[ Khan's a step ahead, perhaps a couple, while John wrestles out of his jeans, he dumps his briefs and -- pretty much plays big cat again, pouncing across the small distance at John, lifting him up with his arms thrown around his lower body, beneath his buttocks and John exclaims a wow while grabbing onto the man's shoulders with both hands, fingers digging into the exemplary display of muscle and tissue. Bone. God, he's strong -- John isn't exactly lightweight and he's carrying him around like, what, John carried around his lube, that's reassuring, isn't it? It's not, but he'll take it, fuck, if he won't take it right here and now.
It's not a long walk to the bed, but Khan is pressing his face in against John's midriff, mouthing his way down over his abdomen, licking and kissing and breathing his way heavily downwards while they go and it's driving John absolutely nutters, the stimuli, the heated feel of expelled air, saliva, soft lips, wet tongue. Feeling his own breathing pick up, he doesn't even try to temper the pace, his cock growing fully, completely, utterly hard in his briefs the closer Khan draws to the waistband -- where they don't get any further, because the other man tips him like timber onto the bed, John releasing his hold on his shoulders accommodatingly, dropping onto the mattress with a soft thud, avoiding to make contact with the tube of lube, that would have been uncomfortable. Apparently, Khan has a good aim, too. Do they play rugby in the Spec Ops he isn't affiliated with?
Pushing himself up on his elbows, John looks up at the other man from his reclining position, chest rising and falling rapidly, his briefs definitely more a display of his cock's outline than anything else. He wonders, just for a second, how old the man is, he never got his answer to John's question and he sure as hell isn't going to inquire about it now, it doesn't matter, but he's curious all the same. Body, posture and face says -- hardly older than 35, but he has a tendency to talk like John's old military commanders, well into their 50s, if not their 60s, pension-aged and weathered, experienced men, that's what Khan -- well, feels like.
You wouldn't think that kind of rather perfect combination existed, but there you go. John purses his lips. ]
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It's not a long walk to the bed, but Khan is pressing his face in against John's midriff, mouthing his way down over his abdomen, licking and kissing and breathing his way heavily downwards while they go and it's driving John absolutely nutters, the stimuli, the heated feel of expelled air, saliva, soft lips, wet tongue. Feeling his own breathing pick up, he doesn't even try to temper the pace, his cock growing fully, completely, utterly hard in his briefs the closer Khan draws to the waistband -- where they don't get any further, because the other man tips him like timber onto the bed, John releasing his hold on his shoulders accommodatingly, dropping onto the mattress with a soft thud, avoiding to make contact with the tube of lube, that would have been uncomfortable. Apparently, Khan has a good aim, too. Do they play rugby in the Spec Ops he isn't affiliated with?
Pushing himself up on his elbows, John looks up at the other man from his reclining position, chest rising and falling rapidly, his briefs definitely more a display of his cock's outline than anything else. He wonders, just for a second, how old the man is, he never got his answer to John's question and he sure as hell isn't going to inquire about it now, it doesn't matter, but he's curious all the same. Body, posture and face says -- hardly older than 35, but he has a tendency to talk like John's old military commanders, well into their 50s, if not their 60s, pension-aged and weathered, experienced men, that's what Khan -- well, feels like.
You wouldn't think that kind of rather perfect combination existed, but there you go. John purses his lips. ]
Come on, get down here.