Fandom: Heroes RPS
Pairing: ZQ/SR
Rating: NC17
Summary: At Greg's housewarming. Shameless PWP.
"Stop."
It's barely above a whisper, Zach supposes, but in his ears the word rings so clear and loud it almost startles him, jerking him awake from the mechanical act he has been engrossed in. He waits for a few seconds, immobile in the darkness, catches his breath, and listens closely to the noises outside before speaking.
"Does it hurt?"
"No." A sigh, and Sendhil leans back, resting his head on Zach's shoulder. Hair tickles Zach's cheek and he leans in, parting the curls with his nose and lazily nibbling at an ear.
"I must be doing something wrong. Since you can talk."
Sendhil laughs breathlessly. "No."
"Albeit only monosyllabically."
This time Sendhil's laughter is loud enough that Zach feels it echoes in the enclosed space, and though he knows he's probably only being paranoid, he reaches up to cover Sendhil's mouth with his hand. When the lips part against his palm he almost instinctively pushes two fingers in, sliding them over wet tongue and soft tissue, feeling a suction that goes directly to his groin.
It was the mouth that had made him drag Sendhil in here in the first place, though he knew it was utterly inappropriate. The food Greg had prepared was was delicious, he'd even say exquisite, but he found himself unable to remember how to chew or taste or swallow every time he caught sight of Sendhil, saw those long fingers bring a piece of bread to parted lips, thumb sneaking inside the red cavity briefly, lips wrapping around the knuckle to suck lightly. The tongue would then follow the digit out to trace the line of that full bottom lip, Sendhil's eyes cast down and lashes fluttering. Zach was almost sure that Sendhil was making little moaning sounds as he did it, too, judging from the looks on the faces of the women sitting on either side of him as he ate.
And whenever their eyes met, which was far too often to be coincidental, Zach could tell by that look in those dark eyes that Sendhil was doing everything entirely on purpose, putting on a show, only for the initiated. So at first opportunity Zach had grabbed Sendhil by the arm and, ignoring the mock protests, shoved him through the nearest door -- which just happened to lead to the closet. He felt like some silly college boy, scoring his first girl at the drunken stupor of a frat party. Though he wasn't even drunk, didn't even have that excuse.
A shudder runs through Sendhil's body and he twitches around Zach's cock, as though clutching to it, savoring its feel. Sendhil is mumbling something against his fingers but Zach doesn't care what, not now; how could he, with hot skin under his palm, wet tongue around his fingers, and a tight heat around him?
Zach moves his other hand from where it had been steadying Sendhil's hips, runs it over pubic hair, rubs the taut muscles of the stomach, and sneaks it inside Sendhil's black shirt to find one small nipple, puckered and ready for the attention Zach's hand can give it. As he rolls it between two fingers Sendhil groans deep in his throat, twisting his neck and turning his face up to clasp his lips to Zach's. Zach's fingers fall from the mouth, slick with saliva, and runs down stubbled jaw and quivering throat, pulling the head further up to deepen the kiss. Sendhil's breath comes in short ragged drags and he's rocking his hips slightly, moaning desperately every time he presses down. Sendhil likes to be fucked deep, Zach knows, preferring swift hard thrusts to the hilt that leave him breathless, nearly choking him with their sheer force. Zach hasn't tried, not yet, but he suspects Sendhil can come just from that, just by being opened, not a single finger touching his erection.
Zach wishes he could turn the lights on, or that he had dragged Sendhil outside under the garden lights instead, because he knows Sendhil looks glorious like this, back arched and exposing everything from pelvis to jugular, pure wanton. He begins to move again, sliding out slowly, and Sendhil's mouth pulls away with a gasp.
"Stop." A shaky intake of breath. "Almost there."
"Me too."
Zach had meant to imply that it was okay, he was close too, they could let go and finish, but Sendhil's hand comes up blindly to slap his face, nearly knocking his glasses off.
"I'm not," the words are nasal, as if spoken through gritted teeth, "going to leave my fucking spunk all over the floor of Greg's fucking closet!"
This time it's Zach's laugh that rings in the room, loud and sharp and startling Sendhil. "I'm sorry," he says, a chuckle coloring his voice, and curls his arms tightly around Sendhil's waist to pull the man even closer, if that were possible. Sendhil's hands rest on his arms, his head falling back against Zach's shoulder, and Zach drops his voice to a whisper against Sendhil's ear. "That close?"
Sendhil nods, unashamed, long pass that stage of feigned modesty. Zach feels a smirk tuck at his lips, and reaches down slowly with one hand to press a thumb against the wet head of Sendhil's cock. "Za..." It has the exact desired effect, the body in his arms jumping in surprise, word of protest cut off by a voice that threatens to break. Zach adds another finger and circles them slowly, spreading the pre-come, humming in delight as he feels yet more tickle out from the tip to wet his fingers. He rocks his hips, rotating slowly, subtly changing the angle of his erection inside Sendhil.
"Zachary." This time his name isn't called in protest. Rather, it accompanies a long, drawn-out sigh, hot air caressing his ear, and Zach feels every syllable tickling their way through his body, settling in he pit of his stomach to flutter like delicate wings, deceivingly similar to a feeling he knows but refuses to name. He does admit, though, that he never loved his name as much as when Sendhil speaks it, in moments like these, laced with complete abandon and desire. Zach smiles, satisfied, and silently lets go of Sendhil to reach into the back pocket of his jeans, producing the small package of a condom. He opens it blindly, rolls it over Sendhil, and hears Sendhil sigh again, this time in relief.
Sendhil leans forward to brace himself against the wall, every breath shallow. Zach places one arm around Sendhils's shoulders and one hand on his hip, steadying the body. He pulls out slowly, agonizingly so, feeling Sendhil twitch and shudder at every inch. Zach knows he's making low noises in the back of his throat, but he also knows that's nothing compared to the sounds Sendhil will be making. When he has pulled out nearly all the way, he traces the line of Sendhil's lips with his fingers, waiting for them to part widely before showing two fingers inside again.
He pushes in, without warning, trusting Sendhil to take it, wordlessly demanding him to take it. Teeth bite down painfully on his fingers, an escaped moan or scream ticking his fingertips. It's silent, and good, so good, every inch of Sendhil's body pushing down to meet him, shaking uncontrollably at the impact and clutching, so hard, refusing to let him go, and when he withdraws the friction is burning, almost painful, making pleasure shoot up his spine. Then Sendhil yields, in that perfect moment, open and wanting and waiting with every cell of his body, and Zach is slamming inside again, all thought gone from his head except tight, hard, hot, more.
He doesn't, can't count how many thrusts he manages, but he lets go as he feels Sendhil's legs spasm against his own, the movement of his hips becoming irregular and coming down to meet him in short, quick tugs. He matches it, thrusting the head of his cock as deep inside as he can get, rubbing it there, knowing it will push Sendhil over his edge. For a moment all he feels is the warmth surrounding him and the nearly unbearable pleasure that crawls through his abdomen and almost makes him want to escape, pull away; too much, too fast, his mind slipping. He digs nails into the skin of Sendhil's hips, desperately holding on, riding it out, and finds comfort in Sendhil's deep voice ringing in his ears, even through clenched teeth and fingers.
Afterwards they tidy up, efficiently and without a word, and return to the party five minutes apart. Zach wears the marks on his knuckles like a medal, innocent smile playing on his lips as he does nothing to hide it, holding his glass close to his mouth, at people's eye-level. Sendhil is standing in the other side of the room, talking with Greg, and when their eyes meet Sendhil's face crumples in that open and glowing smile, the one Zach suspects is the brightest in the world. Greg sees, looks back at Zach over his shoulder, and rolls his eyes. Zach just shrugs, wide-eyed, and laughs.