[John can see the worry in Poe's face. He didn't mean to upset him, or disrupt the evening. It's just taken him this long to gather up the courage to speak. John's not very good at asking for things. Not unless it's a bigger gun.
He leans in to kiss the corner of Poe's mouth apologetically, followed by his rough cheek, the corner of his jaw. Then he speaks into his ear, softly, finally releasing the secret he's been holding all day.]
[ He relaxes again at the kisses, closing his eyes. John's whisper sends goosebumps prickling up the back of Poe's neck, sending warmth prickling down into Poe's stomach. He turns his head so he can catch John's lips in a kiss, brief but deep. ]
[John takes the key out of Poe's hand and unlocks the door, still kissing him. He kicks it shut behind them. The equipment is already in the room. When Poe was out this morning, picking something up from home, John was busy.]
Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.
[He kisses Poe again, sliding his jacket off over his broad shoulders. John loves that jacket, but he likes it even better on the hotel room floor. He rubs his hands up and down the thick of Poe's arms, enjoying the bulk of his biceps.]
[John takes Poe's hand, squeezes it briefly, then places it back down by his side. His eyes on Poe's eyes, steady, the gesture isn't just a suggestion. It's a silent command.
He goes to the bottom of Poe's shirt, rucking it up under his arms, then off over his head. John takes a moment to admire, hands sliding over Poe's chest, his appreciation more blunt than usual. He squeezes his pecs, the hint of a smirk on his lips, and drags fingertips down Poe's belly to the front of his pants.]
[ Poe shivers, a little involuntary response to John's hands sliding across bare skin. His glance goes again to that rope.
He doesn't even realize he's obeying John without thinking about it. Keeping his hands down, no matter how much he wants to take some kind of control in this situation. ( That first night, he thinks, that first night-- ) ]
I should be doing something.
[ He should be, he has to be, he needs to be. Staying still, being inactive, it's borderline unbearable. ]
[He pulls Poe's belt out, drops it onto the floor. Pops the button of his fly. Unzips him. Pushes his pants down his hips, so muscular John can't help but linger, until they're a puddle of useless denim on the floor.
John's hand goes down the front of Poe's boxers, wrapping his fingers around his dick. If Poe detects a hint of posession, of ownership, in just the weight and grip of John's hand, he wouldn't be wrong.
[John's brow raises at the kiss, tilting his head back to look at Poe from beneath his lashes.]
Bad.
[He punctuates the word with a rough squeeze around Poe's dick.
This isn't going to be easy. Poe's stubborn, even more stubborn than John is. For a man who presents as laidback and easygoing, he really isn't much of either. At this point in their relationship, John knows him. He's defensive. Aggressive. Tempermental. Prideful. Passionate. All of those things and more. So much more.
Poe runs hot, and John runs cold.
Together, there's some kind of balance, and right now? John's keeping it.
He withdraws his hand, fingers curving up through the curly thatch of Poe's pubes.]
[ John has him dead to rights. He's not used to being so naked in front of someone, hasn't realized just how well John knows him. He's too used to being seen how he wants to be.
Something they have in common.
He feels the pinch and tug of John's nails against his pubic hair and is turned on in spite of himself.
Those ropes.
He almost says why, but what else is John going to do with Poe on the bed? Sleep or sex. And Poe is pretty sure sleep is not on John's mind at the moment. So, for once, Poe does as he's told.
More or less.
Which is not so much for once as it is as usual.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, squeezing its edge, a small outlet for nerves. ]
[John smiles down at him, fondly, finger tracing the edge of Poe's jaw. Tilting his face up to look at him.
Poe's already fighting, but John doesn't mind. Let him fight, while he still can. The man's a stallion. Rebellion is in his blood. John loves his spirit.
He doesn't want to tame him, he just wants to show him the other side. Like Poe had shown him. That there's freedom in giving up control, tool. Even more than holding on to it. ]
Take off the boxers, and stay. I'll be back.
[John crosses the room to the bathroom and shuts the door. Changes. Takes a moment to splash his face with cold water, and look at his own reflection. Some days, it's blurry. Today it isn't. Poe makes him feel sharp. Alive. Himself.
When John returns, it isn't in the gaudy leather and vinyl he'd seen on the racks of the kink expo. No costume. No lingerie. He's in partial uniform. Black BDU pants, a black tee, his boots. Gloves.
John's working, after all. So he's wearing what's comfortable. What makes him feel confident, and in control. At heart, he's a soldier. Even more than a man.]
[ That touch sets off electric tingles in Poe's stomach, alarm bells in his head. John is being... different. They've changed on and off, who's in control, who's in charge, but. John is being different this time.
He takes off the boxers, tossing them aside, wondering what on earth John is doing in the bathroom. He's not the costume type, and Poe has never really understood the appeal of pretending to be someone or something else in bed. People are interesting enough as they are.
But when John comes out, he's not wearing a costume. He's wearing work clothes. Poe gets up, somewhere between attracted and alarmed. ]
[For this to work, John has to remain in control. If he doubts himself, or loses his nerve for even a minute, everything will fall apart. John is a skilled man, and he trusts in his abilities and experience to come out of most situations on top, but he isn't a confident man in and of himself.
John doesn't have the gut strength Poe does. He isn't entirely sure he's up to this, that he can be for Poe what he is to him, a figure of strength, someone he can trust to hold him through thick and thin, but he wants to.
He crosses the room to Poe, puts one hand on his chest, and pushes him back onto the bed. Sitting or standing. Poe is heavier, stronger, but John has leverage, and Poe has the bed at the back of his knees.
Looking down at him, he plants a knee between his legs, and places one gloved hand over his throat. Eyes hard, because he has to be hard in order to go to this vulnerable place.]
You're going to listen to me, understand? I was good for you. Be good for me.
[ Alarmed and attracted has become alarmed and aroused. John's eyes are still beautiful with that coldness in them, galaxies in empty space. It's unsettling to know he likes John's grip on his throat.
He's breathing faster, instinct to fight flaring against the knowledge that John is right. John let Poe have his way with him, more than once.
John Sheppard looks at him, unyielding and without mercy, and Poe realizes he's afraid. He doesn't trust John. It hurts to know that, and he's not sure how to fix it.
[John rewards him with a kiss, rough and claiming. He wants it to linger on Poe's lips even after he pulls away.
It's true John's let Poe have his way with him, a lot more than once. Those two nights he stripped him to the bone, and all the others he'd submitted in smaller, more subtle ways. Let him choose the time and place. Set the pace. Use his body when he wants, how he wants, while still being so careful not to push him back. Because he doesn't want to lose him.
John trusts Poe, but he's afraid of him, too. What he means to John, and the iron fist he has around his heart. He's bared so much of himself, more and more, every time Poe demands. Eventually, John is certain Poe will see enough not to want him anymore. That scares him most of all.
This is another side of John, different than Poe's seen before, and even now, he doesn't know if Poe will like it, but he wants to show him. To go as far as Poe went, and see more of him, too. He doesn't want to be naked alone.
If John thinks about this too long, the why, he gets into his head, and that's a dangerous place to be. So he turns it all off. Goes to the same place he goes when he needs to take command, and can't afford to second-guess himself.
He moves back off the bed, and picks up the rope. He runs the length of it between his fingers, with a whisper of silk against leather, and winds it loosely around his arm.]
You can talk, but you can't move. I need you to be still.
[ Poe just nods. Somehow being given the allowance of speech doesn't make actually speaking easier.
Being told not to move makes him want to. He grips the edge of the bed hard, watching that rope slide over John's gloves. Goosebumps prickle up Poe's arms and tingle across his scalp. Tied up. John is going to tie him up. He'll be naked, helpless.
Poe swallows. ]
You really want to do this?
[ Focus on that. Focus on whether or not this is what John wants, if this is what he needs, and it's a little easier to deal with the idea. Make it, in his own mind, about John, instead of about Poe himself.
Yes, I do, but this isn't about me. It's about you.
[John crawls back off the bed, standing over Poe. His eyes cut up and down over his naked body. Surveying the territory. All the valleys, peaks, and slopes of his musculature. He knows Poe's body well, has spent countless hours touching it, on top of it, under it. They fuck almost every day. John's had more sex in the past few months than he has in the past five years.
It was an adjustment, at first. Then he got used to it. Now John needs it. Going days without Poe's hands on him, without his dick in him, is uncomfortable.
John hadn't realized how cripplingly lonely he was until he wasn't.
He goes down on one knee, casting the first loop of rope around Poe's ankle. The contrast of black against olive is striking. He feels the first thrill of actually doing this, making his belly go tight and hot. Stabilizing his core. He casts the next loop, and the next, rope gliding against Poe's skin.
He breathes over Poe's foot, tugging the rope between his first and second toe, around the arch of his foot, and back up to his ankle. Tension immediate with the first knot, locking Poe's foot into an elegantly pointed position.]
[ So much for the illusion. Between the words and John looking him over like that, Poe has nowhere to retreat to.
The sensation of smooth rope gliding over his skin is actually nice. At least at first. Until it starts drawing tight, pulling at his foot. His muscles tense for a moment, but there's not much he can do about it. His foot gets drawn into position and fixed there.
[Sing-song, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He whips the tail of the rope against the soft padding of Poe's toes.
There's no room for error in what he's doing right now. Every twist and knot is pre-planned. People call this rope-play, but to John? It's a mission, and he's approaching it with a strategy.
He places one hand on Poe's knee and the other on his ankle, bending his leg. Every movement of Poe's body is his to make, no matter how small. He takes a moment to admire the movement of Poe's muscle beneath his skin. Drinking in the seldom-seen underside of Poe's thigh, the swell of his hamstring, before binding Poe's ankle to his upper leg just below his ass with a figure eight of rope.
Poe can wiggle the toes of his right foot, can spread his leg outward, but that's all he can do. John gives his bared ass-cheek a slap.]
[ The flick doesn't actually hurt. Stings a little, but doesn't properly hurt. And there's something weirdly attractive about the practiced way John does it.
He lets John move him, curious now more than afraid. At least until John makes that second tie. That's when it really registers that he's on his back, being willingly(ish) trussed up.
And he wants it.
He likes it.
The slip of rope over skin. The careful attention John gives to each movement, like a one-sided dance. Poe closes his eyes, breath tremoring a little.
He's seen John helpless. He's not sure what to do with the idea that he might want that for himself.
Instead he tugs at the binding, trying to see if it will loosen, trying to see if he can move in any way other than the one he's been allowed. It doesn't work.
He digs his hands into the bed, squirming, then trying to sit up.
Apparently he can't resist a fight, no matter how futile. ]
[John grips Poe by the leg binding, yanking his leg out from under him and knocking him flat on his back.]
What did I say, Dameron? Stay.
[He swats Poe on this ass again, harder this time. Enough to leave a red mark in the shape of his hand on Poe's cheek. The leather stitching of his glove adds to the sting.
John pulls the rope under his back, wraps it once around waist, three times around his dick, and pulls. The silk rope is softer than some, but the smoothness means it moves against the skin, and the friction is hotter than a coarser, more stable rope. He barely has to apply pressure for the rope to rub around the girth of Poe's dick.]
Why does every lesson need to be a hard lesson with you?
[ The noise Poe makes when John hits him is somewhere in the dignity-range of a yelp. John moves fast, fast enough that Poe is just trying to sit up again when that first coil of rope wraps around his dick and he stills. The heat of silk against sensitive skin makes Poe hiss with a mix of pain and surprise.
Traitor that it is, his cock seems to like the attention. He grits his teeth, bracing himself on his elbows. ]
It does not.
[ Poe likes irony. He likes it for the lovely whooshing sound it makes when it flies directly over his head. ]
He slows down when he reaches Poe's left leg, working backwards from the right. Poe already knows what's coming, so he works with that anticipation. The rope slithers over his skin, aided only by the occasional brush of John's gloved fingertips. He binds the left from top to bottom. Rope wrapped around thigh, to ankle, and from ankle to foot. He ties the rope off in a decorative knot.
The tension goes from toe, to dick, to toe. With every pull of Poe's thighs, the rope around his shaft will shift. The harder Poe struggles, the more friction he'll create. Self-inflicted torture.
Call it a life lesson.
Legs pinned up and apart, there's very little of Poe that isn't on display for him. Ass. Taint. Balls. Dick. John can see it all.]
[ The brief tension as John works on his other leg, the instinct to fight, sends that silk rope chafing around Poe's dick. He winces, squirms again, hisses. As with the rest of this it's hard for him to tell if he's turned on or annoyed, but as John works the rope around his thigh, his ankle, brushes his skin with those gloves, it gets easier to tell which one it is.
Poe eases back onto the bed, letting John work, staring at the ceiling and focusing on the feeling of the ropes, his body being moved.
This isn't so bad.
At least his hands are free. ]
I can't-- [ --do much for you this way.
Poe tries to roll onto his side, maybe get up on his knees, but the rope pulls sharply against his dick and he falls back into place.
I'll take care of everything, John had said.
Poe gets the feeling this isn't everything. Not by a long shot.
[Poe's dick is hard, jutting up from between his muscular hips like a weapon, and it's tempting- almost impossible to resist. John wants to wrap his lips around it, and soothe some of that angry redness. He needs to remind himself it's not going anywhere. The ropes are tight. Tight enough to keep the blood trapped in Poe's dick for as long as John wants it there.
John picks up the next set of ropes, as sleek and black as the last, and changes position. He climbs on top of the bed, boots and all, and straddles Poe's torso. Just above his dick. His ass so close, but so far away. If Poe dares to buck his hips he might get some contact, but only at his own expense.
He makes a noose, and pulls it down over Poe's head. Knots the length of it three times while Poe watches. This work is more complicated. John has the steps memorized, but with Poe's chest heaving beneath him, and the look in those dark eyes, it takes all of his will-power to remain focused.
His eyes, sharp, vivid with concentration, dart over Poe's body, making quick checks and calculations. John's tacticians mind at work.
Finally, he drapes the length of rope down between Poe's neck, over his belly, between John's legs, once more around Poe's cock, the time under and around his balls, and then between the cleft of his ass and back up again. John is lean, and he is balanced, he performs all the movements with the steady hand of a sniper.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2018-03-15 05:11 am (UTC)He leans in to kiss the corner of Poe's mouth apologetically, followed by his rough cheek, the corner of his jaw. Then he speaks into his ear, softly, finally releasing the secret he's been holding all day.]
I wanna try something with you.
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Date: 2018-03-15 05:16 am (UTC)Okay.
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Date: 2018-03-16 02:41 am (UTC)Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.
[He kisses Poe again, sliding his jacket off over his broad shoulders. John loves that jacket, but he likes it even better on the hotel room floor. He rubs his hands up and down the thick of Poe's arms, enjoying the bulk of his biceps.]
I've been thinking about you all damn day.
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Date: 2018-03-16 05:55 am (UTC)[ Poe lets him do it, distracted by the sight of the rope on the chair.
Then John is rubbing his arms, saying that, and Poe has the unsettled feeling that the tables have been turned on him somehow. ]
I've been right here.
[ It's supposed to be teasing. It comes out nervous instead.
Poe clears his throat and reaches for John's jacket. ]
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Date: 2018-03-17 04:34 pm (UTC)[John takes Poe's hand, squeezes it briefly, then places it back down by his side. His eyes on Poe's eyes, steady, the gesture isn't just a suggestion. It's a silent command.
He goes to the bottom of Poe's shirt, rucking it up under his arms, then off over his head. John takes a moment to admire, hands sliding over Poe's chest, his appreciation more blunt than usual. He squeezes his pecs, the hint of a smirk on his lips, and drags fingertips down Poe's belly to the front of his pants.]
I know. And now you're right here.
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Date: 2018-03-17 05:44 pm (UTC)He doesn't even realize he's obeying John without thinking about it. Keeping his hands down, no matter how much he wants to take some kind of control in this situation. ( That first night, he thinks, that first night-- ) ]
I should be doing something.
[ He should be, he has to be, he needs to be. Staying still, being inactive, it's borderline unbearable. ]
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Date: 2018-03-17 05:51 pm (UTC)[He pulls Poe's belt out, drops it onto the floor. Pops the button of his fly. Unzips him. Pushes his pants down his hips, so muscular John can't help but linger, until they're a puddle of useless denim on the floor.
John's hand goes down the front of Poe's boxers, wrapping his fingers around his dick. If Poe detects a hint of posession, of ownership, in just the weight and grip of John's hand, he wouldn't be wrong.
John leans in, grazes Poe's lips with his lips.]
You said you trust me. So trust me.
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Date: 2018-03-17 06:04 pm (UTC)Why is that so hard?
He's trusting, he trusts people. It's the best way to earn someone's trust in return. Put good out into the world, and good comes back to you.
So why?
John's hold on him, that featherlight kiss, makes Poe's heart kick up another notch.
He's a trusting person. He can do this.
Poe chases John's lips as the man draws away, stealing a kiss he knows isn't his to take. ]
I do. I will.
[ He can do this. ]
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Date: 2018-03-17 06:19 pm (UTC)Bad.
[He punctuates the word with a rough squeeze around Poe's dick.
This isn't going to be easy. Poe's stubborn, even more stubborn than John is. For a man who presents as laidback and easygoing, he really isn't much of either. At this point in their relationship, John knows him. He's defensive. Aggressive. Tempermental. Prideful. Passionate. All of those things and more. So much more.
Poe runs hot, and John runs cold.
Together, there's some kind of balance, and right now? John's keeping it.
He withdraws his hand, fingers curving up through the curly thatch of Poe's pubes.]
Get on the bed.
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Date: 2018-03-17 06:40 pm (UTC)[ John has him dead to rights. He's not used to being so naked in front of someone, hasn't realized just how well John knows him. He's too used to being seen how he wants to be.
Something they have in common.
He feels the pinch and tug of John's nails against his pubic hair and is turned on in spite of himself.
Those ropes.
He almost says why, but what else is John going to do with Poe on the bed? Sleep or sex. And Poe is pretty sure sleep is not on John's mind at the moment. So, for once, Poe does as he's told.
More or less.
Which is not so much for once as it is as usual.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, squeezing its edge, a small outlet for nerves. ]
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Date: 2018-03-17 07:38 pm (UTC)Poe's already fighting, but John doesn't mind. Let him fight, while he still can. The man's a stallion. Rebellion is in his blood. John loves his spirit.
He doesn't want to tame him, he just wants to show him the other side. Like Poe had shown him. That there's freedom in giving up control, tool. Even more than holding on to it. ]
Take off the boxers, and stay. I'll be back.
[John crosses the room to the bathroom and shuts the door. Changes. Takes a moment to splash his face with cold water, and look at his own reflection. Some days, it's blurry. Today it isn't. Poe makes him feel sharp. Alive. Himself.
When John returns, it isn't in the gaudy leather and vinyl he'd seen on the racks of the kink expo. No costume. No lingerie. He's in partial uniform. Black BDU pants, a black tee, his boots. Gloves.
John's working, after all. So he's wearing what's comfortable. What makes him feel confident, and in control. At heart, he's a soldier. Even more than a man.]
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 07:49 pm (UTC)He takes off the boxers, tossing them aside, wondering what on earth John is doing in the bathroom. He's not the costume type, and Poe has never really understood the appeal of pretending to be someone or something else in bed. People are interesting enough as they are.
But when John comes out, he's not wearing a costume. He's wearing work clothes. Poe gets up, somewhere between attracted and alarmed. ]
What exactly do you want to do, John?
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 08:00 pm (UTC)[For this to work, John has to remain in control. If he doubts himself, or loses his nerve for even a minute, everything will fall apart. John is a skilled man, and he trusts in his abilities and experience to come out of most situations on top, but he isn't a confident man in and of himself.
John doesn't have the gut strength Poe does. He isn't entirely sure he's up to this, that he can be for Poe what he is to him, a figure of strength, someone he can trust to hold him through thick and thin, but he wants to.
He crosses the room to Poe, puts one hand on his chest, and pushes him back onto the bed. Sitting or standing. Poe is heavier, stronger, but John has leverage, and Poe has the bed at the back of his knees.
Looking down at him, he plants a knee between his legs, and places one gloved hand over his throat. Eyes hard, because he has to be hard in order to go to this vulnerable place.]
You're going to listen to me, understand? I was good for you. Be good for me.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 08:10 pm (UTC)He's breathing faster, instinct to fight flaring against the knowledge that John is right. John let Poe have his way with him, more than once.
John Sheppard looks at him, unyielding and without mercy, and Poe realizes he's afraid. He doesn't trust John. It hurts to know that, and he's not sure how to fix it.
Maybe this is where to start. ]
Okay. Okay.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 08:29 pm (UTC)It's true John's let Poe have his way with him, a lot more than once. Those two nights he stripped him to the bone, and all the others he'd submitted in smaller, more subtle ways. Let him choose the time and place. Set the pace. Use his body when he wants, how he wants, while still being so careful not to push him back. Because he doesn't want to lose him.
John trusts Poe, but he's afraid of him, too. What he means to John, and the iron fist he has around his heart. He's bared so much of himself, more and more, every time Poe demands. Eventually, John is certain Poe will see enough not to want him anymore. That scares him most of all.
This is another side of John, different than Poe's seen before, and even now, he doesn't know if Poe will like it, but he wants to show him. To go as far as Poe went, and see more of him, too. He doesn't want to be naked alone.
If John thinks about this too long, the why, he gets into his head, and that's a dangerous place to be. So he turns it all off. Goes to the same place he goes when he needs to take command, and can't afford to second-guess himself.
He moves back off the bed, and picks up the rope. He runs the length of it between his fingers, with a whisper of silk against leather, and winds it loosely around his arm.]
You can talk, but you can't move. I need you to be still.
Do you think you can do that?
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 08:39 pm (UTC)Being told not to move makes him want to. He grips the edge of the bed hard, watching that rope slide over John's gloves. Goosebumps prickle up Poe's arms and tingle across his scalp. Tied up. John is going to tie him up. He'll be naked, helpless.
Poe swallows. ]
You really want to do this?
[ Focus on that. Focus on whether or not this is what John wants, if this is what he needs, and it's a little easier to deal with the idea. Make it, in his own mind, about John, instead of about Poe himself.
He can do it, if it's about John. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 08:58 pm (UTC)[John crawls back off the bed, standing over Poe. His eyes cut up and down over his naked body. Surveying the territory. All the valleys, peaks, and slopes of his musculature. He knows Poe's body well, has spent countless hours touching it, on top of it, under it. They fuck almost every day. John's had more sex in the past few months than he has in the past five years.
It was an adjustment, at first. Then he got used to it. Now John needs it. Going days without Poe's hands on him, without his dick in him, is uncomfortable.
John hadn't realized how cripplingly lonely he was until he wasn't.
He goes down on one knee, casting the first loop of rope around Poe's ankle. The contrast of black against olive is striking. He feels the first thrill of actually doing this, making his belly go tight and hot. Stabilizing his core. He casts the next loop, and the next, rope gliding against Poe's skin.
He breathes over Poe's foot, tugging the rope between his first and second toe, around the arch of his foot, and back up to his ankle. Tension immediate with the first knot, locking Poe's foot into an elegantly pointed position.]
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 09:32 pm (UTC)The sensation of smooth rope gliding over his skin is actually nice. At least at first. Until it starts drawing tight, pulling at his foot. His muscles tense for a moment, but there's not much he can do about it. His foot gets drawn into position and fixed there.
Poe wriggles his toes. ]
I think you missed a spot.
[ The last defense mechanism he has. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 09:47 pm (UTC)[Sing-song, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He whips the tail of the rope against the soft padding of Poe's toes.
There's no room for error in what he's doing right now. Every twist and knot is pre-planned. People call this rope-play, but to John? It's a mission, and he's approaching it with a strategy.
He places one hand on Poe's knee and the other on his ankle, bending his leg. Every movement of Poe's body is his to make, no matter how small. He takes a moment to admire the movement of Poe's muscle beneath his skin. Drinking in the seldom-seen underside of Poe's thigh, the swell of his hamstring, before binding Poe's ankle to his upper leg just below his ass with a figure eight of rope.
Poe can wiggle the toes of his right foot, can spread his leg outward, but that's all he can do. John gives his bared ass-cheek a slap.]
Beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-17 10:15 pm (UTC)[ The flick doesn't actually hurt. Stings a little, but doesn't properly hurt. And there's something weirdly attractive about the practiced way John does it.
He lets John move him, curious now more than afraid. At least until John makes that second tie. That's when it really registers that he's on his back, being willingly(ish) trussed up.
And he wants it.
He likes it.
The slip of rope over skin. The careful attention John gives to each movement, like a one-sided dance. Poe closes his eyes, breath tremoring a little.
He's seen John helpless. He's not sure what to do with the idea that he might want that for himself.
Instead he tugs at the binding, trying to see if it will loosen, trying to see if he can move in any way other than the one he's been allowed. It doesn't work.
He digs his hands into the bed, squirming, then trying to sit up.
Apparently he can't resist a fight, no matter how futile. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-03-18 01:54 am (UTC)What did I say, Dameron? Stay.
[He swats Poe on this ass again, harder this time. Enough to leave a red mark in the shape of his hand on Poe's cheek. The leather stitching of his glove adds to the sting.
John pulls the rope under his back, wraps it once around waist, three times around his dick, and pulls. The silk rope is softer than some, but the smoothness means it moves against the skin, and the friction is hotter than a coarser, more stable rope. He barely has to apply pressure for the rope to rub around the girth of Poe's dick.]
Why does every lesson need to be a hard lesson with you?
no subject
Date: 2018-03-18 02:03 am (UTC)Traitor that it is, his cock seems to like the attention. He grits his teeth, bracing himself on his elbows. ]
It does not.
[ Poe likes irony. He likes it for the lovely whooshing sound it makes when it flies directly over his head. ]
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Date: 2018-03-18 02:22 am (UTC)He slows down when he reaches Poe's left leg, working backwards from the right. Poe already knows what's coming, so he works with that anticipation. The rope slithers over his skin, aided only by the occasional brush of John's gloved fingertips. He binds the left from top to bottom. Rope wrapped around thigh, to ankle, and from ankle to foot. He ties the rope off in a decorative knot.
The tension goes from toe, to dick, to toe. With every pull of Poe's thighs, the rope around his shaft will shift. The harder Poe struggles, the more friction he'll create. Self-inflicted torture.
Call it a life lesson.
Legs pinned up and apart, there's very little of Poe that isn't on display for him. Ass. Taint. Balls. Dick. John can see it all.]
You look good like this, Dameron.
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Date: 2018-03-18 02:34 am (UTC)Poe eases back onto the bed, letting John work, staring at the ceiling and focusing on the feeling of the ropes, his body being moved.
This isn't so bad.
At least his hands are free. ]
I can't-- [ --do much for you this way.
Poe tries to roll onto his side, maybe get up on his knees, but the rope pulls sharply against his dick and he falls back into place.
I'll take care of everything, John had said.
Poe gets the feeling this isn't everything. Not by a long shot.
At least his hands are free. ]
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Date: 2018-03-18 02:53 am (UTC)[Poe's dick is hard, jutting up from between his muscular hips like a weapon, and it's tempting- almost impossible to resist. John wants to wrap his lips around it, and soothe some of that angry redness. He needs to remind himself it's not going anywhere. The ropes are tight. Tight enough to keep the blood trapped in Poe's dick for as long as John wants it there.
John picks up the next set of ropes, as sleek and black as the last, and changes position. He climbs on top of the bed, boots and all, and straddles Poe's torso. Just above his dick. His ass so close, but so far away. If Poe dares to buck his hips he might get some contact, but only at his own expense.
He makes a noose, and pulls it down over Poe's head. Knots the length of it three times while Poe watches. This work is more complicated. John has the steps memorized, but with Poe's chest heaving beneath him, and the look in those dark eyes, it takes all of his will-power to remain focused.
His eyes, sharp, vivid with concentration, dart over Poe's body, making quick checks and calculations. John's tacticians mind at work.
Finally, he drapes the length of rope down between Poe's neck, over his belly, between John's legs, once more around Poe's cock, the time under and around his balls, and then between the cleft of his ass and back up again. John is lean, and he is balanced, he performs all the movements with the steady hand of a sniper.]
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