Mine (Peter/Mohinder/Sylar)
Title: Mine
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Mohinder/Sylar
Summary: PWP. Peter gets invited over to Mohinder's for dinner.
Authors Note: Started from a promt of 'Mine' by
svhreea_24 and I just got carried away and wrote a 927 word drabble. oops!
Warning: NSFW! Man on man on man action. A shower is recommended afterwards. ^_^
NOTE! BY CLICKING ON THE LJ-CUT BELOW (OR FOLLOWED A LINK HERE), YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE LEGAL AGE TO READ THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL! IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE, HIT THE BACK BUTTON ON YOUR BROWSER NOW! Thank you.
Peter gasped as Mohinder nibbled a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, just below the earlobe. He hadn’t intended for any of this to happen, but the dinner had advanced into the two of them sipping wine, and somewhere in the middle of the second bottle, something in the room, something between him and the geneticist had changed. Not that Peter was arguing, he was actually quite enjoying the tingling sensation, that slight head rush he got as Mohinder kissed him soundly.
“Peter..” Mohinder whispered into his ear, voice filled with obvious need, drawing the younger man out of his musings. The two of them had managed to stumble from the living room, down the hall, and were nearly to the bed. “Please.” It was the only response to the unasked question between the two of them. The two of them stumbled to the bed, mouths interlocked and tongues battling for dominance as shirts were shucked aside, hands fumbling with buttons and zippers. Pale, olive-tinted skin contrasted with darker, brown skin as the two of them were twined together on the bed, their clothes long forgotten in heaps on the floor.
“Mohinder!” A sudden sharp gasp of the name as Peter struggled to control his reactions as long, slender fingers probed at him, teasing. The fingers were removed and Peter whimpered at the loss of that intimate contact. A small laugh from the Indian man and the return of the now oiled fingers had Peter sighing into the other man’s shoulder, biting and nibbling at the skin as he felt himself being stretched, slowly and carefully.
“Please…” Peter begged, head thrown back, gasping for breath. Mohinder gave a low chuckle before acceding to the other man’s wishes, entering with slow, calm control before pausing, letting Peter get used to the feel of being stretched, impaled upon the length of the other man.
“Do you trust me?” Mohinder whispered into Peter’s ear, the breath tickling the super-fine hair upon the shell. Peter turned his face to see Mohinder, face full of hope as to the response of the question, a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow. What else could he say; he was already in bed with him, being fucked by him. Lost inside those soft brown eyes, Peter nodded as Mohinder shifted his hips just so, nudging that spot that made him see stars.
“Yes..yes, I trust you.” Peter finally managed to speak. Mohinder smiled, that dazzling smile, white teeth and soft lips that first attracted Peter to him. He watched with only mild interest, too busy with the overwhelming sensation to care what Mohinder was doing with the overly bright striped scarf. At least until Mohinder had grabbed both of Peter’s wrists and was tying them to the headboard. “What are you doing?” He asked as he tried to pull away, but already the knots were tight, holding him in place.
“Shh, it’s ok, I won’t hurt you. If you don’t like it, just tell me and I’ll stop.” Mohinder, done with trying Peter up had returned his hands to Peter’s hips, guiding him as he shifted on the bed to get a better angle. Peter wasn’t sure at first but a warm kiss from Mohinder and a few more slow strokes and Peter thought that if Mohinder asked him for the moon, he would fly to it himself and pull it down for the Indian. Mohinder trailed a few more kisses down his chest before concentrating fully on his rhythm, the slow stroke and subtle roll of his hips to grind himself into Peter just that little bit more.
Another kiss, but not so sweet this time, more teeth, more of a frantic need and without the taste of the wine Mohinder and himself had been drinking before. Confused, Peter opened his eyes as the kiss was broken. Mohinder had his head thrown back, exposing the line of his neck, damp sweat tracing it’s way down his skin. But he wasn’t the one who had kissed him. It was Sylar, positioned just behind Mohinder, one hand trailing across the Indian’s chest as he leaned over him, his other hand occupying itself along Peter’s erection. Nimble fingers, more skilled than Mohinder’s slender hands had Peter whimpering, the strangeness of the situation lost to overwhelming sensation that Peter felt building up inside him.
“Sylar!” Mohinder gasped and Peter felt the rough thrust, causing him to gasp in turn. Sylar controlled Mohinder’s thrusts, in time with his own into Mohinder, not as slow, more frantic as the three of them moved against each other in the bed. Peter wished his hands were free, wanted to touch so badly, run his nails over skin. Instead, he whimpered and pulled at his bonds ineffectively as Sylar’s telekinetic touch worked its way over his throbbing erection, and Mohinder’s own erection continually hit that one spot over and over. Both Peter and Mohinder were gasping and moaning, Sylar’s moans more guttural than either of theirs. Mohinder came first, the stimulation from both Peter and Sylar overcoming his control. Peter followed quickly after him and Sylar bit down on Mohinder’s shoulder as he finished, the three of them collapsing in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Sylar looked over at Peter, the two men’s gazes locking for a moment before the other twitched his fingers, releasing Peter from his bonds.
No one moved, content to just lie in each other’s arms, recovering. It was Sylar who broke the silence first, one whispered word as they drifted into sleep.
“Mine.” Peter had to agree.
Continue? Y/N?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Mohinder/Sylar
Summary: PWP. Peter gets invited over to Mohinder's for dinner.
Authors Note: Started from a promt of 'Mine' by
svhreea_24 and I just got carried away and wrote a 927 word drabble. oops!
Warning: NSFW! Man on man on man action. A shower is recommended afterwards. ^_^
NOTE! BY CLICKING ON THE LJ-CUT BELOW (OR FOLLOWED A LINK HERE), YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE LEGAL AGE TO READ THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL! IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE, HIT THE BACK BUTTON ON YOUR BROWSER NOW! Thank you.
Peter gasped as Mohinder nibbled a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, just below the earlobe. He hadn’t intended for any of this to happen, but the dinner had advanced into the two of them sipping wine, and somewhere in the middle of the second bottle, something in the room, something between him and the geneticist had changed. Not that Peter was arguing, he was actually quite enjoying the tingling sensation, that slight head rush he got as Mohinder kissed him soundly.
“Peter..” Mohinder whispered into his ear, voice filled with obvious need, drawing the younger man out of his musings. The two of them had managed to stumble from the living room, down the hall, and were nearly to the bed. “Please.” It was the only response to the unasked question between the two of them. The two of them stumbled to the bed, mouths interlocked and tongues battling for dominance as shirts were shucked aside, hands fumbling with buttons and zippers. Pale, olive-tinted skin contrasted with darker, brown skin as the two of them were twined together on the bed, their clothes long forgotten in heaps on the floor.
“Mohinder!” A sudden sharp gasp of the name as Peter struggled to control his reactions as long, slender fingers probed at him, teasing. The fingers were removed and Peter whimpered at the loss of that intimate contact. A small laugh from the Indian man and the return of the now oiled fingers had Peter sighing into the other man’s shoulder, biting and nibbling at the skin as he felt himself being stretched, slowly and carefully.
“Please…” Peter begged, head thrown back, gasping for breath. Mohinder gave a low chuckle before acceding to the other man’s wishes, entering with slow, calm control before pausing, letting Peter get used to the feel of being stretched, impaled upon the length of the other man.
“Do you trust me?” Mohinder whispered into Peter’s ear, the breath tickling the super-fine hair upon the shell. Peter turned his face to see Mohinder, face full of hope as to the response of the question, a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow. What else could he say; he was already in bed with him, being fucked by him. Lost inside those soft brown eyes, Peter nodded as Mohinder shifted his hips just so, nudging that spot that made him see stars.
“Yes..yes, I trust you.” Peter finally managed to speak. Mohinder smiled, that dazzling smile, white teeth and soft lips that first attracted Peter to him. He watched with only mild interest, too busy with the overwhelming sensation to care what Mohinder was doing with the overly bright striped scarf. At least until Mohinder had grabbed both of Peter’s wrists and was tying them to the headboard. “What are you doing?” He asked as he tried to pull away, but already the knots were tight, holding him in place.
“Shh, it’s ok, I won’t hurt you. If you don’t like it, just tell me and I’ll stop.” Mohinder, done with trying Peter up had returned his hands to Peter’s hips, guiding him as he shifted on the bed to get a better angle. Peter wasn’t sure at first but a warm kiss from Mohinder and a few more slow strokes and Peter thought that if Mohinder asked him for the moon, he would fly to it himself and pull it down for the Indian. Mohinder trailed a few more kisses down his chest before concentrating fully on his rhythm, the slow stroke and subtle roll of his hips to grind himself into Peter just that little bit more.
Another kiss, but not so sweet this time, more teeth, more of a frantic need and without the taste of the wine Mohinder and himself had been drinking before. Confused, Peter opened his eyes as the kiss was broken. Mohinder had his head thrown back, exposing the line of his neck, damp sweat tracing it’s way down his skin. But he wasn’t the one who had kissed him. It was Sylar, positioned just behind Mohinder, one hand trailing across the Indian’s chest as he leaned over him, his other hand occupying itself along Peter’s erection. Nimble fingers, more skilled than Mohinder’s slender hands had Peter whimpering, the strangeness of the situation lost to overwhelming sensation that Peter felt building up inside him.
“Sylar!” Mohinder gasped and Peter felt the rough thrust, causing him to gasp in turn. Sylar controlled Mohinder’s thrusts, in time with his own into Mohinder, not as slow, more frantic as the three of them moved against each other in the bed. Peter wished his hands were free, wanted to touch so badly, run his nails over skin. Instead, he whimpered and pulled at his bonds ineffectively as Sylar’s telekinetic touch worked its way over his throbbing erection, and Mohinder’s own erection continually hit that one spot over and over. Both Peter and Mohinder were gasping and moaning, Sylar’s moans more guttural than either of theirs. Mohinder came first, the stimulation from both Peter and Sylar overcoming his control. Peter followed quickly after him and Sylar bit down on Mohinder’s shoulder as he finished, the three of them collapsing in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Sylar looked over at Peter, the two men’s gazes locking for a moment before the other twitched his fingers, releasing Peter from his bonds.
No one moved, content to just lie in each other’s arms, recovering. It was Sylar who broke the silence first, one whispered word as they drifted into sleep.
“Mine.” Peter had to agree.
Continue? Y/N?