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The ambient heat of the submersible is stifling.
Sweat beads across Simon’s face and body, occasionally creeping out from the confines of the dotting perspiration to roll slowly down the surface of his skin. The sensation made his whole body ache in a weird way that he couldn’t put his finger on. It’s not quite the soreness of pain, or even something dull like a lingering bruise. This was something else.
It was almost akin to a yearning. It had that same slowly rolling sensation in his body.
He didn’t have time to be thinking like this right now.
The hull creaks around him, warning him of the immense pressure around the welded metal structure that was holding him.
He’s been down here for… fuck he can’t remember… days?
Something had happened.
The coordinates showed that his location was off the map.
He was stuck here, in some god forsaken cave system at the bottom of an ocean of blood, slowly running out of oxygen.
Simon’s head felt heavy on his neck as he craned over the console in front of him. He sways from side to side ever so slightly.
He was tired, his body heavy and his vision hazy as he looked at the single light displaying the vessel’s oxygen level.
He could’ve been staring at it for a few seconds. Maybe it was actually closer to several minutes.
Time feels so impossibly slow.
He idly runs his tongue along the split in his lip, tasting his own blood and letting out a strained groan.
He swallowed dryly, the internal pressure created in his ears mirroring the pressure of the creaking vessel he was welded into.
He felt a dull throbbing sensation in the front of his pelvis.
Fuck—
Simon never did get any time unobserved while he was in prison.
He didn't like being watched.
He shifted himself slightly, letting his t-dick press into the edge of the uncomfortable chair at the control panel.
He gasped softly.
It throbbed again, rubbing against the inside of his ratty underwear.
He kept rutting against the corner of the chair, slowly growing impatient and frustrated with how little sensation he was actually getting from the motion.
He was safe here, tucked away in a little pocket of quickly depleting air.
He wanted— no, he needed more of that feeling.
His vision was fuzzy anytime he moved his head so he closed his eyes and carefully leaned back in his chair.
With the slow, deliberate movement, Simon felt something in his chest pop back into place. A rib maybe?
His whole body felt hot, tingly, and weirdly alive in these moments that might be his last.
It was kind of intoxicating.
The taste of blood oozed gently from the interior of where his teeth had his busted lip on impact.
His tongue couldn’t seem to leave that spot alone.
Simon had never been adverse to blood. Hell, when it was his own, he was kind of into it.
Maybe he was a masochist. He didn’t know.
It never mattered before. All he really cared about was that it made patching up his wounds after fights easier.
Now though, with slow, strained breaths, he decided to indulge a bit.
He pulled his thickly woven shirt up and over his chest, being extra careful around where he heard his ribs crack before.
He held the bottom hem between his teeth so that it wouldn’t roll back down over his breasts.
His right hand ran down his chest and over his abs.
Besides his breasts, which themselves had been flattened by the effects of testosterone, his chest was all sculpted muscle.
When he worked out was one of the few things he got to have control over while he was in prison, so he stuck to a very tight schedule. Gave him something to do.
His hand continued to follow the contours of his body downward, stopping just shy of his belt.
Was he seriously doing this?
He hesitated, his brow furrowing for a moment before he finally undoes the buckle and presses his back into the back of the chair, lifting his hips so he can more easily slide his pants and underwear down his legs.
He felt… exposed…vulnerable, but at the same time…
The submersible creaked and groaned just as his body did.
It was an extension of himself, as well as being his only armor in this situation.
A bead of sweat trickled down Simon’s temple, rolling down his jaw before dripping onto his chest and continuing down his torso.
With his eyes closed, it almost felt like someone else’s finger trailing down his body.
The thought made him whimper softly.
The trailing bead continues even lower, joining the dampness of his sweaty bush.
The inside of the vessel on its own was acrid, but the mixing of that deep, metallic smell with Simon’s distinctly human sweat created a potent combination.
He grabs his nipple with his left hand, rolling it between his fingers and sucking in a breath slowly through his nose at the pain he found.
It’s like his whole body was one big bruise and he needed to keep pressing on it.
His thighs flexed in the tired, artificial light of the submersible.
Simon’s fingers rub small, hesitant circles into the sensitive mound of flesh at the root of his t-dick.
God, it felt so good.
His head hung limply over the back of the chair, letting out short, quick breaths as the thoughts about how little oxygen he had left panged a dull panic throughout his awareness.
He wasn’t going to make it out of here.
He was just so tired, clinging to hope with everything he had for so long.
He let go.
The hopelessness wrapped around his mind like a weighted blanket. It made it easier to not care and to just keep moving.
He would be lying if he said it didn’t heighten his excitement.
Simon’s fingers dip into the wetness between his folds, feeling the warm slickness on his fingers for a moment before continuing to jerk himself off.
He takes it nice and slow. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Not that he even could.
The tightness in his body was almost nauseating. He’d been so tense for so long.
His head was spinning.
Fuck—
He needed this so, so badly.
His toes curled in his boots, his feet flexing against the floor of the vessel.
Simon’s fingers that held his breast twisted, his face contorting in the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure at the sensation.
He slowed his movements, wanting to savor this, but a desperate whine spilled from between his teeth.
It's as if his body was moving on its own.
He needed this right now and he needed this more than anything.
His breathing was ragged, but he could only barely make it out between the creaking walls of his metal tomb and the blood pumping through his ears.
Simon’s teeth pressed into either side of his shirt, his jaw grinding as he focused with everything he had.
He could feel himself approaching a plateau of sensation, the way his body and mind tensed at the edge of unraveling.
Simon bucked his hips into his hand, continuing to rub his middle and ring fingers in a quick motion across the shaft of his clit, occasionally stopping to pinch the head between his thumb and forefinger hard enough to make his breath catch in his throat.
Fuck— fuck— fuck—
A choked growl rumbles in his throat, muffled from where he was holding his shirt up.
His body shook as he kept up the movement with his hands, his hips raising off the seat of the chair so that he was just held up by his back pressing into the back of the chair and his feet against the floor.
The muscles of his hole clenched around nothing and a surge of wetness squirts out over where his pants and underwear lie loose around his ankles.
For a moment, he was blind to the world, his body continuing to move on instinct alone.
It was so violent he couldn’t even be sure if he was making noise or if the shriek he heard was the submarine being shaken by some otherworldly force.
When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the pulsating soreness.
His body was hanging limply in the chair bolted in front of the control panel. His limbs felt like lead.
He groaned as he leaned up into a seated position, hearing a familiar cracking as his rib once again moved from where it had been.
He felt confused and vaguely ashamed.
Was he… was he still alive?
He had felt like he was dying for a bit there.
Maybe not anymore.
Nothing felt real anymore.
Had that really happened?
He touched his body, his hands patting gently around his torso and then his legs.
The vaguest sensation of pleasure surged through him, but it was almost immediately drowned out by a surge of adrenaline and dull pain.
What was he doing? He didn’t have time for this, he had to keep moving.
The second wind took over him as he shakily stood up, pulling his sweat stained pants back up his legs and focusing on making it out of here alive.
He would get out of here alive…
…Right…?