Work Text:
One day, a few weeks after his fifteenth birthday, they wanted John to change out of the sky blue fabric that clung to his frame. So he did. He asked why but he got shunned like always, and he wasn't going to get in trouble this week for being too inquisitive. He's been good this week.
The clothes he’s wearing now are subtly formal in his opinion. The silk, henley tee feels soft like silk against his warm skin, it smells strongly like vanilla-planifolia. He wonders if that’s what attracts old grouchy men who scratch their balls and sniff their fingers like no one would notice.
The black leggings stretch around his slim legs, the old geezers seem like the way his calves flex as he crosses his leg over the other. Each time he unintentionally shifts, a senator shifts as well, their carnivorous gazes seeking up his body.
John has seen what erections look like already, but the knowledge doesn’t make him feel any better.
He’s had one himself a few times, it feels like an ache, a strange one that comes and goes.
An itch.
John could smell the arousal in the conference room, an oval-like table that had once separated one senator from another, the shiny leather chairs adorning each side of the rounded table.
Most left. John obediently stays in his seat, fingers curling around his folded arms. He wishes the henley tee was thicker. The room temperature back in the facility is what he’s used to being in for an extended amount of time, not this one, where he can hear the creak and skitter within the vents in the far left corner. There’s a fan in the passageways, the dust particles cascading from the blades, floating in mid air like lazy fucking summer flies that try to land on his face when he Vogelbaum used to take him on walks in the forrest.
A dust particle that John seemed to be hyper fixated on lands on a middle aged mayor’s reindeer red nose as the old geezer’s lips curl into a cynical smirk.
“You’re quite the eye candy.”
John raises a brow. “Eye candy?”
“How old did they say you were?”
“Fifteen.”
The senator adjusts his pants, mutters something about how pink his lips look. John still sees his erection despite the old geezer’s attempts at hiding it. He absently caresses his folded arm with one hand, his palm soothing the goosebumps that coat the milky pigment. His other hand instinctively reaches up to brush his fingertips along his ‘pink’ lips.
He’s not being supervised anymore. John glances around the empty conference room, seeing how the people that were assigned to be watching him left with Stan Edgar. He was told before departing the facility that he’d be gestured to follow, but there was no gesture this time. John feels a hand on his knee, the sweatiness of the senator’s hand seeping through his black leggings as the palm ominously runs up to his thigh.
He’s very slim, quite a thin teenager, and so, the old man’s hand covers almost the entire expanse of his leg.
Instinctively, he tenses. John leans back against the chair as he feels his legs being parted, the senator’s hand shifts up towards his crotch. He keeps his arms folded over his stomach, not wanting the perverted senator to notice how hard he’s sucking his gut in. “Skin tight leggings, mm-mm, a young thing like you. I bet you can crush my head between these legs, can you?”
Both of his hands cup John’s thighs, squeezing and kneading the muscle.
John shrugs his shoulders, tries to ignore the odd heat coiling in his groin. “I dunno.”
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” The forgotten mayor asks. John bites back a burning retort. He’s not supposed to be cute, he’s supposed to be mighty, fearless. Dominant. The argument would be ironic though, especially in his situation.
The senator kneels between his parted legs, shoving his face nearly into his crotch. “Try and crush my skull.”
Tense, John looked back at the fearless mayor and his eyes widened a fraction. Oh, the man’s jerking off now. His cock is comically tiny, yet girthy but it’s nearly swallowed up by his ridiculously huge balls that have some sort of acne on it. It looks like a glistening square with soft edges, including human foreskin. John’s never seen someone pleasure themselves before.
He’s so distracted, he doesn’t catch the hand coming down to smack him across the face. John’s head turns to his side from the impact, a dull, yet unpleasant sensation occurring on his skin. He gasps out, unfolding his arms, cupping his cheek. The senator hikes his legs up over his shoulders, the man’s stubble rubbing against the black leggings hugging his skin. “I said try and crush my skull, you little fuck.”
John obediently squeezes his legs around the old geezer’s face, hearing the stress occur in the guy’s facial muscles while he grunts and groans. He hears a wet sound, fast paced rubbing. He glances down curiously. The senator is jerking off too and his nose is bleeding.
Oddly enough.
Pain seems to be his thing. John didn’t know humans were like this.
The forgotten old mayor gets close to his face as John sits back in his chair and wonders to himself. Should he be.. jerking off as well? He doesn’t feel like he should, he’s not really turned on. The senator that’s masturbating to being crushed by John’s legs had already ceased stroking and caressing his thighs, which had felt nice while it lasted.
The mayor suddenly cums on his face with a shuddering groan. John flinches and lets out a gasp of discomfort as semen nearly spurts into his eye, he instinctively covers his face. The spurts of the old geezer’s seed hit his palms, his fortunately white shirt. John sucks in a deep, disgusted breath and loosens his thighs around the senator’s head, he tries to wipe the mess off of him to no avail.
It’s not over, the senator pulls away, standing up between his legs. Hands cup underneath John’s armpits, he’s lifted off of the chair to his surprise. He lets his arms hang limply at his sides, the senator moves his hands from his armpits to encircle his torso, John feels his chest being pressed into the senator’s who was injured and sweating. The mayor chuckles.
John doesn’t feel okay.
The senator holds John against him as he sticks his dick between John’s thighs, thrusting in and out between his silk leggings. He keeps John’s feet from touching the floor, the young supe is just hoisted up in his arms like a fuck doll. John grasps his shoulders for some sort of grounding, but he tries to focus on the fans hidden in the vents, the dust particles.
The mayor’s cupping his ass, playing with it. John feels his thighs burn. The black leggings are beginning to become worn and thin from the friction.
Once the senator and the mayor finished their activities, the senator approached the door the others left out of. He knocked once and in came Stan Edgar along with the rest of Vought’s board. John folds his arms over his stomach once more as the oval conference table becomes full again, he’s not sure what exactly happened.
He has a feeling it was just another experiment though.