‘Are you sure?’ Matt asks the moment he feels Mohinder’s body shift above him. The twist of Mohinder’s hips and the nervous way his hands clutch at Matt’s biceps give away his intentions even before their kiss is broken. Matt breathes the words into his mouth and Matt’s kiss swollen lips brush against Mohinder’s own with every syllable spoken. Mohinder pulls back to study his face, smiling to see his cheeks flushed with colour. Matt’s arousal and excitement sit clear and obvious on his features tempered only slightly by the pinch of concern in his voice.
‘I’m sure,’ Mohinder replies. His eyes are drawn to the red patch on Matt’s jaw were their stubble has caught and rubbed. He tilts Matt’s head up and sweeps his tongue over the angry skin, sighing at the rough scrape of stubble along his tongue and lips. Mohinder’s attentions are thorough and fastidious, leaving Matt’s jaw damp, slick to the touch and warm with his breath. Matt is patient under his ministrations. He runs his fingers through Mohinder’s unruly hair, already unkempt as Matt had twisted the curls around his fingers and grasped great handfuls in his fists while they lay kissing and rocking together on the bed.
‘You don’t have to,’ he insists. The last vowel sound catches on a moan as Mohinder begins to mouth down his neck, pressing their bodies together as he slides downwards, his cock leaving a messy trail down Matt’s thigh. Mohinder’s lips are around his nipple and he pinches it between his teeth. It makes Matt yelp in surprise, in pleasure and in pain. He looks down and Mohinder is staring back up at him, his eyes half obscured by his thick, dark lashes. Still, the amusement in them is plain to see. He tugs on the hard flesh, smiling as Matt hisses and tries to swat him away. Mohinder tortures him one second longer then lets his mouth fall open. Matt feels as his skin snap back as if elastic. His chest is throbbing after the rough treatment and so is his cock.
Mohinder is no longer looking at him. He is staring down at the redness spreading out from Matt’s nipple. Mohinder drops his head and leaves dozens of small, apologetic kisses to the swollen flesh, soothing him with his lips and his breath. ‘I don’t have to,’ he mumbles in agreement, whispering into his work. ‘I want to.’
The kisses are hungry again and open mouthed as Mohinder forges a path down his torso. Over chest and sternum, ribs and stomach, he follows every dip and rise in Matt’s body. He is moving quicker now. Matt wonders if he is really eager to reach his destination or if he is biting the bullet, surging ahead before he can lose his nerve. He doesn’t like that thought and as Mohinder settles between his legs, licking at his thigh, Matt rises on his elbows to stare at his face. ‘Mohinder, really, it’s ok. You don’t like it.’
‘But you do,’ is Mohinder’s reply. He is frowning now, annoyed that Matt is trying to put him off. They have had this discussion before. The words are always the same and Mohinder always gets his way but still Matt feels the need to protest. He doesn’t want Mohinder to think that he takes Mohinder’s discomfort for granted or that he cannot say no or stop or I don’t want to no matter how many times he has agreed to do this in the past. Mohinder doesn’t say no but still Matt knows that he doesn’t want to, not in so many words. Mohinder wants to reciprocate, Matt thinks, he wants to make Matt happy, to make Matt come and while those are all goals that Matt is very much willing to lend his support to, it makes him uncomfortable to think that Mohinder feels obligated to do something he derives no enjoyment from.
‘But…’ Matt falters when Mohinder licks sloppily at his shaft. He’s only human, he thinks, and this feels so good. Matt cannot find his voice to object further. Mohinder is breathing heavily through his nose and the hot bursts of air are moving slowly up his length. His lips are soft as he sucks awkwardly at the side of Matt’s cock, his hair tumbling down to tickle Matt’s stomach. Matt concentrates on the pleasure and absently tucks the wayward curl behind Mohinder’s ear. ‘That’s good,’ he moans as Mohinder rubs his cheek against Matt’s palm and his tongue skates up and down Matt’s rigid flesh with the movement of his head.
Matt opens his eyes and he can see Mohinder smiling back at him, satisfied in himself for causing Matt’s reaction. Even so, his hands are dancing restlessly through his pubic hair and skimming his inner thighs with barely a pause to touch or feel. It’s a nervous tick that serves to tease Matt and push his self-control to the limit. Squeezing his eyes shut, Matt covers Mohinder’s hands with his own, settling them flat and still against his legs while he groans loudly and pulls together the scattered fragments of his thoughts.
He takes one of Mohinder’s hands and gently wraps it around himself. Matt wants Mohinder to know he only has to do as much as is comfortable, that he doesn’t need to try something that will leave him gagging and unable to breathe. Brushing Mohinder’s knuckles with his thumb, Matt’s own palm slips away to fist in the sheets. When Mohinder immediately takes his hand back, Matt’s eyes snap open. He wants to scream in frustration, to make Mohinder understand that it doesn’t matter that he can take Mohinder in deep, swallow him down and hold him in his throat. Matt doesn’t need it to be paid back in kind and he doesn’t want it at all when it means they have to stop so that Mohinder can cough and splutter, getting angrier with himself and more frustrated.
But Mohinder is winking at him and his pink tongue darts out to diligently lick over his palm and slick his fingers. He holds Matt’s gaze as he thoroughly wets every crevice of his skin. He sucks on his fingers just to tease Matt with the sounds. Then, Mohinder’s hand is back, warm, tight and slippery, and Matt knows that Mohinder is meeting him halfway. He is flicking his tongue over Matt’s tip, avoiding the slit and the stickiness that is pearling there. Matt tenses as Mohinder’s lips slide around him, his tongue swirling around the head and tracing the line of the ridge. It is all he can do to cling to the mattress, to keep his hips still and not grip at Mohinder’s hair to guide his movements and speed them up.
Mohinder pauses and Matt watches him flex his jaw, stretching the muscle. He places his hand over Mohinder’s once more and together they angle his cock, Mohinder flashing him a look of relief as the new position eases the strain. He starts to bob his head. His movements are unsteady and the rhythm is irregular but still it rips deep moans and whispered declarations of love from Matt’s lips. The sights, the sounds and the mere fact that Mohinder is on his knees doing this for Matt’s enjoyment are more erotic than the blow job itself could ever be, no matter how much Mohinder practiced or how skilled he became.
Mohinder starts to stroke him, letting Matt’s hand stay over his and set the pace. He takes the initiative and reaches between Matt’s legs, playing with his balls and grunting in satisfaction when he makes Matt cry out. Matt can feel his pre-come welling from his tip and he tries to ignore the flickering grimace on Mohinder’s face, a look of distaste that he always tries so hard to hide from Matt when the saltiness and bitterness floods his palate. If it makes Mohinder feel better to think that he hides his reaction well then it is the least Matt can do to pretend that he doesn’t notice.
They fall into a heady rhythm. Maybe the pace isn’t as quick as he’d like or the suction as strong, Mohinder’s lips never seeming to clamp as tightly around him as he would prefer, but it’s still so good and Matt lets his head loll back, his eyes fluttering shut. He is barely guiding Mohinder’s hand now, except to urge him to twist his wrist every now and then. Matt’s hips are rolling and his breath is coming in desperate pants. He tries to hold his body still, to stop himself from pushing Mohinder further than he wants to go but his control is shot to hell by the rising, swirling fog of pleasure in his groin.
Matt’s fingernails cut into the back of Mohinder’s hand and he tries to find the words to tell the other man that he is close and now is the time to pull away if he’d rather not have his throat coated with Matt’s release. But the pain must have startled Mohinder. He stumbles, choking as Matt’s cock roughly bumps the roof of his mouth and Mohinder pulls back hastily. There is sudden sharp pain and Matt hisses, his hips jolting back reflexively. He slips messily from Mohinder’s mouth and grits his teeth against the stinging in his erection.
‘I’m sorry, Matt.’ Mohinder is babbling.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats over and over. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he frowns, staring at Matt’s cock as if he can see a scrape or a bruise where he has caught Matt with his teeth. There is nothing there of course, no permanent damage done and already the tightness in Matt’s balls and the unrelenting need tugging at the base of his dick is overriding any lingering discomfort.
‘It’s ok,’ he mutters. He has to stop himself from stroking his cock, from touching himself exactly as he wants to be touched and pushing aside the edge of pain. Mohinder is frowning and Matt knows he won’t believe him if he says it doesn’t hurt. After all, Mohinder has a dick too and from what he’s told Matt of his past, Mohinder has been on the receiving end of enough ill-executed blow jobs to know what the drag of hard teeth over sensitive skin feels like.
Maybe that is why it bothers Mohinder so much that this is a skill he hasn’t mastered straight away. Mohinder knows how good it can be and how bad and Matt thinks that it frustrates Mohinder to think he is providing Matt with bad more often than good. But then surely, by the same token, shouldn’t Mohinder know enough to know that bad is still more than good enough? Doesn’t Mohinder know that there is more to this act than licking and sucking – that selflessness, love and a desire to please are just as important? Mohinder provides those in quantities that Matt constantly thinks himself unworthy of receiving.
Matt strokes his cheek and pulls Mohinder up again so that he can kiss away his anger and his disappointment in himself. He stops Mohinder before he can apologise again and they kiss lazily, Matt all the while ignoring the ever more persistent throb in his cock. Matt can feel Mohinder smiling into the kiss he encloses Matt’s erection in his fist once more. He moans into Mohinder’s mouth and the smile turns to a smirk, pleased to know at this, at least, he is as skilled as Matt.
While Mohinder jacks him quickly, the layers of heat and want that had slipped away building again, quicker and twice as intense, Matt wonders if maybe that is what drives Mohinder to insist he get down on his knees and practice as often he can. Is this the first time something has not come naturally to him? Does it bother him that perhaps he will never match Matt for skill, let alone supersede him, no matter how much experience he gains? The thought should bother Matt more than it does. This isn’t a competition, he knows that, but he also knows that Mohinder has never been less than perfect at whatever he turns his hand to. He doesn’t need to read Mohinder’s thoughts to feel the waves of disappointment radiating off him when this skill takes longer to master that whatever timetable Mohinder has deemed acceptable.
So if Mohinder wants to do this: to study and practice over and over just as he has all his life, then who is Matt, content to be less than perfect in every way as long as the people he loves are happy, to argue? He is only too glad to teach Mohinder what he so desperately wants to know, guiding his hands, and fixing his angles. Matt tries his best not to condescend, knowing as he does how Mohinder hates to be told what to do. He phrases his lessons as breathy, pleading requests, couched in words like please and fuck and always telling Mohinder how goddamn good he is. And he is good, god damn it, because Mohinder is moaning in his ear now, his fist moving faster and faster as he urges Matt to come.
Then any thoughts Matt might have are shattered into a thousand fleeting shards. He clamps down on Mohinder’s hand, holding him still and close while he thrusts upwards, sliding through tight, hot space. His muscles tense and with a desperate whimper he comes, spurting over Mohinder’s fingers to soil their stomachs. When Matt’s senses return enough for him to open his eyes, he is greeted by Mohinder’s blinding white smile.
‘Good?’ he asks, as he always does, even though Matt knows by his grin that he is perfectly aware of the answer.
‘Very good.’
The words must meet with his approval because Matt is treated to a deep and searching kiss. Mohinder rocks his hips and Matt can feel him hard and waiting as Mohinder rolls them over so that Matt is now the one on top. Mohinder pushes at his shoulders, an impish grin on his face as he arches off the bed, rubbing his cock to Matt’s stomach. ‘Show me how it’s done?’
