this is an excuse for me to tell my all-time favorite joke
these are totally losing something, i'm trying too hard. i should just concentrate on my book, that's what I WANT to be writing.
So Matt had just on a whim decided Mohinder looked delicious and decided to shove him up against the closet door. Little slats made evenly spaced dents in his back and Matt made one big Matt-shaped dent in his front, and Mohinder was utterly sandwiched, overpowered, taken. As a warm tongue invaded his mouth and vehement breath singed his lips, he whimpered and reached up to hold his captor closer, his mind suddenly going a mile a minute. Would this lead anywhere? Was it just a momentary, heated kiss that would die away? Would he end up on his knees, would he end up on his back, did he want Matt inside him or did he want to be inside Matt? Which of a million breathtaking possibilities would come to pass of this crushingly hot and gorgeous beginning of an encounter? Would he end up shuddering as Matt's lips caressed him? Would he hold off his own gratification until...
And Mohinder snorted loudly and burst into giggles.
Matt drew back, annoyed. "What? Did I tickle you or something?"
"No... I'm sorry... I just..." He couldn't stand it, had to clutch his stomach, doubled over, staggered to the bed, laughing in a foolish torrent the whole way.
Matt leaned back against the closet door and watched him, one eyebrow raised, but utterly silent. Every time Mohinder seemed to catch his breath, he'd take a look at Matt's interested expression and burst anew into giggles. The pattern repeated three or four times before Mohinder, wiping his eyes, could find any measure of composure.
"That is not the reaction I was going for," said Matt matter-of-factly, his lips downturned just slightly.
"I'm sorry..." Mohinder was still grinning and stifling chuckles. "I just... long train of thought, but I suddenly remembered a dirty joke someone told me recently that..."
"My kissing you reminded you of a dirty joke?"
"Yes... about a chicken..."
"A dirty joke about a chicken?" Matt's incredulity started to cross the line into annoyance.
"Yes... I'm sorry. It's just..."
"Would you stop apologizing and just tell me the goddamn joke?"
"Right. Sorry." Mohinder grinned, and dug his nails into the flesh of his palms to keep from bursting out laughing anew. Braced by the pain, he slowly narrated. "You see, it's late... and there is this chicken, and it's looking rather grumpy and sort of fretting, and pacing around the room. And sitting in the bed is this egg, smoking a cigarette."
Matt rolled his eyes. "An egg is smoking a cigarette. Right."
Mohinder couldn't face him. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yes... and the chicken finally turns around and faces the egg... and says... well, I guess that answers that question!"
There was a long, long silence.
"Matt?"
Mohinder chanced a look.
Matt didn't look amused.
He looked predatory.
"I don't know which I'm supposed to be," he said with a smile, advancing on the bed, "but it's definitely a question that needs answering."
I do not write endings.
So Matt had just on a whim decided Mohinder looked delicious and decided to shove him up against the closet door. Little slats made evenly spaced dents in his back and Matt made one big Matt-shaped dent in his front, and Mohinder was utterly sandwiched, overpowered, taken. As a warm tongue invaded his mouth and vehement breath singed his lips, he whimpered and reached up to hold his captor closer, his mind suddenly going a mile a minute. Would this lead anywhere? Was it just a momentary, heated kiss that would die away? Would he end up on his knees, would he end up on his back, did he want Matt inside him or did he want to be inside Matt? Which of a million breathtaking possibilities would come to pass of this crushingly hot and gorgeous beginning of an encounter? Would he end up shuddering as Matt's lips caressed him? Would he hold off his own gratification until...
And Mohinder snorted loudly and burst into giggles.
Matt drew back, annoyed. "What? Did I tickle you or something?"
"No... I'm sorry... I just..." He couldn't stand it, had to clutch his stomach, doubled over, staggered to the bed, laughing in a foolish torrent the whole way.
Matt leaned back against the closet door and watched him, one eyebrow raised, but utterly silent. Every time Mohinder seemed to catch his breath, he'd take a look at Matt's interested expression and burst anew into giggles. The pattern repeated three or four times before Mohinder, wiping his eyes, could find any measure of composure.
"That is not the reaction I was going for," said Matt matter-of-factly, his lips downturned just slightly.
"I'm sorry..." Mohinder was still grinning and stifling chuckles. "I just... long train of thought, but I suddenly remembered a dirty joke someone told me recently that..."
"My kissing you reminded you of a dirty joke?"
"Yes... about a chicken..."
"A dirty joke about a chicken?" Matt's incredulity started to cross the line into annoyance.
"Yes... I'm sorry. It's just..."
"Would you stop apologizing and just tell me the goddamn joke?"
"Right. Sorry." Mohinder grinned, and dug his nails into the flesh of his palms to keep from bursting out laughing anew. Braced by the pain, he slowly narrated. "You see, it's late... and there is this chicken, and it's looking rather grumpy and sort of fretting, and pacing around the room. And sitting in the bed is this egg, smoking a cigarette."
Matt rolled his eyes. "An egg is smoking a cigarette. Right."
Mohinder couldn't face him. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yes... and the chicken finally turns around and faces the egg... and says... well, I guess that answers that question!"
There was a long, long silence.
"Matt?"
Mohinder chanced a look.
Matt didn't look amused.
He looked predatory.
"I don't know which I'm supposed to be," he said with a smile, advancing on the bed, "but it's definitely a question that needs answering."
I do not write endings.