[ It happens in an explosion, much like it did at the pub -- Khan crosses the distance between them with a growling sound, grabbing onto John's shoulder, pulling him close before fisting his other hand in his hair, a harsh, demanding kind of touch that makes John's breath catch in his throat. They stare at each other, unblinkingly, intensely, John not pulling a single muscle even as Khan's yanking at his hair and basically showing him muscle enough for, what, ten people. Not by far, the other man replies and it's a promise, isn't it? It's a promise of what's to come, tonight, beyond, wherever they end up taking it. It's good -- he exhales shakily, yes, it's good like this, it's exactly what he needs. It's exactly what he's needed for so long.
A brief, but gentler touch -- and Khan steps back, nodding at John's clothes, wordlessly ordering him out of it and John waits only as long as it takes the other man to pull off his own shirt, eyes running down over his chest, his stomach, further down to the waistband of his trousers, a bulge clearly visible at the front. Okay, then, fine. His own cock, almost fully hard in his jeans, jerks slightly at the implications and he licks his lips while finally pulling first his jumper off, then starting in on the buttons of his shirt underneath, a plain blue thing, maddeningly slow to work open. Fingers aggressively undoing the first five buttons, he just -- gives up, dragging the shirt over his head and dropping it on top of the jumper. Gets to work on his jeans, but not before pulling the small bottle of lube out of his left back pocket and aiming it carelessly at the bed, throwing it with a good, old rugby aim, landing the vial somewhere near the square middle. You know you're getting laid regularly again -- and that your partner is male when lube's become one of the basic carry-arounds.
Only then does he start toeing out of his socks, pushing his jeans down impatiently. ]
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A brief, but gentler touch -- and Khan steps back, nodding at John's clothes, wordlessly ordering him out of it and John waits only as long as it takes the other man to pull off his own shirt, eyes running down over his chest, his stomach, further down to the waistband of his trousers, a bulge clearly visible at the front. Okay, then, fine. His own cock, almost fully hard in his jeans, jerks slightly at the implications and he licks his lips while finally pulling first his jumper off, then starting in on the buttons of his shirt underneath, a plain blue thing, maddeningly slow to work open. Fingers aggressively undoing the first five buttons, he just -- gives up, dragging the shirt over his head and dropping it on top of the jumper. Gets to work on his jeans, but not before pulling the small bottle of lube out of his left back pocket and aiming it carelessly at the bed, throwing it with a good, old rugby aim, landing the vial somewhere near the square middle. You know you're getting laid regularly again -- and that your partner is male when lube's become one of the basic carry-arounds.
Only then does he start toeing out of his socks, pushing his jeans down impatiently. ]