Chapter Text
Later, he would try to think back to the day it started. He'd been busy-- did a lot of lab work, talked with a few new people-- and Mohinder never would find out what exactly caused what he would forever refer to as That Week.
He would never forget that week, as much as he would like to edit out parts, but whatever had sent him into such an embarrassingly frenzied state apparently sharpened his memories of the time. He could close his eyes and feel hands on him, hear the exact pitch of any moan he chose, smell sweat and musk.
It began on a Monday.
Mohinder didn't mind Mondays as much as most people. There was plenty to do, and if he was lucky everyone else had as much work to keep them out of his way. All morning he met with newly-identified evolved humans, three of them: a teenage boy who could extend his limbs like rubber ("Like Mr. Fantastic," the boy said, and Mohinder smiled blankly), a college-age woman with the ability to make things grow (the bonsai tree he 'borrowed' from Bob's office wasn't so bonsai any more), and an older woman who smirked the entire time he did the initial forms, until she had to confess that her power was limited to seeing through thin things-- boxes, cargo trailers, cubicle walls, and Mohinder's clothing.
After that he retreated to his lab and locked the door behind him. His afternoon was full of blood samples, slides from every special person carefully arranged to be inspected one by one.
At 4:30, he cleaned up, stowed the samples in the refrigerated cabinet, locked his lab up behind him, and when he passed Elle Bishop on his way out, he reached out and grabbed her arm for no reason he could figure out.
"Hey, careful there, Doc--" Her blue eyes went huge as he walked her backward against the hallway wall, leaned down, and kissed her urgently, hands tangling in her long hair. "--whoa, hey there."
"Do you want me, Elle?" He barely recognized his own voice, low and slow and sticky-sweet like honey. She barely paused before nodding fervently, manicured nails sliding into his curls and scratching over his scalp in a spine-tingling pleasant way.
"Not in the hallway," she yelped when two of his fingers made a steady assault on the clasps of her skirt. "Wow, okay, back in your lab now." Elle zapped him, just a little, a spark from her hand to his chasing him away from her waistband; her gait was unsteady as her heels clicked rapidly back down the hall.
"I can't help it," Mohinder breathed, pressed fully against her as he fumbled the key into the lock, "something about you today..." She kicked the door closed behind them, immediately going to pull his shirt over his head.
"Took you long enough. I wanted this the first time I saw you." Her breath came in short surprised huffs when his hands went to her breasts, cupping them through the layers of her shirt and bra. She nearly had to fight him off just to strip herself, and as soon as she moved his hands off her breasts they went right to her thighs, slipping up her skirt and teasing warm bare skin with his fingertips. "Holy-- what has gotten into you, Mohinder?" she asked, laughing, her perfect breasts bouncing with each giggle.
"I have no idea," he answered honestly, but more important than that question was the taste of her milk-pale skin under his mouth, stubble scratching the white skin pink in his wake. Her lashes fluttered when he caught a candy-pink nipple between his lips, one hand fisting in his dark hair.
"Jeez, you-- we need to sit down," she said vaguely, and he held onto her shapely bottom with both hands to steady her.
"Undo my pants." Her fingers slipped, by accident or design he couldn't tell, but her small hand on his erection was such a quick tease that he could barely stand it until she pushed them down below his hips. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he pulled Elle onto his lap until they were grinding against each other, separated only by his boxer-briefs and her barely-there thong.
"Oh my god." Arms wound around his neck, Elle moved her hips in little circles and whimpered. "God, Mohinder, you're so much--" Whatever he was was lost in her cry when he slid a hand between them, dragging his fingers through her wet folds and sliding one into her testingly. She was so slick, so hot, so--
He shoved down his underwear enough to let his cock spring free, held aside the scrap of lace she called panties, and slid into her smoothly, groaning at how fucking good it felt to have her atop him, around him, his face buried between her breasts and her lithe little body rocking and shifting and driving him mad...
Her voice made it through the rush of blood in his ears, one word over and over-- "Please," her voice gone high and girlish with begging. "Do anything, just please rub me!" Usually Mohinder was more considerate than to forget that. He shifted his hand, found her clit with his thumb; the moment he touched her she cried out, body going tight around him and a low-level electric current dancing over her skin. "Yeah, yeah..." He didn't let up, not until she came again, and then he felt justified in flipping over, her back on the table and her ass in his hands as he fucked into her deeper and harder and so, so good, the senseless look on her face and the flush on her skin, firm curves and those lovely legs wrapped around him--
Mohinder pressed his forehead to her shoulder, hips driving against her, and bit down as he came. When he pulled out there was a purple mark on her collarbone, her hair was a mess and her intimate flesh was red, puffy, wet and sticky with their fluids.
"Jesus Christ," she breathed, blue eyes on the ceiling. "Where the fuck did that come from?"
"Don't tell me you've never simply taken what you want," Mohinder answered, rolling his shoulders and smiling with contentment. "You're so pretty when you're all ruined like this."
"Huh?" He didn't repeat himself, simply tossed her a wet cloth to clean herself up; he already had his pants up and fastened, and when he tugged on his shirt before she even had her skirt untwisted from around her waist, Elle got flustered under his lazy, half-interested stare.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Elle. Have a good night." Without a kiss, an affectionate pat, even a wink and a smile, he left. Elle sat on his desk, dressing slowly, and wondered if she'd just gotten what she wanted, or if she'd been used.
Frankly, after he made her come that hard, she couldn't bring herself to care too much.