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Matt is in bed when Mohinder arrives home. It is long past midnight and the first time in days that Matt has even been awake to hear him come in. With Mohinder working hard to counteract a new strain of the virus, Matt has barely seen him in weeks. Mohinder is out the door in the mornings before he wakes and slips into bed while he is deep asleep.
He listens as Mohinder checks on Molly, standing in her doorway and watching her sleep. He doesn’t intend to pry but his mind is hazy with exhaustion and Mohinder is emanating waves of frustration and anger. A string of expletives jumps across his mind – directed at Bob, The Company, Bennet, Matt and Elle but mostly towards himself. Feelings of guilt and helplessness almost consume him as all the while a mess of complicated calculations are whirring in the background of Mohinder’s consciousness. Matt closes his mind to Mohinder’s thoughts and concentrates on keeping a poker face when Mohinder enters the room. He doesn’t want to upset Mohinder further by admitting to his invasive lapse in control.
‘Hey,’ he whispers, sitting up in bed and turning on the bedside lamp. Mohinder blinks in surprise at the sudden wash of pale light before giving a half hearted smile. ‘Hi.’
Mohinder looks absolutely haggard. He has deep, dark circles under his eyes and a thick five-o-clock shadow that is dangerously close to becoming a beard. His hair is a mess, sticking out every which way and Matt can picture Mohinder finger combing it in frustration, bent over a microscope looking for answers. His clothes are so rumpled that Matt wonders if he has been sleeping at the lab when necessity strikes. Mohinder looks skinnier than Matt has ever seen him before and when he shrugs off his shirt, Matt gasps at the sight of his ribs standing out in sharp relief and the way his jeans hang loosely on his hips. Mohinder notices and looks down at his bare torso, running his fingers over the jutting bones and frowning at what he finds. He scratches at his stubble, grimacing at the rough sound and turns to inspect himself in the mirror.
Now staring at his back, Matt can see the outline of Mohinder’s every vertebra. His jeans are falling off him, exposing the white cotton of his underwear but Matt chooses not to comment. There is no need to add insult to injury and Mohinder would be mortified to find he has been walking around with his ass hanging out all day. Mohinder strips off his jeans. He seems barely aware that Matt is watching him, too busy twisting in front of the mirror and muttering to himself at what he sees.
‘You need to eat more.’ It seems a pointlessly obvious thing to say but it’s true. ‘And sleep more.’
‘I know,’ Mohinder says with a resigned sigh. ‘Soon,’ he promises.
When Mohinder turns towards him, Matt’s heart skips a beat. Maybe it is just that it has been too long since they have been alone and maybe it is just that Matt is horny, but as wrong as it is, tired, overworked and underfed Mohinder is looking more attractive than Matt remembers. And in Matt’s memory, if his midnight fantasies and morning erections are anything to go by, Mohinder is already the most attractive thing Matt has ever seen. It might be the dim light that hits Mohinder’s shoulders and highlights the curves and dips of the muscles of his chest. It might be the way he’s stretching, completely unselfconscious as he arches his spine and twists his hips to loosen the knots in his back. Or it might just be the unexpected discovery that while the rest of Mohinder’s clothes look two sizes too big, falling off his emaciated frame, his boxer briefs still fit him snugly. The cotton is white and thin, hugging Mohinder’s cock and balls and leaving nothing to the imagination. Matt can see the outline of Mohinder’s dick and the well worn fabric does nothing to conceal the dark hue of his skin, or the richness of his pubic hair.
He should ask about Mohinder’s day, offer him a massage or just let him sleep. Matt knows that’s the right thing to do but instead he grabs Mohinder by the hips and pulls him between his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. He presses wet kisses to Mohinder’s stomach, his fingers stroking up his inner thighs and dipping up under the hem of his underwear. Matt can feel Mohinder’s muscles rippling under his attention. He licks at the curve of Mohinder’s hips, tracing the lines that stick out too harshly and lapping at the skin that is pulled too taut to be healthy. This close Matt can see how pale Mohinder has grown these past few weeks and there is a yellowish tinge to his skin that makes Matt think Mohinder has been eating even worse than he had suspected. Yet these realisations do nothing to quash Matt’s arousal. Just having Mohinder under his hands and under his lips after so many nights apart has him half hard and fully awake.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he mumbles into his kisses and when Mohinder cups his chin and tilts his head, smiling down on Matt as he strokes his cheek, Matt takes it as a sign that Mohinder wants this too. Slowly he pulls at the leg holes of Mohinder’s boxer briefs, gently sliding the close fitting fabric down his body. He watches in silence as Mohinder’s cock comes into view, inch by inch. He’s still flaccid but Matt isn’t deterred. He peppers his length with quick pecks of his lips. Matt has to tilt his head and move quickly to keep contact as Mohinder shifts to kick his underwear from around his ankles.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ is moaned above him as Matt takes Mohinder into his mouth, moving his lips up and down his soft flesh. Matt presses his tongue against the underside of Mohinder’s dick, lifting him up on his tongue and pushing him against the roof of his mouth. He is yielding and pliant like this, even his taste is different, less musky and more subtle. And while Matt finds he likes this, settling into an easy rhythm while Mohinder fits so effortlessly into his mouth, Mohinder isn’t getting stiff. He sucks a bit harder and swirls his tongue a bit more insistently, swiping the tip over the head of his cock but nothing is happening. He glances up at Mohinder. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back as he moans, caressing Matt’s back and shoulders as he works. The sight and sounds are reassuring. Matt tries to push aside the insecurities that niggle at his mind, making him wonder if Mohinder has been deliberately avoiding him at night.
Mohinder is rocking his hips now, but he’s still not erect. His moans have become grunts that sound frustrated. His hand is holding Matt’s face tightly against him and if he had been hard, Matt knows he would have been choking and spluttering at the treatment. He wants to know what’s going on, what he’s doing wrong and if Mohinder wants him to stop, but his mouth is full and Mohinder’s not talking. He’s not even looking down as the snaps of his hips become more violent and his grip on Matt’s neck becomes fiercer. So Matt does something he had promised himself, and promised Mohinder that he would never do. He reaches out with his thoughts and listens. Come on! Come on! For fuck’s sake, Mohinder, you can do this. That feels so good, so why… Mohinder’s thoughts sound so tortured and self recriminating that Matt has to pull away and shake his head to clear it. Mohinder’s guilt and unease settle in layers over his own remorse at prying into Mohinder’s mind.
He starts to speak, to say Mohinder’s name and comfort him, but the words are stifled when Mohinder kisses him. He straddles Matt’s lap and pushes them down onto the bed. He is kissing Matt deeply and roughly, biting at his lips and grinding down into him. Matt is fully hard now and has been for a while. His cock throbs under the sudden onslaught of pressure and friction and he thinks Mohinder must have felt it pulse beneath him because he is caressing the bulge at the front of Matt’s boxers and gripping him through the silky fabric. It feels so good to have Mohinder touching him, almost too good after so long and Matt has to make a conscious effort to breathe and control himself before he becomes overwhelmed. He wants to lie back and let Mohinder pleasure him, to jack him off in long, smooth strokes but all he can feel is Mohinder’s cock, lying limp, nestled against his hip, damp and cool as Matt’s spit dries on his skin.
Mohinder’s hands are everywhere and Matt’s boxers are pushed down his thighs, Mohinder’s nails digging into the flesh of his ass before Matt can roll them over. Mohinder struggles a little as they are rearranged. He hates being pinned down unless he specifically asks to be, but when Matt works his thigh between Mohinder’s knees and purposefully rubs up against his flaccid dick, Mohinder stops resisting. He stops doing anything. Mohinder turns his face away, his eyes scrunched shut and his jaw clenched. Matt can feel that his every muscle is tense, and without using his power, he can still taste Mohinder's frustration hanging in the air between them.
‘We can stop…’ Matt starts but Mohinder’s eyes snap open and he fixes Matt with a scowl so intent that the words dry up on his tongue.
‘No.’ The word is simple and final. Mohinder’s tone brooks absolutely no argument. He holds Matt’s gaze and, narrowing his eyes, he reaches between his own legs and starts to pull at his cock. His movements are jerky and verging on violent. As Matt watches Mohinder tug at himself to no effect, he tries to think of the words to make this right. He wants to focus on Mohinder, to concentrate on making him feel better, but the thoughts that flood his mind are all self-centred – does Mohinder not find him attractive? Has something happened since they had last made love to make Matt so repulsive to him? Mohinder’s head is thrown back, his eyes boring into the ceiling and glancing everywhere but at Matt’s face. He’s fondling his balls and pressing futilely at his perineum. Nothing is happening.
In a fit of desperation, Matt’s hand joins his in trying to coax Mohinder to hardness. There are a few frantic moments where their hands overlap as they caress Mohinder’s crotch and for a second Matt thinks that maybe Mohinder is getting there. But he isn’t and he doesn’t. With a grunt of irritation Mohinder slaps Matt’s hand away and he has to bite his tongue to stop a scathing comment from tripping from his lips. He wants to say it’s not his fault Mohinder can’t get it up tonight but what if it is? Mohinder pushes him aside and sits up, running his fingers through his hair and breathing deeply as if to calm himself. Matt wonders if he is going to storm out, to pace the living room or grab his clothes and retreat back to the safety of the lab, but after a minute he just rolls his neck with an anguished groan and finally turns to face Matt.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sounds mortified and defiant all at once, as if challenging Matt to name the problem. ‘I’m just…’ Mohinder makes a hand gesture that means nothing at all and collapses back against the pillows in utter defeat.
‘Tired, Mohinder. You’re just tired.’ Matt lies down beside him and pulls the covers over them. He wraps his arms around Mohinder’s middle, ignoring how rigidly he holds his body in his embrace and holds him close. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pounced on you like that. Let’s just sleep, ok?’
Mohinder mumbles something that Matt can’t quite catch but it must have been an agreement because he lies still, if not relaxed, in Matt’s arms. Both of them are tense, and it is clear that sleep will be a long time coming. Matt tries to clear his mind or count sheep, but the tightness in his shoulders and his back seems there to stay and he knows he will be tossing and turning the whole night through. After a few minutes of silence, Mohinder turns in his arms. They are facing each other now and more than ever, Matt is conscious of his erection, still stiff and throbbing between them. He tries to will it away but Mohinder is squirming, trying to get comfortable, and the feel of his skin and the smell of his scent are arousing Matt against his will. Matt tries to be subtle when he angles his hips back, trying to put some space between them so that his cock no longer prods Mohinder in the stomach and he is no longer teased with every movement Mohinder makes, but the motion does not go unnoticed.
Mohinder stares at him. His face is unreadable and he wants desperately to say that he isn’t doing this to show Mohinder up; that he can’t help it, this is just what Mohinder does to him. But then Mohinder is kissing him softly, sidling closer to him and pressing the length of their bodies together. The kiss is slow and tender, and completely unexpected. A groan escapes Matt’s lips and he stops still, pausing to see how Mohinder will respond. Mohinder just smiles at him. He skims his hands down Matt’s torso, stopping as he always does to finger the scars on his chest, dropping kisses to the pale, smooth skin where the bullets had been lodged. Tentatively, Matt caresses him too. He runs his hand down Mohinder’s arm, up again and down his spine. There is a flicker of something Matt can’t quite pinpoint across Mohinder’s face but he allows the touch. He groans at it, arches into it and neither of them mention that his dick is still soft.
Gently, Mohinder pushes him onto his back. He straddles Matt again and rubs the cleft of his ass against Matt’s cock. Matt strokes his thighs and his ass. He sweeps his hands up over Mohinder’s stomach and higher to rub his nipples with his thumbs, pleased when the touch makes Mohinder sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mohinder suddenly says. In one quick motion he holds Matt’s dick upright and sits down, hard and fast.
Matt cries out. It’s hot and tight and really fucking dry. Only the head of his cock is in and Mohinder is doubled over above him. His one hand is clamped around his stomach and Matt can only imagine the sharp pains that must be shooting through his body. He’s angry at Mohinder for doing this and angry at himself for whatever he has done to make Mohinder think he needs to. He tries to lift Mohinder off his lap, but Mohinder just grinds himself down harder, letting out a whine of pain so visceral that Matt feels his own gut cramp in sympathy. He’s sweating and panting, pleading through clenched teeth but to whom or for what Matt doesn’t know. All he knows is that Mohinder is in pain and it has to stop. This time when he pulls at Mohinder’s hips he succeeds in dislodging him.
‘Jesus Christ, Mohinder!’ He hisses the words under his breath, conscious of Molly asleep down the hall but Mohinder doesn’t seem to have any such compunction. He’s swearing and grunting, both pushing up against Matt as he tries to calm him down and trying to hook his legs around Matt’s waist and pull him closer. In a fit of frustration Matt flips him over like he would a perp and pins one hand behind his back. ‘Calm down, and be quiet, for god’s sake!’
To his surprise, Mohinder complies. Matt had expected a sharp retort, something cutting and British that told him in no uncertain terms to get his hands off him. Instead, Mohinder stays on his stomach, completely still under his grip. He spreads his legs slowly and tries to rise up on his knees. It takes Matt a moment to realise that Mohinder wants-- no, he thinks Matt wants to fuck him like this. Does Mohinder think this is foreplay? He hopes not because he is completely turned off. Mohinder’s free hand is still clutching at his middle and Matt loosens his grip on the hand he holds at the small of Mohinder’s back. When Mohinder takes it back, he braces himself on one arm and pushes his hips up, waving his ass under Matt’s nose.
‘Mohinder, come on,’ he pleads. He reaches out a hand and strokes Mohinder’s back, cringing as Mohinder flinches at the simple touch.
‘Just talk to me.’ But Mohinder remains silent, his face buried in his arm and the pillows. Time ticks by and Mohinder refuses to speak or turn to face him, finally Matt breaks and walks out the room with a grunt of annoyance.
He paces up and down the hall, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He can feel the beginnings of a headache starting at the base of his skull and he knows it’s the tension and the effort of repressing his power that is causing the pain. He’s feeling spiteful now and refuses to reach out to Mohinder’s mind, either to find out what the hell he had been thinking with that stunt or in an effort to ease Mohinder’s frustration. He storms into the bathroom and stops just short of slamming the door. He fumbles in the medicine cabinet and swallows two aspirin dry.
The longer he stands in the bathroom, staring at the mirror, the guiltier he begins to feel. Yes, he’s frustrated, but how does Mohinder feel? Matt recalls what it is like to be in Mohinder’s position, feeling confused and angry with himself, worried that something more serious than a bad night was happening. Selfishly, he wants to punish Mohinder for being so obstinate and refusing to talk about this like adults, but when he thinks about the first time he had found himself in a similar position with Janice, he feels heat rising in his face at the mortification remembered. If he is honest, Mohinder is handling this no better or worse than he had done. Nothing will be achieved if he refuses to be the bigger person and remembering the pain in Mohinder’s voice, Matt grabs a damp washcloth and some antiseptic.
Mohinder doesn’t answer when he knocks on the door. He is still lying flat on his stomach and he doesn’t respond, positively or negatively to Matt’s entrance. When Matt perches next to him on the edge of the bed, though, he shuffles over to make room and when Matt massages his shoulders, he doesn’t flinch away from the touch. Matt strokes his hair until Mohinder turns to face him. They exchange weak smiles and Mohinder nods his thanks when Matt hands him the aspirin.
‘Ok?’
Mohinder just shrugs. Matt bites back his urge to shake Mohinder and force him to say whatever it is he is holding back. Instead he runs the washcloth down Mohinder’s back and into the groove of his ass, carefully cleaning him. He hisses at the sight of the dried blood around Mohinder’s entrance and at the way Mohinder yelps at the touch.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters, hating to hurt Mohinder but needing to in order to cleanse the wound. The antiseptic is cold on his fingers but he smears it over the torn skin anyway, worried that if he waits for it to warm, Mohinder will have pushed his hands away. When he finishes, Mohinder rolls onto his back and pulls himself up, wincing as he fidgets, trying to get comfortable.
‘Matt…’ Mohinder starts quietly and reaches for him, pulling him down beside him. Matt is wary at first, worried about Mohinder’s mood and the chance that he might try something stupid again but as soon as Matt’s head hits the pillow, Mohinder rolls over to face him and whispers, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry about.’ He kisses Mohinder on the forehead but Mohinder pulls away. He’s frowning again. Matt isn’t sure how much more of this he can take before he snaps and says something he’ll later regret.
‘This is nothing to you?’ he demands. Matt holds up his hands in surrender, trying to acknowledge that he’d used the wrong words and privately thinking that whatever words he had chosen Mohinder would have taken offence. ‘I can’t…’ Mohinder’s voice lowers to a desperate hiss as he gestures at his groin. ‘… perform. Can’t satisfy you. And you think that’s nothing?’
Matt laughs. It’s not the most considerate thing he’s ever done but the tension needs to break and Mohinder needs to know he’s starting to get ridiculous. Mohinder tries to get out of bed but Matt grabs him by the bicep with a grip that will leave a mark in the morning and a guilty stain on Matt’s conscience. They need to talk about this and they need to talk now. He can’t let Mohinder walk out and make things worse. Now that Mohinder’s words have absolved Matt of his role in the problem – he still wants me, still wants to make love to me – Matt can look at the situation with a detached attitude. Mohinder is exhausted and running on empty, he looks like he barely has the energy to get up in the morning. Is it any wonder that his body is rebelling?
‘Come on, Mohinder. That’s not what I meant. I just mean… you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, don’t you think? So, you’re having an off day, so what? I understand. It happens to everyone and it’s not a big deal.’
‘It doesn’t happen to me.’
‘You can’t be serious.’ Mohinder glares at him. ‘Never?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Well, it’s happened to me.’ Mohinder cocks an eyebrow and looks sceptically at Matt, as if he half suspects Matt is making it up just to make him feel better. ‘Yeah, and it was embarrassing and frustrating and I felt… inadequate. But y’know what? In the morning it was fine.’
‘It being your penis.’
‘It being my penis,’ Matt confirms with a smile. But Mohinder isn’t smiling and doesn’t look like he feels any better. ‘When was the last time you ate properly? Or slept properly? Or thought about anything but work? You need to relax, Mohinder. You’re pushing yourself too hard and this is your body’s way of telling you that you need a break.’
Mohinder snorts.
‘Ok? What? What is it?’ Mohinder just shrugs and finally Matt snaps. ‘Jesus, Mohinder, you’re a doctor. You know all this stuff, so would you quit acting like the world is about to stop turning and get over yourself. You’re a smart guy but sometimes you are really, really stupid.’
Matt flings himself back against the pillows with a huff. They lie side by side in the dark in absolute silence. Just as Matt is beginning to feel bad and starts to try to word an apology in his mind, Mohinder groans. He rolls over and snuggles up against Matt’s side, wrapping his arms around his chest and resting his head on his shoulder. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I may have overreacted.’
Matt chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Mohinder’s head, smiling into his hair as Mohinder hugs him tighter. ‘It’s ok. I guess I still love you.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I guess I still love you too, then.’ There’s a mischievous smirk in Mohinder’s voice and Matt is completely unprepared when he wraps his hand around his cock. A few quick strokes and Matt is growing hard again, moaning at the unexpected touch. ‘Is that good?’
‘Yes. Oh god, Mohinder, yes. But you don’t have to.’
‘And if I want to?’ Mohinder breathes the question in his ear, his thick stubble scraping the skin of Matt’s neck. Whatever reply Matt is going to make – we can wait until the morning, don’t push yourself, you don’t have anything to prove - is lost as Matt’s thoughts scatter with a twist of Mohinder’s wrist. Mohinder must know the effect he is having because he laughs happily at Matt’s reaction and keeps kissing his neck, working down to nip at his collarbone as he continues to pump his erection with short, sharp strokes. All of Matt’s earlier arousal comes flooding back and it isn’t long before he is thrusting up into Mohinder’s fist. Mohinder is nibbling at his chest and caressing his stomach, moaning encouragement into his skin.
‘Kiss me,’ he gets out in a hoarse and strangled voice. And Mohinder is there in an instant, crashing their mouths together as Matt comes, spurting over his hand in thick, hot ribbons.
‘I just want to make you happy,’ Mohinder whispers into his lips.
‘You do.’