[John's conquest was never in question. Not since he started working. He's not scared of the ropes, anymore. It's just another tool he's mastered, and is utilizing to his needs, and it feels natural as it glides between his palms. The same way his rifle is just an extension of his arm, and pulling the trigger is just the same as twitching his finger.
John pulls the rope up from behind Poe's back, seemingly unconcerned by his sudden fidgeting. He splits the rope, catches it between the two halves of the central piece, pulling it into a wide diamond, then back out around Poe's torso again. It criss-crosses beautifully over his hips, above the swell of his pelvic bones, and just under his ribs, making countless knots as he works. Binding Poe's stomach and chest, spreading the tension over his body, though it all feeds back to his dick. A calculated choice.
John's gloved hands trace the sides of his body, catching over the ropes, up under his arms, dragging over biceps to elbows. He grips them firmly, and presses them above Poe's head.]
I want you tight and arched, like a bow. You've already got the arrow.
[ Line by line, knot by knot, the whisper of rope against skin settles Poe's nerves while the ache of his cock stays as a steady throbbing between his legs. His legs themselves are starting to tremor, little shivers of muscle against the silk. It's tiring to hold them close enough that his dick doesn't serve as their anchor.
Poe closes his eyes and breathes in sharply at the feeling of John's gloved hands tracing over his skin, every hitch of the ropes against them. The tag and pull of leather and silk, then leather again on bare skin. Then John has his elbows over his head, held down, and Poe snaps back to the present.
He doesn't want to want this.
The tremors in Poe's legs have traveled up to his abdomen, as he arches, trying to fight John's weight. He pushes back against John's grip on his arms, but the other man has him at a profound disadvantage.
And every time he arches, the ropes pull around that arrow of his, until Poe makes a whispered noise of pain. ]
[John sits back on his heels, the mattress buckling beneath his booted feet.
He doesn't let go of Poe's arms, though. His thumbs stroke over the soft underside of Poe's bicep, smooth and hairless. The skin there is almost delicate, turned inwards for a reason. To protect arteries. The human body is a beautiful thing, and John was trained to exploit it long before the concept of ropes crossed his mind.
John looks down into Poe's eyes, connecting.]
Do you remember what you did to me?
[For a moment, John feels a flicker of fear in his gut. What if Poe doesn't? What if it hadn't meant anything to him, and he'd just been playing? Pushing John's buttons because he could, just to see what would happen? John doesn't want to think that's what it was. Can't believe it, even for a second. Even if it were true. It would hurt too much to know his struggle, his vulnerability, his tears were just for Poe's amusement.]
[ He swallows. Can't look away from those green-gold galaxies. His answer barely qualifies as more than a whisper. ] Yeah.
[ He remembers. He can't forget. He made John cry, made him shake and buck and weep and call his name, and Poe is terrified of going to that place. He's terrified of being that far in someone else's power.
He's been there once. He's been there twice, now, been broken open and had pieces of himself dragged into the light. And both times it was cruel. It was a nightmare. It left him broken and exhausted, violated, tainted.
[ Poe doesn't say anything. He closes his eyes against the burn starting in them, hopes to stop the tears, but all that does is get them to fall. Tracing down across his temples, into his ears, into his hair.
But he doesn't say anything.
He wants to trust John. He wants to trust him more than anything, but.
But, but, but, always that word. Always that resistance.
He opens his eyes again. What was it he'd said to Finn, months ago now? The First Order and their ghoul don't get to control me like that.
Poe meets John's gaze, still crying, and stays silent. ]
Then he remembers how Poe pushed him, past the tears, past his protests, into a space that was pure and beautiful. Poe has issues. They both do. Issues that stop them from letting go. From trusting. From loving and being loved.
They don't talk about these issues. John doesn't know all Poe's suffered, and he won't ask, but sometimes his eyes are just as sad as they are beautiful. He doesn't have to know to want to take that hurt away.
He kisses the tears away from Poe's face, stroking the the wet back through his hair.
Then he moves his hands back to Poe's elbows, pushing them high over his head, and passes the rope up behind his back, tugging it tight through his ass, and wraps it around his wrists.
Looking down into Poe's eyes, with all the strength he has, John forces himself to speak from his gut. To give Poe the truth he's demanding from him, and lead by example.]
[ John is so gentle. There's nothing to be afraid of here. There's no failure at the end of this if John takes everything. There's no danger, there's no betrayal. It's where Poe took him. It's where no one else has bothered to push Poe himself, not in a way that doesn't hurt.
He feels a tug at his dick as John pulls the ropes taut and ties his wrists together. He's breathing fast, telling himself over and over again that this is all right, that it's John, that it's fine. The pull of the ropes doesn't feel good this time. It feels like a rapidly dwindling window of escape.
Then John says that. Poe looks up into John's face, the warm damp of tears still on his temples even if they've stopped flowing. He's scared. There's nothing to hide from John how scared he is, not when John is so close and Poe feels so helpless. ]
Okay. [ He closes his eyes and says it again, this time more to himself. ] Okay.
[Seeing Poe's fear only makes John want to protect him more.
John would die for this man, he knows that much. He would die for him, and he wouldn't regret doing it. Really, he couldn't choose a better way to go than sacrificing himself for the sake of someone he loves.
In a way, John almost looks forward to it.
He passes the rope over Poe's hands, winding it around his palms. The silk is smooth against his skin, only catching over calluses. This is one of the trickier areas to navigate, and requires his full attention, but it's hard to look away from Poe. He doesn't want him to feel abandoned.
A pause, thinking, he exhales in a soft hiss and returns to his work, but with a slightly different strategy. Battle plans always change. It's important to be flexible. He tugs his gloves off with his teeth, tossing them somewhere onto the floor, and what connection he can't make with his eyes he makes with his hands instead.
He grips Poe more firmly, fingers dimpling his skin, warm and tactile. He binds Poe's wrists to the opposing bicep, passing the ropes beneath his arms, so his elbows wing up and out. His fingertips brush against Poe's flesh with every movement, and especially with each knot tied, which he presses into place before moving on.
Sweat beads on John's brow, but there's no sign of exertion otherwise. In ten minutes he has Poe strung just the way he wants him, taut and arched like a bow, ready to be drawn.
John sits back on his heels, still astride Poe, arms draped over his knees. Looking down at him, and the intricate web of rope, John's struck by a strange combination of desire and accomplishment.]
[ This time, Poe tries to focus on the feeling of the ropes and John's hands. He watches John's face until the man looks away, and then closes his eyes again.
It's easier to relax with them shut. It's easier to drift into the feeling of pressure on his abdomen where John straddles him, his dick where the ropes wind around it, the tracery of silk over his body. The steady slide of the ropes across his arms, each bit of applied pressure sending an odd little jolt through him as John finishes a knot.
The tension eases out of him.
By the time John finishes he feels like his whole body is humming, like he's laying on top of a the casing of a repulsor engine in the sun. It's a drunk, drifting feeling. John speaking is almost a shock.
Poe shifts like a man waking up, the pressure of the ropes holding him in place as he tries to stretch. Silk on his stomach, silk pulling at his arms, the friction of silk around his dick.
He just looks at John for several seconds, sorting out the man's words in his head. ]
[Feeling the way Poe went soft and still beneath him makes John's heart skip a beat. It's the first time he's felt like Poe's really relaxed tonight.
John smiles, grazing his thumb over Poe's lower lip.]
Wait for me.
[Not that Poe has a choice. He's fully restrained, now. Helpless. The more he struggles, the tighter the ropes will slip, and the harder they'll rub.
He climbs down off the bed, boots hitting the floor with a thump.
John bought more than just rope. There's a black duffel bag beneath the bed, the same bag he uses to bring gear to and from work. Tools are tools. Poe won't be able to see John from where he's lying, but he'll recognize the sound of the thick metal zipper by ear.
It's John's instinct to rush back to Poe, to check on him and make sure he's alright, not too uncomfortable, but he resists. Takes his time lubing up the long, chrome vibrator he bought specifically to this purpose.
Still, John can't resist singing up to him, feeling more and more excited by the second. The hair on the back of his arms is standing on end. The apprehension is killing him.]
[ Poe shifts again, tries to lift his head to see where John's gone and if that sound is what he thought it was. He hisses and goes still as the ropes rub against his tender cock and slide over his balls, pressure edging upward and staying there. It feels like there's something pushing down on his pelvis, which doesn't do anything to stop the humming he seems to feel.
He can't see the other man, can't tell what he's doing, and there's a brief flutter of nerves in Poe's stomach. ]
John?
[ He barely recognizes his own voice, tentative as it is. Then John speaks, and Poe lets his head fall back against the bed. Exhales something like relief. ] I'm okay.
[John chuckles under his breath. Poe, is... adorable, right now.
He stands, finally, wielding the chrome vibrator in one hand and small baggy of powder in the other. Not nearly the size of the stash Poe had brought with him the first night, but enough to have some fun.
Drinking in the sight of Poe, he stands at the foot of the bed with a sly smile.]
Good, because I'm just getting started.
[Dropping the powder at Poe's feet, casually, like it's nothing to be concerned with, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt and wipes the sweat away from his face and throat. Taking his sweet time.]
[The word babe slips from John's mouth, and Poe looks too perfect, is too perfect, for John to be upset about it. He can't quite stop himself from smiling. Really, there's just more teeth with Poe's every squirm. Wolflike.
John sits on the edge of the bed, pulling on his gloves again, watching Poe with sharp, hungry eyes. Razing over him. Yes, he's horny. Yes, he wants him, right now, but he's patient, too. There are some things worth waiting for, and seeing Poe fall apart, trusting John to hold him? He'll wait with the patience of a goddamned sniper.
He flips the switch on the vibrator, which kicks to life with a high-pitched whine.]
Okay, maybe it's payback.
[John grabs Poe by the leg binding and yanks him closer. He runs the vibrator along the inside of Poe's exposed inner thigh, teasing it along the sharp line of tendon straining towards his groin.]
[ Poe's gut lurches as John drags him closer, giddy with helplessness, bemused by the feeling. He didn't think he was the type. The vibrator tickles along his thigh and he shudders, dick twitching against the ropes.
He's more patient than you, is Poe's first thought.
His second thought is, He called me babe.
His third is, I'm gonna die. ]
If I said it takes one to know one I would regret it, wouldn't I.
[The cool tip of the vibrator traces the curve of Poe's ass, then follows the line of rope splitting his cheeks to the underside of his bound balls. John teases it beneath the rope, pressing the vibrating shaft against Poe's taint.]
I don't get to see you from this angle very often.
[Usually it's Poe folding John's legs up or under him, fucking him from on top, the side, or behind. John loves Poe inside of him, he really does, but he sees more of him this way. Parts of Poe that are usually hidden, and don't get as much attention when they're coupling.]
I like it.
[He plucks the rope away from Poe's ass with one hand, twisting it around two fingers, adding more tension to every knot, and drags the vibrator lower, until it's humming against Poe's hole. The chrome is smooth and sleek, already slick with lube, and John knows Poe's body well enough to know he can take it.
Not that he's rushing. He's happy just to watch Poe's face for a moment.]
[ Poe twitches upward, a little involuntary motion at the pressure of the vibrator against his taint, then again at the draw of the knots against his skin, limbs pulled tighter into their assigned positions.
He likes it. He likes it a lot. He's never done much with ropes--patience, again--let alone been on the receiving end. He didn't think he'd like it. At best he thought he'd be indifferent. But he likes it. There's no question of what to do or how to act. There's nothing he can do.
Poe licks his lips. He's going to try for something witty, something cavalier, but then John has the vibrator just so and he gives a full-bodied shudder instead.
He still can't let go. There's still that prick of fear, in his gut, in his mind, that he's on the verge of giving away something he won't be able to get back. ]
[John doesn't need to touch himself. Just watching Poe is almost enough. He's hard, of course, but delaying that gratification just serves to makes every minute tremble and quiet gasp that much more arousing.
He presses the vibrator into Poe, slowly, drawing wide circles with every inch that disappears into his body, stretching him out as he goes. John could have used his fingers first, as they almost always do, but he wants this to be different. Unique to this moment.
His eyes stay on Poe's face, hungry for his reactions. John really is doing this for him. Dominating him like this is both selfish and selfless. He wants to take this territory for himself, but none of it means anything if Poe doesn't want him to take it just as badly.
When Poe had been touching him, driving him to orgasm again and again, John had begged for him to stop, but he'd always known in his heart, and his gut, what he really wanted, which was for Poe to push his borders, and touch places of John no one's touched. Parts of him that were still clean, and unscarred.
John leans down, and wraps his lips around the head of Poe's cock, humming in tune with the vibrator.]
[ Poe arches slowly, like that somehow will help him escape the pressure of the vibrator, the pressure building in his abdomen, the slow unraveling of his defenses. His muscles tighten against the ropes. He pushes, then strains, drifting toward blankness, edging onto the verge and staying there, bucking a little with each pass of the vibrator over just the right spot.
Then John takes Poe's dick in his mouth and Poe shudders again. Forces himself down from that arch, muscles shaking, each tremor sending a ripple of heat through the rest of him. When he's sure John will follow, will keep his lips on Poe's head, he pushes upward again, trying to slide is cock farther into John's mouth. ]
[Poe tries to fuck his mouth, and John pulls back. That's not the way this works, and Poe's going to learn the hard way. Pun intended.
He looks up at Poe, licking his lips. Eyes narrowed with amusement.]
Bad. You're spoiled, you know that? Always used to getting what you want.
[He drags a gloved fingertip along the length of Poe's erection, and gives the underside of the head a light flick. Watches it bounce, straining against the ropes, his balls held high and tight against his body. Swollen to bursting. Poe's dick might be a little chilly after the warmth of John's mouth, wet with saliva in the slightly cool room. He deserves it.]
This isn't about what you want.
[John stirs the vibrator almost lazily, one or twice, then presses it up into Poe hard and deep without warning, aiming for the spot that makes Poe's toes curl and his jaw go slack. Watching his face as he does it.
He wants to take Poe apart like a gun, to hold him in pieces, and put him back together again. Carefully, at first, memorizing how everything breaks down and builds up, and then with such familiarity he could do it with his eyes closed. That's what John wants. To know Poe like that.]
[ Poe shivers, aggravated both by John's withdrawal and how right he is. He is used to getting what he wants. He feels ready to bust and it's starting to hurt and that steady hum inside him isn't--
John gets what he wants. Poe bucks, making a desperate noise as the vibrator connects and sends him tumbling over the edge, into a full-body white-hot reaction that makes the world around him disappear, makes it all dissolve except the pressure inside him. The extension of John's hand. He moans John's name, says it again, strains against the ropes and comes hard.
It all disappears. The room, the ropes. Poe cries out, a wordless noise, while his body jerks and his hips try to roll in spite of the being pinned down. Mouth open, head thrown back, wrapped up in the feeling. The vibrator is still there, still pressing hard as he starts to come down and into the aftershocks, and Poe can feel himself building again. He struggles against the ropes, determined not to beg, not yet, not this easily, not this soon.
He wants to say what's it about he wants to say what do you want, and instead he says: ] John, wait--
[Poe comes, and John forgets to breathe. He's as wrapped up in the moment as Poe is. Couldn't look away from him if he tried. He's breathtaking, every muscle straining against the ropes, all that strength, and he's helpless to do anything but shudder, and cry John's name. The sound of Poe's voice, torn from his throat like that, raw and unhinged, makes John's head buzz and his belly roll.
He hears his own voice, pitched low, thick and gravelled to his own ears.]
I don't want to wait.
[He digs deeper with the vibrator, presses hard, and gives Poe's tied balls a gentle, pulsing squeeze at the same time. They're so heavy in his hand, his cock redder and harder than ever, held rigid by the rope, just a little semen leaking from the tip. He can come from his prostate, and the way John is fucking him with the toy, but his dick is hostage until John sees fit to release it.]
[ He's never felt a helplessness this pure. He can't do anything. Say anything. Fight. He tries. He thrashes, he swears, he tries to close his legs and roll onto his side, but John's got his hand around Poe's balls and he was half-gone before that hard thrust from the vibrator.
The electricity of aftershocks giving way to a rolling thunder of sensation. He arches, pushing up with his elbows, muscles bowing hard. He cries out again, a loud, sharp, Fuck, then he's gone. If he says anything (he does, he curses in three languages, he moans John's name then says it like a swear word itself), he doesn't hear it. There's a ringing in his ears. The pleasure is so molten that there's no room in him for anything else. It rumbles through him, tears him up, and then he's laying on the bed again, sweating through the sheets and gasping while his body shivers with the memory of it.
Poe swallows, hazy and high with adrenaline and endorphins. There's a joke hovering at the edge of his mind, I think I pulled something, but he can't get his tongue to cooperate enough to voice it. ]
[John hauls Poe up by the ropes around his chest, kissing him savagely. Poe's tongue doesn't need to cooperate. John bites and sucks at his mouth, tastes the soft of his inner cheek, dragging his tongue over the cut of Poe's teeth. There's a tang of blood, and he's not sure whose it is. Doesn't care, either way.
He's seen and heard Poe buckle, bend, and nearly break. It's almost enough, but not quite. John twists Poe around, throwing him facedown into the bed. He's even more helpless on his front than his back. His gloved hands drag from Poe's clinched elbows down the sides of his body, teasing over the swollen skin peeking from between ropes, and catching on the ropes themselves. Down, down, until he's grabbing at Poe's hips, then squeezing at and spreading his cheeks, split by the rope, vibrator still buzzing noisily in his hole.
John pulls it out, finally, sliding his gloved fingers over his swollen entrance and taint, glossy with lube and sweat. He leans down over Poe, one hand braced on the bed beside his head, and bites the back of his neck, hard enough to bruise.
Then growls in his ear. Leather coated fingers still pushing, pressing, invading as he breathes in Poe's sweat and the scent of his hair.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[John's conquest was never in question. Not since he started working. He's not scared of the ropes, anymore. It's just another tool he's mastered, and is utilizing to his needs, and it feels natural as it glides between his palms. The same way his rifle is just an extension of his arm, and pulling the trigger is just the same as twitching his finger.
John pulls the rope up from behind Poe's back, seemingly unconcerned by his sudden fidgeting. He splits the rope, catches it between the two halves of the central piece, pulling it into a wide diamond, then back out around Poe's torso again. It criss-crosses beautifully over his hips, above the swell of his pelvic bones, and just under his ribs, making countless knots as he works. Binding Poe's stomach and chest, spreading the tension over his body, though it all feeds back to his dick. A calculated choice.
John's gloved hands trace the sides of his body, catching over the ropes, up under his arms, dragging over biceps to elbows. He grips them firmly, and presses them above Poe's head.]
I want you tight and arched, like a bow. You've already got the arrow.
[He's talking about Poe's straining dick.]
no subject
Poe closes his eyes and breathes in sharply at the feeling of John's gloved hands tracing over his skin, every hitch of the ropes against them. The tag and pull of leather and silk, then leather again on bare skin. Then John has his elbows over his head, held down, and Poe snaps back to the present.
He doesn't want to want this.
The tremors in Poe's legs have traveled up to his abdomen, as he arches, trying to fight John's weight. He pushes back against John's grip on his arms, but the other man has him at a profound disadvantage.
And every time he arches, the ropes pull around that arrow of his, until Poe makes a whispered noise of pain. ]
John. Stop.
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[John sits back on his heels, the mattress buckling beneath his booted feet.
He doesn't let go of Poe's arms, though. His thumbs stroke over the soft underside of Poe's bicep, smooth and hairless. The skin there is almost delicate, turned inwards for a reason. To protect arteries. The human body is a beautiful thing, and John was trained to exploit it long before the concept of ropes crossed his mind.
John looks down into Poe's eyes, connecting.]
Do you remember what you did to me?
[For a moment, John feels a flicker of fear in his gut. What if Poe doesn't? What if it hadn't meant anything to him, and he'd just been playing? Pushing John's buttons because he could, just to see what would happen? John doesn't want to think that's what it was. Can't believe it, even for a second. Even if it were true. It would hurt too much to know his struggle, his vulnerability, his tears were just for Poe's amusement.]
no subject
[ He remembers. He can't forget. He made John cry, made him shake and buck and weep and call his name, and Poe is terrified of going to that place. He's terrified of being that far in someone else's power.
He's been there once. He's been there twice, now, been broken open and had pieces of himself dragged into the light. And both times it was cruel. It was a nightmare. It left him broken and exhausted, violated, tainted.
It was nothing like John, but Poe can't help it.
He's terrified of that place. ] Please.
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[John kisses Poe's elbow, the tendon at the outside of his armpit, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, all the way up to the corner of his mouth.
But not his lips. Poe hasn't earned it.
He catches the rope around Poe's throat with his thumb, teasing beneath the edge.
Looking down into Poe's eyes, he tries not to feel wounded.]
Please sir, I don't trust you.
If that's how you feel, say it, and I'll stop.
no subject
But he doesn't say anything.
He wants to trust John. He wants to trust him more than anything, but.
But, but, but, always that word. Always that resistance.
He opens his eyes again. What was it he'd said to Finn, months ago now? The First Order and their ghoul don't get to control me like that.
Poe meets John's gaze, still crying, and stays silent. ]
no subject
Then he remembers how Poe pushed him, past the tears, past his protests, into a space that was pure and beautiful. Poe has issues. They both do. Issues that stop them from letting go. From trusting. From loving and being loved.
They don't talk about these issues. John doesn't know all Poe's suffered, and he won't ask, but sometimes his eyes are just as sad as they are beautiful. He doesn't have to know to want to take that hurt away.
He kisses the tears away from Poe's face, stroking the the wet back through his hair.
Then he moves his hands back to Poe's elbows, pushing them high over his head, and passes the rope up behind his back, tugging it tight through his ass, and wraps it around his wrists.
Looking down into Poe's eyes, with all the strength he has, John forces himself to speak from his gut. To give Poe the truth he's demanding from him, and lead by example.]
All I want is all of you.
no subject
He feels a tug at his dick as John pulls the ropes taut and ties his wrists together. He's breathing fast, telling himself over and over again that this is all right, that it's John, that it's fine. The pull of the ropes doesn't feel good this time. It feels like a rapidly dwindling window of escape.
Then John says that. Poe looks up into John's face, the warm damp of tears still on his temples even if they've stopped flowing. He's scared. There's nothing to hide from John how scared he is, not when John is so close and Poe feels so helpless. ]
Okay. [ He closes his eyes and says it again, this time more to himself. ] Okay.
[ Deep breath, still afraid: ] I trust you.
no subject
[Seeing Poe's fear only makes John want to protect him more.
John would die for this man, he knows that much. He would die for him, and he wouldn't regret doing it. Really, he couldn't choose a better way to go than sacrificing himself for the sake of someone he loves.
In a way, John almost looks forward to it.
He passes the rope over Poe's hands, winding it around his palms. The silk is smooth against his skin, only catching over calluses. This is one of the trickier areas to navigate, and requires his full attention, but it's hard to look away from Poe. He doesn't want him to feel abandoned.
A pause, thinking, he exhales in a soft hiss and returns to his work, but with a slightly different strategy. Battle plans always change. It's important to be flexible. He tugs his gloves off with his teeth, tossing them somewhere onto the floor, and what connection he can't make with his eyes he makes with his hands instead.
He grips Poe more firmly, fingers dimpling his skin, warm and tactile. He binds Poe's wrists to the opposing bicep, passing the ropes beneath his arms, so his elbows wing up and out. His fingertips brush against Poe's flesh with every movement, and especially with each knot tied, which he presses into place before moving on.
Sweat beads on John's brow, but there's no sign of exertion otherwise. In ten minutes he has Poe strung just the way he wants him, taut and arched like a bow, ready to be drawn.
John sits back on his heels, still astride Poe, arms draped over his knees. Looking down at him, and the intricate web of rope, John's struck by a strange combination of desire and accomplishment.]
You look amazing.
no subject
It's easier to relax with them shut. It's easier to drift into the feeling of pressure on his abdomen where John straddles him, his dick where the ropes wind around it, the tracery of silk over his body. The steady slide of the ropes across his arms, each bit of applied pressure sending an odd little jolt through him as John finishes a knot.
The tension eases out of him.
By the time John finishes he feels like his whole body is humming, like he's laying on top of a the casing of a repulsor engine in the sun. It's a drunk, drifting feeling. John speaking is almost a shock.
Poe shifts like a man waking up, the pressure of the ropes holding him in place as he tries to stretch. Silk on his stomach, silk pulling at his arms, the friction of silk around his dick.
He just looks at John for several seconds, sorting out the man's words in his head. ]
So do you.
no subject
John smiles, grazing his thumb over Poe's lower lip.]
Wait for me.
[Not that Poe has a choice. He's fully restrained, now. Helpless. The more he struggles, the tighter the ropes will slip, and the harder they'll rub.
He climbs down off the bed, boots hitting the floor with a thump.
John bought more than just rope. There's a black duffel bag beneath the bed, the same bag he uses to bring gear to and from work. Tools are tools. Poe won't be able to see John from where he's lying, but he'll recognize the sound of the thick metal zipper by ear.
It's John's instinct to rush back to Poe, to check on him and make sure he's alright, not too uncomfortable, but he resists. Takes his time lubing up the long, chrome vibrator he bought specifically to this purpose.
Still, John can't resist singing up to him, feeling more and more excited by the second. The hair on the back of his arms is standing on end. The apprehension is killing him.]
How you doing up there, Dameron?
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He can't see the other man, can't tell what he's doing, and there's a brief flutter of nerves in Poe's stomach. ]
John?
[ He barely recognizes his own voice, tentative as it is. Then John speaks, and Poe lets his head fall back against the bed. Exhales something like relief. ] I'm okay.
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He stands, finally, wielding the chrome vibrator in one hand and small baggy of powder in the other. Not nearly the size of the stash Poe had brought with him the first night, but enough to have some fun.
Drinking in the sight of Poe, he stands at the foot of the bed with a sly smile.]
Good, because I'm just getting started.
[Dropping the powder at Poe's feet, casually, like it's nothing to be concerned with, he lifts the hem of his t-shirt and wipes the sweat away from his face and throat. Taking his sweet time.]
no subject
He squirms against the ropes and doesn't gain an inch, doesn't do anything except make himself less able to move. ]
John.
[ Every breath brings the ropes pressing against his chest. God, with the powder in his system--
A little electric shock of heat hits his stomach. ]
Is this payback? Because you don't have to--I'll--look, John.
[ That smile is not in the least reassuring. Poe swallows.
Uh oh. ]
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[The word babe slips from John's mouth, and Poe looks too perfect, is too perfect, for John to be upset about it. He can't quite stop himself from smiling. Really, there's just more teeth with Poe's every squirm. Wolflike.
John sits on the edge of the bed, pulling on his gloves again, watching Poe with sharp, hungry eyes. Razing over him. Yes, he's horny. Yes, he wants him, right now, but he's patient, too. There are some things worth waiting for, and seeing Poe fall apart, trusting John to hold him? He'll wait with the patience of a goddamned sniper.
He flips the switch on the vibrator, which kicks to life with a high-pitched whine.]
Okay, maybe it's payback.
[John grabs Poe by the leg binding and yanks him closer. He runs the vibrator along the inside of Poe's exposed inner thigh, teasing it along the sharp line of tendon straining towards his groin.]
You're such a bastard, sometimes.
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He's more patient than you, is Poe's first thought.
His second thought is, He called me babe.
His third is, I'm gonna die. ]
If I said it takes one to know one I would regret it, wouldn't I.
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[The cool tip of the vibrator traces the curve of Poe's ass, then follows the line of rope splitting his cheeks to the underside of his bound balls. John teases it beneath the rope, pressing the vibrating shaft against Poe's taint.]
I don't get to see you from this angle very often.
[Usually it's Poe folding John's legs up or under him, fucking him from on top, the side, or behind. John loves Poe inside of him, he really does, but he sees more of him this way. Parts of Poe that are usually hidden, and don't get as much attention when they're coupling.]
I like it.
[He plucks the rope away from Poe's ass with one hand, twisting it around two fingers, adding more tension to every knot, and drags the vibrator lower, until it's humming against Poe's hole. The chrome is smooth and sleek, already slick with lube, and John knows Poe's body well enough to know he can take it.
Not that he's rushing. He's happy just to watch Poe's face for a moment.]
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He likes it. He likes it a lot. He's never done much with ropes--patience, again--let alone been on the receiving end. He didn't think he'd like it. At best he thought he'd be indifferent. But he likes it. There's no question of what to do or how to act. There's nothing he can do.
Poe licks his lips. He's going to try for something witty, something cavalier, but then John has the vibrator just so and he gives a full-bodied shudder instead.
He still can't let go. There's still that prick of fear, in his gut, in his mind, that he's on the verge of giving away something he won't be able to get back. ]
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He presses the vibrator into Poe, slowly, drawing wide circles with every inch that disappears into his body, stretching him out as he goes. John could have used his fingers first, as they almost always do, but he wants this to be different. Unique to this moment.
His eyes stay on Poe's face, hungry for his reactions. John really is doing this for him. Dominating him like this is both selfish and selfless. He wants to take this territory for himself, but none of it means anything if Poe doesn't want him to take it just as badly.
When Poe had been touching him, driving him to orgasm again and again, John had begged for him to stop, but he'd always known in his heart, and his gut, what he really wanted, which was for Poe to push his borders, and touch places of John no one's touched. Parts of him that were still clean, and unscarred.
John leans down, and wraps his lips around the head of Poe's cock, humming in tune with the vibrator.]
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Then John takes Poe's dick in his mouth and Poe shudders again. Forces himself down from that arch, muscles shaking, each tremor sending a ripple of heat through the rest of him. When he's sure John will follow, will keep his lips on Poe's head, he pushes upward again, trying to slide is cock farther into John's mouth. ]
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He looks up at Poe, licking his lips. Eyes narrowed with amusement.]
Bad. You're spoiled, you know that? Always used to getting what you want.
[He drags a gloved fingertip along the length of Poe's erection, and gives the underside of the head a light flick. Watches it bounce, straining against the ropes, his balls held high and tight against his body. Swollen to bursting. Poe's dick might be a little chilly after the warmth of John's mouth, wet with saliva in the slightly cool room. He deserves it.]
This isn't about what you want.
[John stirs the vibrator almost lazily, one or twice, then presses it up into Poe hard and deep without warning, aiming for the spot that makes Poe's toes curl and his jaw go slack. Watching his face as he does it.
He wants to take Poe apart like a gun, to hold him in pieces, and put him back together again. Carefully, at first, memorizing how everything breaks down and builds up, and then with such familiarity he could do it with his eyes closed. That's what John wants. To know Poe like that.]
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John gets what he wants. Poe bucks, making a desperate noise as the vibrator connects and sends him tumbling over the edge, into a full-body white-hot reaction that makes the world around him disappear, makes it all dissolve except the pressure inside him. The extension of John's hand. He moans John's name, says it again, strains against the ropes and comes hard.
It all disappears. The room, the ropes. Poe cries out, a wordless noise, while his body jerks and his hips try to roll in spite of the being pinned down. Mouth open, head thrown back, wrapped up in the feeling. The vibrator is still there, still pressing hard as he starts to come down and into the aftershocks, and Poe can feel himself building again. He struggles against the ropes, determined not to beg, not yet, not this easily, not this soon.
He wants to say what's it about he wants to say what do you want, and instead he says: ] John, wait--
[ Then his eyes roll back and he shudders. ]
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He hears his own voice, pitched low, thick and gravelled to his own ears.]
I don't want to wait.
[He digs deeper with the vibrator, presses hard, and gives Poe's tied balls a gentle, pulsing squeeze at the same time. They're so heavy in his hand, his cock redder and harder than ever, held rigid by the rope, just a little semen leaking from the tip. He can come from his prostate, and the way John is fucking him with the toy, but his dick is hostage until John sees fit to release it.]
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The electricity of aftershocks giving way to a rolling thunder of sensation. He arches, pushing up with his elbows, muscles bowing hard. He cries out again, a loud, sharp, Fuck, then he's gone. If he says anything (he does, he curses in three languages, he moans John's name then says it like a swear word itself), he doesn't hear it. There's a ringing in his ears. The pleasure is so molten that there's no room in him for anything else. It rumbles through him, tears him up, and then he's laying on the bed again, sweating through the sheets and gasping while his body shivers with the memory of it.
Poe swallows, hazy and high with adrenaline and endorphins. There's a joke hovering at the edge of his mind, I think I pulled something, but he can't get his tongue to cooperate enough to voice it. ]
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He's seen and heard Poe buckle, bend, and nearly break. It's almost enough, but not quite. John twists Poe around, throwing him facedown into the bed. He's even more helpless on his front than his back. His gloved hands drag from Poe's clinched elbows down the sides of his body, teasing over the swollen skin peeking from between ropes, and catching on the ropes themselves. Down, down, until he's grabbing at Poe's hips, then squeezing at and spreading his cheeks, split by the rope, vibrator still buzzing noisily in his hole.
John pulls it out, finally, sliding his gloved fingers over his swollen entrance and taint, glossy with lube and sweat. He leans down over Poe, one hand braced on the bed beside his head, and bites the back of his neck, hard enough to bruise.
Then growls in his ear. Leather coated fingers still pushing, pressing, invading as he breathes in Poe's sweat and the scent of his hair.]
Beg me to fuck you, and I just might.
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