[ There's a weird discrepancy between what happens first (Khan forcing his hand away from his hair only to interlace their fingers against the mattress, the intimacy of that, the fucking gentleness) and what happens next, when he releases John again, telling him in a hard, deep, God, so deep voice to do it, make yourself come. John's cock jerks, hard and there's a moment where he thinks, that's it, he'll just come without being touched at all, fine, good, all good... Before he, muscles trembling noticeably beneath the skin of his upper arm, reaches down between them with his hand, closing his sweaty, now lube-slick fingers around the base of his own cock, just -- squeezing for a moment, to not come on the bloody spot. Then, he feels for Khan's pacing, falls into it easily, the first stroke of his hand following an inward thrust of the other man's cock, brushing over his prostate just in time with his thumb brushing over the head, pressing in along the slit and -- Jesus, his eyes fall closed and he makes a muffled sound that's neither a moan nor anything lesser than it, it's exactly that, throaty inhalation, sound on the tail of an exhalation. His hips push up into his own touch desperately, which only makes Khan's cock rub over his prostate again, different angle this time, still good, still so bloody good.
It doesn't take long. Following the hard, forward forcefulness of Khan's thrusts, he quickly works himself into a frenzy, palm sliding along his own length, fingertips following the curve of the head, jerking, applying pressure in time with the other man's hips, pushing forward, pulling back. It takes perhaps -- and it's probably a generous estimate, you'll allow him, four of those routines and he's gasping breathlessly, throwing his head back, all bared neck and thigh muscles clenching, arsehole clenching, everything's clenching and he can't even really make any sound as he comes, just his body drawing together into a single point of pleasure and his balls are tight as -- all hell and he's -- fuck. ]
Khan...
[ Lifting the hand grabbing onto the other man's shoulder, John reaches up, curves his fingers along the strong line of the man's neck, fingertips digging in while he strokes himself through what's got to be the most powerful orgasm he's had, period, ever, no comparison.
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It doesn't take long. Following the hard, forward forcefulness of Khan's thrusts, he quickly works himself into a frenzy, palm sliding along his own length, fingertips following the curve of the head, jerking, applying pressure in time with the other man's hips, pushing forward, pulling back. It takes perhaps -- and it's probably a generous estimate, you'll allow him, four of those routines and he's gasping breathlessly, throwing his head back, all bared neck and thigh muscles clenching, arsehole clenching, everything's clenching and he can't even really make any sound as he comes, just his body drawing together into a single point of pleasure and his balls are tight as -- all hell and he's -- fuck. ]
Khan...
[ Lifting the hand grabbing onto the other man's shoulder, John reaches up, curves his fingers along the strong line of the man's neck, fingertips digging in while he strokes himself through what's got to be the most powerful orgasm he's had, period, ever, no comparison.
No comparisons. ]