Want. Take. Have. - Heroes - Eden/Mohinder
Title: Want. Take. Have.
Pairing: Eden/Mohinder
Word Count: 892
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Mind control/dub-con
A/N: Written with 25_streetsigns 'Fresh oil' prompt. The title is a quote from episode 3.14 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Summary: "You kiss him like you'll drown if you pull away. This is wrong - it's far past immoral - but it's just for tonight."
You kiss him like you'll drown if you pull away. This is wrong - it's far past immoral - but it's just for tonight. Just once. His hands feel so warm against your bare skin and he moans when you pull your mouth away from him and take a step backwards. "Take your shirt off," you whisper. It's not an order. Nothing but the first instruction was, but even that is going too far.
He unbuttons his shirt for you, parting the material and letting it fall to the ground by his feet. His eyes are guarded and don't quite meet your own. A little empty, like he's not all there. There's no blinding passion in his eyes, in his touch, but you reach for him all the same. If he returns to India you might never get this chance again.
"Eden," he gasps, hot breath against your ear. His hands find your hips and drag you closer. "I need you."
And you know he does - you ordered him to - but it still makes your eyelids flutter to hear it. It feels wrong to do this here, standing in the middle of his father's old apartment, but there might not be another chance. You know for a fact that Mohinder is too cautious, too careful, to ever make the first move. His eyes told you he wanted this, every single time he glanced at you. Maybe it's not so wrong. Not really.
Together you fumble towards the couch, your unsteady hands drinking in the heat of his skin. He's not at all as you imagined he would be: he's stronger and there are muscles there that you're certain no scientist ought to possess. When he sits down, resting against the back of the couch, you waste no time walking forward, straddling his hips. His fingers skirt up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver even though the denim of your jeans. You reach down, coating his hand with your own and moving it where you need it most. Even like this it feels too good. Your eyes close and your hips buck towards that hand, needing everything he can give you.
His lips find your neck and he supports you with his hand on the side of your head. It feels good, so much better than you'd thought possible, when you pull your hand away from his to pop open the button of your jeans. His hand slides inside without further prompting and it takes almost nothing for you to cry out. Finding your clit with his thumb he rubs over it, seeming to know instinctively how and where you want it. You drag him closer and your head falls against his shoulder.
"God," you whisper, breath brushing past his neck. You're never too vocal during this and there's a fiery worry in the pit of your stomach that makes you nervous that someone might walk in. The door is locked and even if someone did find you they'd never know this was wrong - they'd never know that Mohinder isn't here entirely of his own free will. You're safe, you're fine, and his skilled hand is driving you closer to the edge inside your underwear and jeans than you knew possible.
You're wet down there, warm and slick when two of his fingers press deep inside of you. You feel blood rush to your cheeks and you push down against him, fingers and thumb and everything you can get, because- god, yes, this is it. Your body jerks and releases, all the tension that's built up since before you'd even met Mohinder being released with a grunt muffled against his skin. Exactly what you wanted.
His fingers remain inside you as your mind spins, and his other hand strokes your back. You can tell that he's hard but you don't have to deal with that. You rest against him, loose and placid, and you think that you would happily never move from this spot again - the clean scent of his skin is heavy around you but you know you can't stay. The Company would never allow this idyllic ending for the two of you.
Lazily, you press your lips against his collarbone and stand up. His hands slip from your pants and you hold in a groan at the loss. Looking down, you pull up the zip and redo the button. In two seconds flat you look the same as always, barring the flush to your cheeks.
"Mohinder," you say softly. He looks up at you with wide-eyed devotion, an emotion you know isn't truly him. Time to put an end to this. "Go through to your bedroom and go to sleep. Don't think about this ever again."
It's not as good as the Haitian would manage but it's good enough to keep this a secret. As he nods and stands up from the couch, moving where he's asked, you run a wearied hand over your face. You're never doing that again, you tell yourself. Never using your powers on him. It's not fair, it's not right. You unlock the door and walk from the apartment, tidying your clothes as you head back to your own.
No matter what Bennet asks, you promise yourself. After this… Mohinder should be safe from now on.
Pairing: Eden/Mohinder
Word Count: 892
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Mind control/dub-con
A/N: Written with 25_streetsigns 'Fresh oil' prompt. The title is a quote from episode 3.14 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Summary: "You kiss him like you'll drown if you pull away. This is wrong - it's far past immoral - but it's just for tonight."
You kiss him like you'll drown if you pull away. This is wrong - it's far past immoral - but it's just for tonight. Just once. His hands feel so warm against your bare skin and he moans when you pull your mouth away from him and take a step backwards. "Take your shirt off," you whisper. It's not an order. Nothing but the first instruction was, but even that is going too far.
He unbuttons his shirt for you, parting the material and letting it fall to the ground by his feet. His eyes are guarded and don't quite meet your own. A little empty, like he's not all there. There's no blinding passion in his eyes, in his touch, but you reach for him all the same. If he returns to India you might never get this chance again.
"Eden," he gasps, hot breath against your ear. His hands find your hips and drag you closer. "I need you."
And you know he does - you ordered him to - but it still makes your eyelids flutter to hear it. It feels wrong to do this here, standing in the middle of his father's old apartment, but there might not be another chance. You know for a fact that Mohinder is too cautious, too careful, to ever make the first move. His eyes told you he wanted this, every single time he glanced at you. Maybe it's not so wrong. Not really.
Together you fumble towards the couch, your unsteady hands drinking in the heat of his skin. He's not at all as you imagined he would be: he's stronger and there are muscles there that you're certain no scientist ought to possess. When he sits down, resting against the back of the couch, you waste no time walking forward, straddling his hips. His fingers skirt up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver even though the denim of your jeans. You reach down, coating his hand with your own and moving it where you need it most. Even like this it feels too good. Your eyes close and your hips buck towards that hand, needing everything he can give you.
His lips find your neck and he supports you with his hand on the side of your head. It feels good, so much better than you'd thought possible, when you pull your hand away from his to pop open the button of your jeans. His hand slides inside without further prompting and it takes almost nothing for you to cry out. Finding your clit with his thumb he rubs over it, seeming to know instinctively how and where you want it. You drag him closer and your head falls against his shoulder.
"God," you whisper, breath brushing past his neck. You're never too vocal during this and there's a fiery worry in the pit of your stomach that makes you nervous that someone might walk in. The door is locked and even if someone did find you they'd never know this was wrong - they'd never know that Mohinder isn't here entirely of his own free will. You're safe, you're fine, and his skilled hand is driving you closer to the edge inside your underwear and jeans than you knew possible.
You're wet down there, warm and slick when two of his fingers press deep inside of you. You feel blood rush to your cheeks and you push down against him, fingers and thumb and everything you can get, because- god, yes, this is it. Your body jerks and releases, all the tension that's built up since before you'd even met Mohinder being released with a grunt muffled against his skin. Exactly what you wanted.
His fingers remain inside you as your mind spins, and his other hand strokes your back. You can tell that he's hard but you don't have to deal with that. You rest against him, loose and placid, and you think that you would happily never move from this spot again - the clean scent of his skin is heavy around you but you know you can't stay. The Company would never allow this idyllic ending for the two of you.
Lazily, you press your lips against his collarbone and stand up. His hands slip from your pants and you hold in a groan at the loss. Looking down, you pull up the zip and redo the button. In two seconds flat you look the same as always, barring the flush to your cheeks.
"Mohinder," you say softly. He looks up at you with wide-eyed devotion, an emotion you know isn't truly him. Time to put an end to this. "Go through to your bedroom and go to sleep. Don't think about this ever again."
It's not as good as the Haitian would manage but it's good enough to keep this a secret. As he nods and stands up from the couch, moving where he's asked, you run a wearied hand over your face. You're never doing that again, you tell yourself. Never using your powers on him. It's not fair, it's not right. You unlock the door and walk from the apartment, tidying your clothes as you head back to your own.
No matter what Bennet asks, you promise yourself. After this… Mohinder should be safe from now on.