this gorgeous drawing was done by @ravencatart and is used with permission - and seriously, you all should go follow her because she draws lots of BC’s characters in all their beauty and glorious sexiness!
chapter 12
Reluctantly, Seraphina did leave their room after all, for they needed something more substantial to fuel their bodies, than the items she had picked up at the market in Mossburg. They had discussed it briefly, and despite Khan’s initial misgivings, she had insisted it was best for her to go—but he had insisted she carry one of the phasers (set to stun only, as Sera stipulated) he’d acquired on their journey, concealed in her satchel, for any threat that might await outside their quiet sanctuary. Even at that, Khan had been hard-pressed to allow her to go, lingering at the door with her, reminding her of the best precautions to take, and then pulling her to him for kisses that went on far longer than was necessary. Flushed and breathless--and looking incredibly lovely--from his zeal (he knew then that he would never tire of leaving his mark upon her), her hair a tumble once again (when she’d been so careful in brushing it out, so as not to appear the wanton), she’d given him a confident smile before passing from his sight. Nevertheless, he had paced the room like some big game cat in heat, clad only in his briefs, anxiously awaiting her return—relief flooding his system at the chirp of the lock’s release when Sera swiped her keycard. She started to laugh at the sight of him so uncharacteristically out of joint, but the concern in his eyes bade her laughter fail.
Seraphina had barely uttered his name, and then he was upon her, enfolding her tightly in his arms and nuzzling her disheveled hair. His relief soon melted into hard desire, and in minutes she had dropped her satchel and the bagged containers of breakfast food, as Khan fondled her roughly through her blouse and bra, eventually backing her against the door.
He rucked up her skirt, and tore her panties away, finding her wet enough from their brief foreplay, to lift her up--allowing her to anchor her legs around him, and so enabling him to plunge into her with a swift, decisive thrust. Sera moaned at each firm pump, digging her nails into his back hard enough to leave crescent moon shapes that wouldn’t fade for hours. She came quickly, and powerfully, as he rutted up into her glorious heat, triggering his release, intense enough to stagger them both.
When she felt steady enough, Sera draped her arms around Khan’s neck, humming her quiet satisfaction, and he withdrew from her, sweeping her up and carrying her to seat her on the edge of the bed. Playing the waif, she tugged at his hand “But our food will get cold, my prince,” she mock protested, and he growled and grinned at her.
Not bothering to cover himself, he strode to retrieve her fallen items; she watched, amused, while he unpacked their meal onto the table, and turned to her with a small, formal bow, “Your meal awaits, my sweet. Join me, please?”
"Hmmmmm" Sera teased, acting as though she couldn't quite decide, then sighed as shot him a saucy smirk, stood up, and wrapped the seat around herself. Though completely naked, Khan played the part of a gentleman, pushing her chair into the table once she was seated, before sitting down as well. Together they polished off every speck of food, until Sera dropped her sheet and enticed her lover right back to bed.
The second time she stole from their room to grab something for dinner, Seraphina came back to find a far less restless Khan. As she opened the door, he was exiting the bathroom, a cheap motel towel draped around his waist, covering very little. She was floored by the casual sight of him, nearly naked in the full light; broad shoulders, finely delineated pectorals and abs, the taper of his waist in perfect proportion to his shoulders and chest, the gap in the towel showcasing his firm, powerful thigh. And knowing what lay beneath that faded cloth, she felt a wave of lust wash over her. Setting the food on the table, she pouted as she drew his way, “You could’ve waited for me, you know. I’d have scrubbed you thoroughly.” She staged a regretful sigh, biting her lip as she awaited his reply.
“Well now,” he countered, advancing two steps, “There’s still plenty of hot water…for later.” His eyes danced with mirth, “And aren’t you hungry right now?”
Sera did her best to pace her breathing; he appeared to her as a Greek god out of myth, taken spectacular flesh. Apollo. Adonis. Perhaps even bellicose Ares—and she had a sudden, overwhelming need to worship him. She answered as she came to stand before him, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall away. “Hungry for one thing in particular,” she panted, and slid her arms around his neck. Kissing his fresh washed skin, revealing her desire unashamedly, “Hungry to taste you. Hungry to please you.”
“Show me,” he rumbled, sinking his hands into her hair, “Show me, sweet desert rose, your hunger.” He pressed her head against him, reckoning what she longed to do. “Show me your longing; take from me what you will.” Like a command again, yet not a command, so that Sera could not stop herself from loosening the towel from his waist and grasping his burgeoning erection, and then taking to her knees. Gazing up at him, she parted her lips, longing to tell him she loved him, but holding that secret close—and guided him into her mouth instead. One hand holding onto the root of his phallus while using her thumb to stroke the sensitive triangle of skin between the base of his cock and his balls, the other cupping one of his perfect glutes, she took him deep, a little at a time. He kept his hands in her hair, showing no sign he would let go until he was satisfied—which suited her purpose; for this time, her truest desire was to drink of him in full, thus to show him without a word, what he had become to her.
Khan’s groans were her music, his thrusts into her mouth a blessing that she craved—and even in the midst of his lust and need, he still tempered his movements enough to keep from overwhelming her. Feeling his tension build deliciously, Sera ran her tongue along his hardened ridges, relishing the mixed flavor of his flesh and the fluid leaking freely from his tip. Wet and throbbing with need herself, she drew upon him lovingly, sucking him ever harder, carefully taking his cock to the back of her throat, then forward again repeatedly, readying herself for his divine release. Between growled curses, Khan rasped out her name again and again, swiftly on the verge of losing control.
The tension in his body was exquisite, echoing her need to satisfy him and give him a memory that would linger long after they parted ways. “My beautiful Seraphina…I…oh fuck…I love…” he trailed off with a sudden grunt, and then he was coming, spraying his hot spend to the back of her throat. Holding onto him tightly, she swallowed his spend like it was honeyed nectar and was all the she needed to sustain her. This was a rare act for her, and one that had never before brought her such satisfaction. But with him, she had learned, none of her old rules or habits applied; John Harrison had freed her secret, daring self, and whatever lay waiting ahead for her—for them—she would harbor no regrets.
Once they had finished their dinner, Seraphina announced that she needed to wash her hair, flaring her eyes and trailing her fingertips across Khan broad shoulders on her way to the loo. Standing in the doorway, with her back to her lover, she shimmied out of her clothes and underthings, then looked back at him over her shoulder, silently inviting him to join her.
But she didn't wait for him, almost as eager for the hot water to work its magic on muscles that had never been so deliciously sore, as she was to feel the slide of his wet skin upon hers--and for what much surely follow. As she raised her face to the refreshing fall of water, she felt a wisp of cooler air and heard the sound of the shower curtain being pushed aside, and then felt Khan’s strong, solid presence at her back. Sera turned into to him, and discovered him watching her so sadly, it felt like to crack her heart in two. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him what was wrong, but he would only shake his head before he cupped her face in both his hands, kissing her with a tenderness that somehow spoke of need and sorrow, His kiss soon grew to a desperation which filled her veins with a renewed longing to be the comfort for whatever pain he carried. Once the kiss dissolved, she tried to ask again what ailed him. “John…” but he only shook his head again, reaching past her for the bottle of shampoo.
Khan turned her to face the shower head and began to wash her hair. His strong fingers massaging her scalp and the rich scent of honey and jasmine filled the air, and the lather slid down her skin while his hands worked their way down her muscles, soothing her, relaxing her, turning her legs to rubber, so that Sera thought she might collapse if she didn’t have him supporting her from behind. He’d grown hard as he tended to her, his magnificent cock trapped between them, causing her belly to tighten with her own need.
‘Time to rinse,” he rumbled against her ear, hands on her waist as he twirled her to face him again. She tilted her head back, allowing him to sluice the shampoo from her hair, and once done, he lowered his mouth to her throat, sucking the water from her skin, while pulling her flush against him. Sera’s sex was throbbing for him now, and she was on the verge of pleading with him to fuck her, fuck her hard, when he cupped her bottom tightly, grinding his erection against her abdomen. “You are mine, Seraphina…all mine. Say it for me,” he demanded gruffly, his sudden possessiveness thrilling her, “Say that you’re mine…say it now…”
His fingers were digging into her flesh, parting her ass, overwhelming her with the desire for him to plunge all that he was straight to her core. “Oh god, yes,” she cried out, “John, I am yours…all of me, yours…all I want in the world is you! Roughly, he spun her to face the shower wall and pressed her body against the slick service, and she heard herself beg, unashamed, “Please, John…take me…fill me…fuck me…prove that I’m yours…”
Khan gripped one of her hips from behind, while using the other to push the leaking head of his cock into her pussy. Sera gasped with relief, then renewed her plea, “Make me yours, John…please…let me be yours…forever…” With one strong thrust he was fully inside her, soon reaching around to finger her clit, and then setting a perfect rhythm for them in a few moments more. Sera closed her eyes, her cheek resting against the cool tiles, giving herself over to whatever he willed–trusting her lover, her dark, magnificent prince, completely. Down to her very soul.
She came three times in all, as he fiercely drove himself inside her, the first time just after he bit her shoulder. Such a shock and something Sera would never have accepted from any other man–but from John, from this towering, spectacular demi-god of a man, nearly anything would do. “All mine…forever mine…” he growled against her ear, repeating it like a mantra while his fingers stroked her exposed lips, denying direct contact with the sweet nerve bundle of her clitoris until he decided she was ready to come again. By the third time, Sera was lost to coherent thought, only aware of where their bodies connected, the clench and release of her muscles around him pure bliss. Khan’s breath had gone jagged, signaling he was ready to explode. “Come in me, John,” she urged him, “Come in me hard…fill me to the brim…” With that, he could bear the strain no longer, convulsing hard and deep inside her, letting nature take control as he emptied himself into her welcoming womb. Beyond the physical stimulation, it was Sera’s elation in the divine union of their flesh, that had her seeing stars when her final climax overtook her.
Lusciously shaken, Sera leaned her full weight on the shower wall, pressing her fevered forehead to t and splaying her hands upon the tiles–feeling exhausted and hollowed out, but also completely safe within Khan’s arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back anchoring her in place. Several minutes passed, and he reached to turn the shower off, for she had begun to shiver as the hot water had grown tepid. He was so gentle now, exactly as she needed him to be, so that she turned to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
“There now, my angel,” he husked, smoothing one hand through her wet hair, “My sweet little flower...my refuge...my hope...” Such loving epithets, after the fury of how he’d taken her. Sera was trembling, overwhelmed with mixed emotions, not surprised at all when her tears began to flow. There were things she longed to tell him, but could not even begin, for the lump in her throat.
Most of all, she wanted to beg him to change his course, to choose her over his far off family, to see with eyes wide open that her heart was in his hands. She cried quietly while he rocked her, ashamed of her selfish notions and that she couldn’t quell her tears, fearing that he would think her a weakling, and thus not worthy of him.
Eventually, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, scooping her up in his arms and laying her upon the unmade bed. Khan laid down beside his Sera, and rolled her onto her side so that he might spoon her. Coming back to herself, Sera began to apologize for crying, but he would have none of that. “Sweet Seraphina, do not be sorry. You experienced a powerful release; there is no wonder that it touched your heart deeply enough to trigger such emotion.” When she shook her head in denial, he sought to soothe her further. “And your tears flatter me, my dove...for they are proof that I have touched your heart as well.” He rested his nose and mouth against her damp hair, “It has been far too long since a soft, sweet woman shed such tears on my behalf.”
Sera’s breath hitched as she accepted his tender reply, and then Khan told her, “Now then--you are weary, my angel, and your body is spent. You must rest for now, and fear not for tomorrow.” He pulled the sheet over them both, as Seraphina was already half asleep, assuring her as the oblivion of slumber stole her away, “Though our time together is too cruelly brief, I swear that the love and compassion you have given me is branded on my heart--and will sustain me through whatever trials await.”
Read the full story so far on AO3
tagging a few: @ravencatart @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @tsukuyomi011 @letterstosherlock @emilyinnj4real @isabeau13 @thelostsmiles @cinderella1181 @splunge4me2art @theanishimori @bamcrux (I seem to remember you enjoyed my Khan :-) )
a pre-STID adventure/romance by sobeautifullyobsessed
featuring John Harrison (Khanbatch), Seraphina DiPietro (original character)
adventure, suspense, danger, unwilling attraction...and a bit of smut, with more to come
Chapter Nine on AO3
Chapter Nine of FFN
...He surmised that Marcus and his people had learned a valuable lesson from the attempted capture in the desert; Khan was immune to the stun effects of phaser fire. While in captivity, he had never given them a reason to use those weapons on him—so knowing now that such weapons were useless to them (unless set to kill, he pondered, and they would not want to chance that), these men were equipped with projectile weapons familiar to him. In fact, examining the one he had pried from his fallen assailant’s hand, Khan noted it was not too far removed from the semiautomatic pistols of his time. He made sure the safety was engaged, and then tucked the gun in his waistband, at the small of his back.
Khan remained silent, listening intently for any sound that might lead him closer to Seraphina. The dark of the alley was nearly complete, except for spare moments when moonlight filtered through the wispier clouds. He heard the shift of bodies, and a female moan of discomfort; the cur had likely tightened his grasp on her, anticipating a showdown with his opponent, now that his partner was incapacitated.
Time to apply pressure; the odds had improved considerably, and Khan knew if he rattled the man’s confidence, he would be all the easier to overcome. “Seraphina,” he called into the dark, moving forward cautiously, “Remain calm, no matter what transpires. I promise I will have you shortly.”
Unshaken, Marcus’s man t’sk’d several times, before mocking him, “Awwww—that’s sweet…but you shouldn’t be making promises that you know damn well you won’t be able to keep.”
“Your cohort lies at my feet, and I promise that you will join him shortly.” Khan maintained a calm, even tone, seeking to erode his opponent’s complacence, “Did they not warn you about my deadly skill set? Or how many men I singlehandedly defeated to affect my escape?“
“You don’t scare me, Harrison,” he snorted, “I know plenty enough about you…”
“Such as?” Though his eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness—allowing him to mark vague shapes--Khan needed to keep the brute speaking, as he waited for another break in the cloud cover. A break long enough for him to discern Seraphina’s condition, and enough to set his prey solidly in his sights.
“Let’s see—how about that you’ve got a soft spot for this…” Seraphina yelped alarmingly, and Khan balled his hands into fists, hard pressed to restrain himself from immediate action, while promising himself the bastard would pay dearly for any mark he left upon her, and every moment of pain he put her through. “…this pretty thing. Oh, the things we’re gonna do to her once we get her back to the lab,” he taunted, laughing wickedly, “And maybe we’ll even give you a front row seat for the festivities.”
“Your efforts to goad me into action are foolish beyond measure,” Khan informed him dispassionately—far from his true feelings. In reality, he imagined driving the voice’s owner to his knees before crushing his skull with his bare hands. “And I believe you only managed to find me out of sheer luck, despite your stunning incompetence and miscalculation.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” came the grunted reply, “You really don’t have a clue do you?” And then, eager to assert some sort of superiority, he revealed the answer to the question Khan had been unable to resolve for himself, “You’re supposed to be this off the charts genius—but you’ve been tagged, you sunuvabitch.” Voice dripping with derision, he added, “Tagged like some stupid animal. And like some stupid animal, you couldn’t even figure that out.”
For the first time since his escape, Khan felt out of his element, doubting himself. It made perfect sense; it explained how they’d found him so surprisingly, so quickly—but it had never even occurred to him. Yes, he hadn’t been quite himself in the initial days of his return to consciousness; he’d experienced moments of uncharacteristic mental weakness—and even a feeling of despair, when he realized how completely alone he was, stranger in a strange land, surrounded by creatures that controlled every moment of his life. He had attributed these things to the effects of his long cryo-sleep. He wondered now if he simply hadn’t lost his edge...
read the whole story on AO3 or FFN...and as always, thank you for reading!
Holding her as tightly as he dared, Khan laid his cheek against the soft cushion of her hair, while she wet his neck and collar with bitter tears. Without a second thought, he began to gently croon, meaning to calm and console her, “Softly, now, my sweet flower. I have you now, and will keep you safe.” Other kindly words he offered, grateful to feel her trembling slow and then cease, as she came back to herself.
When she had quieted completely, she withdrew a little from his arms, lifting her tear stained face enough to meet his eyes with her own. They held no anger, or accusation (both of which he so richly deserved), and Khan surprised himself with the flood of tenderness that welled up in his chest—until he realized it was that same old weakness of his, astounded at how quickly she had found a place inside his secret heart. Such a complication could not bode well for his success, and yet a part of him was grateful he could still feel such softness after all the months of pitiless cruelty which he had endured.
Tenderly, Khan brushed his lips upon her brow, pulling her close again, to murmur words of comfort between quiet kisses to the crown of her head. “There, my brave one…my sweet flower…my pretty, pretty Seraphina,” he told her between those modest kisses, allowing himself to deeply inhale the perfume of her hair again. And as had been inevitable from moment he had carried her unconscious form to recover in the cool of her hovercraft, that familiar fragrance of jasmine and honey broke through his final vanguard of stoicism, opening the floodgates of his most bittersweet memories.
This was the scent he would forever associate with the last time in his life he was truly free of care–before he was forced to fulfill the destiny designed for him by scores of others. None of whom had ever grasped the simple fact that inside his superhuman body—and despite his formidable brilliance and cunning—dwelled the very human doubts, vulnerabilities, and confusing jumble of hormones and adolescent emotions, of an average fifteen year old boy.
Not here, not now, Khan chided himself; the stakes are too high to give these thoughts play, and so many lives—including Seraphina’s–depend upon what I do in the days ahead.
my writing, from upcoming chapter of A Khan By Any Other Name
A pre-Star Trek: Into Darkness fanfic by sobeautifullyobsessed
Early in his captivity, John Harrison manages to escape Admiral Markus’ secret facility in San Francisco, planning to rescue his crew from their imprisionment in London. Fortune provides some unexpected assistance when the antique Mustang he has stolen breaks down in the Mojave--but his Good Samaritan is in for more trouble than she ever could have imagined. Suspense, danger...and some healthy smut to follow (I promise!).
from Chapter Six:
...she dared a look down the road to see how Harrison was faring. No surprise there—she was just in time to watch the tail end of Higgins losing the battle. She said a silent prayer that her perplexing companion had abided by the condition she had laid upon him to minimize the force he used to dispatch their pursuers. Even at a distance, he looked no worse for wear; he must have evaded that phaser fire with his lightning fast reflexes--or Higgins had been a lousy shot. Harrison reached over the unconscious man to retrieve his fallen phaser, and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back. He sprinted towards her. Behind her, Petrocelli moaned weakly.
Inspecting the scene, Harrison nodded his approval of her handiwork. “So--the lovely desert rose has thorns after all.” He moved well into her personal space once again, close enough for the warmth of his breath to tickle her skin, as he told her, “Handily dispatched, Seraphina.”
Though somber in manner and speech, Sera read an unexpected mirth in his striking eyes, and in the faint smile lines that bracketed his all too tempting mouth. “Yes,” she told him, aiming to sound cool, even as she warmed from his compliments, “That’s something you best remember about me, John Harrison.”
He considered her quietly, his eyes widening at her bold assertion. “Indeed. It seems I would be a fool to forget it.”
His face hovered kissably close above her; Sera felt caught in the intensity of his molten gaze, mesmerized by the luscious natural pout of his lips (wondering helplessly, how they might feel pressed against her own), and flattered beyond reason by his generous regard. I’m in trouble here, she thought; this man is dangerous--and any foolishness is all mine. She fell back from him a step or two, hoping he had not read the folly on her mind.
His eyes darted towards the space behind her, and in a flash he had drawn the phaser at his back, shunting her aside to fire a clean shot at Petrocelli--who had struggled to his knees, but soon lay face down on the hardtop.
“What the hell,” she cried out, equally surprised and offended by Harrison’s sudden action, “You didn’t have to do that. He wasn’t any threat.”
Ignoring her, Harrison brushed by Sera, bending over to pick up the jackknife that had fallen from Petrocelli’s hand. The blade was short but nasty looking, and had likely been intended to hurt her. Harrison folded the blade into its casing and pocketed it, before turning her way. “This may come in handy,” he informed her. He turned the unconscious man onto his back and began rummaged through his pockets. “We’ll need whatever hard currency we can find. If they’ve identified your hovercraft, our movements can be traced through any use of your credits.”
Sera shook her head, wanting to clear the confusion about what just happened. “This is crazy,” she muttered, “And I must be crazy to let you manipulate me into helping you.”
Harrison straightened, implacable in answer, “You determined your own fate, Seraphina, when you stopped to help me. And your innocence will be no protection against those who pursue me.”
She bowed her head, sighing hard in regret and resignation. “Right. No good deed goes unpunished. I never understood before now, how true that statement could be.”...
