#Verse -> Closed;SSolessurvivor

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor finally gets that thing that I have wanted to write for a long time now lol

The moments after utter bliss has been reached, when the frequence of both their heartbeats slows down inside their ribcages, sweat starting to evaporate on their skin - prompting one of them to reach for the blanket and cover their frames - are always filled with the most sense of calm, the most comfort and deepest intimacy; At least to Khan it feels this way, and he's sure that Logan will agree.

Logan, the man who currently rests within his embrace, face against the crook of his neck, with Khan's nose burying itself into the soft, blonde strands of hair in return. The man who has managed to rip Khan's heart open and crawl inside, where he's destined to stay for forever - to never leave again. The man who is more wonderful than everything else Khan has ever seen - and felt - in his entire life.

Blue eyes flick open, stare into the darkness of their bedroom as the seconds pass; He inhales, exhales, watching the bright light of the moon spilling inside through the window, listening to the sounds of their breathing, feeling the naked skin of his beloved against his own frame. He's thought about something for a while now, wondered when the perfect moment would be - and perhaps this moment isn't it, not if one were to judge it based on how special it is...

But it feels right. It feels like as if the right time has arrived, the one where Khan will open his mouth and---

"---If you could have even more of me..." His voice is low, deep and vibrating as he speaks; A mixture of velvet, honey, lavender, a hint of smoke and something raspy that melts into semi-sweet chocolate. "...more than I already give you, more than you probably could ever expect to get of me... ---would you want it?"

No, he does not look at the blonde, does not move; His mouth and nose stay buried within that hair, eyes continuing to glance at the light, arms wrapped around that frame that has went through so much and yet is still here - fought to survive, so that Logan, in the end, could end up with him, of all people.

Khan's heart skips a beat, then stumbles before it continues with its usual, slow pace. A thing that rarely happens, but does now, for a lot of different reasons.

[mistrdctr]

Closed, plotted starter for @ssolessurvivor

To be fair, Stephen hadn't planned to be here. Simply because he's only taking the really, really interesting stuff - and, just a few seconds ago, every new patient that had been submitted was far from that. Far from interesting enough to catch his attention.

However, when Christine had told him that the guy that's just arrived sustained injuries that are otherworldly, so to say, and that he is the only survivor of a whole colony planted up onto that god-forsaken moon named Mimas... well, let's say that Stephen had changed his own mind rather quickly, within one sip of tea, actually.

So that's why he is here, fully dressed up, hands gloved, mask covering half of his face. The man - or whatever one can still see of him, really - is in quite rough shape; There's more blood on him than seems to still be pulsing inside his veins, where it belongs, and his injuries are severe. They might be the most severe thing the Neurosurgeon has seen up until this day - and he's been working here for a little while, after all.

Even though he's here to manage the brain-stuff, Stephen actually finds himself switching places during the surgery that takes so, so much longer than anticipated; His steady hands are very much welcomed here and let's just be honest, he loves to show off. To be the one re-attaching nerves that are deemed unsalvageable by others gives him a bit of a kick, so he does that here and there, connects tissue while others connect bones, then puts his attention back on that brain that has seriously suffered from not only the attack the man has survived, but also the freezing cold his body has been exposed to for what must have been a prolonged amount of time.

But, funny enough, that has also saved him, in the end. Prevented too much tissue from dying, getting shock-frosted instead and preserved. After bringing the poor guy back from the death mid-surgery, and after hours and hours of intense concentration and firm focus have passed...

... They're done. Surgery is over.

Fuck, Stephen hasn't felt that exhausted in a while. He drops whatever he's holding, lets someone else deal with the aftermath of sewing remaining wounds shut and clean up, all of that, before he turns and leaves to the sinks; Christine hurries after him, taking his bloody gloves and helps him out of his equally as bloody gown.

"Hope that guy's got a good insurance.", is what he tells her, to which she rolls her eyes at him; He's used to that, so Stephen doesn't mind. "---That's going to get expensive on him; I'm not in the mood to deal with another law-suit, all of that."

"Charming.", is what Christine replies, and the surgeon lets out a little sigh in return before glancing back over his shoulder, briefly so.

Despite the way he acts... he's actually quite fascinated by that case. The fact that this guy, this man, is the sole survivor of what must have been unspeakable horror. The injuries are noteworthy; Stephen will write them down later, create a bit of a file, simply because he's never seen something like that before and his morbit curiosity strikes with that one.

Little does he know that, many years later, he will think of it again...

[ssealsskinned]

Indie Fandomless OC, sideblog to @/ssolessurvivor

Highly private/selective. Queue heavy/slow activity.

Multi-verse, multi-ship, crossover friendly.

Penned by Saturn (she/her, 28+), minors do not enter.

// memes //

Banner & promo credit: [xx]

Gif icon credits: [xx]

Affiliates: @ttheagcd // @wehavefoundthestars // @paramounticebound // @incissam //

Aesthetics: seaside mornings, toes in the sand. Hair wet with salt water, sunglasses perched on a tanned nose. An unknown, aching loneliness for knowing where home is. Conservation efforts for coral reefs and other aquatics. Life in a swimsuit with an old flannel as a cover up. Wetsuits as a work uniform, flippers in the ocean. Grandmotherly hands as a force of nature, encouraging the child to follow her dreams. Found family, big smiles, but quiet when alone.

Bio under the cut. Rules here.

Name: Rain Stirling 

Age: 29

Likeness: Camila Mendes 

Species: Selkie, harbor seal genus 

Immediate Relations: grandmother, father (in hiding), seal siblings (she is unaware of them)

Occupation(s): aquarium diver, coral reef restoration volunteer

Defining Traits: 

-She’s warm all the time, making it consistently hard for her to feel the cold. 

-Can hold her breath underwater for an almost abnormally long time for humans.

-Freediving is something she finds enjoyable, and often something her friends point out is ‘weird’ that it comes so easily to her. 

Biography: 

The first year of her life happened in the ocean, the watchful gaze of her father, a harbor seal, raising her on his own. The pup would grow with confidence and her father would make a decision. Shedding his seal skin, the man would bring his daughter, Rain, to his grandmother on land to raise the girl away from the complexities and rather short life she would have as an animal. Even if the woman he ended up mating with left the two when the girl was born, he wanted the best life Rain could achieve. 

She would never meet her father as she grew older. She would, however, get to swim with a seal who ended up in their harbor town almost every month like clockwork. Her grandmother knows exactly who that seal is, watching as best he can, his daughter begin to flourish.  

Rain was a lively young girl who wanted the most to know where she belonged. Early on, she had an affinity for the water (thank goodness her grandmother lived within walking distance of the ocean). Rain found herself wandering the shallows most of the day and running back to it after school. This affinity for aquatic life led Rain to have a passion for preserving coral reefs and caring for the oceans. This sense of purpose gave her a distraction for the ache of her heart on her worst days when she felt unequivocally lost. 

All through elementary school and high school, she gained and lost friends quite frequently. She didn’t understand why it happened other than typical bullying or loss of interest in her own hobbies by her friends. Only when she got to college did she find a group of like minded people who became a force somewhat close to a family she might want. They introduced her to zoology and Rain takes a few classes here or there trying to learn about aquatic life in the oceans. Does she have a particularly intense interest in seals? Has she stumbled upon the legend of the selkie and thought it fascinating and maybe…familiar? Like she’d seen it in a dream? Maybe. But she keeps all that fanciful talk to herself and from her grandmother. She doesn’t want to feel like more of an outcast than she already is. Whenever she wants to feel normal, she goes to work where she dives into the enclosures and cleans up a bit around all the other fish. Feeding them or even petting some (those who don’t post a threat, that is). Waving to kids who find it so cool and she can serve as a silent role model. 

If only she didn’t feel like something, some part of her is missing. Why she is the way she is and who was responsible for that. Where she’ll curl into herself at night, craving a warmth she doesn’t know is truly missing. 

For now, Rain spends time with her friends who have stuck with her since college, continuing to take classes when she can to further her passion for conservation or zoology. Or folklore.

[respondedinkind]

Plotted starter for @ssolessurvivor

Something must have gone wrong at some point during Ka'anh's escape - because the last thing he remembers is that he made it, that he managed to get his beaten body to a shuttle and leave his home behind, flee from the special forces sent after him to try and get him to succumb to his fate.

Now, however, he's not where he should be, he can tell; He's not sitting within his shuttle, he's not controlling it in any way, he's not flying it through the vast distance of space.

He's lying on his stomach instead, face down, and the surface his face is pressed against isn't made of cold steel but rather of... something else. Something that smells different; It tickles his face, which Ka'anh barely feels, because the pain he experiences is probably the worst he's ever gone through.

A moan escapes him, deep and guttural; Something stabs into his abdomen, somewhere next to his navel, the rhythmic pulse a telltale of something dangerous happening within his skull. Every fiber of his existence is on fire, every nerve ending sending signals through his body at speeds that overwhelm him, and with every breath he takes, Ka'anh can hear his lungs rattle like he's pulling chains through his ribcage.

This might be the first time he actually wants to die - to just stay here and give up, to have this pain fade and leave him, throw him into darkness to never return. But of course he does not give in to the urge; He's a soldier, he's made for survival, and he doesn't want the fight against his own kind to have been for nothing - it wouldn't be worth it, deem it a failure despite his success to get away from a home that never has given him the comfort it should have in the first place.

Somehow, Ka'anh manages to move - he uses his left arm to push himself up, which, in return, causes his frame to roll onto his back; He cries out as he does, the pain that shoots through him so intense he feels like he's going to puke his guts out, but it does not happen, not yet. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared in agony, Ka'anh inhales, exhales, inhales and exhales - he whistles as he does, not on purpose but because his lungs continue to collapse, a rib or two must have broken through the tissue. His body shivers from exhaustion and effort to keep him alive, and when Ka'anh finally manages to crack his eyes open, he is greeted with blobs of blue and green, but no clear image that tells him where he is.

Brain damage, his mind successfully provides, most likey from whatever he's suffered through. He hears the sound of broken machinery, smells molten steel - he must have crashed somewhere, he assumes. Get up, get up, get up! Assess the damage, assess your health, figure out where you are and how you get away again!

As Ka'anh tries to do exactly that, he realizes his injuries must be even worse than expected - one of his legs doesn't cooperate, it's likely broken at least twice, somewhere along the hip perhaps. When he blinks to clear his vision, he can see the blurry shapes of his own self as he looks down - spotting his shirt being torn, soaked with blood, his shaking hands equally as bright red in color as he holds them up in front of his face. One wrist must be broken, it bends awkwardly, and the stabbing sensation from earlier is a piece of metal debris poking out from the left side of his lower abdomen.

"---Wi..." (Fuck), he grunts, his head falling back to the ground as he takes another breath, trying to steady himself. Only after a second he tries again, growls as he sits up, then somehow manages to turn back around so he is on all fours (or, all threes, as his one leg is of no use). His wrist creaks under the pressure and he, as quickly as he can, shifts his weight to his other hand - then uses the bad one to wipe away some sweat and blood from his forehead, blinking again as he takes a peek at what surrounds him.

His shuttle, wrecked. Nature that's unfamiliar to him, including trees and grass. The scent of blood is overwhelming, and despite everything being quiet it almost feels deafening, the silence added to his own blood rushing within his ears. He huffs, takes another breath, feeling nausea hitting him in sharp bursts to which he swallows - trying to keep it at bay.

He needs to... figure something out. He has a medkit somewhere, but to find it will be close to impossible with how damaged and torn his shuttle is. Perhaps his body would cope on its own, but with the concussion, the metal sticking inside his abdomen, the multiple broken bones all over his frame, the collapsed lung, possible internal bleeding... chances are slim, even for someone like him.

Ka'anh gives in, finally, and retches - covering the grass beneath himself in crimson, coughing in between, the pain almost too much to handle. Too much to exist. Too much to endure.

He thinks he hears something, somewhere - like twigs snapping beneath weight, perhaps. Fuck, where is his gun?! Where is it?! He can not find it on his own body as his hand starts to pat himself down...

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

Part of Khan almost regrets having spoken at all.

He's been watching Logan for a while now, secretly so; The blonde is not as sneaky as he thinks he is, after all, with Khan having noticed those mismatched irises lingering on him ever since the other has stepped out of the bedroom.

To be fair, Khan has done this on purpose - left the bathroom door open - if only to have his lover see him, take in the sight of his almost-naked frame still slightly damp and blushed from the recent shower, most private bits covered by his boxer briefs only. But then, on the other hand, Khan simply feels... comfortable doing it, to show himself in such a way, enjoying the casual nakedness around the other.

He'd also enjoyed it to be oogled like this, felt pride rising within him - and now he feels the corners of his mouth rising as well at the sight of his lover's cheeks turning pink as they hold eye-contact through the mirror, with slender, gel-covered fingers shaping and molding his hair in the process.

A hum leaves Khan at Logan's words, his own blue irises focusing on the faucet when the blonde's trail away; He washes his hands, frees them of the product sticking to them, then dries them off - and, once done, Khan turns to face his human, stepping forward so as to close the distance between them.

"---Sounds like my... alluringness is a good thing, however.", is what leaves Khan's mouth soon after, voice as dark and sonorous as it always is, just the way he knows Logan likes it; His fingers meet the man's chin, feeling the stubble beneath his fingerpads as he lifts that mismatched gaze back up to his own, with Khan tilting his head to the side as he leans down simultaneously---

The kiss is of sweet nature, but lingers a bit too long for it to entirely be innocent. Khan keeps his mouth closed, just opens it briefly to nip on that plush bottom lip of the other before he breaks the contact, standing back straight with that smirk on his features persisting.

"You're always allowed to take a look. No matter when or why." No need to be shy, is what Khan means - I am yours, after all.

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

It actually amuses Khan - a lot, to be precise - to see just how long it took Logan to realize what he was doing; Both of them had started to decorate the tree, right after the blonde had explained to him that this is apparently a thing humans do, bring trees inside to put lights and ornaments on them during the cold season... and simply because he'd found it endearing to see the man being so involved into the act, Khan had decided to be a little cheeky himself.

So, he'd put some lights around Logan's shoulders. Then, around his waist. Then, some more around his arms, some more around his middle---

Logan had been so deeply distracted by his task at hand that he only now realises he's stuck, and very much incorporated into the string lights that are curling around the tree's branches. Literally.

"---Took you long enough to notice.", Khan taunts, cheekily so, as soon as their gazes meet; Logan's own words are not lost on him and Khan hums, lifting his chin a bit, making sure he's properly looking down at his beloved in a gentle, yet teasing way. Then, he speaks, and sounds as playfully deadpan as he can possibly be while voicing out the next words into the silence of the cabin: "You're being too cute. That's a crime. I had to stop you from proceeding."

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

No, Ka'anh still does not understand what the other says whenever he talks - the language keeps being foreign to him, and, to be fair, with how much he's been drifting in and out of consciousness during the last days, his brain couldn't really find the appropriate amount of alert-time time to try and figure out any of the spoken syllables.

In fact, Ka'anh - despite standing - remains feeling tired, exhausted, his bones heavier than usual and his seriously fractured leg is still giving him some grief. Yet his body had begged him to be moved, to finally raise from the couch he'd been placed onto a little while ago to recover - so here he is, finding himself standing in front of the bathroom's doorway, taking in the sight of the one who has picked him up and brought him to what must be his home.

With his concussion having healed enough, the bruise on his brain mostly gone, he can see clearly now, finally - and yes, he is holding himself pretty well, all things considered. Most of his weight rests on his right leg, however, the left still sore, especially at the hip - he keeps it a bit stretched out, to the side, as this is the most comfortable position for him to be in as he stands upright. His wrist and attached arm still hurts a bit, fingers numb, and the internal injuries haven't fully healed yet... but he's doing okay. Much better than a couple of days ago.

And with that being the case, Ka'anh takes in the sight of the man he knows is named Logan; He assumes it's the case, as the universal communication tactic of pointing at oneself and repeating a word over and over again is usually meant to bring a name across. Doesn't matter. What fascinates him much more instead is the way his skin looks like. No, Ka'anh did not expect to meet him almost naked, but since he's already here, he might as well take in the sight of the many scars he can spot decorating him. They're ones left behind by what must have been a serious injury, more than just that, perhaps life-threatening; It tells Ka'anh that this race, whatever they call themselves, heal differently, less efficient, but still impressively so for what they appear to be. The remnants of the man's suffering offer information to him about his kind, his physique, everything really - and Ka'anh is eager to learn, a set of black brows knitting as he tilts his head ever so gently to the left side, bright blue eyes flicking along the seams of skin attached to skin with the upper part of his nasal bridge wrinkling in thought.

Logan must have been stitched up before, healed back together with the help of a needle and thread; Said scars are scattered all over his torso, up to his neck, on which Ka'anh's gaze rests for the longest. Then it flicks back down, over the other's chest, before - finally - moving up to meet the set of mismatched irises he's gotten to know over the last few days.

"...Goi croiroguene." (...A survivor.), he concludes, muttering those words under his breath. Someone who made it, fought a battle and won, but at what cost?

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

It rarely happens that irritation seems to be the main emotion pulsing back and forth between the two for the whole of an interaction; They've developed into something so symbiotic that conflicts of any kind feel foreign, as if both men are stepping into territory they almost never visit to begin with, trying to figure out how to navigate through that experience.

But here they are, and even though the cause for said irritation has already left, is most likely not even sparing a second thought on any of the two, it has left an impression on both Logan and Khan, disrupted their little haven of comfort, poked sensitive parts that haven't been disturbed just yet.

Khan knew, however, from the very beginning, that it would only be a matter of time until someone would inquire about... everything really. As hidden as he is, able to blend into mankind with ease - his shuttle was not.

They never managed to retrieve it, to get rid of it, before someone else could have found the vessel, after all; He's sure that his technology is now resting somewhere inside a place that's hidden from society, strictly confidential, with some kind of organization trying to figure out what it is and where it came from.

"---This is not how being alive works.", is what Khan gives as a reply; His own voice is just as stern as Logan's has been, but he tries to keep it soft around the edges. It's hard, though, with how agitated the two have been ever since those men have stepped foot onto the blonde's property and asked about suspicious alien activity.

A set of full lips purses, a palm comes down onto the kitchen table, fingers splaying. Khan's nostrils flare as his blue irises focus on his partner, intense and clear, a bit fierce perhaps. It's hard to not fall back into habits he's tried to shrug off over the last months---

"There will never be a time where we won't have to face such so-called obligations - and even though we seem to be lucky enough to exist where we are, it's foolish to assume that no one is ever going to put our resilience to the test."

A breath is being taken, one that fills the whole of Khan's lungs - he exhales it slowly, suddenly feeling a pang of... something appearing right in the middle of his chest. A pang of... guilt. A pang of sadness, perhaps. It squeezes his heart, makes his ribcage feel a little more tight---

'I came here to have peace and quiet.'

Those words hit harder than expected, even though he knows that wasn't his lover's intention. Yet Khan pauses, feels himself straightening as his hand slides away from the smooth surface of the table; His jaw clenches, gazes averting as he turns around, puts his own face out of plain sight so that mismatched irises won't be able to take it in. A gesture well-known.

... Without Khan, this wouldn't have happened. Without him, Logan would be able to have his desired peace and quiet. He did have it for some time after all, managed to relax and calm down with the help of nature, his cabin, the silence. But then he, Khan, crashed onto his planet and---

Nostrils flare, irises flicking back and forth between some imaginary points; Another breath is taken and Khan's head lowers a bit, neck craning, as the very same hand from before now reaches out almost idly and allows sensitive fingertips to brush along the nearby windowsill... around the potted succulent standing there, existing, growing.

"I know.", is what the answer is after a while, a sonorous voice deeper than usual, even. "---I know. And that's what you deserve to have."

And yet... Because of Khan being here...

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

Logan's scars will forever remain a constant that keeps pushing and pulling on his emotions, tugging on the point of view he has on himself, changing the perspective those mismatched irises have on his own existence. It happens fluidly, and sometimes appears within seconds - the blonde can be utterly happy in one moment and then feel the exact opposite just a fraction of a second after, and Khan is used to that by now.

In fact, he can sense it happening; It's perhaps a little hard to explain to humans, the way his own body works, his senses, the way he takes in the most subtle change of aura lingering within their home; It's a distinct change of scent, the chemical composition of his partner recollecting itself and shifting, paired up with the gut-feeling of something not-being-right.

So, whenever it happens, Khan just knows and he appears, perhaps a bit out of nowhere, to search for Logan. It's easy to find him today, as the moist air from the bathroom is carrying the man's self so easily through the whole of the cabin... and, besides that, Logan simply couldn't be far.

They are living here, sharing a home, after all. Together.

Nostrils flare as Khan inhales, his fingertips sliding along the scars with the utmost display of respect and affection at once, his own body so sensitive that he experiences the touch intensely, noticing the individual changes of texture in the tissue - some parts are more firm, others more soft, and at some places the skin feels almost cool to the touch while others appear hot from the previous shower the younger man has taken.

Logan's gaze flicks down, away from their reflection, and Khan's hand continues to trail while the other arm remains curled around a slender waist; Fingertips reach a set of collar bones, trace along the contour of those, touch more of those scars that paint such a pretty picture of his human being alive along a neck that has survived so, so much. To Khan, the scars are beautiful, because they show how his lover's body - and the human medicine - were able to fight death, and remind him that, had things happened in a different way, they both wouldn't be where they are now.

Khan would be without Logan, alone, unloved - and he doesn't want to imagine a world, a reality, where they didn't find together, not living within the small cabin, sharing each other's breaths, hugs, kisses, gazes and moans.

A thumb and forefinger find their place on each side of the blonde's jawline, pushing - being careful, but doing it with intent, so as to bring Logan's gaze back up, have those mismatched planets that linger within the man's irises gaze right back at Khan, though the reflection of the two men in the mirror. Blue eyes linger on his human's in return, and while Khan could say so many things...

He chooses to remain quiet.

He just stands there now, holding Logan's face up, keeping their gazes connected this way, with the arm around his beloved's waist giving a subtle, barely noticeable, but very much loving squeeze.

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

The closeness of the other, the warmth they begin to share, immediately sends that very much welcomed and sought-after soothing sensation through Khan's being; From head to toe, then back up, accumulating in the middle of his chest where it sinks in further and pulses in rhythm with his heartbeat.

He loves it so much - just as much as he loves he man he shares a bed with.

"Mhm.", is the soft sound that crawls from the depth of Khan's throat as a reaction to the blonde's question - it's equally as slow-exhaled as the words he's been met with before, soft, gentle. As if Khan himself has just awoken from a rather deep slumber...

"---Just wanted to make sure... you're... still here."

Just wanting to check if his human is still around, hasn't gotten up - or worse, decided to leave him for good - and, most importantly, hasn't turned into a dream which Khan sometimes fears to wake up from, realizing he's back at his home planet, meant to fight another war at the cost of innocent lives.

But thank god Logan is here. He is with him, and he's very real.

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

When he is awoken from his slumber - mumbled, pained words hitting his ear, accompanied by elaborated breaths and heavy gasps, the mattress beneath his frame shifting with every frantic move next to him - Khan knows what's happening without even needing to think about it.

He's gone through his fair share himself: Nightmares, bringing back moments of suffering, making them feel utterly real, with a body reacting violently to the trauma that is sitting deep inside one's mind. He knows Logan experiences them just the same as he does; It's not the first time he's awoken by them, and yet, this nightmare seems to be one of the worst that has ever appeared since Khan has been around.

Turning on his other side, facing the blonde, pushing himself up onto his elbow, Khan swallows down the urge to wake him - he knows about the number one rule when it comes to soldiers being haunted by their dreams: Never wake them up. Let them come back naturally, by themselves, as they'll be catapulted into fight-or-flight mode otherwise and might cause harm to loved ones on accident if pulled out forcefully from the horror they experience.

It's the same for every species, it seems; Humans and his own kin alike.

So Khan watches, worries, brows knit, until his partner's eyes open. Even then he is still waiting, still not interacting; Only when Logan blinks and seems to know where he is, trying to flee the bed, Khan finally wraps an arm around him and keeps him from sliding away into the darkness of their bedroom.

He wants the other to stay here, with him, where he will be safe. Tentatively, carefully so, Khan cups a pained face and turns an attached body onto his back, shifting half on top of his beloved to add calming weight to his frame; Their gazes meet and Logan keeps gasping, keeps sweating, keeps shivering and trembling - the worry on Khan's face only deepens, interlaced with concern and heartfelt sympathy. He wished he could take all of this away from the man and suffer through it himself so Logan doesn't need to.

He's barely spoken out his request, the simple question breathed into the air between them, before their lips collide and he's pulled even further on top of his human. Khan lets it happen, brings his whole weight down onto that cold body to shield it from the outside world, keep it warm, safe and protected while teeth clash together and tongues dance around each other in what is probably one of the messiest, yet deepest and most emotional kisses they've shared. The eagerness in the blonde's action is repeated by Khan whose nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, licking and sucking and nibbling on soft flesh as his other hand finds its place on the other side of a pretty face to now hold it between two palms; To keep Logan safe, keep him secure, make him feel he's here to protect him.

Only after what feels like an eternity of aggressive kissing, with both their lips swollen from the onslaught, Khan breaks the connection - but only so that he can start to kiss his way down a chin, then along a jawline; His hand retreats for the purpose of that, with Khan's lips and teeth brushing up to an ear where a tongue licks along the shell as he exhales slowly. Then, the kisses resume, wandering along the side of Logan's neck, pressed firmly to sweaty skin to make sure the blonde feels them, does not get lost in any other sensation, focusing on Khan instead of letting his previous nightmare consume him. The beginning of a scar is reached, one of many, just about a second later - and Khan kisses it as well, eyes squeezed shut, nose smushed against tissue as his lips keep resting against skin that has once been ripped apart and then stitched back together...

"I'm here.", is what he mumbles before kissing the spot again, his other hand continuing to cup the man's cheek, thumb painting circles into the spot right beneath his eye. "---I'm here. You're safe. I got you."

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor cont. [x]

... Actually, Logan did wake up Khan, back when he'd gotten up and climbed out of bed a few hours ago, causing the sheets to shift and a familiar warmth to disappear. However, Khan hadn't acted out on his urges to stretch a hand out, to keep the other close; He knows that Logan sometimes just cannot rest, similar to how Khan himself feels.

It had been a small miracle in itself that he'd actually managed to fall asleep once more, for another couple of hours, once his human had left his side - but here he is now, up as well, before the sun has even managed to climb above the horizon. The sky, however, is already colored in pretty shades of violet and orange, filling the safe space of what is their little cabin in the woods.

"No, you did not." Slender, long fingers brush through the strands of golden hair once more, feeling the softness against the skin, before the very same hand slowly descents to cup a pretty face; Khan tilts it to the side, ever so gently, while he leans down and then presses a gentle kiss against Logan's cheek - which is then followed up by another, but directly onto a pair of pouty lips this time.

The touch lingers for just a couple of seconds, then Khan lets go and stands straight, his hand falling away; He hums, offers his lover a hint of a soft smile before turning, making his way into the kitchen to get the coffee machine running for the two of them. He knows how to do it by now, his movements precise and skilled, aware of how much ground coffee and how much water to use before he presses the button and lets the thing do its work.

"---I think it's also quite... adorable that you need them.", is what he says, just loud enough for Logan to hear; Khan spots a few dishes in the sink and decides to clean them up real quick, liking to be distracted in the morning while waiting for his hot beverage to be finished. "The ... reading aid, I mean. Glasses. I think you call them glasses, right?"

Something within him feels almost proud (and a little smug) about the obvious proof that he's, once again, superior - because he certainly doesn't need a reading aid. It's endearing how fragile humans are, is what Khan then thinks to himself with a smirk playing along his lips.

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor asked: " how did you get this scar? " [Memes I recently reblogged | always accepting]

Khan's body doesn't really scar, not at all; His impeccable self-healing abilities allow for injured tissue to grow back together without ever leaving a trace, causing cuts, slices, holes, tears and everything else to fade away as if nothing has ever happened to begin with.

That means his body also doesn't tell a story when it comes to his past - does not tell of moments filled with agony he's been forced to suffer through, of moments where he'd almost died but not quite, of moments where he'd roughly sewn himself back together on the battlefield while fighting a war meant to bring honor to the rulers of his rome planet.

... However, the very same body which never scars, which heals almost every kind of injury, which pumps blood through his veins that humans would probably call a miracle by itself, actually broke its own rules just once.

Because here Logan is, having found that single scar that decorates Khan's skin, with his thumb tracing it as he speaks; A little thing it is, almost appearing like a dent, sitting next to the right corner of his mouth, along the lower edge of his bottom lip. It's not impressive by any means, could very well just be a thing he was born with, a simple flaw...

But it's not. It is a real scar. One that was caused by an actual injury that has long since healed ...and only remains as a memory, edged into the crooks of Khan's brain.

Now his lover, his beloved, his human, asks about it - his voice quiet and soft within the comfortable silence of the evening, causing a set of blue eyes that have previously fallen closed to flick back open.

Logan asks, and he shall receive an answer - because Khan would tell him anything he wants to know, no matter how personal, how sensitive, how mundane or important.

"By force.", are the first words that leave a set of full lips; The sun has long set, the cabin's only lit by a small lamp that offers just enough light to see but keeps their surroundings feeling warm, calm and cozy at the same time. A fire crackles inside the hearth, making the air smell like wood; Khan loves the scent, his eyes focusing on the dancing flames which reflect in the bright of his irises.

"---I disobeyed.", he continues after a while, lips parting briefly before they close again. A second passes, another, a set of nostrils flare as he inhales, then exhales. "And I was punished for that. For hours, I assume. When they were finished with me, with the task that had been given to them, I couldn't feel my face anymore. ---I didn't dare to look into the mirror once I was able to get up from the floor."

He was too afraid to see what they'd done to him, afraid of what he would see instead of his own, well-known features.

A set of eyes falls closed again, unable to keep open as the previously mentioned memories flare back up; He can still taste the copper sticking to the roof of his mouth, can still remember how much it had hurt to breathe, can still experience how raw his skin had felt as he'd tentatively ran his fingertips across his face---

"... I couldn't eat for a full week, because I wasn't able to move my jaw or swallow anything else than liquids. Most of my teeth were gone, too. It took an additional week for me to be able to breathe though my nose. I think I wasn't able to see for... three or four days. I couldn't hear on my left ear for just as long. Something like that. Sensation only returned to my features after all of that... little by little, over the course of weeks."

His body managed to reconstruct his face, to bring back what had been lost due to the punishment he'd received: New teeth appeared, his lips grew back together, so did his jaw, his cheekbones, his nose; His eyes recovered, his senses returned, so did his ability to smell, to taste, to feel anything touching his skin.

Khan knows what he'd looked like, despite not peeking into a mirror. He's seen it on others, he's seen what has been done to them. Pictures of cruelty that are hard to digest, even for him, a man who was meant to become a heartless, stone-cold elite soldier.

Once again, a set of nostrils flares, inhales the scent of burned wood, of Logan sitting close to him; Khan turns his face so that he can rub the tip of his nose along the side of the blonde's neck, displaying the affection he feels, keeping himself calm this way by searching for closeness in the most subtle way possible. One more inhale, more of his partner's scent. It sets his mind at ease.

"---When I eventually had to look at myself again, somewhere during the healing process, I, thankfully so, was not met with the sight of raw flesh anymore. But I wasn't healed either; My skin had only partially reattached itself, created lines and crevices that still bled, that still ripped apart when I moved too much. My mouth was..."

... Khan doesn't add to that. He doesn't want to go too deep into the gruesome details of what his reflection has looked like back then. So he swallows, allows a second to pass, then continues.

"However, in the end, all the injuries healed well, as we can see. ---But... the scar on my bottom lip remained. For some reason my body wasn't able to heal the tissue without leaving an imperfection behind. And that's how I got the scar."

An imperfection that should not exist, yet does. Perhaps that fact alone is telling enough.

[respondedinkind]

@ssolessurvivor asked: love can make up for a lot. [Memes I recently reblogged | always accepting]

Can it?

A set of blue eyes blinks open at the blonde's words, looking back up at the afternoon sky with a gentle breath leaving a set of nostrils; Khan hums, slow and thoughtful, while shifting a bit on the stairs he sits on, outside of their little cabin. Logan is joining him, it seems, taking a seat right next to him with two cups of freshly made coffee in his hands on which said eyes now focus on instead of the white clouds.

One for him, one for Khan. Still steaming, smelling of... comfort.

Slender fingers reach out and take the offered one, accompanied by words of gratitude, before Khan averts his gaze - then sips on the hot liquid, nursing the edge of the mug as he stares at the nature in front of them, watching foliage move gently in the wind.

Love can make up for a lot.

It sounds like the blonde knows. Perhaps he's experienced it before, at some point of his life. Love. But maybe he's speaking about them, about what they experience for one another? Khan isn't too sure, and he doesn't want to make any assumptions, especially since they haven't really... said it yet.

Actually, Khan has, in his native language however. His partner, obviously so, did not understand, but he guesses the sentiment could have come across. Besides that, he's sure that the blonde holds feelings for him; They wouldn't be where they are now, otherwise.

Love can make up for a lot.

Nostrils flaring, oxygen is pulled through them into a set of large lungs, filtered there and then exhaled back into the world surrounding him. A world that functions so differently from the one Khan comes from, a world where he doesn't need to become an elite soldier, a world where they're currently existing in peace and quiet.

And... love. Khan certainly is existing with love filling every fiber of his being. Love for a man he probably would have never met had he decided to not try to flee from the situation he'd been born into.

And suddenly, as he thinks about it, Khan feels himself... agreeing.

The love he feels makes up for what he's gone through. It makes the pain more tolerable, it makes the sorrow feel less heavy on his tongue, and it makes harsh emotions calm with the warmth he experiences.

"...You're right.", is what he finally decides to say, after a few minutes of silence. With a hint of a smile appearing on his lips, bright blue eyes flick over to briefly meet the pretty, mismatched irises of his lover, then they focus back onto the trees... "---Love can make up for a lot."

He hopes it will stay for a while - that love they're talking about. Hopefully for forever.

[respondedinkind]

He's been so distant today and Logan can't help but feel such love for his studious, stoic Khan. It's been pouring down rain for hours now, the sunset muffled by clouds lending to a lavender haze far off in the distance. Logan puts the rest of the dishes on the drying rack, dries his own hands, and strides over to his lover to try and bring him back in the cabin, so to speak.

A hand goes to Khan's shoulder, where it slowly slides up the other's neck and to his cheek, where he might gently pull the other to look at him. "Get out of your head, love." It's a murmur before the blonde is leaning in for a couple kisses tender in nature, sweet and everlasting. Even if he could kiss Khan for hours, he stays his hand, reluctantly pulling away so he can then push back some of those errant black strands of hair, gaze into those fathomless eyes. "What's wrong?"

Khan is miles away.

Miles upon miles upon miles, so many of them that it's hard to put them into an actual number. To be honest, Khan doesn't even know how far the distance truly is - hasn't done the math and is unable to, simply because he cannot tell where he once was and where he is now within the vastness distance of what is the entire Universe.

His gaze lingers on the purple, the hints of orange, the droplets of water that trail along the glass in front of him - his ears listen to the sound the rain creates as it collides with the window, the way dishes clink against another, interrupted by a pause and footsteps that seem to come closer.

Because even though Khan is a million miles away, surrounded by stars and planets, he is also still here, on earth, surrounded by the cabin and the man he's fallen so deeply in love with.

The hand sliding along his shoulder, his neck, causes goosebumps to appear and a set of ears to twitch, almost - accompanied by the gentle flare of nostrils and a pair of eyes that follows the motion of his head as it is turned to face Logan, the motion ending with their mouths molding into a kiss.

>>>Get out of your head, love.

It's hard, sometimes, to get out of his own head; His mind is powerful, so much so that it can hold him hostage at times, force him to stay within a past and memories that will never leave him. He blinks, slowly so, a deliberate action being taken as his bright blue irises meet the mismatched ones of his beloved, shoulders rising and sinking as a deep breath is being inhaled, then exhaled trough a set of parted lips.

>>>What's wrong? So much is right, so much is perfect, so little is wrong. Nothing that will affect them, their existence, while being here, inside the little cabin surrounded by nature. It is inside Khan's head, and it has grown with his own upbringing and will forever be a part of him.

... Khan cannot explain it. Doesn't know how to tell about the way his self feels like it's at low tide. So he just keeps looking at Logan, the man he adores with all his heart, and wonders how to regard him - what to give as an answer.

"...It's raining.", is what he finally says, before he can even stop himself - helpless, perhaps. It has been raining the whole day. Khan has been inside ever since.

[respondedinkind]

you are so fucking sexy.

"Sunday" themed promps || accepting

The way Logan's eyes rake over his body - basically peeling him open, exposing every inch of his already completely naked body - sends hot shivers down each individual knob of a superior spine, accompanied by the expansion of a chest as he takes a soft inhale of air; Khan smirks, stretches a little, shows off what he has to offer as he rests upon the sheets, with the blond straddling his hips... a predator gazing down at his prey, mismatched irises hungry and filled with desire that Khan can taste on the back of his tongue.

"---Am I?", he asks, playfully so, as he lifts his arms, folds them behind the back of his head; Blue irises, pupils equally as blown, gaze right up at his partner, chin lifted, neck exposed, adams apple bobbing as he swallows. Khan's lips are slightly parted, shiny with spit and flushed in deep shades of pink from having been intensely kissed before, the same hue also blossoming along the center of his chest, his shoulders, his abdomen...

"Glad you're enjoying the sight."

A pair of hips pushes up, teasingly so, causing something very much eager to rub against the shape of a cute, round ass that's not Khan's own...

"I am also all yours - every inch of me is in your possession. You might do with it whatever you want..."

Khan's smirk grows, turns cheeky, inviting perhaps, maybe a bit challenging on top of everything... He likes when Logan becomes possessive, a little dominant, allowing himself to express his desires and needs in such ways - and he will never get tired of when it happens, when they seem to switch positions...