(This was meant to be a companion to tender; like a bruise but kind of isn’t. Vaguely set between s3 and s4, definitely nsfw.)
“Wait,” John gasps out after Flint sucks his cock down to the root. “Wait – I haven’t done this before.”
He’d meant to say something more akin to, Just give me a moment, but the overwhelming sensation of Flint’s mouth around his cock and his hands (gripping John’s thighs as he teeters on the edge of the bed) has robbed him of good sense. And so the truth came tumbling out from between his lips.
Flint stops immediately. The sight of him, on his knees, John’s thighs over his shoulders, cheek resting against the inside of John’s thigh, threatens to rob John of any sense at all. His captain’s brow furrows; he spares another glance at John’s cock, now red and leaking.
“Not – not with another man. I just thought you should know,” John adds dumbly, when Flint doesn’t speak. “In case you were expecting something else. So you won’t be disappointed.”
He thinks of disappointments and glances, reflexively, at his ruined leg.
firsts (silverflint)
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