Lap of Luxury, Part 1
December 3, 2008Chapter 1: Ready to Have Some Fun
Say what you will about a company whose founder converts office waste to gold for capital: the benefits are good. And the end-of-year bonus is even better. So Mohinder even told the babysitter it’d be extra for that night, and told Molly to be a good girl, and he went down to the precinct to wait for Matt.
It was cold out. Even though the day had been relatively warm, the streets of New York worked like wind tunnels to bring in the hollow, bitter breezes from the harbor and amplify them. Even with all the glittering lights, Manhattan could be a cold place to live. So Mohinder was wearing his long coat, his favorite scarf, and a pair of gloves. And a smile that stopped Matt dead in his tracks when he came out of the door, talking earnestly with one of his co-workers, and his eyes fell on the dashing young scientist waiting beneath the streetlight.
Matt felt something hurt in his chest, Mohinder looked so beautiful standing there. He gave a hurried goodbye to his friend and rushed over. “Hi,” he said, “You surprised me.”
“I have more surprises for you,” Mohinder said simply. He held out one gloved hand. Dumbstruck, Matt took it, and hand in hand they walked out to the street.
“Before you say anything, Sasha’s with Molly, she’s staying all night. Don’t worry about a thing.” The matter-of-fact tone couldn’t hide the excitement bubbling within Mohinder’s mind. He raised a slim hand to hail a cab.
“I’m not worried. I’m interested.” Matt crouched to follow Mohinder into the cab, arms sliding about his hips as they settled into the small, slightly tobacco-scented vehicle. It was dim inside and the seats were worn, and it felt sort of intimate and seedy to breathe that air and have his hands on Mohinder’s sides and feel the weight of him settle slightly into him. Just the barest expression of trust and intimacy, just another beautiful moment in their lives.
“I’ll bet you are,” Mohinder smiled, leaning forward to address the driver. “The Plaza.”
Passing pedestrians could hear Matt bellow “The WHAT!?” as the car drove away.
He’d never seen such a place in his life. And he hadn’t even set foot inside yet.
For the first thing, there was someone opening the cab door for him. That never happened. And that someone smiled and said “Welcome to the Plaza, sir,” and stretched out a white-gloved hand to show him the way. The cab had pulled up just ahead of a Lincoln town car and just behind a limousine. Matt looked dubiously down at the red carpet that surrounded the building, afraid his stained boots would somehow leave a mark.
“Am I supposed to tip him? Or something?” he whispered anxiously to Mohinder.
“It’s all taken care of” was the quiet reply. That didn’t make him breathe any easier, though, especially when the revolving door whirled him through a brass-plated entrance and into a world of gleaming white.
Perfect, exquisite chandeliers drooped their heavy heads from above, millions of bright candles and diamond eyes winking at him. A golden sheen lined every doorway and countertop, and for every light there were a thousand reflections in mirrored doors, marble tables, even the crystal candles that lined the lobby. Matt felt like the Ugly Duckling’s worst nightmare. “Everyone is staring at me!” he muttered between clenched teeth.
“Nobody is staring at you,” Mohinder, a few steps ahead of him, retorted in his best clipped British tone. “You’re the least of their worries.” He stopped, turned back, flashed a dazzling smile. “Would you like them to stare?” His eyes flashed and made Matt’s stomach do backflips. He shook his head quickly.
Damn, but the man was gorgeous. And how well he fit in here, among all the trappings of the jet set. Mohinder had already checked them in; he smiled politely at the reservations desk, passed the concierge with a nod (“Good evening, Doctor Suresh,” the man said genially), fumbled in his pocket for the room key. When he smiled, several women wearing furs abruptly stopped their conversation and gaped. Mohinder, Matt decided, should have played James Bond. He was gliding across the marble floors as though he didn’t even need to touch them. As though he were walking on a cloud.
And then, very casually and right in the middle of the lobby, Mohinder took his hand.
He didn’t even look back to see the fast-ripening tomato that had replaced Matt’s head. But he squeezed his palm briefly, enough to say “I know” and “I’m with you.” If Matt hadn’t already been desperately in love with him, that squeeze would have done it for sure. He floated on his own little cloud toward the elevators.
The whiteness faded briefly in the brass elevator, but it returned in full force when Mohinder opened the door of the suite and ushered Matt in. First thing Matt did was take off his shoes; he was not tracking mud into a place this pristine. The second thing he did was stare. This wasn’t the sort of place he ever expected to be. Ever. Maybe if he was lucky he would get to attend a wedding in the ballroom downstairs once in his life, but a room? Much less a suite?
He had half a mind to turn around and just walk away. Obviously Mohinder thought he was some other boyfriend. Obviously this was a case of mistaken identity.
Speaking of Mohinder, he’d barely said a word. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Matt looked back at him, lost.
What are you looking at me for? You see me every day, love. I wanted to show you something you’d never seen.
At this, Matt almost cried. He closed the gap between them and pulled Mohinder into his arms, pressing that unfairly beautiful face against his. “What in my life did I ever do to deserve someone like you?” he whispered. Mohinder just smiled against him and kissed the side of his face, hands stroking his gently.
And then he pushed him away. “Go explore,” he ordered, folding his arms over his chest. Matt had no choice but to comply.
The fireplace was real. And it had an actual fire going in it. The sofas looked like something out of a museum. Matt sat down on each, tested their firmness, put his big feet up on them, wiggled his toes comically, and pretended to fall asleep, snoring loudly, much to Mohinder’s amusement. He settled into a tall, austere easy chair before declaring it far inferior to the one at home. He picked up one of the glasses at the bar and toasted Mohinder with air. “Here’sh lookin’ at you kid,” he drawled, sneering in his best Bogart. His best Bogart, he heard Mohinder think, was pretty lousy.
When Mohinder went to hang up his coat in the closet by the door, Matt followed him and shut the folding doors behind them. The sudden lack of light made Mohinder turn around to see a wall of man advancing on him. “Bet you’d never think we’d end up in the closet again,” Matt whispered with a smirk before crushing Mohinder against a wall. Their eyes met for a split second like a lightning bolt and then they were kissing, long and hot and needy. Mohinder’s hands flew to caress Matt’s sides, searching him up and down, working their way under his coat and shirt. The tiny whimpering noises Mohinder was making against his mouth were turning Matt on something fierce, and the protestations between those noises weren’t helping any.
“Matt, Matt, wait…” he was saying unconvincingly. “We have… all night… look around…”
“I will, in a minute,” Matt said, trailing kisses along Mohinder’s jaw toward his ear. The man sighed and grabbed his hair when he sucked briefly on his earlobe. One hand trailed down Mohinder’s chest toward his belt. “This is me exploring,” he said, brushing his hand over the hard hotness of him through those ever-so-respectable pants. They would really have to go, and soon.
Mohinder jumped at the contact. “Oh God… Matt…”
It was that moment– where he seemed just about to lose control and beg for him– that Matt wanted, and when he got it he growled into Mohinder’s ear and let go abruptly, opening the closet doors and rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see, what’s next?” he announced in a big voice. Mohinder was left hyperventilating in the closet. His long coat stayed on the floor. He peeked out and saw Matt sauntering into the next room.
He came out after a second, looking ashen. “Mohinder, they gave us the wrong room,” he said.
Mohinder rolled his eyes. “What? Is somebody in there?”
“Th– that bed. It’s c-covered in lace, and there’s like a canopy on it, or something… That’s like a bed for a w-w-wedding night or something.”
It took several seconds for Mohinder to respond; he had to scoop his jaw up off the floor. “Are you serious?” he finally said.
“Look!” Matt declared, pointing.
“I know what the bed looks like! I’m the one who ordered the suite, remember?” Mohinder threw up his hands. “Matt, would you stop stammering for a moment and sit down?”
Like a sheepish child, Matt followed Mohinder’s pointing finger to the couch, planting himself glumly on one side. Mohinder heaved a heavy sigh and came to sit next to him, taking both his hands.
“Do you understand why I did this? Why I brought us here?” he asked earnestly.
“Um, so you could see me act like an idiot?” The question was making Matt’s heart pound; he could only think to make light of it.
“Well, that was part of it,” Mohinder said dryly. “But really. Why do you think I did this?”
Matt shuffled his feet, looked down at their joined hands. “I suppose… I told you about what I used to dream about and you thought, ‘Hey, I can do that.’” His gaze flicked upward toward Mohinder. He didn’t like guessing what was in his mind; but Mohinder had gotten too good at blocking him over the past months, and he knew better than to even try reading him.
“You’re right, but you’re missing something.” A caramel-colored hand reached up to touch his cheek. “You think you don’t belong here, that you don’t deserve this. But Matt, you do.” Matt was struck by the pain in his eyes, the aching sincerity beneath those long, fluttering lashes. “It’s this place that is lucky to have you in it. There are people with money and power here every day, but never someone with so much goodness as you. So stop worrying about whether you deserve it, and enjoy it. It’s my gift to you. To thank you.” At the end of his speech, Mohinder faltered, and he looked away, suddenly conscious of all he had said. He couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes again until he felt his hands raised to earnest lips and hot tears on his wrists.
Matt buried his face in Mohinder’s hands, kissing each fingertip, trying to keep from crying. For the first time in his life, he felt truly treasured by someone. Against his face hands faded to arms, then shoulders, and in the tightness of the embrace he found warmth and strength.
When he got up again, he was damned ready to have some fun.
“Wait, here’s another one. Saving Ryan’s Privates.“
“Oh, my God, you are making that up.”
“No, look for yourself! Come on, I think we’re down to that or Lord of the Rims: The Two Showers. Come on, this is top-quality entertainment! We should take advantage of the perks!”
“Matt, I will throw myself out that window if you dare order either of those.”
“So I guess the double feature with Sphincter-Man 3 is out of the question?”
“That one you made up.”
“Yeah, OK, maybe I did.”
“ECHO!!!!!!!!”
“It’s a bathroom, not the Grand Canyon! What’s the matter with you?”
“We could have hot stone massages.”
“Or I could lie on Jones Beach at noon in July. Same effect, except for half the stones are burnt-out cigarettes.”
“Or the Crushed Cabernet Scrub.”
“That’s a waste of some good alcohol right there.”
“Fine, what about a body wrap?”
“As long as it’s your body.”
“You’re a filthy pervert.”
“You love it.”
They’d been sitting on the bed leafing through the various pamphlets for so long that it took the growling of Matt’s stomach to make them look up and realize it had passed seven o’clock. Mohinder rolled over onto his back. “I suppose we should think about getting something to eat,” he said wistfully, his eyes half-closed. A yawn snuck into his voice at the end.
Matt looked up from the booklet. Mohinder had sprawled across the big white bed, his curls splayed out around his face like a dark halo. The far-too-long eyelashes were fluttering against his cheeks, and he had a sleepy smile on his face. He looked a little like a man who had just been ravished, and Matt felt the heat rising in his body as he imagined Mohinder in the same pose, with the same expression, just without all those bulky clothes to get in the way.
If this place was lucky to have Matt, as Mohinder had said, it must be beside itself at having Mohinder there. He looked too perfect against the curves and patterns of the lacy coverlet, just this great sculpture of a beautiful man like a reclining god in his celestial garden. Matt slid a hand up behind his ear, let his fingertips curl around the end of one unruly strand of hair. Mohinder’s eyes dimmed; he let out a wistful, happy sound.
Matt leaned over and planted a kiss on Mohinder’s temple, then resumed contemplation of the forgotten angel who’d fallen to earth before him.
“What?” Mohinder finally noticed how serious the eyes on him were.
“What? You’re gorgeous. Can’t I look?”
And then the angel smiled in a very not-angelic way. “Well, if all you want to do is look…”
Matt needed no further invitation than that. He pushed the stack of reading material onto the ground, wincing when it thunked against the floor, and stretched out on the bed, cupping Mohinder’s face in two careful hands and bending to taste his lips. The kisses were feather-light and left Mohinder breathless. He wrapped his arms around the larger man, pressing their shoulders and stomachs and chests together, shivering and laughing at the lazy game of tag played by their feet, dangling off the end of the bed and circling each other.
For the life of him Mohinder couldn’t understand just what made this man so attractive. Well, yes, he could, but he had to admit he was far from perfect. The way Matt lay on the bed on a Sunday afternoon gave him the appearance of having four chins, and the hardness of his muscles from workouts and chases was well disguised beneath a layer of flab from donuts and fried chicken. And yet with all that, the sheer power of his scent was enough to make Mohinder squirm with need. He needed to touch each one of those four chins, needed the extra weight to help pin him down, needed to get close enough that he could feel those well-disguised muscles. Perhaps it was pheromones. Perhaps it was just that his soul was so damned beautiful.
Either way, he was dreadfully sexy, and the nibbles Matt was planting at the base of his neck weren’t helping much alleviate the tension. Mohinder pulled insistently at his shirt. Matt took the hint.
It took most of Mohinder’s strength to hold Matt’s bare chest to him; Matt was too active in bed, too insistent on being the one doing the kissing and holding and touching, but Mohinder simply wanted to taste that skin. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and watched Matt arch his back and crane his neck, hissing like a cat. He let one arm snake from about Matt’s waist to flutter over the bulge fast-growing just below, and Matt groaned aloud and flattened himself against Mohinder. The weight settling around and on him was like liquid warmth. Their mouths sought each other, desperate and hungry. The blades of their tongues met and drew back with shock at the tartness, then met again.
When they parted, it was so Mohinder could sit up and pull off his own shirt. Matt’s fingers went to his belt as he did, helping him wriggle free of the rest as he settled back onto the row of clean white pillows that lined the head of the bed. All that unadulterated cream-and-coffee skin against white, with dark tangles at stern and midship, was just too delicious a contrast for Matt. His pants were strangling him.
It wasn’t until they were both naked, drinking each other in with their eyes and then hands and then mouths, that Matt panicked. “Shit, did you remember the…”
What kind of a night did you think I was planning for?
Matt wrinkled his nose. “Smartass.” He jumped off the bed and followed Mohinder’s extended arm toward the bag he was pointing at. “Thank God, thank God, thank God,” he muttered.
No, thank me.
“Any way in particular you’d like that thanks?” The bed bounced as Matt dove back onto it, pulling Mohinder’s hips toward him and burying his face between his legs. Mohinder yelped and his hands went into Matt’s hair.
The feeling of a hot mouth pressing kisses against his base, of a long tongue licking up his sides, was almost too much for Mohinder to bear. He was yelling and cursing and knitting his brow in frustration even before the wetness enveloped him, made him see spots, ruined his sense of balance. Matt was so intense, so focused, and so damn good that it was often too hard to participate. So as maddening as it was to pull him off, Mohinder did his best. Yes, there is, and that’s not it, so get up here, he projected.
Matt grinned against his thigh and sprang up to meet him on the ridge of pillows. The smiles they shared were giddy ones– look at us! look at where we are and what we’re doing! look at how much fun we’re having! Mohinder put a thumb against the other man’s chapped lower lip, opening Matt’s mouth to meet his, hand trailing down to his neck and continuing to wander south. He kissed him possessively, a you are mine kiss, and Matt was suitably flustered when it ended. Mohinder climbed atop him and dipped to his neck, his hands cupping their hips together. He reached back to the small plastic bag, coated a few fingers with the liquid in the pale bottle, and returned to fondling Matt, one lazy finger telegraphing his intent. Matt didn’t need to read minds to know what that meant. “Whatever you want,” he gasped as a warm hand drew along the magic line that always made him breathless. “Whatever– oh.” A shudder wracked his body; Mohinder smiled into his neck. “I just– have one condition–”
“Oh?” mumbled a rumbling tenor deep into his shoulder, now his chest, now the swell of his waist.
“You–” Matt caught his breath as Mohinder kissed just below his navel, one hand running up and down his length with light fingertips like quicksilver, the other hand working a second finger into him, slick and sweet. “You’re so beautiful– on the bed– on all that white–” He bit his lip almost to bleeding as he felt the warm wetness of a tongue against the head of his cock, the world awash with color and then pale and cold again– “I want to see you there–”
Mohinder jabbed his fingers inside Matt as a reminder. Matt’s hips flew forward, then leaned back into the probing hand. “Oh, God– no, I know– trust me.” The last words were a seething whisper. At this, Mohinder smiled and rolled over onto his back, a long lean brown beauty against the delicate folds of cotton and lace. He looked to Matt like a tiger in the sun, lazy and languid but for the jutting thrust of his erection skyward, a reminder that he was still a predator, even in the trappings of idleness.
Matt was throbbing inside and out for him. He felt the yawning absence of Mohinder’s fingers, needed the warmth of his skin against him. He dipped back to the plastic bag, unrolled a condom over Mohinder, straddled him, looked down at that face.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispered in awe.
“I should be fucking you,” Mohinder retorted.
“Your language is shocking,” Matt muttered. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled as he leaned back, pushing himself down over Mohinder’s erection, feeling his cock settle into him wet and hot and pulsing and ready. Sensation overwhelmed him, and Mohinder arched his back beneath him, crying out and digging his nails into Matt’s thighs. They sighed together as the first stroke came to completion, feeling the rhythm they knew so very well jerk into action like well-worn gears coming to life.
Mohinder felt simultaneously like a slave and a master; Matt was looking down at him when he wasn’t squeezing his eyes shut or tossing his head back, but at the same time it was Matt who was pushing and pulling and straining against him, desperate to feel him deeper and stronger inside. The warmth of him and the wetness of the lube and the strangled hot cries that came from some mental voice the two of them shared were shattering him slowly; his spine was on fire and crumbling to ash. And Matt kept impaling himself on him, kept looking down at him with those amazed eyes. Mohinder’s whole world was made of two words: yes and more. Yes, he thought, yes, more more more. More. Yes.
The words echoed in Matt’s mind as Mohinder cried, then whispered, then just thought them when his mouth could no longer bear to form coherent words. He was tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, his hands pulling Matt’s hips in to meet him in an insistent rhythm, damp sweat mussing his crown of curls. Matt wished he could paint so he could have this moment frozen in time, this beauty and passion. He wished for a photographic memory so he would never be able to forget it. But mostly, he wished he wasn’t coming so damned fast…
Matt– I can’t–
Me neither… oh God, you feel too good–
Don’t hold back..
I can’t–
Don’t–
Mohinder—
And thought and sound and light exploded to white as Matt groaned and pulsed out once, twice, three, four times all over Mohinder’s stomach, everywhere, his hand pulling desperately at his throbbing cock as his orgasm washed over him in a great swell. Mohinder came nearly simultaneously, feeling Matt’s muscles around him clench and shudder with the force of his release, his whole world coming into one great sweet point of focus before fading into dizzy, brain-addled afterglow.
They lay, spent and happy and absolutely messy, for several minutes, just listening to the sound of two men trying to catch their breath. Mohinder was sure there was no happier sound in the universe.
Finally, Matt moved, fumbling in the bag for the small washcloth that had long since ceased to wash anything and now needed washing itself every so often. Mohinder had truly thought of everything. Tonguing his nipples gently, Matt bent to mop him up. Mohinder’s body jerked under his at the sensations.
“Well, that was fun,” he said. His humor always returned from oblivion before the rest of him, a phenomenon Mohinder had onced dubbed Parkman Post-Coital Silliness Syndrome. “So, what do we do now?”
As if in answer, his stomach grumbled again. They both laughed, and Mohinder’s eyes slitted open. “I say we order room service.”
*to be continued!*
