PSL no. 2: cruel wars

[presurgery]

CHRONOLOGICALLY -

i. alternate universe
ii. picture prompt
iii. quote prompt
iv. random scenario
v. psl
vi. stargazing
vii. psl
viii. psl
ix. psl
x. insomnia

Comments

[insuperiorstrength]

[ A long, heavy exhalation as John presses up against his cock. His mouth feels wet and soft against his jawline, the taste of him still prominent on the back of his tongue. One of you says John and it ought to be a stark, unpleasant reminder as to their conflicting loyalties but instead, it just makes Khan feel even hotter for him. He survived, after all. He survived one of them and humans only rarely, rarely do. He doesn't reply to John's question - it's not a matter of arrogance in this particular case, it's just the fact that Khan strongly prefers to let his actions speak for him in nearly all matters and this situation is no exception.

Leaning in, he presses his lips to the side of John's neck, feeling the pulse underneath, the rapid flow, the rhythmic beat. Yes. He sucks on the skin there, tastes salt and water and the same, warm edge underneath, John's personal scent, a code he's beginning to recognise.

With another groan, deep and rough, he grabs onto John's hips, fingers digging in harshly, a little bit uncontrolled, and pushes him backwards through the water, bringing them to the edge of the pool with two, fast kicks. He doesn't push John out of the water, naturally, simply gives him the chance to find purchase. His own cock is rock hard now, his arousal a constant throbbing between his legs and in the pit of his stomach.

Leaving a quick, sharp bite to the side of John's neck (along with a set of bright-red bite-marks), he adjusts himself in the water, putting both hands on the edge of the pool on either side of John's hips to steady his movements. Then, he starts mouthing his way down his chest, his pace fast and impatient, his body and mind completely synchronized and very much in need. ]

[presurgery]

[ Khan doesn't answer in words, come on, why should he, he's bulk and muscle and acts of war in one taut package, of course he just pushes John backwards through the water by his hips, the edge of the pool nudging at his shoulder blades, making John reach out on either side for purchase. Head nodding backwards a bit in this position, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling, water reflecting in patterns up there, he tries breathing normally through the sensory overload that is Khan's mouth against the side of his neck and finds it pretty much impossible. Too much suction, too much - Jesus, did he just bite him? Really? He groans, loudly, shifting back against the side of the pool some more, his cock throbbing between his legs.

Seriously, he should feel horrible about this. He should feel like a traitor and a defector, getting caught by the other side and staying there, because it's nicer than what Rachita's made of Europe, yeah? He even has Mike. A popcorn machine and now he's getting laid, too. To whom back in England would this seem in any shape or form fair? No one, that's who. Nevertheless, John doesn't. He doesn't feel horrible about it at all. In love and war, Sholto had said once when John had complained about the amount of suicides among his autopsy reports, why didn't they stay and fight like everybody else, all is fair, Watson.

Reaching up with his right hand, he touches a couple of fingertips to the bite mark, smarting as Khan draws back and drops down his chest, mouthing his way over skin there inelegantly and fast, obviously going places. John's hand buries into his hair without a second's hesitation. Oh, he's wanted to do that for months, that not-army cut that has the potential of hanging everywhere, if you - yes, he runs his hand through Khan's bangs, looking down at him. The angle of his face, his head, down, for God's sake.

His breathing sounds laboured in the relative stillness between them. ]

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John buries his fingers in his hair, running his hand through it and Khan knows his hairdo is completely ridiculous by army standards but then again, those were made for ordinary humans with correspondingly human conformity standards. They're not like that, his people. Hair is a rare, personal choice and they wear it however they prefer. Khan doesn't actually care about the length, he keeps it like this because it's the longest it'll grow without a haircut, meaning it takes very little maintenance. If he'd wanted to buzz it, he'd have to actually keep up with it. No time. Not for something like that.

He mouths at John's midriff, lips following the subtly defined contours of muscle there, the water lapping at his chin. Beneath the water, John's cock is tenting his briefs and Khan licks his lips, staring up at him for a couple of seconds before uncerimonously slipping further down. Chin under water, nose, eyes - and forehead. Like that, he's got John's bulging cock utterly in his face, its outline - shaft, head and further down, balls - obvious beneath the wet, clinging fabric. Eyes open, he slips his fingers beneath the hem of John's briefs and pulls them away, hooking them behind his balls and baring his cock.

Then, he opens his mouth and sucks it in, lips tight around the shaft. He doesn't waste any time with pleasantries - some other time, maybe, if he can be bothered - and simply swallows the whole, hard length of it, allowing it to stretch his mouth and throat. He frees one hand from the pool edge and curves it against John's left buttock, keeping a firm hold on him to avoid him pulling back - because why would he want to, really? No need at all. ]

[presurgery]

[ It's all very fast, efficient. One moment Khan's licking away at his midriff, following the contours of his abs, softer than Khan's, what did you bloody well expect, rock's softer than that, but well-maintained regardless. The next, Khan's head disappears underwater and he's hooking John's briefs behind his balls, baring his cock completely. John stares down at the outline of his upper body beneath the water surface, disbelieving. Is he going to - like that? How's he going to breathe? Then again, how did he manage to not breathe for ten minutes straight on the bottom of the pool? Might not be the right question to ask here.

He doesn't wonder about it for long, either, let's be fair. Because Khan sucks his cock into his mouth, the wet heat of it markedly different from the sensation of water, that pressure softer and yielding, whereas Khan's mouth doesn't give. Doesn't give an inch, Jesus. John gasps, loudly, hand returning to the edge of the pool and gripping it, knuckles turning white from the effort of it. It's tight. It's so good, it's so tight and hot and Khan swallows him all the way, just like that, in one go, because he's certainly not people and people don't do that, shit. Another gasp, borderline a grunt and he shifts against the side of the pool, feeling the other man's hand on his buttock, keeping him in place. He couldn't go anywhere even if he wanted to.

Except, he really doesn't want to.

Tilting his head backwards, he listens to his own staccato breathing, staring up at the reflections on the ceiling, light playing across the expanses there, his toes curling underwater and his hips straining against Khan's mouth, the sheer intensity of it. John blinks. Licks his lips. Mutters oh God, yes beneath his breath.

The last time he did this was a couple of days before they took Sholto. That's, what, two years now.

He's not going to last long. At all. Not at this pace. ]

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John's cock tastes like him, his personal scent coming through with an almost mind-blowing purity and Khan only draws back a couple of inches, enough to feel the head stretch and fill the very back of his mouth. Then, he hollows his cheeks and sucks, taking care to keep it pleasant. His tongue is trapped beneath the heavy girth of the shaft and he doesn't move it much beyond that, seeing as he might very well end up crushing John's skin against the teeth in his upper mouth. Instead, he keeps himself as still as possible beneath the water, holding himself up with one hand against the edge of the pool, the muscles in his upper-arm and shoulder straining slightly to accommodate his weight.

His own cock is aching, his balls painfully tight. The scent and taste of John's cock combined with the constant stimulation against his lips, against the inside of his mouth and throat, all heighten his sense of arousal, of want. Blindly, he releases John's buttock and reaches down, pulling his own cock free and stroking it, harshly and without any sort of finesse. The abrupt shift from nothing to friction and tightness is almost unbearably intense.

He'd groan if he had enough air in his lungs to produce any sort of sound. Instead, he swallows John's cock again, all the way, until his lips are buried in the other man's pubic hair, and he's working his own cock faster yet, the water resistance making his movements inelegant. No less efficient, though. Please. ]

[presurgery]

[ They'd had a joke once, in their battalion, about Khan's people. Question: What's the one thing humans do better than Augments? Answer: Jerking off, they're too callous for it to work. Admittedly, it was a bad joke, born of endless days in the field, either hurrying into battle or running away from it, no in betweens. Besides being a bad joke, it's also not true, John can now conclude, judging by the wet splashing coming from under the surface as Khan works himself in time with his efficient sucking. Very efficient, very intense, lots of warmth and friction, suction, tight throat action. John groans loudly and lets his head fall back properly, reaching down blindly and just dragging all ten fingers through Khan's hair, allowing himself a bit of a pull this time. More, come on, more. His hips, now without Khan's hand to steady him, start pushing forward and he's honestly not doing it to be rude, he just - it's so good, so good. He almost can't bear it. His breathing is constantly getting stuck in his throat. ]

Don't come - [ Could be an admonishment for the both of them, really, but it's directed at the way Khan's touching himself, faster and faster. ] - yet. Give me a fighting - [ A deep moan as Khan swallows him down again, all the way to the base and he's dying, literally dying, perhaps for the first time in his stupid life. ] - chance.

[ His lower body's falling into somewhat of a rhythm now, small thrusts against the tight ring of Khan's lips, seeking out that friction desperately. He's so close. It's so good and he's so close, fuck. ]

[insuperiorstrength]

[ The other man's thrusting into his mouth now, his hips going at their own accord and that's good, chase it, he thinks, feeling an earnest satisfaction at the thought. When first John came to Beijing with him - was brought here, rather, against his will - he'd seemed intent on chasing very little, if anything. Khan's been waiting to see this side of him in full, though he's given away bits and pieces of it over the past months. His readiness to argue, to help Maxim, to remain standing despite his situation, despite death being his only way out from here.

Yes, that drive must be down there somewhere - in excess. Khan still sees him exactly as he stood, years back, with Major Sholto's body cradled in his arms and the longest walk of his life ahead of him. He can feel that gun against his temple. So when John pulls his hair with something that feels like intent, Khan listens carefully through the water and he gets his reward, doesn't he, because John's finally asking him for something, unprompted. Give me a fighting chance.

A plea he'd honour nowhere else.

Here, however, he steels himself, mouth still locked tightly around the shaft of John's cock. Then, he releases his own, the utter, physical disappointment nearly making him shudder. He returns his hand to the edge of the pool, a show as well as an answer, before he starts bobbing his head up and down John's shaft, fast, sucking him down at every in-stroke. He doesn't have to feel his balls (though he'd like to, actually - next time) to know how close he is. His pace quickens. He closes his eyes, focuses on keeping it even. ]

[presurgery]

[ In the end, he's not sure which one does it, to be honest, the way Khan ups the pace with his mouth or the way he releases himself and returns his hand to the edge of the pool, like a show. I did what you said. Physically, of course, it's the first - his body's very grateful, swaying on the edge, looking right down at the chasm. His mind, however, lingers a moment too long on the latter, like it means something, like it means anything at all, realising that he asked Khan for something again and the man gave it to him. Again. The thought's a rush, pure, unadulterated arousal and it spins him off his axis completely. Moaning once more, louder this time, eyes falling shut, his hips start thrusting in earnest - come on, it's not like the man's going to die, neither could he hope to even bruise him, and on the second or third forward motion, he's coming, his shoulders shaking visibly and his chest heaving in a desperate attempt to fill his lungs. Everything turns a lovely black behind his eyelids. There should be stars, rightly, but that's a mental thing, of course. Mentally, there're stars aplenty. John groans, loosens his grip slowly in the other man's hair while his cock stops pulsing, only after what feels like forever. He's bloody well submerged in water, and he feels sweaty now. Lovely.

Very lovely. Balancing himself against the edge of the pool again, he waits for Khan to reemerge. Since he basically orgasm-denied him by way of himself, he probably owes him now. Like he didn't before. Your life, John Watson, he'd said. John knows they wouldn't have been as gracious on his side of the fence, if their roles had been reversed, so maybe he does have to be a little bit grateful, yeah. Maybe he does. It prompts a hard, sharp-edged smile, hardly more than a tug at the corner of his mouth. As Khan returns in stages, wet and glistening and looking a little more god-like (yet all the more human) now than he did ten minutes ago, it's the sex hormones talking, probably, John reaches out and runs his hand up his arm. ]

Come here.

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John starts trusting into his mouth, down his throat, in earnest and Khan takes whatever he gives him, his throat no doubt bruised in the aftermath but it'll heal in less than five seconds so who really cares? He certainly doesn't. He's too busy willing himself not to touch his own cock, tension building in his balls, particularly when John climaxes, his cock pulsing hotly between his lips, on his tongue. Khan pulls back just enough to catch some of his cum on the back of his tongue. He holds it there, even as John's cock slowly loses some of its hardness, coating the roof of his mouth in stickiness as he draws back.

He swallows only then, once he's popped the other man's cock out of his mouth. He tastes him carefully, the saltiness, the stringy texture. Then, he finally allows himself to breach the surface as he pulls himself up, sliding right into John's arms as the other man urges him closer. His cock slapping against his abdomen and leaving trails of precum in the water, he crowds John against the side of the pool, an arm on either side of him, and leans in. The mark on the side of his throat is bright, gleaming wetly in the sharp overhead lights and he leans in hungrily, tonguing it.

At the back of his mind, he acknowledges the rarity of this encounter - he rarely has sex anymore, mostly because he can't truly find anyone; he loves his people, he treasures them above all else, but - perhaps because of that - he doesn't want to fuck them. So, who is John Watson, then, to push him out of that trajectory and into his own, what sort of gravity would it take, what sort of enormity? Inhaling raggedly (his lungs unfolding after collapsing in his chest), he nuzzles John's hairline, near the side of his neck. Breathes him in. ]

[presurgery]

[ Khan obliges, probably less for John's sake and more for his own, his cock rock-hard against his abdomen, leaving trails of precum in the water and someone's going to have a ball cleaning up this mess, aren't they? Not that John particularly cares about such practical details right now, his hands itching to get on the other man. Augment. Whatever creature except, what, sharks, who can stay underwater like that and eat you raw. Hand slipping down Khan's arm to his waist, he curls his arm around him as he glides up against him, pushing him back against the wall of the pool and starting to aggressively mouth the spot on his neck that's still smarting. John inclines his head, giving him room while at the same time unceremoniously pushing his other hand down between the man's legs. He's not going for finesse here, he's going for the kind of directness you eat with when you haven't eaten for years. That kind of bloody hunger.

Jesus, the feel of him... His cock's hard and smooth and wet from water, making any kind of lubricant unnecessary at this point. Even so, John releases him after two sloppy drags of his hand, raising it to his face and licking the width of his palm, just to taste him. Water dilutes some of it, sure, but it's still there. Him, the scent of him, flavour... Humming slightly in approval, he drops his hand again and grabs Khan's cock properly, fingers tightening near the glans and thumb supporting the weight and width of the head. Water splashing lightly around them, he starts stroking him, even, steady movements, tightening more around the base, brushing his thumb lightly over the exposed head, pushing into the slit a little, before descending down over the man's length again. ]

God, you feel nice.

[ It's a mutter as he turns his head and presses his forehead against the side of Khan's face, pacing quickly upping noticeably. The man just denied himself, you got to give him that much, right? You got to give him that. Not an issue when you, like John, mostly just want to kiss him, lots of tongue, thank you, and taste yourself on him. He should rightly worry about condoms and what not, STDs, but he can test himself later, they've got the equipment and he needs something to do, you'd think, when he isn't hanging out with Mike. Actually, he probably needs an excuse to not hang out with Mike quite so much.

Not that he's thinking about Mike now, Jesus. Not at all. Not at all. He glances down between their bodies, the contrast of Khan's cock, darker and throbbing in his grip, his own hand slightly paler, though not by much. He's reddened in exertion at this point, Khan's actually managed to make him flush head to toe, that's sweet.

That's nice, like he said, very nice. ]

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John doesn't make him wait - he pushes his hand between his legs and touches his cock, giving it a couple of strokes before removing his hand (don't do that, don't-) and licking it. Khan, watching him out of the corners of his eyes, inhales deeply, lips stilling against his neck, his body tense from expectation. When John goes back to stroking him, his hand wet now and warm, so good, incredible, his breath shudders out of him, his hips thrusting forward into his grip.

For a moment, he loses track of time, losing himself completely in the feel of John's hand bringing him closer to climax, his thumb working the head of his cock with expert skill. He can't focus on anything except the burning pressure in his abdomen, his balls, the need to come so intense that everything else disappears. Groaning, he wraps one arm around John's waist and pulls him just a bit closer, drowning a bit in his proximity and it's so good, it's been years, it's been years --

He comes, soundlessly, his forehead pressed against John's neck. He can taste him all throughout, smell him; the man's basically monopolized every one of his senses. Staying close, he lets the climax power through him, hard and fast and overwhelming. John's a solid presence against him, in his mind and body as well, and at this point there's really no denying it - he's become a fixture, unplanned and unprecedented.

As Khan stays still against him, his body now thoroughly exhausted, he can't even pretend to be bothered by that. ]

[presurgery]

[ It doesn't take long. Granted, the man did deny himself his orgasm before, you could probably expect him to be needy as a result, but under any circumstances, John watches him through slightly narrowed eyes while he works his cock, feels the warmth of his flesh, the throbbing of it when he finally comes, spilling himself between their bodies - and like he thought a moment ago, someone's going to hate their life cleaning up this mess. Breathing heavily, still feeling groggy and sluggish from his own climax, he releases his hold on the other man's cock after a moment, when he feels it beginning to lose hardness, and rinses his hand in the water all around them. Not exactly sanitary, not exactly hygienic, but hey - what can you do, what can you really do. He swallows hard. Feels Khan's weight against him suddenly rather acutely, the heaviness of his body, all muscle and bone, but untouchable in some ways. You couldn't hurt him, even if you wanted to.

He doesn't want to. A frown as he realises, apparently he'll do this, but not try to strangle the man, that's good, that's great.

It's not. He's the one who'll be cleaning up now, won't he? ]

Okay, so we both had fun. [ Eventually, he turns his head in against the side of Khan's face, speaking more softly than his words really warrant, soft hair tickling his lips. He blinks slowly, lazily into a wall of dark strands. The smell of the Augment is thick and recognisable in his nostrils. Oh. ] Reality's going to be a cold shower in comparison.

[ With that, he places both hands, fingers spread wide, against Khan's hips and just - enjoys the feeling of him for a moment before pushing him backwards, or, you know, he's an Augment, the Augment leader even, John's basically just requesting that he moves. If he doesn't want to, he'll stay right where he is. And John isn't going to lie, here, he thinks that would actually be rather lovely. Except for the fact that he's turning into a prune and he'll smell like chlorine for days to come. Besides that, yeah. It could be good.

It could be good. ]