Destiny
This chapter is rated NC-17.
Mohinder wanted nothing more than to go home.
It was an odd thing for him. He knew that his work was vitally important to the future of at least those he loved, and at most the human race. When he'd started, he'd felt the thrill of being involved in something bigger than him alone. Driven by a larger force.
Destiny? whispered a small voice in his ear.
He rejected such a concept. As a scientist he believed in the provable, the controllable, and the power of the human mind to take charge of its future. Not that destiny wasn't a prime player in the fables he'd heard as a child. Looking back, he found it somewhat hard to believe that he had even wanted to pursue science, given the rich tapestry of myth and ritual he'd grown up absorbing. If his father hadn't been who he was—
(But perhaps, whispered that voice again, it was destiny that you were born your father's son?)
But if his father hadn't been who he was, would he have met such a horrifying end?
(But if he hadn't died, would Mohinder have ever come to New York and met Peter, met Eden, met Matt and Molly? Would New York even be here if Mohinder hadn't been who he was?)
He laughed bitterly to himself at such a flight of fancy. He'd rather not credit himself with saving the world. At least, not yet.
But he couldn't deny that was part of his ambition right now. And still he just wanted to go home.
Could he afford to become so fixated on his own personal life, now that he was finally living in the shadow of the Big Bad? What if he was being shadowed? What if the Company took advantage of his moment of weakness to snatch Molly away from them?
Mohinder couldn't imagine that they didn't know where she was. If they'd done their homework on him, they must know. He could only imagine that they'd decided, for whatever reason, that Molly was best kept right where she was. He only prayed he could bring them down before they decided they needed her talents again. And if he just kept his eyes on the prize, he knew, he could set her free.
But could he afford, in the meanwhile, to give in to the illusion before it became a genuine reality? Could he afford to indulge this crush, or budding romance, or whatever was going on between him and Matt? If my destiny is to save the world, he added sardonically in his mind, what am I doing, as they say, 'sweating the small stuff'?
That thought, however, didn't keep him from packing up early.
He stopped at the market to buy some spices and baked chicken breasts for dinner. Molly told him an animated story about a playground accident at school. The boy who fell off the merry-go-round cried like a girl, she tut-tutted, for just a skinned knee. It was blissful family time, the kind Mohinder never thought he'd know. And as conversation wound down toward the end of the meal, Matt's eyes found his and never left.
Mohinder felt heat rising through his shoulders to his neck. Stop that, he thought loudly. Don't look at me like that in front of Molly. Either Matt wasn't listening or he didn't care.
After dinner, Matt donned an apron and began scrubbing the dishes. Molly dumped her plate into the sink and Mohinder followed suit. When he slipped his plate into the soapy water, his hand touched Matt's. It was as though the water had suddenly turned hot; he withdrew his hand with a blush.
At nine, when Molly dropped off to sleep, Matt retreated to his room to finish some paperwork. Mohinder paced back and forth in the hallway, wondering what had caused this sudden shift in attitude. Before, Matt had been the shy one. Mohinder had experience with attraction to men, but it had hit Matt sideways and backwards. He's the one who insisted, like some 1950s remnant, that they go on a date. And Mohinder was doing his best to respect that desire to take things slowly. But that look and that touch were still lingering on his skin and eyes, and they were steadily burning through him.
At one point, Matt left his room to go to the bathroom. As he passed Mohinder, their shoulders touched briefly. Matt smiled at him and went on. Mohinder's hand flew to the spot as though he'd been singed there. A few minutes later, on his way back, Matt brushed against him again. This time, Mohinder was sure, it was deliberate.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing Matt's wrist.
He turned. "Nothing. What do you mean, what am I doing?" The tone was defensive.
"This! You keep," (and Mohinder reddened) "touching me. When you know I'm trying not to... I'm trying to keep things under control."
"It's a narrow hallway!" Matt ventured lamely.
"Don't give me that, Matt. You heard what I said to you at dinner, didn't you? And you didn't listen."
"Oh, right." He looked sheepish. "All right. You want the truth? I couldn't."
A bolt of fear shot through Mohinder. Losing powers was the first symptom of the disease. "You couldn't hear me?"
"No, I mean..." Matt's voice lowered. "I couldn't look away. I honestly tried." He took a step closer to Mohinder, speaking under his breath, furtively glancing around as though afraid he'd be overheard. "You're the one who made me conscious of this— thing we have. Did you think everything was going to be the same?"
Chastened, Mohinder clung to his pride. "All I'm saying is, you're making things difficult for me."
"Difficult for you?" Matt leaned in close, and Mohinder was sure he must be able to hear his pulse, it was thumping so loud. "I don't even know how to deal with this. Feeling this way whenever I see you, whenever I think about you... I've got no control all of a sudden."
"Neither do I!" Mohinder insisted. "I'm doing my best to give you the time and space you need, but..." He looked down at his hand, still grasping Matt's wrist, and blushed. His grip loosened and their fingers found each other. An ache crept into Mohinder's voice."All I can think about whenever I see you is touching you. I feel like I'm in middle school again. I don't know how long I can keep this up."
"I know." Matt took Mohinder's other hand, stroking the palm gently with his thumb. The sensation was more intense than it had any right to be.
"This isn't helping," he said weakly.
"I know," Matt repeated. His eyes, dark springs under a new moon, seemed to caress him. Mohinder stopped breathing, and Matt's voice broke. "Oh, hell."
His full weight crashed against Mohinder, pinning him to the wall. It was a long moment of heavy breathing and staring into each other's eyes before their mouths finally met. Mohinder felt the contact in the base of his spine; his legs wobbled. His hands were pressed against the wall. He was trapped, a prisoner of this powerful man whose body against his was drowning him in warm bliss. He groaned aloud.
"Shh," Matt said against his mouth. "Molly."
"Right," Mohinder whispered urgently. "Don't stop."
He didn't. His hands released Mohinder's and began to travel over the man's waist, his stomach and chest. Mohinder sucked in a breath when Matt's fingers brushed his nipples, and he sighed a long sigh when they came to rest on his face as the kiss faded from possessive to tender and ebbed away.
"I didn't intend this," he protested as his eyes searched Matt's.
"Me neither." And the air between them was sucked away again as they fell into each other, into another ravenous kiss.
"This doesn't bode well for our control," Mohinder gasped. He didn't trust his own legs; he was now holding onto Matt's arms for dear life.
"What control?" The rumble of the voice came from Mohinder's neck, where Matt was pressing dozens of earnest kisses.
"God, Matt, can't we get out of the hallway at least—" But it took an effort to pry him away.
Mohinder took the opportunity to step ahead of him, to get a few words out as Matt followed him into the bedroom. "I was keeping this slow for you, you know. I thought at least we ought to wait until our date."
"Oh, right," Matt tried to affect a conversational tone. "Um, where do you want to go on that?" he asked, shutting the door behind them.
"That's a good question, actually. I hadn't thought about it—"
He was interrupted by hands snaking around his waist and a warm, wet mouth on his ear. "Tell me later," Matt whispered. He unzipped Mohinder's fly and pulled his body back against his own. Mohinder could feel Matt's hardness pressing at him insistently. He murmured an oath and leaned back into the embrace. The moment of control was over.
Matt guided them down onto the bed, sitting Mohinder on his lap. Running his hands beneath his shirt to remove it, he whispered hotly into the newly bare skin between ardent kisses. "Damn it— what you're doing to me—"
"What I'm doing to you?" Mohinder half-moaned. His fingernails were digging into the flesh of Matt's thighs through his jeans. "What are you doing?"
"Damned if I know," Matt said, pulling Mohinder's face to meet his for a deep kiss. "But I can't stop."
"Then don't." Mohinder sprang around, knocking him backward onto the bed. It was the first time he'd been in a dominant position with Matt, and suddenly he wanted to enjoy it. Pulling his clothes off, Mohinder sank into his body and began caressing that soft skin with his mouth and hands, making Matt let out little agonized "uh"s and grind his pelvis upward. He was so painfully erect that when Mohinder freed him from his jeans, his cock sprang from his boxers immediately. Mohinder grasped it loosely with one hand, stroking the tip across his palm and fingertips. Matt made a noise Mohinder hadn't yet heard from him. He smiled and moved downward to taste him.
Matt gave a long, strangled hum at the feel of Mohinder's lips around him. His hands came up to tangle themselves in Mohinder's hair. "Holy— shit— Mohinder..." The sound of his name as a shout of passion was nearly too much for Mohinder. He plunged down, taking all of Matt deep into his throat. His own erection was becoming painful.
Urgent hands were pulling on his shoulders, bringing him back up into Matt's embrace. The cop was gazing at him with pleading eyes. But there was tenderness there, too. And that, more than anything, made it unbearable for Mohinder not to have Matt inside him yet.
He leaned over and touched his trembling lips. "We should protect ourselves," he said. Matt looked confused. By way of explanation, Mohinder noted, "We should get tested soon. We've both been around." Understanding flickered across Matt's face, and he nodded soberly.
He was prepared. Mohinder kept a package of just-in-case condoms in a drawer beneath his nightstand. He unwrapped one and gently put it onto Matt, hearing the man groan even at the indirect touch. As he finished unrolling it at the base of Matt's cock, Mohinder dipped his hand down to cup the soft sac beneath. When he wiggled his fingers against the flesh as though playing a piano, Matt writhed, biting his lip.
Mohinder knew exactly what he wanted. He straddled Matt, locking his hips just north of where he needed to be, and slowly, with one hand still grasping the base of Matt's cock, guided himself backwards and onto him. They both hissed at the initial penetration. Matt groaned and grabbed Mohinder's hips with both hands when he was completely inside. Mohinder touched himself with one hand and with the other explored the length of Matt's body, from lips to fingertips and down to knees. Again and again, Matt's hips rose and pulled him down in cymbal crashes accompanied by the orchestra of grunts and gasps.
Matt took hold of Mohinder's hardness, then, rubbing with a practiced motion, his eyes devouring every reaction that flickered across his face. Through slit-open eyes Mohinder could see him, see the possessed look of triumph in his eye, and it made him want to submit even more. Even while dominating, he wanted at the same time to be dominated by this gentle, well-mannered man whose awkwardness masked the appetite of a beast. Mohinder had unleashed this monster within him. And that made him feel almost proud.
"Ah, Jesus—" Matt swore, shutting his eyes tight. "Wait." Guiding Mohinder off of him, he sat up, moved to the edge of the bed. "This isn't fair," he complained, kissing Mohinder's shoulder. "I can't touch you." With deft movements, he brought the man back to his lap, chest pressing against his back. With a strength born of passion he lowered Mohinder onto him, arms wrapped around him, mouth on his neck.
Mohinder gasped at the intimacy of it, Matt's breath and scent everywhere, their sweat mingling in pools above his shoulder blades, hands on him, holding him and teasing him and stroking him all at once. He angled his head back and his lips met Matt's in a kiss that was as full of emotion as it was lust, and somehow it was that emotion that pushed him over the edge as he came into Matt's hand, feeling Matt tighten inside of him, his legs instinctively tensing, feet hooking around Matt's shins, locking them together. High, strangled sighs burst from his throat, and as he came down he felt Matt ascending that same peak, warmth and fullness expanding within him as Matt's teeth sank into his shoulder and a guttural growl of release sounded so close to his ear. Matt's arms locked tight around him. Amazed, they clung to each other.
There weren't any words as they finally, regretfully parted— just kisses and exhausted, sympathetic smiles. The silence was finally broken when Mohinder collapsed to the bed as Matt got up to dispose of the condom. "I feel great," he declared.
Matt shot him a smile and, when he came back to rest next to him, brushed his lips against Mohinder's forehead. "I didn't know you could do all that," he exclaimed. "I didn't know I could do all that."
"Yet another extraordinary power you've been concealing," Mohinder grinned, tracing the line of Matt's face with a soft fingertip. "What else will you discover you can do, I wonder?"
Matt looked serious all of a sudden. "I only need the power to protect you."
And for the first time he said you, didn't qualify the remark by hastily adding Molly to the mix. Of course she was included; they both understood that. But to be the one Matt talked about in those terms was a new experience for Mohinder. It buoyed his heart.
Unexpectedly, a yawn muscled its way into his chest. His jaw nearly broke on the size of it, and Matt chuckled. "Very noble of you, Officer Parkman," Mohinder said sleepily, "but my mind was rather closer to the gutter in asking that question, I'm afraid."
"Ah, that." Matt yawned too. "You'll find that out after our date."
"I'll look forward to it," Mohinder kissed his lips briefly. "Shouldn't you perhaps go sleep in your own room? In case Molly wakes up?"
"Oh, damn it, you're probably right," Matt grumbled. "If I show up in your clothes again she'll never let me live it down." He sat up, but as he did, he lifted one of Mohinder's hands and pressed it to his lips. "God, Mohinder," he said, shaking his head as though baffled. "This is— so— incredible."
Mohinder's heart swelled. "I know." They smiled at each other another minute, feeling the delirious sinking beneath their feet as they stumbled a few more inches into that abyss called love. It was a glorious tumble to take.
And as Matt waved at the door and left him alone, Mohinder thought once more about destiny. Perhaps there was no such thing. If that were the case, he'd work as hard as he could, not only to protect Molly and to save the world now but to safeguard this gorgeous new treasure he'd found, this man who had stolen his heart.
And if there was such a thing as destiny, Mohinder didn't fear it. If anything on this earth was meant to be, this surely was.
Either way, Mohinder thought as he drifted off to sleep, he had it made.
