Title / Prompt: June - Itch
Character: Noah (HRG) Bennet
Warnings: suggestions of non/dub-con; adultery
Pairings: suggestions of Thompson/Bennet; Bennet/Claude UST, Bennet/Parkman
Your character's fandom: Heroes
Word count: 453 per PocketWord
Disclaimer: Not mine -- if he was, there would have been a lot less U in the UST...
Crossposted to licenseartistic
A long time ago, he learned that the only way to remain sane in his job was to compartmentalize his life to the nth degree; to the point where he was a different person with his family than he was with the Company, and lying to one or the other wasn't even a lie anymore.
He could imagine this was how covert CIA operatives felt, and wondered how they dealt with the problems that cropped up every now and then. How to deal with the guilt when they missed a family event because they were away on an assignment, how to deal with the feelings that sometimes developed between partners that faced life and death situations together.
If he was a different person -- if Noah Bennet, family man, disappeared completely when he was on an assignment -- then it wasn't cheating when he woke up in bed with his boss after what he was sure had to be a night of much heavier drinking than he remembered. Thompson never was his type, and they obviously must have both been scratching an itch. When he went home again he hugged Sandra close and took her out dancing, laughing and smiling the whole time and never once thinking of the feel of beard stubble coarse against his neck or hands far too strong pinning him down on the cheap bed.
And it wasn't wrong when he sat in a small bar, watching his partner longingly as the man took the locals for every penny they had in a couple of games of pool, imagining that accent whispering wicked things in his ear as they wrestled for dominance. He wanted so badly to give in to those desires, but he was obviously getting much better at ignoring that itch. How was he to know that in a few years, he'd look back on that as one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made, and that maybe if he'd been closer to the man he would have done the right thing that day on the bridge?
And it still wasn't cheating when he found himself projecting thoughts of absolute filth at his new best friend as the man lay asleep in the narrow motel bed next to his, jerking off to the sounds he made in his sleep. That itch was back with a vengeance, and there was something very heady in the way the telepath followed his orders so -- for the most part, that was -- willingly. If they were going to die any day now, this time it would be with no regrets, he decided, getting out of bed and sitting on the edge of the other one. "Parkman. Hey, Parkman, wake up..."