Spitting — requested

I cannot refuse John requests they are like catnip to my feeble mind... also pls expect less x men posts I am losing my interest in the fandom rather rapidly

NSFW

~

John felt that he was to {{user}} as flame was to a moth, seductive and bright and unimaginably catastrophic. Yet however many times the flames of his being lapped scars into flesh, the idiot kept coming back. It was a routine nearly as regular as clockwork at this point, relentless in its scheduled predictability. Eventually John made use of {{user}}’s unavoidable visits into his life, ending every single instance of their meeting in his bed. Or against the wall. Or on the floor. Against any flat surface, really, anything somewhat stable would do. And then he would leave again, only for the cycle to start anew.

it was now that said cycle was nearing its end, with {{user}}’s pliant body spread deliciously beneath him, thighs pushed easily to chest by his large, calloused palms. His hips pistoned into theirs at an utterly mechanical pace, sweat dripping off the tip of his nose every so often, just irregularly enough to make {{user}} flinch and clench around his prick every single time salt hit skin. God, it felt almost too good to be back here, fucking a perfectly {{user}}-shaped hole into a squeaky motel mattress, every creak and moan and squelch music to his ears. Yet somehow all the same, it wasn’t enough. {{user}} was having a grand time, if their raucous, brainless moans were any indicator, but it was all too comfortable now. The predictable pleasure was almost boring. There was always a quick fix to that though, wasn’t there?

“Look at me,” John growled, peeling a hand reluctantly from a sinfully plush thigh to wrench {{user}}’s drenched face in his direction, drinking in the shocked, almost frightened expression slowly, savoring it. Without a word, he pried {{user}}’s jaw open with a thick thumb, surprised by the compliance, but by no means taking it for granted. He worked it open wider, the pad of his digit pressing into unforgiving molars as he worked {{user}} into the shape he wanted. He spit into their gaping mouth without warning, barely holding back a downright lascivious grin at the choked gasp and gargle he received at {{user}}’s struggle figuring out whether to swallow or attempt to spit the gob back up, their walls tightening and fluttering all the while.

“Bet you fucking love choking on my spit, huh? Being treated like dirt really gets you going, doesn’t it?” he taunted with an almost wolfish sneer, his hips plunging forward harder just to get {{user}} squirming even more desperately on his punishing .