The process was slow. Mohinder was true to his word about not having done this in a long while and the angle was awkward for men as it was not for women. At least Matt was easy enough to handle. Well slicked and hard, he'd made a place for himself properly there and their connection was solid once it formed. Mohinder's lips pressed flat to his teeth and he pitched forward to splay his fingers ever so slightly against Matt's chest while he kissed the fingers against his cheek and chin.

Time and the rocking of his body eventually caused discomfort to give way to pleasure and Mohinder exhaled against Matt's palm as he rode him down to absolutely nothing but a grunting, growling, beautiful mess.

And as that happened, as the Indian grew bolder, his hips undulated and the velvet kiss of heat inside of him carried Matt along the waves with him. Mohinder was nothing like Janice. Gender, skin tone, softness, the sounds that came out of his throat...

And for this, Mohinder was even quiet where Janice had never been. Quiet. Reverent. As if this act might be a prayer. Why fuck when you can make love?

He tilted back his head as pleasure consumed him. The springs would not long forget this night.