Fic: So Wrong (Peter, Sylar/Mohinder, R)
Title: So Wrong
Rating: R
Words: 1360
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Sylar/Mohinder
Warnings: Smut (not graphic descriptions of sex, but definitely smut)
Spoilers: Vaguely, for the whole series
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the
mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Eavesdropping. And I'd like to publicly apologize to Peter Petrelli for putting him through this.
Summary: When you let yourself into someone else's apartment, sometimes you see things you wish you hadn't seen.
Peter cursed softly under his breath. He had vague memories of this hallway and it didn’t seem to have changed, but that wasn’t much help to him in telling time. He wished he’d been able to spend time with Hiro to try to get a better grip on this ability. It had taken eighteen tries before he’d caught Sandra Bennet on the right date in 2011 to tell her something she needed to know about the following week, and the process of searching was a lot more mentally exhausting than he’d expected.
But Hiro was constantly traveling himself, gathering data and coming back to discuss it in detail with the rest of them before they decided on what changes to make. Even the tiniest change could have catastrophically huge effects five, ten, twenty years in the future, and they were trying to find a way to choke off the Company and its successor with a minimum of disruption and loss. They’d realized that when the person involved already knew them, a quick message at the right point in time was just as effective as a full frontal assault. So Hiro had smiled trustingly and said he knew Peter could handle it all, and then disappeared to chase down another hunch.
He’d concentrated as much as possible. And it looked like the right place. And the few leaves still clinging to the trees outside told him it must be late October or early November. But he had no idea if he’d gone five years past the year he needed, or if he’d popped in here before either one of the Sureshes ever set foot in this place.
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, and started to knock on the door. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd shown up unannounced here.
At one point in this odyssey, he’d startled the trigger-happy previous owner of the Bennets’ current home. Nathan hadn’t been impressed with his argument that because he’d healed almost immediately, it wasn’t a big deal. “You’ve got the resources to do reconnaissance, Pete,” he’d lectured, fingering the bullet hole in Peter’s jacket sleeve. “For Christ’s sake, do some before you go barging in somewhere! The next shot might get lucky and take your head off. Better to invade someone’s privacy than to wind up dead for good.”
Peter rolled his eyes at the memory of his brother and then closed them to concentrate. There was one person inside the apartment - no, two. He frowned and switched over from listening for sounds to listening for thoughts, but whoever they were, they weren’t thinking in words coherent enough for him to pick up on. He sighed and offered a silent apology, and then phased through the door and went invisible.
No one in the main room. He crossed it as quietly as possible to look in the back room - no one there, either. Frowning, he walked back to the bedroom door and froze.
His worst nightmare was sitting on the end of the bed, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him, looking like he thought he had every right to be here.
In his panic, Peter almost forgot that Sylar couldn’t see him standing there. He raised a hand and tried to calm down enough to figure out what to do, how to stop him - and then he heard a voice. He couldn’t make out what it said - maybe one day he’d figure out a way to use more than one ability at a time - but it was definitely Mohinder’s. Sylar glanced in its direction and smiled.
Then Mohinder walked into view and stood in front of Sylar. He was shirtless and barefoot. He reached down to grasp Sylar’s shirt and tug it off over his head. Mohinder bent to kiss Sylar as the killer grabbed his waist. Peter stared open-mouthed as he realized Mohinder was fumbling with the zipper on Sylar’s jeans. Mohinder knelt slowly in front of him, with Sylar chasing after his mouth and wrapping arms around his shoulders. Then Mohinder bent his head lower, and -
Peter whirled around, blushing furiously. He leaned against the table and tried to figure out what to do.
He wasn’t meant to see this. It wasn’t any of his business. But wasn’t everything involving that psycho his business?
What if Mohinder really was doing this of his own free will? What if he was happy doing it? But he couldn’t possibly be. Could he?
He thought back to the first time he’d seen Mohinder after his return to New York, when Mohinder had pulled him aside to tell him Sylar was still alive. He remembered how Mohinder had looked as they spoke, battered and fearful and furious. Sylar must have found a way to coerce him, because it was impossible to reconcile that memory with this.
Except...except that Mohinder hadn’t flinched from Sylar’s touch, he’d leaned into it. And whatever words he’d said to Sylar earlier had had an undertone of warmth, not anger. And when Peter snuck a glance over his shoulder, Sylar didn’t look like a triumphant conqueror. He was holding Mohinder’s shoulders gently and looking down at him like he was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
How could anyone possibly follow a path that led from attempted murder to making love?
Peter slipped back out through the door into the hallway and tried to catch his breath. He knew that his brother’s advice would be to get reinforcements and deal with Sylar for good. At the very least, he felt like he ought to knock loudly on the door and interrupt this before Mohinder did something he really regretted. But...what if this was something that was supposed to happen?
What if there was no need to warn anyone about this because, in whatever year this was, everyone already knew?
Then again, what if they’d all done something very, very wrong without realizing it, and this was the awful result of that?
He heard a faint sound and focused in without thinking.
“Why are you stopping?”
Mohinder laughed, throaty and quiet. “Lie back for a moment.”
Peter could almost hear Sylar’s fingers sliding into Mohinder’s hair, and then they must have kissed, because Sylar whispered, “I love the way you taste after you’ve been sucking me.”
“Lie down for a moment,” Mohinder repeated. Peter raised his hand to blow open the door, because this was something that should not be happening, and he should put a stop to it, but then indecision paralyzed him again.
“It would be easier to take my jeans off if you took my shoes off first.”
“It would be easier to take your tennis shoes off if you wouldn’t tie the laces so tightly.” But once again, there wasn’t any real anger in Mohinder’s voice.
There was a thump - probably a shoe being dropped - and then the sound of fabric being pulled over skin, and Mohinder sighing happily before saying, “No, not like that. Turn over. On your hands and knees.”
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” Sylar said. “You know I like to see you.”
“Then turn around to face the mirror on the dresser,” Mohinder replied. There was the rip of his zipper being undone, and the soft wet hush of a kiss, and the faint protests of the mattress as weight shifted across it, and other sounds Peter didn’t want to interpret. He didn’t want to believe Mohinder was actually going to go through with this, that he could do this so calmly, like it was normal.
Then Sylar said, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t use one of those.”
Mohinder started to speak but Sylar cut him off. “I know, I know. But I’m the one taking the risk. And, Mohinder...” His voice trailed off to a whisper. “I want to feel you.”
There was a long silence, finally broken by Sylar’s sharp gasp. Then Mohinder said shakily, “No. Look up. Look in the mirror. I want you to watch what I’m doing as you feel it.”
Peter let out the breath he’d been holding without realizing it, and fled.
X-posted to
mission_insane,
mylar_fic,
heroes_slash
Rating: R
Words: 1360
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Sylar/Mohinder
Warnings: Smut (not graphic descriptions of sex, but definitely smut)
Spoilers: Vaguely, for the whole series
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not writing this for profit.
A/N: This is written for the
mission_insane challenge, table/prompt: Cliché / Eavesdropping. And I'd like to publicly apologize to Peter Petrelli for putting him through this.
Summary: When you let yourself into someone else's apartment, sometimes you see things you wish you hadn't seen.
Peter cursed softly under his breath. He had vague memories of this hallway and it didn’t seem to have changed, but that wasn’t much help to him in telling time. He wished he’d been able to spend time with Hiro to try to get a better grip on this ability. It had taken eighteen tries before he’d caught Sandra Bennet on the right date in 2011 to tell her something she needed to know about the following week, and the process of searching was a lot more mentally exhausting than he’d expected.
But Hiro was constantly traveling himself, gathering data and coming back to discuss it in detail with the rest of them before they decided on what changes to make. Even the tiniest change could have catastrophically huge effects five, ten, twenty years in the future, and they were trying to find a way to choke off the Company and its successor with a minimum of disruption and loss. They’d realized that when the person involved already knew them, a quick message at the right point in time was just as effective as a full frontal assault. So Hiro had smiled trustingly and said he knew Peter could handle it all, and then disappeared to chase down another hunch.
He’d concentrated as much as possible. And it looked like the right place. And the few leaves still clinging to the trees outside told him it must be late October or early November. But he had no idea if he’d gone five years past the year he needed, or if he’d popped in here before either one of the Sureshes ever set foot in this place.
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, and started to knock on the door. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd shown up unannounced here.
At one point in this odyssey, he’d startled the trigger-happy previous owner of the Bennets’ current home. Nathan hadn’t been impressed with his argument that because he’d healed almost immediately, it wasn’t a big deal. “You’ve got the resources to do reconnaissance, Pete,” he’d lectured, fingering the bullet hole in Peter’s jacket sleeve. “For Christ’s sake, do some before you go barging in somewhere! The next shot might get lucky and take your head off. Better to invade someone’s privacy than to wind up dead for good.”
Peter rolled his eyes at the memory of his brother and then closed them to concentrate. There was one person inside the apartment - no, two. He frowned and switched over from listening for sounds to listening for thoughts, but whoever they were, they weren’t thinking in words coherent enough for him to pick up on. He sighed and offered a silent apology, and then phased through the door and went invisible.
No one in the main room. He crossed it as quietly as possible to look in the back room - no one there, either. Frowning, he walked back to the bedroom door and froze.
His worst nightmare was sitting on the end of the bed, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him, looking like he thought he had every right to be here.
In his panic, Peter almost forgot that Sylar couldn’t see him standing there. He raised a hand and tried to calm down enough to figure out what to do, how to stop him - and then he heard a voice. He couldn’t make out what it said - maybe one day he’d figure out a way to use more than one ability at a time - but it was definitely Mohinder’s. Sylar glanced in its direction and smiled.
Then Mohinder walked into view and stood in front of Sylar. He was shirtless and barefoot. He reached down to grasp Sylar’s shirt and tug it off over his head. Mohinder bent to kiss Sylar as the killer grabbed his waist. Peter stared open-mouthed as he realized Mohinder was fumbling with the zipper on Sylar’s jeans. Mohinder knelt slowly in front of him, with Sylar chasing after his mouth and wrapping arms around his shoulders. Then Mohinder bent his head lower, and -
Peter whirled around, blushing furiously. He leaned against the table and tried to figure out what to do.
He wasn’t meant to see this. It wasn’t any of his business. But wasn’t everything involving that psycho his business?
What if Mohinder really was doing this of his own free will? What if he was happy doing it? But he couldn’t possibly be. Could he?
He thought back to the first time he’d seen Mohinder after his return to New York, when Mohinder had pulled him aside to tell him Sylar was still alive. He remembered how Mohinder had looked as they spoke, battered and fearful and furious. Sylar must have found a way to coerce him, because it was impossible to reconcile that memory with this.
Except...except that Mohinder hadn’t flinched from Sylar’s touch, he’d leaned into it. And whatever words he’d said to Sylar earlier had had an undertone of warmth, not anger. And when Peter snuck a glance over his shoulder, Sylar didn’t look like a triumphant conqueror. He was holding Mohinder’s shoulders gently and looking down at him like he was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
How could anyone possibly follow a path that led from attempted murder to making love?
Peter slipped back out through the door into the hallway and tried to catch his breath. He knew that his brother’s advice would be to get reinforcements and deal with Sylar for good. At the very least, he felt like he ought to knock loudly on the door and interrupt this before Mohinder did something he really regretted. But...what if this was something that was supposed to happen?
What if there was no need to warn anyone about this because, in whatever year this was, everyone already knew?
Then again, what if they’d all done something very, very wrong without realizing it, and this was the awful result of that?
He heard a faint sound and focused in without thinking.
“Why are you stopping?”
Mohinder laughed, throaty and quiet. “Lie back for a moment.”
Peter could almost hear Sylar’s fingers sliding into Mohinder’s hair, and then they must have kissed, because Sylar whispered, “I love the way you taste after you’ve been sucking me.”
“Lie down for a moment,” Mohinder repeated. Peter raised his hand to blow open the door, because this was something that should not be happening, and he should put a stop to it, but then indecision paralyzed him again.
“It would be easier to take my jeans off if you took my shoes off first.”
“It would be easier to take your tennis shoes off if you wouldn’t tie the laces so tightly.” But once again, there wasn’t any real anger in Mohinder’s voice.
There was a thump - probably a shoe being dropped - and then the sound of fabric being pulled over skin, and Mohinder sighing happily before saying, “No, not like that. Turn over. On your hands and knees.”
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” Sylar said. “You know I like to see you.”
“Then turn around to face the mirror on the dresser,” Mohinder replied. There was the rip of his zipper being undone, and the soft wet hush of a kiss, and the faint protests of the mattress as weight shifted across it, and other sounds Peter didn’t want to interpret. He didn’t want to believe Mohinder was actually going to go through with this, that he could do this so calmly, like it was normal.
Then Sylar said, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t use one of those.”
Mohinder started to speak but Sylar cut him off. “I know, I know. But I’m the one taking the risk. And, Mohinder...” His voice trailed off to a whisper. “I want to feel you.”
There was a long silence, finally broken by Sylar’s sharp gasp. Then Mohinder said shakily, “No. Look up. Look in the mirror. I want you to watch what I’m doing as you feel it.”
Peter let out the breath he’d been holding without realizing it, and fled.
X-posted to
mission_insane,
mylar_fic,
heroes_slash