Force Of My Love 2/3
Title: Force Of My Love 2/3
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80 Without you, this chapter would NOT have happened.
Pairings: Nathan/Mohinder, Peter/Mohinder, hints of Bennet/Parkman and Sylar/Mohinder
Genre: drama
Characters: Nathan, Mohinder, Peter, Claire, mentions of Angela, Bennet, Parkman, and Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: More Petrelli drama, because they do it best.
Word Count: about 3,806
Spoilers: Complete AU after Season 1
Warnings: Violence, Character Death, and non-con
Notes: Thank you to ladywilde80, you helped me so much with this chapter, it's insane just how much. Thank you for listening to my complaining and helping me rework most of this. Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Heroes or any character in the show. Just written for enjoyment.
Force Of My Love 1/3
Force Of My Love 2/3
“What happened to you, Pete?”
The question turned into a huge, almost hour long, story, but they all sat down and listened to what Peter had to say. Though the atmosphere in the room had been strained since Peter’s arrival, it was the seating arrangement that caused the most difficulties between the four.
Mohinder attempted to switch sides, to go sit by Claire so Peter could sit next to his brother, but Nathan grabbed his arm before he could move and pulled Mohinder down next to him. Peter then had no other option but to sit next to Claire, and it was obvious he was trying his hardest not to lash out at Mohinder even if it wasn’t really his fault.
“I went to try and find Sylar, and I did once or twice, but he always got away too quickly. You should have seen the fights! He’s gotten so many powers since we last met and so have I, it could have been considered epic!”
He seemed so excited, wanting to share every detail of his journey with all of them, but Mohinder had the distinct idea that he was mostly talking to Claire and Nathan, and he understood why.
He had come home to find that Mohinder has not only replaced him in his lovers’ arms, but perhaps most painful of all, has taken his rightful place at his brothers side.
He had every right to hate him.
“I wasn’t planning on coming home for a while, but something happened. I had to come back…”
His voice fell, like he was hiding some dark secret. Claire put her hand on his shoulder, a worried expression on her face.
“My father?”
Mohinder felt Nathan twitch beside him, knowing he hated that Claire called Bennet her father and he was simply known as ‘Nathan’. He’d been deprived of so many years with her, all because of his own mother.
Peter’s eyes caught hers, and though Mohinder couldn’t see them, he could feel the sorrow in them. Claire’s eyes widened and brimmed with tears, Nathan’s hand went to Mohinder’s shoulder and squeezed lightly in the apprehension of the moment.
“Dead? Both of them? Are you sure?”
Nathan had to remain calm at Claire’s demanding, heartbreaking question, even if this news would mean that Sylar was closer to them than ever before.
“Yes.”
~~~~~~
The details came later; Nathan told Mohinder what had happened. Both Parkman and Bennet had been killed at the same time, in the same motel room, and from what was written in the notes Nathan possessed, in a very compromising position.
To those who believed in romance, it was very much a Romeo and Juliet ending for the two. They’d been found arranged in each other’s arms, but Parkman had morbidly had his head cut open and his brain no where to be found.
They had all noticed how close the two men had become, but in the little group they’d unintentionally formed, no questions were asked. Sort of like government policy on gays in the military.
“How unusually sweet, or it’s just his sick sense of humor.”
Nathan put the papers down on his desk, getting up and leaning against it as Mohinder remained in his seat, watching him.
“Now that Peter’s back, I don’t want anything to change between us. I’ve chosen you and that’s the end of that matter, alright?”
Mohinder looked up at him, smiling before standing up and kissing him lightly on the lips, a display of affection he had become accustomed to using any time he wanted in the home he now considered his own.
Mohinder heard someone clear their throat behind them and he turned around to see Peter there, with his arms crossed and a very dark look on his face.
“Mohinder, could you leave for a moment? I need to talk to Nathan.”
Mohinder cleared his own throat a bit, nodding and stepping away from Nathan, who was watching Peter for the moment.
“Of course.”
He moved past Peter, telling himself to not feel guilty, it wasn’t his fault that Nathan had chosen him over Peter. Maybe it was, maybe he’d unwittingly taken advantage of Peter’s absence more than he should have. But Nathan had assured him it was his decision and he would stick by it, even if he still felt responsible. He couldn’t even look Peter in the eyes lately.
He felt Peter watching him even as he turned the corner and walked upstairs, trying not to eavesdrop on Peter and Nathan’s conversation.
“Peter, I told you I didn’t want to talk about him. It’s my decision, not yours.”
“Will you listen to what I have to say, Nathan?”
He didn’t want to hear anymore, so he shut the door to his room, sat down by his laptop, and began to drown everything, even his own thoughts, out of his mind.
~~~~~~
Later that night, Mohinder found himself suffering with an urge to read instead of hurting his eyes staring at a computer screen for hours on end. In no mood to disagree with the odd urge, he made his way to the Petrelli Library that was located on the other side of the house.
They had a huge collection of books, but the room was a bit smaller then one would have thought. It made for a cozy, homey atmosphere, complete with a few chairs and a nice red couch.
He picked out a book that intrigued, Melusine by Sarah Monette. Right from the first page, he was astounded that the Petrelli’s had a book like this in their home. One of the first scenes was a rape scene, two men, one raping the other for pure power and not just the emotional kind; some sort of magic was attached to it.
At first, he didn’t think he’d like it because of the subject matter, but it soon proved otherwise when something in the book drew him in and he couldn’t stop reading. He did find that his eyes were getting blurry about halfway in, so he had to stop. He would just leave it here and continue reading it the next day; he could take a break from his research for one day.
He got up and slipped it inside the bookcase, turning around, his eyes connected with the dark orbs of another person. It startled him so much; he let out a gasp and backed up a step. His heart sped up suddenly, and it didn’t calm down even when he realized the person was Peter Petrelli.
He tried to will away the feeling of dread that had begun to take root but found it near impossible, as the expression on Peter’s face seemed to convey to him that this was only the calm before the storm.
“Peter, you’re up late.”
“I was looking for you actually.”
“Really? Why is that?”
His voice choked when he spoke, he was just so anxious at what Peter was going to say, or even do. The man had been obviously furious at seeing Mohinder and Nathan together.
The only thing he could do was trust that Nathan was going to be loyal and stay by his side, though he knew Peter would do all in his power to persuade him otherwise.
“As you know, Nathan and I had a nice little chat earlier. We discussed you.”
Here it came; Mohinder could feel the storm blowing in.
“You know Nathan and I share everything, we always have. Why should you be any different?”
Peter was moving closer to Mohinder, invading his personal space he was used to having with everyone but Nathan. In a reaction to the pressure, Mohinder backed up until his back hit one of the bookcases, stopping there. Peter didn’t.
Mohinder’s eyes didn’t leave Peter as the man smirked a bit, cocking his head to the side.
"Don't be frightened Mohinder. You see, I would never dream of abusing anything of my brothers. Well, not unless we did it together, of course."
Peter’s hand went to Mohinder’s waist, two fingers sneaking up his shirt and grabbing onto the hem, slowly tugging the light blue fabric up. Mohinder’s hand went to Peter’s wrist, stopping him, as he looked up in shock, instantly protesting this attack on his personal space.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Peter spoke innocently, his eyes equally naïve. Mohinder didn’t want to put up with any of this, not right now; he was in no frame of mind for it. And besides, it was just wrong, he was with Nathan. He didn’t care how jealous Peter was, if he had to, he’d fight for him.
“I’m tired, Peter…”
“Not nearly as tired as you will be.”
“Excuse me?”
Peter just smiled coyly in reply, his face approaching Mohinder’s quickly, kissing him lightly, his teeth holding onto his bottom lip, tugging a bit. His hand freed itself from Mohinder’s grasp, going up underneath his shirt even when Mohinder attempted to stop him again.
Mohinder decided he wasn’t being drastic enough, so his hands went to Peter’s shoulders instead, shoving him backwards with strength he hadn’t thought he possessed, his heart pounding, panic exuding off of his body.
Peter just caught himself from going too far back and laughed, looking Mohinder in the eyes still as the man breathed hard and tried to keep his flight or fight instinct in tact.
“Yes, please fight me, Mohinder. It does make things more interesting, doesn’t it?”
That instinct finally kicked in as Mohinder shot towards the door to try and escape the situation that was rapidly spinning out of his control.
Peter just simply seized Mohinder’s wrist and stopped him from moving any farther, moving in front of him and clutching both of his upper arms and shoved him backwards, in the direction of the couch.
Mohinder tried to halt these movements, to stop it before Peter pushed him much farther, but Peter was strong, stronger than he appeared. Soon, the backs of his legs were pressed against the cushions of the couch. Mohinder was still trying to push him away so he could make a run for it, but Peter’s hands were clamped on his thin, bony wrists.
Peter held Mohinder’s arms out to his sides, his lips attacking Mohinder’s once more. Mohinder let out a muffled shout of protest, pulling his soft lips from Peter, his eyes narrowed in anger.
“Let me go. Right now.”
His voice shook with his emotions, anger, betrayal, fear, all he wanted was this to end. Peter wasn’t acting like himself, this was just wrong. He understood jealousy could drive people to do things they wouldn’t normally even think about, but this was going to a new level of extreme.
Peter had left and come back a completely different person and Mohinder’s scientific mind was rushed to figure out this puzzle before something else went wrong. He had a gut feeling he was much too late.
“Nathan said I could have you. I told you, Mohinder, we share everything.”
“He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”
“You think you know him so well…You know nothing.”
Peter’s voice became treacherous, almost feral, mocking Mohinder for his false truths.
Mohinder was harshly pushed onto the couch, Peter straddling his lap, his wrists pinned on top of the couch so half of his hand bent over the rough edge, his upper body also shoved into the cushions as Peter continued to ravage the tender, torn flesh of his lips.
Peter changed the position of his hands, holding his wrists with one hand, pressure on each bone to stop Mohinder from pulling free of his hold. His free hand hovered above the Indian’s shirt touching his chest and stomach through the material before slipping under it, feeling the balmy skin for real this time.
Mohinder objected again, but it fell on deaf ears.
Peter’s hand was so cold compared to his hot skin, it made him tremble under the touch, hating that it felt so good. It wasn’t just his hand; it was hundreds of telekinetic fingertips stroking him, probing the soft flesh, compelling him to enjoy this.
Peter took his kiss a step farther, his tongue intruding into Mohinder’s mouth, but only for a split second. Peter pulled away, his lips going to his neck, licking, sucking, and nibbling.
Mohinder arched his neck, not even sure himself whether it was to give Peter a better vantage point or to try and get away from him.
Telekinesis enabled so many wonderful things, things that Mohinder didn’t want to feel from Peter. The unseen power caressed his groin, the pressure layering in and out, making him moan for more and cry for it to stop.
“You want this, don’t you? Me, touching you, it feels good, doesn’t it?”
He murmured in his ear, breathing with a warmth that Mohinder would have thought impossible from someone who was acting so cruel. So unlike him, Mohinder thought again. This wasn’t like Peter, to do this to him.
As if to reinforce his words, Peter’s hand crept underneath the waistbands of his pants and boxers, gripping him mercilessly, making Mohinder mewl in both agony and undeniable pleasure.
Mohinder was beginning to wonder if he truly did want this to stop, Peter was making him feel so nice, so loved, every touch different from the last. But he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to like it.
Mohinder was barely given enough time to breath, let alone to think before Peter demanded his full attention once more. After another squeeze, Peter pulling his hand away, the force never leaving him even as Peter got off of him and physically released his bruising wrists.
Mohinder made an effort to stand, but Peter was holding him down again, using that helpful power of his, one he’d gotten from someone Mohinder still feared, someone he still felt was watching him. Sylar. Peter was reminding him so much of Sylar.
Peter’s eyes were glued to him as a smile stole onto his lips. He raised his hand in the air, two fingers pointing at Mohinder’s waist, moving down in the air. As Peter’s fingers moved, so did the clothes on Mohinder’s slender, delicate body.
The process was unbearably slow and Mohinder felt like he was losing his mind in need, he wanted Peter’s hands on him even if he was overflowing with shame just at the mere thought. He was sick with need for Peter’s touch, not just the one of his powers that were currently filling him with irrefutable desire, but that of flesh on flesh.
Peter smirked, removing the rest of his clothing. He was enjoying himself all too much, doing this to Mohinder was the most fun he’d had in quite some time.
Mohinder whimpered as the hold on his groin was also taken away, instead going to his thighs, spreading him apart disgracefully.
“You are too easy, Mohinder. A little touch here, a few whispers there, and you’re willing to open your legs and allow yourself be fucked. I mean, just look at you, you're practically begging me for it.”
Mohinder really was quite a vision, his body quaking from Peter’s skillful touch, his dark, curly hair damp with perspiration, slicked against his skin, eyes brimming over with wanton lust.
Mohinder nearly whined in his humiliation, he could feel Peter’s eyes everywhere, and he was unable to stop it. Unable to help himself from desiring Peter so much it was excruciating, and so obvious.
He felt like he was being showcased for Peter, like a mere plaything, a toy
“You are my toy. For tonight, for tomorrow, until the day I decide otherwise.”
Peter’s face seem to transform itself into something dark and alien, leaving Mohinder with his mind reeling in denial 'This is a lie, this is not real.' The Peter he had known would have never dreamed of betraying him like this.
"You still have no idea, do you?"
Peter stalked closer to Mohinder, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him roughly away from the back of the couch, and with aid from his telekinesis, managed to flip him over so he laid on his stomach.
Mohinder’s wrists were in Peter’s hands again, held in front of him as Peter lifted his hips up so he was on his knees, his back slid forward into an angle.
Mohinder heard a zipper and rustling, Peter’s hand leaving his hips for a little bit, and he knew just what was going to happen. He’d been panicking before this, but now his reason seemed to be fortified.
Mohinder attempted to scramble away, but Peter just laughed callously at his futile attempts. It was useless as Peter, as well as his incredible power, fastened him unmovable.
With absolutely no other way out of this, Mohinder let his voice cry out for help. He was soon silenced by Peter’s hand, which had left his hips that were being held up by Peter’s solid body.
“Don’t scream, Mohinder. No one’s going to hear you, don’t you want to save that lovely voice of yours for something more constructive?”
He couldn’t move now, not only because of the telekinesis, but also because of the immobilizing terror that clutched at his very heart. Peter didn’t move his hand as he thrust into Mohinder painfully and without preparation.
Mohinder cried out into Peter’s hand, his eyes shutting tightly as he felt tears crawling to the surface of his dark eyes. Peter moved deep within him, stopping halfway, his hand abandoning their post at his wrists, even if Mohinder wouldn’t bother to move them now, he was in too much throbbing pain.
His hands went to Mohinder’s groin, stroking and fondling gently, a kindness he hadn’t expected. Peter, perhaps, was even more atrocious than Mohinder had first suspected, now he wanted to make him enjoy this to the full extent, to control everything, even his pleasure.
Peter didn’t shift anymore, not until the arousal that Mohinder had lost in his fright and suffering had returned, and it didn’t take much. Peter really did know him, Mohinder couldn’t understand how.
He touched him in all of the right places; hands running underneath his shirt onto his back, speaking tender, unrecognizable words in his ear to calm him, nibbling his earlobe slowly, all to stimulate him. It worked all too well, soon Mohinder was panting for more of his red-hot touch, to have him moving inside of him, claiming him.
All of this was so appalling and wrong, but yet they were still doing this. Peter had given him obviously no choice in the matter, but at least he truly was making him feel good even if he still felt dirty no matter what.
It didn’t take long, with the assistance of Peter’s hand and all of the accurate inspirations, Mohinder came with a white flash of brilliance showering his closed eyes, Peter’s hand gone to permit Mohinder to voice the gratification he was experiencing.
The noise he let out was long and sweet, but low, only loud enough for Peter to hear and enjoy, displaying this by climaxing soon afterwards. Peter moaned his name, the only sound he’d let out the entire time besides his heavy breathing. The way he said it, Mohinder got the sensation that this wasn’t just lust getting the best of Peter; it was more, so much more…
Peter collapsed against his still clothed back, his heated breath causing a shiver to run down Mohinder’s sweated spine. Once the remnants of Mohinder’s orgasm deserted him, he instantly began to crawl away, as the aftermath of his pleasure left him feeling wrung out and full of guilt.
Peter eased out of him, careful not to harm Mohinder anymore then he had, though like the act itself; he had failed in that endeavor. Peter had gotten what he had sought when pursuing Mohinder, yet causing the other man pain had never been his objective.
Things had just spun wildly out of his control, his body responding to the scent of Mohinder's vulnerability. A scent so intoxicating, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking advantage of it.
Mohinder could feel how unclean his body felt, sweaty, grimy, simply soaked with the shame of having another man besides the one who’d pledged his love to him inside him. Peter was grabbing his clothes; he hadn’t even looked at him yet.
“Get dressed.”
Cold, commanding, how could Peter’s moods change so simply? Either way, Mohinder did as he was told, he grabbed his boxers and pants on the ground, slipping them on, at least they’d hide some of the evidence for now.
Mohinder's eyes traveled over to the discolored sofa where the proof of his reluctant infidelity and Peter's lust laid hardening against the cushions, mocking him and his unwilling pleasure.
“I’ll take care of that.”
Not even a glance before Peter was ushering him out, shutting the door on his back. Time was passing slowly, like he was in a dream, and he had no idea how to wake up.
~~~~~~
Mohinder’s hand went to the torn skin of his lip, feeling the scab that had just begun to form; wondering if what he was about to do was really the correct course of action. Sneaking into Peter’s room just seemed so low, even if it was a reaction to the despicable thing Peter had done.
He couldn’t change his mind now as his hand rested on the door knob, twisting it quickly and opening the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him. He didn’t have long here; Peter would be back home soon. He and Claire had gone out shopping, she said he needed new clothes.
He had to find the answers, there was something different about Peter, something off, and he had to figure it out. The only place he could guess these answers to the questions that were plaguing his mind was in Peter’s room.
He looked around; the room was surprisingly neat, except for one corner of the room, opposite of the bed, the white walls covered with piles of artwork.
Mohinder recognized that most were done by Isaac Mendez’s professional hand while the remaining were clearly Peter’s work. He walked towards it, his eyes narrowed, something drawing him towards it.
He leaned down into the pile, pulling out the first drawing he got to. It was a sketch on a plain white sheet of paper, shaded in grim dark black, darker than it should have been.
What the picture portrayed didn’t register to Mohinder at first, but the image soon became clear in his mind. Peter sprawled out on the ground, blood flowing from the hollowed-out shell that been his head.
Standing beside him was a dark apparition, half of the person undoubtedly Sylar, the other half a shimmering representation of Peter Petrelli.
Force Of My Love 3/3
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80 Without you, this chapter would NOT have happened.
Pairings: Nathan/Mohinder, Peter/Mohinder, hints of Bennet/Parkman and Sylar/Mohinder
Genre: drama
Characters: Nathan, Mohinder, Peter, Claire, mentions of Angela, Bennet, Parkman, and Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: More Petrelli drama, because they do it best.
Word Count: about 3,806
Spoilers: Complete AU after Season 1
Warnings: Violence, Character Death, and non-con
Notes: Thank you to ladywilde80, you helped me so much with this chapter, it's insane just how much. Thank you for listening to my complaining and helping me rework most of this. Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Heroes or any character in the show. Just written for enjoyment.
Force Of My Love 1/3
Force Of My Love 2/3
“What happened to you, Pete?”
The question turned into a huge, almost hour long, story, but they all sat down and listened to what Peter had to say. Though the atmosphere in the room had been strained since Peter’s arrival, it was the seating arrangement that caused the most difficulties between the four.
Mohinder attempted to switch sides, to go sit by Claire so Peter could sit next to his brother, but Nathan grabbed his arm before he could move and pulled Mohinder down next to him. Peter then had no other option but to sit next to Claire, and it was obvious he was trying his hardest not to lash out at Mohinder even if it wasn’t really his fault.
“I went to try and find Sylar, and I did once or twice, but he always got away too quickly. You should have seen the fights! He’s gotten so many powers since we last met and so have I, it could have been considered epic!”
He seemed so excited, wanting to share every detail of his journey with all of them, but Mohinder had the distinct idea that he was mostly talking to Claire and Nathan, and he understood why.
He had come home to find that Mohinder has not only replaced him in his lovers’ arms, but perhaps most painful of all, has taken his rightful place at his brothers side.
He had every right to hate him.
“I wasn’t planning on coming home for a while, but something happened. I had to come back…”
His voice fell, like he was hiding some dark secret. Claire put her hand on his shoulder, a worried expression on her face.
“My father?”
Mohinder felt Nathan twitch beside him, knowing he hated that Claire called Bennet her father and he was simply known as ‘Nathan’. He’d been deprived of so many years with her, all because of his own mother.
Peter’s eyes caught hers, and though Mohinder couldn’t see them, he could feel the sorrow in them. Claire’s eyes widened and brimmed with tears, Nathan’s hand went to Mohinder’s shoulder and squeezed lightly in the apprehension of the moment.
“Dead? Both of them? Are you sure?”
Nathan had to remain calm at Claire’s demanding, heartbreaking question, even if this news would mean that Sylar was closer to them than ever before.
“Yes.”
~~~~~~
The details came later; Nathan told Mohinder what had happened. Both Parkman and Bennet had been killed at the same time, in the same motel room, and from what was written in the notes Nathan possessed, in a very compromising position.
To those who believed in romance, it was very much a Romeo and Juliet ending for the two. They’d been found arranged in each other’s arms, but Parkman had morbidly had his head cut open and his brain no where to be found.
They had all noticed how close the two men had become, but in the little group they’d unintentionally formed, no questions were asked. Sort of like government policy on gays in the military.
“How unusually sweet, or it’s just his sick sense of humor.”
Nathan put the papers down on his desk, getting up and leaning against it as Mohinder remained in his seat, watching him.
“Now that Peter’s back, I don’t want anything to change between us. I’ve chosen you and that’s the end of that matter, alright?”
Mohinder looked up at him, smiling before standing up and kissing him lightly on the lips, a display of affection he had become accustomed to using any time he wanted in the home he now considered his own.
Mohinder heard someone clear their throat behind them and he turned around to see Peter there, with his arms crossed and a very dark look on his face.
“Mohinder, could you leave for a moment? I need to talk to Nathan.”
Mohinder cleared his own throat a bit, nodding and stepping away from Nathan, who was watching Peter for the moment.
“Of course.”
He moved past Peter, telling himself to not feel guilty, it wasn’t his fault that Nathan had chosen him over Peter. Maybe it was, maybe he’d unwittingly taken advantage of Peter’s absence more than he should have. But Nathan had assured him it was his decision and he would stick by it, even if he still felt responsible. He couldn’t even look Peter in the eyes lately.
He felt Peter watching him even as he turned the corner and walked upstairs, trying not to eavesdrop on Peter and Nathan’s conversation.
“Peter, I told you I didn’t want to talk about him. It’s my decision, not yours.”
“Will you listen to what I have to say, Nathan?”
He didn’t want to hear anymore, so he shut the door to his room, sat down by his laptop, and began to drown everything, even his own thoughts, out of his mind.
~~~~~~
Later that night, Mohinder found himself suffering with an urge to read instead of hurting his eyes staring at a computer screen for hours on end. In no mood to disagree with the odd urge, he made his way to the Petrelli Library that was located on the other side of the house.
They had a huge collection of books, but the room was a bit smaller then one would have thought. It made for a cozy, homey atmosphere, complete with a few chairs and a nice red couch.
He picked out a book that intrigued, Melusine by Sarah Monette. Right from the first page, he was astounded that the Petrelli’s had a book like this in their home. One of the first scenes was a rape scene, two men, one raping the other for pure power and not just the emotional kind; some sort of magic was attached to it.
At first, he didn’t think he’d like it because of the subject matter, but it soon proved otherwise when something in the book drew him in and he couldn’t stop reading. He did find that his eyes were getting blurry about halfway in, so he had to stop. He would just leave it here and continue reading it the next day; he could take a break from his research for one day.
He got up and slipped it inside the bookcase, turning around, his eyes connected with the dark orbs of another person. It startled him so much; he let out a gasp and backed up a step. His heart sped up suddenly, and it didn’t calm down even when he realized the person was Peter Petrelli.
He tried to will away the feeling of dread that had begun to take root but found it near impossible, as the expression on Peter’s face seemed to convey to him that this was only the calm before the storm.
“Peter, you’re up late.”
“I was looking for you actually.”
“Really? Why is that?”
His voice choked when he spoke, he was just so anxious at what Peter was going to say, or even do. The man had been obviously furious at seeing Mohinder and Nathan together.
The only thing he could do was trust that Nathan was going to be loyal and stay by his side, though he knew Peter would do all in his power to persuade him otherwise.
“As you know, Nathan and I had a nice little chat earlier. We discussed you.”
Here it came; Mohinder could feel the storm blowing in.
“You know Nathan and I share everything, we always have. Why should you be any different?”
Peter was moving closer to Mohinder, invading his personal space he was used to having with everyone but Nathan. In a reaction to the pressure, Mohinder backed up until his back hit one of the bookcases, stopping there. Peter didn’t.
Mohinder’s eyes didn’t leave Peter as the man smirked a bit, cocking his head to the side.
"Don't be frightened Mohinder. You see, I would never dream of abusing anything of my brothers. Well, not unless we did it together, of course."
Peter’s hand went to Mohinder’s waist, two fingers sneaking up his shirt and grabbing onto the hem, slowly tugging the light blue fabric up. Mohinder’s hand went to Peter’s wrist, stopping him, as he looked up in shock, instantly protesting this attack on his personal space.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Peter spoke innocently, his eyes equally naïve. Mohinder didn’t want to put up with any of this, not right now; he was in no frame of mind for it. And besides, it was just wrong, he was with Nathan. He didn’t care how jealous Peter was, if he had to, he’d fight for him.
“I’m tired, Peter…”
“Not nearly as tired as you will be.”
“Excuse me?”
Peter just smiled coyly in reply, his face approaching Mohinder’s quickly, kissing him lightly, his teeth holding onto his bottom lip, tugging a bit. His hand freed itself from Mohinder’s grasp, going up underneath his shirt even when Mohinder attempted to stop him again.
Mohinder decided he wasn’t being drastic enough, so his hands went to Peter’s shoulders instead, shoving him backwards with strength he hadn’t thought he possessed, his heart pounding, panic exuding off of his body.
Peter just caught himself from going too far back and laughed, looking Mohinder in the eyes still as the man breathed hard and tried to keep his flight or fight instinct in tact.
“Yes, please fight me, Mohinder. It does make things more interesting, doesn’t it?”
That instinct finally kicked in as Mohinder shot towards the door to try and escape the situation that was rapidly spinning out of his control.
Peter just simply seized Mohinder’s wrist and stopped him from moving any farther, moving in front of him and clutching both of his upper arms and shoved him backwards, in the direction of the couch.
Mohinder tried to halt these movements, to stop it before Peter pushed him much farther, but Peter was strong, stronger than he appeared. Soon, the backs of his legs were pressed against the cushions of the couch. Mohinder was still trying to push him away so he could make a run for it, but Peter’s hands were clamped on his thin, bony wrists.
Peter held Mohinder’s arms out to his sides, his lips attacking Mohinder’s once more. Mohinder let out a muffled shout of protest, pulling his soft lips from Peter, his eyes narrowed in anger.
“Let me go. Right now.”
His voice shook with his emotions, anger, betrayal, fear, all he wanted was this to end. Peter wasn’t acting like himself, this was just wrong. He understood jealousy could drive people to do things they wouldn’t normally even think about, but this was going to a new level of extreme.
Peter had left and come back a completely different person and Mohinder’s scientific mind was rushed to figure out this puzzle before something else went wrong. He had a gut feeling he was much too late.
“Nathan said I could have you. I told you, Mohinder, we share everything.”
“He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”
“You think you know him so well…You know nothing.”
Peter’s voice became treacherous, almost feral, mocking Mohinder for his false truths.
Mohinder was harshly pushed onto the couch, Peter straddling his lap, his wrists pinned on top of the couch so half of his hand bent over the rough edge, his upper body also shoved into the cushions as Peter continued to ravage the tender, torn flesh of his lips.
Peter changed the position of his hands, holding his wrists with one hand, pressure on each bone to stop Mohinder from pulling free of his hold. His free hand hovered above the Indian’s shirt touching his chest and stomach through the material before slipping under it, feeling the balmy skin for real this time.
Mohinder objected again, but it fell on deaf ears.
Peter’s hand was so cold compared to his hot skin, it made him tremble under the touch, hating that it felt so good. It wasn’t just his hand; it was hundreds of telekinetic fingertips stroking him, probing the soft flesh, compelling him to enjoy this.
Peter took his kiss a step farther, his tongue intruding into Mohinder’s mouth, but only for a split second. Peter pulled away, his lips going to his neck, licking, sucking, and nibbling.
Mohinder arched his neck, not even sure himself whether it was to give Peter a better vantage point or to try and get away from him.
Telekinesis enabled so many wonderful things, things that Mohinder didn’t want to feel from Peter. The unseen power caressed his groin, the pressure layering in and out, making him moan for more and cry for it to stop.
“You want this, don’t you? Me, touching you, it feels good, doesn’t it?”
He murmured in his ear, breathing with a warmth that Mohinder would have thought impossible from someone who was acting so cruel. So unlike him, Mohinder thought again. This wasn’t like Peter, to do this to him.
As if to reinforce his words, Peter’s hand crept underneath the waistbands of his pants and boxers, gripping him mercilessly, making Mohinder mewl in both agony and undeniable pleasure.
Mohinder was beginning to wonder if he truly did want this to stop, Peter was making him feel so nice, so loved, every touch different from the last. But he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to like it.
Mohinder was barely given enough time to breath, let alone to think before Peter demanded his full attention once more. After another squeeze, Peter pulling his hand away, the force never leaving him even as Peter got off of him and physically released his bruising wrists.
Mohinder made an effort to stand, but Peter was holding him down again, using that helpful power of his, one he’d gotten from someone Mohinder still feared, someone he still felt was watching him. Sylar. Peter was reminding him so much of Sylar.
Peter’s eyes were glued to him as a smile stole onto his lips. He raised his hand in the air, two fingers pointing at Mohinder’s waist, moving down in the air. As Peter’s fingers moved, so did the clothes on Mohinder’s slender, delicate body.
The process was unbearably slow and Mohinder felt like he was losing his mind in need, he wanted Peter’s hands on him even if he was overflowing with shame just at the mere thought. He was sick with need for Peter’s touch, not just the one of his powers that were currently filling him with irrefutable desire, but that of flesh on flesh.
Peter smirked, removing the rest of his clothing. He was enjoying himself all too much, doing this to Mohinder was the most fun he’d had in quite some time.
Mohinder whimpered as the hold on his groin was also taken away, instead going to his thighs, spreading him apart disgracefully.
“You are too easy, Mohinder. A little touch here, a few whispers there, and you’re willing to open your legs and allow yourself be fucked. I mean, just look at you, you're practically begging me for it.”
Mohinder really was quite a vision, his body quaking from Peter’s skillful touch, his dark, curly hair damp with perspiration, slicked against his skin, eyes brimming over with wanton lust.
Mohinder nearly whined in his humiliation, he could feel Peter’s eyes everywhere, and he was unable to stop it. Unable to help himself from desiring Peter so much it was excruciating, and so obvious.
He felt like he was being showcased for Peter, like a mere plaything, a toy
“You are my toy. For tonight, for tomorrow, until the day I decide otherwise.”
Peter’s face seem to transform itself into something dark and alien, leaving Mohinder with his mind reeling in denial 'This is a lie, this is not real.' The Peter he had known would have never dreamed of betraying him like this.
"You still have no idea, do you?"
Peter stalked closer to Mohinder, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him roughly away from the back of the couch, and with aid from his telekinesis, managed to flip him over so he laid on his stomach.
Mohinder’s wrists were in Peter’s hands again, held in front of him as Peter lifted his hips up so he was on his knees, his back slid forward into an angle.
Mohinder heard a zipper and rustling, Peter’s hand leaving his hips for a little bit, and he knew just what was going to happen. He’d been panicking before this, but now his reason seemed to be fortified.
Mohinder attempted to scramble away, but Peter just laughed callously at his futile attempts. It was useless as Peter, as well as his incredible power, fastened him unmovable.
With absolutely no other way out of this, Mohinder let his voice cry out for help. He was soon silenced by Peter’s hand, which had left his hips that were being held up by Peter’s solid body.
“Don’t scream, Mohinder. No one’s going to hear you, don’t you want to save that lovely voice of yours for something more constructive?”
He couldn’t move now, not only because of the telekinesis, but also because of the immobilizing terror that clutched at his very heart. Peter didn’t move his hand as he thrust into Mohinder painfully and without preparation.
Mohinder cried out into Peter’s hand, his eyes shutting tightly as he felt tears crawling to the surface of his dark eyes. Peter moved deep within him, stopping halfway, his hand abandoning their post at his wrists, even if Mohinder wouldn’t bother to move them now, he was in too much throbbing pain.
His hands went to Mohinder’s groin, stroking and fondling gently, a kindness he hadn’t expected. Peter, perhaps, was even more atrocious than Mohinder had first suspected, now he wanted to make him enjoy this to the full extent, to control everything, even his pleasure.
Peter didn’t shift anymore, not until the arousal that Mohinder had lost in his fright and suffering had returned, and it didn’t take much. Peter really did know him, Mohinder couldn’t understand how.
He touched him in all of the right places; hands running underneath his shirt onto his back, speaking tender, unrecognizable words in his ear to calm him, nibbling his earlobe slowly, all to stimulate him. It worked all too well, soon Mohinder was panting for more of his red-hot touch, to have him moving inside of him, claiming him.
All of this was so appalling and wrong, but yet they were still doing this. Peter had given him obviously no choice in the matter, but at least he truly was making him feel good even if he still felt dirty no matter what.
It didn’t take long, with the assistance of Peter’s hand and all of the accurate inspirations, Mohinder came with a white flash of brilliance showering his closed eyes, Peter’s hand gone to permit Mohinder to voice the gratification he was experiencing.
The noise he let out was long and sweet, but low, only loud enough for Peter to hear and enjoy, displaying this by climaxing soon afterwards. Peter moaned his name, the only sound he’d let out the entire time besides his heavy breathing. The way he said it, Mohinder got the sensation that this wasn’t just lust getting the best of Peter; it was more, so much more…
Peter collapsed against his still clothed back, his heated breath causing a shiver to run down Mohinder’s sweated spine. Once the remnants of Mohinder’s orgasm deserted him, he instantly began to crawl away, as the aftermath of his pleasure left him feeling wrung out and full of guilt.
Peter eased out of him, careful not to harm Mohinder anymore then he had, though like the act itself; he had failed in that endeavor. Peter had gotten what he had sought when pursuing Mohinder, yet causing the other man pain had never been his objective.
Things had just spun wildly out of his control, his body responding to the scent of Mohinder's vulnerability. A scent so intoxicating, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking advantage of it.
Mohinder could feel how unclean his body felt, sweaty, grimy, simply soaked with the shame of having another man besides the one who’d pledged his love to him inside him. Peter was grabbing his clothes; he hadn’t even looked at him yet.
“Get dressed.”
Cold, commanding, how could Peter’s moods change so simply? Either way, Mohinder did as he was told, he grabbed his boxers and pants on the ground, slipping them on, at least they’d hide some of the evidence for now.
Mohinder's eyes traveled over to the discolored sofa where the proof of his reluctant infidelity and Peter's lust laid hardening against the cushions, mocking him and his unwilling pleasure.
“I’ll take care of that.”
Not even a glance before Peter was ushering him out, shutting the door on his back. Time was passing slowly, like he was in a dream, and he had no idea how to wake up.
~~~~~~
Mohinder’s hand went to the torn skin of his lip, feeling the scab that had just begun to form; wondering if what he was about to do was really the correct course of action. Sneaking into Peter’s room just seemed so low, even if it was a reaction to the despicable thing Peter had done.
He couldn’t change his mind now as his hand rested on the door knob, twisting it quickly and opening the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him. He didn’t have long here; Peter would be back home soon. He and Claire had gone out shopping, she said he needed new clothes.
He had to find the answers, there was something different about Peter, something off, and he had to figure it out. The only place he could guess these answers to the questions that were plaguing his mind was in Peter’s room.
He looked around; the room was surprisingly neat, except for one corner of the room, opposite of the bed, the white walls covered with piles of artwork.
Mohinder recognized that most were done by Isaac Mendez’s professional hand while the remaining were clearly Peter’s work. He walked towards it, his eyes narrowed, something drawing him towards it.
He leaned down into the pile, pulling out the first drawing he got to. It was a sketch on a plain white sheet of paper, shaded in grim dark black, darker than it should have been.
What the picture portrayed didn’t register to Mohinder at first, but the image soon became clear in his mind. Peter sprawled out on the ground, blood flowing from the hollowed-out shell that been his head.
Standing beside him was a dark apparition, half of the person undoubtedly Sylar, the other half a shimmering representation of Peter Petrelli.
Force Of My Love 3/3
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash