Fics like Burning Hearts and a Brand New Feeling

It’s just like he told Angela: the thoughts take up too much space. He’s staring at the coffee maker, but in his head he can see Hana smiling and Angela pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and Baptiste flashing his dimples when he laughs. He can hear Winston’s noisy chewing. He can hear a song again, one he can’t place. He leans his weight on his hands, fatigued by the onslaught of information. While he’s clenching his jaw and watching the steady drip of coffee into the carafe, he thinks of someone’s ass, fingers pressing into the meat of it. His face is already hot enough before he processes what that ass is wearing: jeans, light wash, with fraying on the back pockets, a brown leather belt in the loops, a red plaid shirt tucked into the waist. It’s his ass. It’s his ass, and he’s not thinking of it like someone’s doing it to him — or he wasn’t, before now — but like he’s the one doing it, like it’s someone else’s point of view, someone else’s fantasy. What the hell? -- Or: after an experimental treatment for his migraines, Cole develops the ability to read minds. It gets weird.

Fics like Burning Hearts and a Brand New Feeling

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