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When Mohinder wakes it is with Matt’s arm curled around his middle. He smiles, contented, as the bright morning sunlight streams into the room highlighting Matt’s features. His stomach flips and clenches at the sight. Mohinder rakes a hand through his hair and laughs, softly, at his own giddiness. It has been years since he has felt so purely happy. He spends each day in a haze of expectation and anticipation, a wide grin spread unconsciously across his face as he recalls the nights before and looks forward to the nights to come. Not since Mira has Mohinder been so infatuated, so obsessed and fixated. He finds himself thinking of Matt at the most inappropriate times, of his hands, his smile and his low, rumbling laugh. Over the breakfast table, while Matt and Molly talk and joke he catches himself staring, holding his breath, unable to believe how wonderfully things have come to pass.
Ever since their first serendipitous night together, Mohinder has been unable to keep his hands to himself. He knows it’s selfish and he knows it’s juvenile but Mohinder is in love and he can’t control himself. It has been so long since he has felt this way that he needs the world know that Matt is his and he is Matt’s. He glances against Matt in hallways wide enough for them both to pass untouched. His fingers brush imaginary lint from Matt’s clothes and he is constantly reaching up to ‘fix’ the other man’s hair. Whenever they talk, Mohinder’s hands seem to seek out Matt’s cheeks, hips, arms and ass, all of their own accord. He deserves this one adolescent, self-indulgence. After all they have been through he needs to cling to all the happiness he can find.
Mohinder stares at Matt’s peaceful, sleeping face. He still can’t quite understand how or when he started to think like a mooning teenager but he is filled with the unquestionable certainty that Matt is the one. It’s trite, melodramatic and sickeningly romantic but it is the only conclusion he can come to that makes any sense. Unlike Mira, it sometimes seems that he and Matt have nothing in common. Matt likes sports, beer and watching TV. Mohinder likes reading and travel, and can’t bear to sit idle. When Mohinder talks about his research he knows Matt will never grasp the complexities of what it is he does. But then, unlike Mira, Matt doesn’t have to understand a single thing about genetics or DNA to understand Mohinder and offer his unwavering support.
Matt squirms and the sheets shift lower, bunching around his hips. It takes Mohinder’s breath away to see the powerful lines of his back and the strong, imposing muscles of his arms. He strokes Matt’s bicep and kisses his shoulder, wondering if he will ever cease to feel that tug in his groin at Matt’s overwhelmingly masculine presence. Mohinder has been surprised at the degree to which Matt turns him on. It is not just that Matt is the first man he has been intimate with, but Matt is the first man he has had any interest in at all. True, he has always admired a well-built man, but only in an aesthetic sense. It has been something removed from who he is and a curiosity that he has never before felt compelled to explore. Now, with Matt, all he wants to do is spend their days exploring.
It is more than the usual excitement that comes with discovering a new lover’s likes and dislikes. Mohinder is not just learning how Matt responds to his customary arsenal of tricks or sliding him into the continuum of his previous sexual experiences. Everything from Matt’s body to the things they do and the way they fit together are new and untried. Only in his adolescence has Mohinder ever felt so simultaneously aroused and yet unsure of how to proceed. The apprehension that coursed through his body that first night has long since been dispelled by Matt’s tender words and his patient, guiding hands. Late at night, with Molly safely in bed and the curtains drawn, Mohinder has relearned what it means to pleasure his partner. Now, his hands move confidently where before they had been tentative. With Matt’s gentle instruction, he has learned how to enjoy and give enjoyment when he takes Matt’s hardness in his mouth. Today, this morning, alone in the house for the first time in weeks, Mohinder wants Matt to teach him the last of what there is to learn.
‘Morning’
Matt’s hoarse, sleepy voice rouses Mohinder from his fantasies and he flushes with pleasure as Matt runs an appreciative eye up and down the length of his body. The hand that has been resting on Mohinder’s hip starts to knead circles into his flesh and Mohinder can feel his skin start to prickle as his pulse beats quicker. He rolls closer to Matt’s warm body, needing to run his hands over his broad chest and press kisses to his soft skin. Just as their lips are about to touch, Mohinder feels the world literally move beneath him.
‘Oh shit!’
Matt’s hands grab him and stop him from falling, as the wooden creak of the beds shifting under their weight fills the room. Adrenaline races through Mohinder’s body as he clutches Matt’s shoulders to steady himself. Straddling Matt’s hips, Mohinder sits up on his knees and surveys the sudden disarray in their bedroom. The single beds they had pushed together have lurched apart under their movements. There is a gaping space between them now that only Matt’s swift thinking has saved Mohinder from tumbling into.
For a moment they are still, overcome with stunned silence. Then the room is filled with their loud, uncontrollable laughter. The situation is absurd. Of everything Mohinder has experienced in the past year and a half, from seeing firsthand the abilities his father had discovered to experiencing those same powers used against him in anger, trying to sleep beside Matt on two narrow, single beds, pushed together and against the wall, is by far the most surreal. It reminds Mohinder of being at boarding school and makes his heart race with the sense that he is getting away with something not usually allowed.
‘Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need to get a bigger bed.’ Mohinder smiles at Matt’s words and at the implication that the furniture is a worthwhile investment. Mohinder feels weightless and carefree in a way that has eluded him for far too long. He doesn’t know how Matt does this to him, but he hopes he never stops having this effect. He thrills to know that it is Matt’s love that makes this possible: he feels safe, happy and loved.
His fingers card softly through Matt’s hair. Mohinder tilts his head and tenderly presses their lips together. He will never tire of lying in Matt’s arms, kissing and breathing, and just being with each other. Mohinder’s eye’s flutter shut and he loses himself in the soft wetness of Matt’s lips and the teasing slide of his tongue. He can feel a pleasant warmth unfurling under his skin. It centres low in his belly and radiates outwards until every inch of his body is infused with the welcome sensation. He mouths down Matt’s jaw, moaning at the scrape of their stubble and licking at Matt’s ear. He tangles their legs together and flips them over.
‘Mmmm. Morning,’ Matt repeats, resting on his elbows and settling his body over Mohinder’s. ‘What’s the time?’
‘Not sure,’ Mohinder replies between kisses. He glances quickly at the clock, hating to take his eyes from Matt’s face. ‘Late.’
Matt frowns a little and to Mohinder’s disappointment starts to sit up. ‘When do we have to pick up Molly?’
‘Not for ages.’ Mohinder pulls him down again by his shoulders. ‘Hours yet. Not until after lunch. Stop worrying, she’s fine. You heard her on the phone last night, she’s having fun.’
Mohinder smiles as Matt bites his lip. He trails his fingers over Matt’s brow and tries to ease the furrows there. Molly had gone with her best friend’s family to spend the long weekend camping and watching fireworks over a lake, away from the city. When asked, Mohinder had eagerly given his permission, knowing Molly would enjoy herself and thrilling at the thought of two days alone with Matt, no work to distract them. He hadn’t anticipated Matt’s objection when he was told of the plan.
Mohinder hadn’t thought Independence Day much of a holiday. Hadn’t Americans known nothing but freedom? Why celebrate a victory that had so little relevance to their lives today? It seemed more of an excuse for a day off work to barbeque and drink heavily. Flags and fireworks were mere cultural quirks to complete the picture. It was nothing like fervent celebrations he was used to at home. Less than a century free of colonial rule, independence truly meant something in India. He recalled, as a child, flying kites in their sprawling gardens with his cousins as the family gathered to celebrate. His grandfather would hold court recounting his part in the struggle as a young man. They would sit together, gathered around the television, listening to the Prime Minister’s speech. Heated, passionate debates would fill the air as his relatives and neighbours relished in their emancipation. Later, as a young academic, returning home for the holiday, years after his grandfather’s death, his grandmother had taken him aside. It was the educated youth, she had explained, like his grandfather then and Mohinder now, who had led the way to decolonisation. It was Mohinder’s duty, and that of his cohort, she insisted, to ensure that they retained the rights and freedoms that her generation had campaigned for. With such visceral memories, Mohinder couldn’t comprehend how the American version could ever compare.
Then, last night, as they sat on the roof, Mohinder leaning back against Matt’s chest, encircled in his arms and a warm flannel blanket watching the fireworks, Mohinder began to understand. Matt recounted how in the years after Maury left, with his mother working double shifts to keep them above water, the Fourth of July had been the only holiday she had taken off work every year. To Matt the day meant family and togetherness in times of trouble. Mohinder thought perhaps there was more to this version than he had previously allowed. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had supported Molly when she had pouted and whined, wearing down Matt’s defences until he caved. He felt awful for robbing Matt of a family celebration that meant so much to him when for the first time they were free to enjoy it without fear. Still, ever pragmatic, Mohinder intends to make as much as he could of Molly’s absence.
He cups the back of Matt’s neck and pulls him down to lick at his lips. Mohinder smiles when the frown starts to fade from Matt’s face and he opens his mouth with a sigh, letting Mohinder flick his tongue inside. Mohinder’s hands skim over Matt’s shoulders, down his arms and up his back, caressing all the undulating muscles he had admired earlier while Matt slept. The kiss turns hungry. Matt’s thumbs are dragging along his collarbone and tracing the lines of the muscles of his chest. He presses the pads of his fingers to Mohinder’s nipples, rubbing circles into the hardened flesh and smirking as Mohinder cries out beneath him. Mohinder rocks his hips and when Matt returns the movement, he can feel how aroused he’s become. Matt kisses down his neck and starts to slide downwards but Mohinder grasps him by the shoulders and pulls him back up. He presses their lips together insistently once more.
‘No. Not like that,’ Mohinder mumbles against Matt’s damp lips. He disentangles his legs from under Matt’s and spreads them wide, sighing as Matt instinctively settles between them. Mohinder twists his fingers in the hair at the back of Matt’s neck, ignoring the nerves that suddenly jump and bounce in his gut. He wraps his legs around Matt’s hips and crosses his ankles loosely behind his back. With a shallow thrust upwards, he can tell by the look in Matt’s eyes that the other man has fully comprehended his meaning.
‘Are you sure?’ Mohinder nods in reply, sighing as Matt rubs his palm over the clenching muscles of Mohinder’s abdomen.
‘Because we don’t have to. You know that. I’m happy with the way things are, Mohinder. You don’t have to do this just to make me happy.’
Mohinder bites his lip and feels ridiculous. All the things he wants to say: I’m ready, it’s time, I want to, are all words he can’t help remembering spilling from the lips of his first, teenaged lovers. He recalls all too well what it is like to be in Matt’s position. To be desperately wanting release and yet not wanting to be the cause of pain, guilt and shame and all those other things that first times can be. But Mohinder is ready and he does want to, and if now is not the time then when will the time be? They are not inexperienced youths fumbling in the back of their parents’ cars. They are adults, they are parents and partners, and anxious as Mohinder may be about the unknown he needs this now. He cannot stand to wait another month for Molly to be invited to another friend’s home.
‘Please, Matt. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
They stare into each others eyes. With a blush, Mohinder realises that this is the first time they have spoken those words. What a cliché to have such declarations be prompted by the prospect of sex. Then, Mohinder decides he doesn’t care if he sounds corny or juvenile because corny and juvenile or not, it’s the truth. He loves Matt. Matt loves him. They have finally acknowledged what they both have known since that first kiss. Their lips meet again and this time when they break apart Matt nods in agreement. The butterflies in Mohinder’s gut increase ten-fold as excitement and apprehension sing along his nerves. Matt regards him silently for a moment, still with his hand on his abdomen, watching Mohinder’s face and they way he worries his bottom lip.
To Mohinder’s surprise, Matt slides off the bed and tugs at Mohinder’s hand to follow. They weave between and around the two beds, chuckling at the state of the room and step into the hall.
‘Come on. Let’s take a shower, get you nice and relaxed.’ Mohinder smiles at Matt’s words, ever surprised at what a caring and selfless lover he was.
‘Besides before we go any further, you, my darling, need to brush your teeth.’ A quick swat to the ass is Mohinder’s only response.
Mohinder leans against the doorframe, watching Matt as he brushes his teeth and turns on the shower. He marvels at the firm curve of his ass as Matt bends to test the water and then blushes when Matt turns to catch him ogling. Matt just snorts and hands him his toothbrush, distracting Mohinder from cleaning his teeth by stripping out of his boxers. With an exaggerated sigh of exasperation, Matt stands behind him, wraps his arms around Mohinder’s middle and squeezes toothpaste onto the brush. Mohinder gets himself together in time to snatch his hand back before Matt can raise it to his mouth too.
Matt buries his face in Mohinder’s hair. He inhales deeply and waits for Mohinder to clean and rinse his mouth. He embraces him tightly from behind and kisses his neck before whispering in his ear.
‘Don’t be nervous.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Don’t be tense, then.’
‘I’m not.’
Mohinder grunts as Matt moves one hand to gently squeeze the tight knots of his shoulders, proving him a liar. He sighs and spins on his heel, pressing his face to Matt’s neck. Matt simply strokes his hair for a while and waits. When Mohinder doesn’t speak, he continues.
‘It’s going to hurt. But only a little and not for long, I promise.’
‘I know.’
‘Then tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Nothing. Matt, I want to. I just… I don’t like it when I’m not in control.’
‘I know, but, Mohinder, at first—’
‘I know. I trust you, Matt.’
This time it is Mohinder who takes Matt’s hand. He sheds his boxers quickly and guides them under the shower. For a moment they just stand and let the warm water run over their bodies as they kiss, slow and tender. Matt snatches the shampoo from the side of the tub and works it into Mohinder’s hair with firm hands. Mohinder moans into the massage, blindly grabbing at Matt’s sides to steady himself as his eyes slide shut. Matt kisses his cheeks and licks at his lips as he lets the water rinse the lather from Mohinder’s hair. While Mohinder returns the favour, Matt soaps a washcloth and rubs it over his shoulders, feeling the tendons rippling as Mohinder’s fingers knead his scalp. Mohinder smiles as he brushes the hair back from Matt’s forehead and presses their bodies together. The washcloth moves lower to circle and caress at the small of his back. Matt gasps as their erections brush against each other and Mohinder’s fingers dig into his ass, pulling him closer.
Cupping Mohinder’s jaw in one large palm and holding their mouths together in a deep and searching kiss, Matt skims the washcloth over Mohinder’s ass, squeezing and caressing until the muscles relax.
‘Ok?’
Mohinder nods, breathlessly. He captures Matt’s lips again and groans into the kiss when he feels the warm, soft cloth glide down the cleft of his ass. Mohinder closes his eyes and tries not to anticipate what is to come. Instead he concentrates on the taste of Matt’s tongue and the feel of his skin under Mohinder’s fingers; most of all, he concentrates on how much he loves Matt and how much he wants this.
He soon becomes used to the feel of the cloth moving slowly and wetly between his ass cheeks. He finds himself relaxing into the motion and even pushing back into it when Matt teases at his perineum. Matt smiles against his lips and pulls the washcloth away, kissing Mohinder when he whimpers. Mohinder can hear him rinse and wring out the cloth, soap it again and caress him once more. This time Matt searches lower between his legs, cupping Mohinder’s balls from behind before retreating back to his crease. As Matt continues to stroke at his ass, Mohinder groans, unsure how much more of this tease he can take.
Then, Matt is putting the cloth aside and his thick, soaped finger is taking its place. Mohinder tenses at the sudden change of sensation. Matt pulls his hand away with a look of contrition on his face, but Mohinder grabs his wrist and guides him back again.
‘Don’t stop.’
He hums happily as Matt’s finger starts to trace the same route the washcloth had taken. Soon, he is pressing back against the touch and moaning shamelessly as Matt strokes the puckered flesh around his hole. Mohinder’s hands dart upwards to grip at Matt’s shoulders, steadying himself as his legs tremble at the arousal that is overtaking him. Matt holds him close and shuts off the shower.
‘Bedroom?’
Matt must agree because he steps from the shower, taking Mohinder with him and towelling them dry. They stumble down the hall as they kiss and fondle each other, for once not needing to be hushed or circumspect with their moans. They fall on the bed in a flurry of arms and legs, kisses and caressing hands. Mohinder holds Matt down on top of him and tilts his hips, thrusting upwards into the soft, damp skin of his thigh and smiling as he groans. Then with a bold wink, he flips over and settles on his stomach. He spreads his legs on the narrow bed, looking at Matt over his shoulder and wiggling his hips.
Matt leans down to kiss the side of his face and fumbles with one hand in the nightstand for a condom and the lube. Mohinder twists his hand behind him to hold Matt close by the back of his neck. Their lips meet for one more searing kiss before he drops his face to the pillows and lets Matt kneel between his legs. Matt’s broad palms are massaging his back. With strong hands he works Mohinder’s muscles loose and in the wake of his fingers, drops wet kisses to Mohinder’s damp skin.
He cries out. His moan is muffled by the pillow and his arm as he bites it. Matt’s wide thumbs are holding him open and he is pressing kisses to Mohinder’s tender pucker. Where lips have been, Matt’s tongue follows and Mohinder can’t imagine how Matt had ever discovered how good this was, or how he became so good at doing it. But then, Mohinder doesn’t want to think of Matt’s past or their future. As Matt’s tongue slides slickly around and then with a push, slips inside, it is all he can do to try and cling to the now.
When Matt’s slippery finger replaces his tongue to twist and tease and ease him open, Mohinder bites his lip, trying to suppress a groan that is equal parts pleasure and pain. Matt is kissing up his spine and his free arm wraps around Mohinder’s torso to rub and pet at his stomach. Mohinder squeezes his eyes shut as Matt’s one finger presses deeper. He tangles a hand in Matt’s hair, pulling him down to hear him breath and whisper in his ear. Mohinder shakes his head when Matt starts to ask if wants to stop or take a break. He forces himself to shuffle back on the bed and take that finger all the way in, trying to mimic how Matt seems to relax and accept the invasion.
He hisses between clenched teeth when Matt’s finger slides free and two are now pushing at his entrance. When he whimpers, Matt pauses and kisses the sweat from his brow. He brushes his lips all over Mohinder’s cheek, down his nose, lapping at his eyelid and tickling his ear. As he starts to relax, and considers rolling over so Matt can lavish attention on the other half of his face, he feels Matt’s free hand groping between the mattress and his stomach. Matt moans in satisfaction when he grasps Mohinder’s half-hard cock in his hand. Slowly, he pumps him back to a full erection. Mohinder concentrates on the tingling sensation that snaps and jolts through his groin with each of Matt’s long, smooth strokes. He sighs at the sparks the crackle up and down his spine and the fire that seems to jump along his length when Matt skates his thumb so teasingly over the head of his dick.
Mohinder is so caught up in the glide of Matt’s palm and the press of his lips, the sounds of his voice and scent of his fresh, clean breath that it takes a while for him to notice Matt’s fingers have started to move once more. They are thrusting gently and scissoring slowly, stretching and twisting. Somehow, now, the pain is gone or maybe just pushed aside as unimportant. Mohinder finds himself grunting in pleasure. He tentatively rocks his hips, groaning long and low at the exquisite sensation. Then, Matt’s fingers are curling and he feels as if his mind is fraying at the edges. His breath is coming in fast and shallow pants, and he moves his hips more insistently between Matt’s hands. With every slight brush and quick caress Mohinder thinks he can see the Catherine wheels of the night before dancing behind his eyelids.
He can hear incoherent begging, high whining noises and desperate pleading sobs. Mohinder absently realises the sounds are coming from his own lips. Matt’s fingers are slipping free and Mohinder finds himself moving backwards, following their path, not wanting to be empty. Matt laughs into his hair and sits up on his knees. Mohinder looks over his shoulder to watch as Matt sheaths his cock and slicks himself. He tries to rise to his knees, to prepare for what is to come, but he feels drunk with arousal and when he moves he is distracted by the rub of the sheets along his cock.
‘Lie back. Trust me.’
Matt’s hands hold his hips still. He waits until Mohinder has settled into the pillows once more, then he bends Mohinder’s right leg at the knee and pushes it up to rest beside his chest. They kiss, long and slow as they come face to face and Mohinder is torn between holding Matt in the kiss, needing to feel his lips on his lips and shoving him away in frustration, needing to feel Matt inside him.
Matt braces himself with on his forearm, his palm flat to the mattress beside the pillows and it is as Mohinder kisses and licks at his fingers that Matt guides his cock to Mohinder’s entrance. He presses in slow and steady. Mohinder cries out and grabs at the headboard but Matt is kissing his back and his hand is holding Matt’s hip and Mohinder doesn’t want to stop. It burns. It stretches. Matt feels bigger than he looks. Mohinder can’t think of anything to compare the sensation to. He feels full, warm and closer to Matt than he has ever been before.
He brushes the sweat from his eyes and cranes his neck to look at Matt. He is resting his forehead against Mohinder’s back, worrying his lip and clutching at the sheets beside Mohinder’s head. He reaches a hand backwards and tugs at Matt’s hip, sliding him home. They groan, in unison, at the tightness and the friction. Matt rubs Mohinder’s shoulders. They wait, they breathe and Mohinder feels the tension falling from his muscles. The swirling in his gut is no longer nerves or apprehension but pleasure and arousal. He pushes back against Matt, smiling when he hears the other man swear.
Mohinder loses all perception of time and space. His entire being is given over to the rush of sensations that surround and invade him. Matt’s palm is wedged between the sheets and his cock, letting him ride against it with every push and thrust. Matt’s thickness is inside him, stretching and owning him. With every rock of his hips Matt is pressing against his prostate, shooting explosions across his vision and making him moan. Matt’s lips are at the back of his neck and Mohinder can hear him whispering words of love and encouragement against his skin.
Then, Mohinder is breaking apart. He thinks, as much as he is able, that if he were a firecracker in the sky last night, he would have burnt the brightest of them all. His orgasm seems to rock every nerve in his body, tingle every cell and leave him a shuddering, incoherent mess. He can barely register when Matt buries his face in the crook of his neck, grips at his hips and comes too, so overwhelmed is he by his own pleasure.
Matt slides free and they bonelessly rearrange themselves to lie side by side. They stare into each others eyes. They are panting and speechless, neither able to express the wonder that paints their faces. Mohinder gently strokes Matt’s face and pulls him down for a kiss. Their tongues slide against each other and along their lips. Mohinder moves to roll onto his back and pull Matt’s arms around him. It is only by Matt’s suddenly tight grip that he is prevented from rolling off the side of the narrow bed and landing in a heap on the floor. They chuckle breathlessly into each other mouths. Together they mumble, ‘we need a bigger bed.’