The taller man shifted against him, pressing his growing erection into Mohinder’s thigh. He lets out a small sound of protest, trying to escape but finding his wrists trapped by a strong grip.
“Zane,” he murmurs urgently, but all of it is lost as a tongue enters his mouth forcibly, drowning out his pleas. He bites at Mohinder’s lips and slides their groins together, drawing an unbidden moan from the Indian’s diaphragm.
Suddenly Mohinder is being grabbed by the temples and his head is forced to Zane’s navel.
“Mohinder,” Zane hisses huskily, pushing the head of his cock to rest on Mohinder’s lips. The slighter man is shaking, a hum of confusion and arousal racking his bones. And then Zane pushes in unyieldingly, past the slightly parted lips, breath hitching in his throat. Mohinder has no choice to comply then, starting a heavy suction with his lips. He is still shaking, and the sensation goes straight to Zane’s loins, causing him to give out a rapturous groan as he shoves himself all the way into Mohinder’s mouth. Mohinder closes his eyes and tries not to choke on the foreign organ, swallowing around the tip spasmodically.
Sylar screams, bucking into the man’s mouth mercilessly as he rides out his orgasm. Mohinder half-swallows, half-spits Sylar’s release as they break apart, breathing heavily through their mouths.
“What was that…?” Mohinder attempts, finally coming to the realization that he is most assuredly not dreaming.
Zane leans up on one elbow and shakes his head, promising Mohinder to tell him all about it in the morning. The geneticist is satisfied with this for the moment, and opts to wrap himself around the musician.
And later that night, in those very first hours of daylight, even with Mohinder burrowed into his chest he is able to sneak away.