for just_fck_me: morning after regrets

[heroslayer]

The sex he could at least say he understood. There had always been something between the two of them, something beyond the hate, as Mohinder's body had affirmed the first time he had come to him. That in place, that connection intact, it hadn't been that hard to get the Indian to be the one to initiate contact this time -- all he'd had to do was push the right combination of buttons and Mohinder's mouth had been ghosting his. He'd take that as a free pass to do what he'd wanted to for years, and they'd gone from there.

The fact that after, both of them spent and sated, Mohinder had curled up around him, however? That he couldn't quite say he followed. Nor did he understand why he'd mirrored the motion, wrapping his arms around the other man to hold him to his chest, or why Mohinder had fallen asleep like that. There might have been enough chemistry between them to warrant his fucking Suresh hard into the mattress, but the aftermath wasn't them. He couldn't help but wonder if Nathan was having a greater effect on him than he originally, though -- if this wasn't just one-sided, his influence bleeding into the senator without his meaning it to. He couldn't help but wonder if Mohinder had caught that, somehow, and latched onto it and the ghost of two men he'd become.

Frowning at the thought, he extricated himself from the sleeping geneticist carefully, and scooted to the edge of the bed. Whatever their reasons for what had happened after their stolen minutes of heat, and no matter how much he inexplicably may have wanted to, he knew he couldn't stay. He didn't get a morning after; he never really had. Not with Maya -- not that he'd wanted one. Not with Elle, thanks to Bennet. Not now. At least this time, it was his choice. Better to go out on his own terms than to shift involuntarily later, unable to hold his thoughts together, and have Mohinder watch and pity him.

He wanted so many things, but never that.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, watching the rise and fall of Mohinder's bare chest, and then sighed, looking away. He sat there for a moment, in the silence, and then soundlessly he was standing up, moving for the vanity case on the dresser. He opened it, palming Nathan's cufflinks -- the ones the senator had packed without real reason and carried so many of his memories -- and closed the box, heading back over to the bed. He settled back down on it lightly, stretched out next to the Indian, and draped an arm over his waist, slowly and carefully.

Mohinder stirred but didn't wake, and he waited a moment before putting his mouth near the other man's ear. He hesitated, poised to say something but unable to pin down the words, all the things he could say warring for a piece of the spotlight in his head. And he dismissed them all in the end, instead rehashing something he'd said earlier that night, the words barely a breath against Mohinder's ear. "Something beautiful before I die."

He leaned back, dropping his head to the pillow, and closed his eyes. Expertly, he shifted the cufflinks in his hand, pressing his thumb to the face of one, and slowly he pulled memory that wasn't his own from the jewelry. His breathing stuck in the back of his throat, he felt the change washing over him, hair suddenly short at the nape of his neck, bones and skin falling into riot. And sooner rather than later, the shifts quicker now for all the times he'd practiced them willingly or otherwise, black beyond what he could see on the insides of his eyelids swept down on him, stripping him of his consciousness.

Unaware, Nathan Petrelli slept through the night, fingers curled tightly around the cufflinks in his hand.


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 656

Comments

[capableof-both.livejournal.com]

Guh. I say it again--poor, poor boys. All three of them.

[heroslayer]

Seriously. *pets them*