Notes: Written for mmom, Day 26. Inspired by Speccygeekgrrl's personal fanon for Noah Unbeta-ed and bleary-eyed.
WarningsSpoilers for season 3, especially volume four.
Noah hated being alone.
He missed Sandra, missed his Claire-bear and Lyle. To be honest, he was even starting to miss Mr. Muggles. All the years he’d worked for the Company, he’d counted on his family, his “normal” life to keep him grounded, in spite of the things he done in the name of the job. Claude had told him he was kidding himself, but Noah suspected he envied him too.
Now it was gone. One lie too many, and here he was, lying in a hotel bed in his underwear, fending off the dual temptations of alcohol and self-pity. There was no time to give in to either. He had to find a way to finesse both Nathan Petrelli and Emile Danko without letting either one know who he was really working for.
Another temptation. One he’d never given into, not that he’d ever been invited. But still, there was something about her. The sheer ruthlessness. The fierce loyalties. He’d seen what she’d done to Sylar, what she’d been willing to do to her own sons, and what he suspected she’d done to her husband. A man would be lucky to walk away with his balls intact. She was Claire’s grandmother, a fact he quickly banished from his mind. He had darker ideas to deal with.
Noah had always wondered what it would be like to sleep with Angela, and finding out the family connection hadn’t changed that. If anything it had made the forbidden that much more alluring. The sort of thing he’d never think about if he still had the emotional safety net of his home and wife
Now he was walking the tight-rope, pushing down his boxers, letting his imagination work out the details while he handled the mechanics.
He saw himself back in one of the cells, only this time Angela was his keeper, exuding her superiority as she brought him meals, telling him it was all for his own good, in the same lethal purr she’d used to convince to Sylar she really cared about him. Noah was a good liar, but no one could lie like Angela Petrelli.
His cock stiffened into his hand, and he gripped himself tightly. It was going to be rough, but that’s how he figured it would have to be anyway. There’d always been the hint of the tigress about her. Or maybe a panther. Something sleek and lethal.
She needed to taken by surprise, pushed against a wall in one of the cells, held tightly while she struggled until she figured out that there was no point resisting, and more important that she didn’t want to.
That little smile. Girlish and womanly, sweet and lethal.
Noah breathed in deeply.
No lubricant near at hand, but a bit of saliva would do the trick, he licked his fingers and imagined it was her. Her tongue darted in between his fingers and he had to wonder if she planned to bit one off. Because she would; in a heartbeat.
Only now she was breathing heavily as well, eyes bright with desire, and pushing him backwards toward the cot.
Noah. I’ve always wanted to do this.
Fuck me or kill me?
It was a good question, but apparently his cock didn’t really care, and his mind was more than happy to oblige, giving Angela free rein over his body with her hands and her mouth, until he was moaning, desperate for release. For that he wanted to be on top.
Sorry. Old fashioned guy.
And with that he managed to get her pinned underneath him. She might not like it, but she had no choice, and soon she was grinding against his leg, breathing his name, and few words that would shock anyone who only knew her as the demure socialite.
Sure, Angela. Anything you say.
He could feel her long legs wrapping around his back, nails clawing his back, and the heat as he entered her.
Oh god. This was it. Screwing Angela Petrelli in a cell at the Company, where theoretically anyone could see them and damn it, he didn’t care, all he wanted was to come, and hear her scream and that’s exactly what he was doing and it was incredible.
He came, with a shout louder than a guy trying to lay low should probably let out, but he couldn’t control it. It had been too long and the fantasy was more powerful than he dared to believe. Dangerously so. If anyone had walked in….
They’d have a seen a guy jerking off in a hotel room. Probably the most normal thing he’d done in months. For a few seconds, he let himself bask in the warmth of his orgasm and the delusion of being just a horny guy in a hotel room.
Except he wasn’t.
Noah headed for the shower, wanting to wash the guilt off along with sweat.
Might as well admit it. There was nothing normal about him, and hadn’t been from the day Thompson recruited him. The happy family had always been an illusion.
Claude was right all along.