Fic: Three's a Charm
Title: Three’s a Charm
Pairing: Matt/Janice, (Head!)Sylar/Matt
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 4x01-4x02 (Orientation/Jump, Push, Fall)
Summary: Sylar intrudes on Matt and Janice’s relationship.
Disclaimer: This is Kring/NBC’s sandbox, I’m just effing with it.
Notes: I think this is my “mind fuckery” fic for heroes_bingo, think it qualifies :p?
“What? You’re just going to ignore me now, Matt?” Sylar asked, his head cocked to the side, lips pursed in mock annoyance. “I’m hurt.”
“Get out of here.”
“I wish I could.”
Matt tried to focus on the football game and the soft crackle of Mattie’s baby monitor on the coffee table; anything to distract him from the heavy, murderous presence lounging on the opposite end of the couch.
“Janice is waiting for you in the bedroom.” Sylar said, nonchalant as he picked at a bit of dirt beneath his thumbnail.
The sports commentators began to laugh and clap. Matt had missed a key play.
“She’s wearing those little black lace panties, you like so much, with your old LAPD t-shirt.” Sylar grinned slowly as Matt flushed red from his neck to his ears.
“She’s wet for you, too, God only knows why.” Sylar scoffed, his eyes narrowing on the screen now. “She’s been touching herself since Mattie went down for the night.”
Matt resisted the urge to tug at his shirt collar; suddenly it was far too tight as was the crotch of his pants.
“She lit candles, too. She wants to take your mind off your troubles. If pot roast for dinner didn’t help she’s sure pussy will do the trick.” Sylar’s blank mouth twisted into a smirk of disgust.
Pinned to the couch, Matt sweated against the seam of his jeans. Sylar’s words immobilized him better than any telekinesis ever could.
“Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“Why don’t you go fuck your wife? Or is she still your ex-wife?”
Fuming, Matt turned back to the screen, now black and blank.
“Little Mattie’s been asleep for hours. I promise I’ll behave. Go take what Janice is offering. Get your dick wet and maybe this sorry life will become more bearable for us both.”
“Your leaving would make this life more bearable. You make my life miserable and you’re not even real.”
“And you’re hard.”
Matt swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
“Or is this the part where I offer to give you a hand?”
Smirking, Sylar watched Matt shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sorry, I would, but I’m ‘not even real’.” Sylar chuckled, low and sinister before standing to stretch. Matt caught a sliver of pale midriff as Sylar groaned, his whole body drawn taunt before going lax and loose.
Sylar leered and Matt looked away quickly.
He listened to receding footsteps and the open and close of the fridge door before getting up himself and moving quickly towards the bedroom. He was hard in his jeans and didn’t want to give Sylar any more reasons to mock him.
Janice sat in their bed, legs folded primly beneath the hem of his old police t-shirt. Her glasses had slid to the end of her nose and her brown creased cutely as she read from the manila folder open in her lap.
She looked up as he wrested off his shoes and moved to get ready for bed. There were candles on the bedside table, burnt down to the stubs. “Turn off the bathroom light when you’re done?”
“Sure, Janice.”
When he reentered the bedroom -mouth minty and fresh, feeling like a neglectful husband- Janice had shut off her light and turned over, she was a still lump beneath the covers. Even as he slid into bed her back remained turned to him.
“Listen, Janice,” He whispered, shifting closer to her warmth. “I’m sorry about everything. I never wanted my,” He glanced briefly at the closed door. “Issues to effect our relationship, not again.”
She moved back into his arms, still stiff though, even as his hand slid up the hem of his t-shirt and over the sheer fabric of her panties. Sylar hadn’t been lying. They were wet through and Janice shifted against him, gasping softly into the pillow.
Already open and soaked from her own ministrations, Janice moaned gratefully when Matt rubbed his thumb against her clit as he reached to the bedside table for a condom.
She finally turned onto her back, the tension slowly wringing from her body as Matt pushed up his old t-shirt and stroked heavy hands down her side and over her breasts. Annoyance dissipating as pleasure built, she shifted up on the mattress, her small hands smoothing beneath his shirt to push it up and off, her fingers at his button fly.
Her hand down his pants, wrapping tight around his cock, Matt grunted and bit his lip, not wanting to come too soon. Janice looked up at him, her dark hair tangled and frazzled against the pillow case, her mouth pouting and eyes half lidded, looking up at him with concern and confusion, but also want.
It made Matt’s heart stutter in his chest and his cock lurch in her hand.
Her thumb rubbed over the head as she pushed his pants and boxers down in a bunch.
Matt’s fingers stroked her sex before pushing inside. Janice moaned, her lashes fluttering wildly as she wrapped her arms high around his neck, drawing Matt into a kiss. She cooed into his mouth, a wanting brand in his arms.
“I know your power is hard on you, Matt.” She whispered against his neck as he added another finger, slicked by her wetness and buried in her heat. “I just wish I could help.”
Matt shook his head, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “You do help me. You’re so good Janice.”
Smiling, she took the condom, the rapid rip of foil was loud in Matt’s ears and the smell of latex almost overpowered the scent of her sex. Before their break up they had never used a rubber. Not even when Janice had been sleeping with Tom. Fucking Tom.
Matt shook his head to rid himself of the images feeding his insecurity; instead he tried to focus again on Janice.
“You should try paying more attention to her breasts. Some women actually enjoy foreplay.”
Matt’s eyes flew to where Sylar sat in the corner chair with his feet were propped up on the bed frame. Hands folded innocently over his lap, Sylar made his voyeurism look natural, as if he belonged there and Matt was in the wrong.
“Try it.” His dark voice skittered across Matt’s skin, raising goose bumps in its wake and making him shiver.
But he remained silent and instead turned from the serial killer and to Janice’s mouth. She had rolled the condom down his length and slicked him with lube. Her hand skated back to his balls, palming them as she waited.
“Ready?” Wearing only his old t-shirt, Janice looked beautiful as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Matt pushed inside with a grunt and Janice fell back to the mattress as his hips rocked fast against hers. His arms shook with the effort and he could already feel the quick build of pressure as his pleasure mounted. His skin prickled with sweat and the little hairs all across his body stood up on end. His awareness of Sylar’s gyrating presence dimmed, but refused to dissipate entirely.
Not wanting to come before Janice, Matt cupped her breasts in one hand, gave her nipples a quick thumb bending to dip lower. The rasp of his stubble rubbed her red as he moved down her chest, inch by inch, to suck her nipples.
Moaning, Janice arched her hips, rolling them to take him deeper, hugging him closer, her fingers threaded through his hair.
“I told you she would like it.” Sylar looked on smugly from the corner.
Matt’s balls drew up to his body and he felt a rush of gratification even as Janice tugged on his hair and Sylar continued to look on, haughty in his superiority.
Sylar’s dark gaze bored into him. Watching the way he and Janice writhed together, made love together. Matt’s consciousness of the killer increased. He told himself that Sylar was jealous, that he wanted to show the intruder was Matt possessed and he could not.
But Sylar’s presence continued to rake over Matt’s skin, making him burn and pushing him perversely closer to climax, just as real as Janice’s fingernails but more powerful still.
“You can finish anytime now.” Sylar said, already looking bored with the spectacle of their fucking.
It was as if Matt’s body had been waiting for that final ingredient, permission. He came with his mouth at Janice’s neck, panting harshly, his eyes on Sylar.
The serial killer chuckled, laughed as Matt spilled his seed against the latex barrier then groaned, pulling out of Janice. She stroked his damp hair with caring fingers, attempting to sooth him as his length softened against her thigh and his heart rate returned to normal.
Sylar’s laughter and slow applause faded as he got up from the chair, stretched again and swaggered from the bedroom. Matt tried not to watch him go, biting the inside of his cheek and hating himself.
He listened, eyes to the dark ceiling as Janice began to touch herself. But even the slick sound of her fingers against her own sex couldn’t rouse him; the wet slap of skin on skin continued as she finger fucked herself, furiously rubbing her clit until she went rigid against the sheets, gasping low as she came.
“It’s okay.” She kissed Matt’s cheek before rolling back onto her side and pulling up the sheet again.
But it wasn’t okay. The sex had left a bad taste in Matt’s mouth he rolled up from the mattress, reaching for his clothes.
“What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
“To check on Mattie, I think I heard him fussing.” He finished dressing and left the room and Janice didn’t try to call him back.
Pairing: Matt/Janice, (Head!)Sylar/Matt
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 4x01-4x02 (Orientation/Jump, Push, Fall)
Summary: Sylar intrudes on Matt and Janice’s relationship.
Disclaimer: This is Kring/NBC’s sandbox, I’m just effing with it.
Notes: I think this is my “mind fuckery” fic for heroes_bingo, think it qualifies :p?
“What? You’re just going to ignore me now, Matt?” Sylar asked, his head cocked to the side, lips pursed in mock annoyance. “I’m hurt.”
“Get out of here.”
“I wish I could.”
Matt tried to focus on the football game and the soft crackle of Mattie’s baby monitor on the coffee table; anything to distract him from the heavy, murderous presence lounging on the opposite end of the couch.
“Janice is waiting for you in the bedroom.” Sylar said, nonchalant as he picked at a bit of dirt beneath his thumbnail.
The sports commentators began to laugh and clap. Matt had missed a key play.
“She’s wearing those little black lace panties, you like so much, with your old LAPD t-shirt.” Sylar grinned slowly as Matt flushed red from his neck to his ears.
“She’s wet for you, too, God only knows why.” Sylar scoffed, his eyes narrowing on the screen now. “She’s been touching herself since Mattie went down for the night.”
Matt resisted the urge to tug at his shirt collar; suddenly it was far too tight as was the crotch of his pants.
“She lit candles, too. She wants to take your mind off your troubles. If pot roast for dinner didn’t help she’s sure pussy will do the trick.” Sylar’s blank mouth twisted into a smirk of disgust.
Pinned to the couch, Matt sweated against the seam of his jeans. Sylar’s words immobilized him better than any telekinesis ever could.
“Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“Why don’t you go fuck your wife? Or is she still your ex-wife?”
Fuming, Matt turned back to the screen, now black and blank.
“Little Mattie’s been asleep for hours. I promise I’ll behave. Go take what Janice is offering. Get your dick wet and maybe this sorry life will become more bearable for us both.”
“Your leaving would make this life more bearable. You make my life miserable and you’re not even real.”
“And you’re hard.”
Matt swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
“Or is this the part where I offer to give you a hand?”
Smirking, Sylar watched Matt shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sorry, I would, but I’m ‘not even real’.” Sylar chuckled, low and sinister before standing to stretch. Matt caught a sliver of pale midriff as Sylar groaned, his whole body drawn taunt before going lax and loose.
Sylar leered and Matt looked away quickly.
He listened to receding footsteps and the open and close of the fridge door before getting up himself and moving quickly towards the bedroom. He was hard in his jeans and didn’t want to give Sylar any more reasons to mock him.
Janice sat in their bed, legs folded primly beneath the hem of his old police t-shirt. Her glasses had slid to the end of her nose and her brown creased cutely as she read from the manila folder open in her lap.
She looked up as he wrested off his shoes and moved to get ready for bed. There were candles on the bedside table, burnt down to the stubs. “Turn off the bathroom light when you’re done?”
“Sure, Janice.”
When he reentered the bedroom -mouth minty and fresh, feeling like a neglectful husband- Janice had shut off her light and turned over, she was a still lump beneath the covers. Even as he slid into bed her back remained turned to him.
“Listen, Janice,” He whispered, shifting closer to her warmth. “I’m sorry about everything. I never wanted my,” He glanced briefly at the closed door. “Issues to effect our relationship, not again.”
She moved back into his arms, still stiff though, even as his hand slid up the hem of his t-shirt and over the sheer fabric of her panties. Sylar hadn’t been lying. They were wet through and Janice shifted against him, gasping softly into the pillow.
Already open and soaked from her own ministrations, Janice moaned gratefully when Matt rubbed his thumb against her clit as he reached to the bedside table for a condom.
She finally turned onto her back, the tension slowly wringing from her body as Matt pushed up his old t-shirt and stroked heavy hands down her side and over her breasts. Annoyance dissipating as pleasure built, she shifted up on the mattress, her small hands smoothing beneath his shirt to push it up and off, her fingers at his button fly.
Her hand down his pants, wrapping tight around his cock, Matt grunted and bit his lip, not wanting to come too soon. Janice looked up at him, her dark hair tangled and frazzled against the pillow case, her mouth pouting and eyes half lidded, looking up at him with concern and confusion, but also want.
It made Matt’s heart stutter in his chest and his cock lurch in her hand.
Her thumb rubbed over the head as she pushed his pants and boxers down in a bunch.
Matt’s fingers stroked her sex before pushing inside. Janice moaned, her lashes fluttering wildly as she wrapped her arms high around his neck, drawing Matt into a kiss. She cooed into his mouth, a wanting brand in his arms.
“I know your power is hard on you, Matt.” She whispered against his neck as he added another finger, slicked by her wetness and buried in her heat. “I just wish I could help.”
Matt shook his head, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “You do help me. You’re so good Janice.”
Smiling, she took the condom, the rapid rip of foil was loud in Matt’s ears and the smell of latex almost overpowered the scent of her sex. Before their break up they had never used a rubber. Not even when Janice had been sleeping with Tom. Fucking Tom.
Matt shook his head to rid himself of the images feeding his insecurity; instead he tried to focus again on Janice.
“You should try paying more attention to her breasts. Some women actually enjoy foreplay.”
Matt’s eyes flew to where Sylar sat in the corner chair with his feet were propped up on the bed frame. Hands folded innocently over his lap, Sylar made his voyeurism look natural, as if he belonged there and Matt was in the wrong.
“Try it.” His dark voice skittered across Matt’s skin, raising goose bumps in its wake and making him shiver.
But he remained silent and instead turned from the serial killer and to Janice’s mouth. She had rolled the condom down his length and slicked him with lube. Her hand skated back to his balls, palming them as she waited.
“Ready?” Wearing only his old t-shirt, Janice looked beautiful as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Matt pushed inside with a grunt and Janice fell back to the mattress as his hips rocked fast against hers. His arms shook with the effort and he could already feel the quick build of pressure as his pleasure mounted. His skin prickled with sweat and the little hairs all across his body stood up on end. His awareness of Sylar’s gyrating presence dimmed, but refused to dissipate entirely.
Not wanting to come before Janice, Matt cupped her breasts in one hand, gave her nipples a quick thumb bending to dip lower. The rasp of his stubble rubbed her red as he moved down her chest, inch by inch, to suck her nipples.
Moaning, Janice arched her hips, rolling them to take him deeper, hugging him closer, her fingers threaded through his hair.
“I told you she would like it.” Sylar looked on smugly from the corner.
Matt’s balls drew up to his body and he felt a rush of gratification even as Janice tugged on his hair and Sylar continued to look on, haughty in his superiority.
Sylar’s dark gaze bored into him. Watching the way he and Janice writhed together, made love together. Matt’s consciousness of the killer increased. He told himself that Sylar was jealous, that he wanted to show the intruder was Matt possessed and he could not.
But Sylar’s presence continued to rake over Matt’s skin, making him burn and pushing him perversely closer to climax, just as real as Janice’s fingernails but more powerful still.
“You can finish anytime now.” Sylar said, already looking bored with the spectacle of their fucking.
It was as if Matt’s body had been waiting for that final ingredient, permission. He came with his mouth at Janice’s neck, panting harshly, his eyes on Sylar.
The serial killer chuckled, laughed as Matt spilled his seed against the latex barrier then groaned, pulling out of Janice. She stroked his damp hair with caring fingers, attempting to sooth him as his length softened against her thigh and his heart rate returned to normal.
Sylar’s laughter and slow applause faded as he got up from the chair, stretched again and swaggered from the bedroom. Matt tried not to watch him go, biting the inside of his cheek and hating himself.
He listened, eyes to the dark ceiling as Janice began to touch herself. But even the slick sound of her fingers against her own sex couldn’t rouse him; the wet slap of skin on skin continued as she finger fucked herself, furiously rubbing her clit until she went rigid against the sheets, gasping low as she came.
“It’s okay.” She kissed Matt’s cheek before rolling back onto her side and pulling up the sheet again.
But it wasn’t okay. The sex had left a bad taste in Matt’s mouth he rolled up from the mattress, reaching for his clothes.
“What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
“To check on Mattie, I think I heard him fussing.” He finished dressing and left the room and Janice didn’t try to call him back.