[ Poe is practically limp in John's grip as the man pulls his head back, kissing him back with his eyes closed, body humming, already exhausted. He lays with his cheek on the bed while John undresses, relief its own kind of drug.
When John pushes into hims he lurches, still tender, sensitive almost to the point of pain. He's nothing but nerve endings, feeling the pressure of John's body through the pattern of ropes, feeling his kisses like electric shocks against delicate skin. The slackness in him fades with every plunge, muscles tensing up again, and this time he actually does whimper, the sound not much more than an exhalation.
John says You're perfect, and Poe wants to say No I'm not.
He's not, he's not, he's anything but.
He's vanishing, fading into the feeling winding up inside him like a corkscrew being pushed past its last turn, stripping away his last sense of himself. Every anxiety, every worry, every responsibility, driven out of his head and into nothingness.
Poe wants John's hand on him as much as he wants John inside of him. ]
Touch me. [ He gasps it out, realizes at once that it's not enough to just ask. Not like that. ] Please.
[ A thrust, the heady press of John's dick, and Poe thrashes involuntarily in the ropes. He's losing his grip, what was left of it. He tilts his head back and whines deep in his throat. ] God, please.
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When John pushes into hims he lurches, still tender, sensitive almost to the point of pain. He's nothing but nerve endings, feeling the pressure of John's body through the pattern of ropes, feeling his kisses like electric shocks against delicate skin. The slackness in him fades with every plunge, muscles tensing up again, and this time he actually does whimper, the sound not much more than an exhalation.
John says You're perfect, and Poe wants to say No I'm not.
He's not, he's not, he's anything but.
He's vanishing, fading into the feeling winding up inside him like a corkscrew being pushed past its last turn, stripping away his last sense of himself. Every anxiety, every worry, every responsibility, driven out of his head and into nothingness.
Poe wants John's hand on him as much as he wants John inside of him. ]
Touch me. [ He gasps it out, realizes at once that it's not enough to just ask. Not like that. ] Please.
[ A thrust, the heady press of John's dick, and Poe thrashes involuntarily in the ropes. He's losing his grip, what was left of it. He tilts his head back and whines deep in his throat. ] God, please.