Fic: Telephone
Title: Telephone
Author: Alice
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bennet/Mohinder
Summary: Bennet. Mohinder. Phone sex.
Spoilers: 2-01 “Four Months Later”
Word Count: ~800
Molly and Matt are asleep, both looking a bit more cherubic than when they’re awake. Mohinder makes sure that both are well tucked in before slipping into the living room. He flips open his cell and presses the number five button.
It rings twice before the click of someone answering. “Good evening, Doctor,” Bennet says.
Oh, he’s got that tone to his voice.
“Everything is on schedule.” Mohinder slips back out of the living room, goes to the bathroom. Locks the door.
“Excellent.”
The moment stretches, neither speaking.
Mohinder cracks. “So . . . what are you wearing?”
Bennet laughs, low and playful. “A truly atrocious purple shirt-”
“Sexy.”
“-and nothing else.”
Mohinder laughs.
“It’s part of a new campaign to get more business for Copy Kingdom.”
“I bet it’s working.”
“Reviews are mixed.”
“It would certainly get my business.” He sits on the lid of the toilet, makes himself comfortable.
“What are you wearing?”
“White dress shirt, mostly unbuttoned. Slacks, belt, shoes, socks, sexy red silk boxers.”
“I think you made up the last one.”
“If you were here, you could check for yourself.”
“If I were there, I’d start with your shirt.”
He spreads his legs, runs a knuckle over the rising bulge in his pants. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. I’d pull it free of your pants. Slowly.”
He cups himself through his pants once more before reaching up. He pulls out his shirttails.
“Did you do it?”
Bennet’s voice-he can almost feel it on his skin, dreams hot breath whispering over his ear, his neck. Mohinder swallows, says, “Yes.”
“Then I’d unbutton it, one at a time.”
Mohinder thinks, Instead of all at once? But he doesn’t want to spoil the mood, so he unbuttons his shirt one-handed. “Yeah.”
“I’d slide it off you shoulders, Mohinder.”
The way Bennet says his name, it sounds sexy and special and some other good thing starting with an “S.” He takes off his shirt, drops it to the floor. “It’s off.”
“I’d run my fingers up your stomach.”
He does it, teasing himself with his own light touch.
“I’d touch your nipple.”
He runs his hand over his chest, brushes his nipple. Runs a nail over it.
“I can hear you breathing hard. Do you like what I’m doing to you?” The voice is perfect, every word clipped and precise. It’s a weapon, cutting into him and making him want more.
“Yes,” he breaths out.
“Imagine me reaching for your belt buckle.”
He does. He can see Bennet’s large white hand settling on his belt buckle, one long finger sliding underneath, pulling his belt tight.
“Take off your belt.”
He unbuckles it, pulls it free of the belt lopes. Drops it. “I did.”
“Are you hard, Mohinder?”
“Yes.” And it’s true. Very.
“For me?”
It’s torture. It’s perfect. “Yeah.” He’s touching himself through his pants, waiting on the next order.
“Undo your fly.”
He pops the button, drops the zipper.
“You lied to me about those boxers.”
He bites back a groan.
“What are you wearing, Mohinder?”
He’s helpless, pinned by Bennet’s presence even though the man is thousands of miles away. “They’re cotton, blue cotton boxers.”
“Nice. I bet you wear them well. Are they a bit tight right now?”
“Yes.”
“Better pull yourself out, then.”
He pushes down the elastic waistband, shoves boxers and pants down until he’s free.
“Touch yourself.”
He wraps his hand around his erection, starts to pump.
“If I were there, I’d suck you.”
He moans. His hand moves faster.
“Would you like that? Would you like to feel my tongue on you, teasing you? Would you like to watch my cheeks hollow as I work you? Feel my hands on you?”
His hips are thrusting up into his own hand. It’s Bennet, he’s on him, wringing these feeling out of him, making him like this.
“I’d touch you. Everywhere. I’d take your balls in my hand and-”
He comes, hard. His head snaps back as comes, comes, emptying onto his stomach.
He’s bites his lip to keep from waking everyone in the apartment . . . complex.
“Was it good for you?”
Some of the blood is starting to return to his brain. “Satisfactory.”
Bennet laughs, just like Mohinder knew he would.
He’s got to get cleaned up, unpacked. He’d like to check on Molly again. “I’ll update you when I’m in place.”
“I know you will.”
There’s a small pause. I really should get a washcloth, he thinks.
“Goodnight, Mohinder.” The name is a purr.
He hasn’t hung up yet, and he’s already looking forward to the next call. “Goodnight.”