The First Heroes Pornathan
THE FIRST HEROES PORNATHON BEGINSTo play, all you need to do is pick a prompt from below (any prompt, even if it's your own) and write the porniest bit of fiction you can, or make the hottest manip or painting. That's all folks - just one bit of steamy, panty-wetting porn. Make it as kinky or as subtle as you like, but make it hot, melt your
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Peter pushes his hand away and kisses him again, hard. There is nothing kind in his kiss, nothing of what Mohinder knows of his own Peter. It’s deep and bruising, desperate in a way that is… unsettling. He kisses as if he can erase the years that lie between them through sheer force of will.
Peter pulls back, breathing hard. He’s still holding on to the lapels of Mohinder’s shirt, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” he says, not meeting his eyes. “This is all so fucked up. I just… I miss you so much.” He glances up, and finally Mohinder sees something in his eyes that he recognises, something young and vulnerable.
“You shouldn’t be here, should you,” Mohinder states with all the calmness that he isn’t feeling. He’s breathing hard too, heart beating so hard against his ribs he feels like it’s trying to escape.
“I really, really shouldn’t.” He gives a bitter little laugh, and leans his head forwards to tease at Mohinder’s lower lip briefly. “I’m risking more than you could possibly comprehend.”
Then why, he wants to ask, but Peter kisses him again, pressing their bodies together, and the answer is there in his sheer desperation.
Peter kisses like a man who has not been kissed in a long, long time.
“We don’t have long,” he breathes against Mohinder’s lips, “Gotta be quick.” Mohinder murmurs his agreement and clutches at Peter’s hip, pulling their bodies even tighter together, the sweet friction becoming something utterly necessary. Peter grinds his hips down, and Mohinder has to cry out at the sensation.
Peter tries to push him backwards, pin him against the wall, but Mohinder is tired of being the passive one. He slides his hand in between their bodies and, in a rush of movement, has Peter’s fly undone, his hand working its way inside the other man’s boxers to curve snugly around his hot length. Peter lets out a delightfully shocked sound and grabs Mohinder’s wrist, encouraging him to move his hand faster.
“Jesus,” Peter says, mesmerized, “god, Mohinder, you’re amazing. Always were. The way you look when-” He breaks off into a moan, and for an instant Mohinder sees a flash of himself as Peter must be seeing him: skin flushed with pleasure, mouth open and panting for air. His expression so completely, utterly wanton.
It’s over far too soon; Peter stiffens, cries out, and Mohinder watches his face in pure fascination as he comes. He looks so beautiful at that moment, it’s possible to ignore the scar that should not be there.
Peter leans his head against Mohinder’s cheek, orgasm taking all the tension out of him. “I wish,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “I wish we had more time.” His lips brush Mohinder’s cheek, mouthing the words into his skin. “If we had time, I could- god, I want to fuck you.”
Mohinder feels his cock jerk at the words, their crude honesty. He wants it too; can almost see it. Himself face down on the bed, legs spread wide, Peter pushing into him from behind. He wants it, wants to feel the delicious stretch of that first push inwards, and he aches to know that he cannot have it.
There is a moment of panic when Peter pulls away. Only a moment. Then Mohinder is fighting hard not to come this very second, because Peter-
Peter is sliding to his knees in front of him.
“Oh, god,” Mohinder says in wonder. His hands tighten impulsively on the other man’s shoulders, as Peter undoes his pants and slides them down over his hips. Then he is being swallowed whole, Peter’s mouth closing neatly around him, and his entire world narrows down to that brilliant point of heat and pressure. Peter curls his tongue under the head, begins to suck, and Mohinder realises distantly that he is moaning aloud. Every sweet little twist of Peter’s mouth translates into a groan, a shout, a harsh cry of pleasure. He swears loudly, and Peter pulls back just long enough to grin up at him, then dives straight back down.
When he comes, it’s like fire and knowledge and everything he has been missing these past weeks.
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I get the impression somehow that Peter always kisses like this, don't you? Like he's starved for affection.
Really a nice job. Thanks! And I'm sorry to be slow getting around to this and the wrap up! I've been icky sick and am just trying to catch up.
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