[John's free hand snakes down over Poe's chest, his belly, between his legs. He wraps his fingers around Poe's dick, squeezing, then goes lower. Uncoils the knot around Poe's balls, which gives him so slack to free the shaft of Poe's dick from its rope sheath.]
You're welcome.
[He kisses Poe's ear, soft, punctuated by the roll of his hips. Poe's everything, right now. There's nothing beyond the sound of his voice, warmth of his body, scent of his skin, or taste of his sweat. If a world exists outside of this room, it can wait. For once, John's focus isn't on the future, or the past. Only what's now, and who he's with.
John sees Poe's necklace from the corner of his eye, pressing his cheek against Poe's shoulder, rocking into him, slower, deeper, in time to the stroke of his hand. He doesn't just want Poe to come. He's already came, at least three times, by John's count. He wants him to fly. He doesn't know if he's skilled enough to make that happen, if he was strong enough, with the ropes, or himself, for Poe to really let go, but if he even gets close? John will consider it a win.
Poe always holds out for John to come first. Not this time. John rubs his thumb over the tip of Poe's dick, twisting the ropes in his other hand, pulling Poe harder, closer, against himself, adding pressure to every twist and knot.
Poe's trapped in John's web, on John's terms. His surrender is unconditional.]
[ The sudden freedom rolls through him along and with it comes another wave of relief. He breathes out a thank you, then another, then another as John fucks him deep and steady and slides his hand over Poe's length. Sweat trails in livewire tracks across his skin. He feels stretched to the point of snapping, like the moment John lets go he'll break in two.
He could exist suspended in this place for as long as John will let him, but John doesn't want that. He drags Poe in, presses down on his head, orders him to come. The drag of the ropes against his skin sets him on fire, the drag of it against his hips, his arms, his neck, every line like a brand against Poe's skin. Then John punches into Poe again, and he's gone. He breaks in John's grip, arching again, soundless, mouth open.
It's so much worse and so much better this time, a convulsive pleasure that erases any conscious thought. He's a flashfire of sensation, busting against John's hand and into the sheets. Even after he stops bucking, it goes on, blinding him, leaving him in a pool against the sheets as his muscles tremor and the knots of John's handiwork press into his skin. The ropes feel like the only thing holding him together. He's stardust, nothing but stardust and John's name. ]
[Poe comes, convulsing, spilling hot over John's hand. Seeing him, hearing him, feeling him around and beneath him, sends John over the edge. John comes with a sound somewhere between a gasp and a growl, grinding his hips down into Poe's ass, fucking as deep into him as he can, the animal instinct to fill, and mark his territory, so powerful he can't think until he's spent.
John lays against him for a moment, his full weight on Poe's back, breathing raggedly, Poe's softening dick still in hand. He kisses Poe's shoulder and neck, slowly, carefully, pulling out. Tucking himself back into his pants. John's job isn't over yet.
Moving to his knees behind Poe, he gently follows the network of silk, slippery with sweat, to the first knot on Poe's foot. With his fingers now, no gloves, he begins the careful process of unraveling him. Just as slowly, and skillfully, as he first tied Poe up, but with even more reverence.
He unbinds Poe's foot, leans down, and kisses the sole.]
[ He feels the ropes fall away from his foot, then his leg, and his muscles start to cramp. Poe makes a quiet, pained noise, too tired, too emptied out to do anything but lay in his sweat and come as John frees him, little by little. He feels like his ears are ringing, like his whole body is ringing, like he's drifting somewhere just outside of it all, the pain as distant as everything else.
Maybe this is what the Force feels like.
He should say something. He can't. There are tears on his face again, and he's not sure whether they're from the release of tensed muscles or exhaustion or something else.
All Poe wants to think about is John's hands on him, on the knots, on the slow unraveling of the bindings. It's like coming back to the real world after being away. ]
[John rubs the circulation back into Poe's calf with both hands, kneading into taut muscle with hard fingers and thumbs. Getting the blood moving. The rope leaves red indentations on Poe's skin, like tattoos. A spiderweb of bruises.
One leg released, then the other, stretched back out for the first time in nearly in an hour. John kisses both knees, thighs, and hips. He's quiet in concentration. Unwinding. Untying. Unbinding. He flips Poe over onto his back, kneeling between his legs to continue working. Silk sliding softly over sweat slick skin as the tension eases in small increments, slowly, but surely.
Soon enough, Poe's hips are free, his dick lying soft against the dark thatch of his pubes and lower belly. John shifts back, lifts it with one hand, wraps his lips around it, sucks him clean. Licking the mess away from his lower belly, he starts on the master knot at the centre of the ropes constricting Poe's torso like a second ribcage taut.
With a twist of his fingers, Poe can breathe again.]
Slow, easy breaths. Slow, or you're going to get a stitch. [John inhales, sets the example.] One. Two.
[ His skin still feels hot. John's kisses are like little cool spots, freckles of cold rain across his body. When John takes Poe's dick in his mouth Poe groans, ready to beg for mercy if he has to.
He doesn't have to. John cleans him up, gently, and goes back to work, just as gently.
Poe's instinct is to gasp for breath when the ropes around his ribcage go slack. He doesn't, obeying John's orders, eyes on John's face. One, two. One, two. ]
You're beautiful. [ His voice is hoarse. He wants to reach out and touch John's face, the silver at his temples. He still can't move his arms.
Even if he could touch John, Poe isn't sure he has the strength to do it. He feels like he could fall asleep right here, sweat and all. ]
[He smiles up at him, the corners of his eyes creasing, tags dangling against Poe's chest as he leans up to begin unbinding his arms. Wrists first, then elbows. John holds Poe's hands above his head, interlocking their fingers, and leans in to kiss him softly on the mouth.]
So are you.
[John kisses down Poe's throat to the base of his neck, lips skimming the chain of his necklace. Lets go of Poe's hands, to slide his hands down Poe's sweaty arms to his shoulders and the last lashings of rope.
He works his fingers beneath the rope framing his chest, pushing it up over his pectorals, loosening knots until the silk falls away. John massages Poe's shoulders, looking down into his eyes.]
[ Poe has to think about that one. His lips part; he searches for the right words. His muscles are still tremoring, aching like he's been running up mountainsides and climbing his way down. He's one big bruise. His body hums, shuddering occasionally with remembered pleasure. He's exhausted, as exhausted as he's ever been in his life.
He's also... calm.
Lifting an arm is a herculean effort. He lets his hand fall against John's neck, moving his thumb in tiny circles against John's skin.
He's calm. Purely, genuinely calm. There hasn't been a moment in the past few months--the past few years--like this. It's the feeling he associates with his small room on Yavin 4, with the early morning sounds of the jungle or a late night view of familiar stars.
Poe studies John's face, wanting to kiss him, too tired to lift his head. ]
[John worries silently while Poe finds his words. Not sure wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for. Suddenly, he's unsure about everything that happened over the past hour, from the rope to him fucking Poe. Did he go too far? Mistake fear for excitement? Hurt him? His eyes search Poe's face, heart thumping in his chest.
Then he says it was good. Really good. John exhales a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and leans back to coil the rope around his arm before dropping it down onto the floor, along with the toy, powder, and anything else they'd be messing around with.]
Good. I mean, I was hoping it would feel good.
[He returns with a kiss, and a soft towel, gently rubbing Poe down from his shoulders all the way to his toes, leaving every inch of him clean and dry. Well, clean as they're going to get, without showering. He thinks about pulling Poe into the tub, but he looks so comfortable, even at peace, with where he is, and John doesn't want to ruin the moment. He grabs a pillow instead, and slides it beneath Poe's head, carefully pulling out the sweat soaked comforter from under him. He has a clean one stowed aside.
No one can say John doesn't think ahead.]
Do you need anything? PJ's? Water? Advil? Me to shut up?
[ He can't articulate the release, the freedom, the flightless euphoria. He closes his eyes as John rubs him down, content to let it happen, the impulse to try and do his part in all of this smothered by exhaustion and serenity. He's still got one arm flung out over his head, the other sliding John's neck and dropping to the bed as John works.
Poe lifts his head for the pillow, tries to wriggle his way off of the comforter as John pulls. Then he lays there, curled on his side, watching John through half-closed eyes. He breathes out a laugh. ]
[John leans down, kisses Poe's forehead. Pulling away only because he has to. It almost hurts to put space between them right now. Poe's... adorable like this, all soft and sincere. It's a side of him John's only starting to get to know. He loves the rebel, the daredevil pilot and captain, but he loves Poe the man, too. Wants to hold him, and protect him, at all costs.
He undresses quickly, boots and uniform discarded onto the floor, wipes himself down just as quickly, and crawls naked into bed beside Poe, pulling the comforter up with him. As soon as they're close again, he pulls Poe into his arms, cradling him against his chest.]
[ An affirmative noise. Poe's eyelids drift shut. He could get used to this. Being held, feeling strangely treasured. He slides an arm around John's waist, turning his face against John's chest and rubbing the tip of his nose against the cleft of his pectorals. He kisses the spot and then settles with his head against John's chest again. ]
[John breathes in Poe's hair. He likes the way it smells, damp with sweat. Beneath the dry blanket, skin to skin, it's the best kind of comfortable. Like changing into fresh clothes after a heavy rain. He could fall asleep like this, if he could tear his eyes away from Poe.]
I read a book, and practiced a couple times, but mostly I just winged it. The real thing was a lot different than the photos. I mean, the model wasn't half as hot as you are. Keeping my focus was the hardest part.
[He grins down at Poe, squeezing him against his side. Loving the weight and warmth of his body.]
The words hit him in an unexpected place, somewhere he's guarded for so long he'd all but forgot it existed. He didn't know he wanted to hear them. He didn't know how much they would mean.
Maybe it's just that he feels so exposed. Maybe it's just John. But those four words go a long way to salve the wounds Leia left when she chose his torturer over him.
There are three dangerous words of Poe's own hanging unspoken in his mind. Half-formed. Still able to be pushed away for as long as they stay in that nebulous state. ]
You winged it. [ There's a tracery of amusement in the statement. ] I'm scared to see what happens when you really plan.
[ Poe remembers the lightness, the peace of John working on him, the writhing pleasure and the blankness that came with it. Freedom, freedom from everything, just for a little while. ]
Book another weekend scared. Definitely.
[ For a second all he does is breathe and focus on the brush of John's fingers across skin still tender from the bindings. ]
[John smiles into Poe's hair, relieved. It feels good to know Poe wants to go there with him, and that he'd made the right call in pushing him. Maybe, between the two of them, with time, they can break down some of those walls they both struggle with. If anyone could understand John's struggle, and be patient with him while he tries, and inevitably fails, Poe might. Like no one else has.
He traces a red line over the rise of Poe's shoulder. He'll be wearing the harness for a day or two, until the marks fade. John likes the idea of that. A lot]
You're welcome. Thank you, babe.
[Yeah, he said it again. Without the safety net of the ropes between them.]
[ I like it when you call me that. It shouldn't be hard to say. But somehow the words stay stuck. He curls a little more firmly against John instead, letting himself drift, letting the weight of the blanket and the stroke of John's fingers carry him toward sleep.
It's sound. Deep. Dreamless. The kind of sleep that heals and refreshes and is so rare and precious that Poe hasn't seen it in years. He drifts back to consciousness in the circle of John's arms, and just stays that way for a while, listening to John breathe, smelling the salt of dried sweat on them both.
Eventually he shifts just enough to kiss the base of John's throat. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 01:58 am (UTC)You're welcome.
[He kisses Poe's ear, soft, punctuated by the roll of his hips. Poe's everything, right now. There's nothing beyond the sound of his voice, warmth of his body, scent of his skin, or taste of his sweat. If a world exists outside of this room, it can wait. For once, John's focus isn't on the future, or the past. Only what's now, and who he's with.
John sees Poe's necklace from the corner of his eye, pressing his cheek against Poe's shoulder, rocking into him, slower, deeper, in time to the stroke of his hand. He doesn't just want Poe to come. He's already came, at least three times, by John's count. He wants him to fly. He doesn't know if he's skilled enough to make that happen, if he was strong enough, with the ropes, or himself, for Poe to really let go, but if he even gets close? John will consider it a win.
Poe always holds out for John to come first. Not this time. John rubs his thumb over the tip of Poe's dick, twisting the ropes in his other hand, pulling Poe harder, closer, against himself, adding pressure to every twist and knot.
Poe's trapped in John's web, on John's terms. His surrender is unconditional.]
Come for me.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 02:29 am (UTC)He could exist suspended in this place for as long as John will let him, but John doesn't want that. He drags Poe in, presses down on his head, orders him to come. The drag of the ropes against his skin sets him on fire, the drag of it against his hips, his arms, his neck, every line like a brand against Poe's skin. Then John punches into Poe again, and he's gone. He breaks in John's grip, arching again, soundless, mouth open.
It's so much worse and so much better this time, a convulsive pleasure that erases any conscious thought. He's a flashfire of sensation, busting against John's hand and into the sheets. Even after he stops bucking, it goes on, blinding him, leaving him in a pool against the sheets as his muscles tremor and the knots of John's handiwork press into his skin. The ropes feel like the only thing holding him together. He's stardust, nothing but stardust and John's name. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 03:19 am (UTC)John lays against him for a moment, his full weight on Poe's back, breathing raggedly, Poe's softening dick still in hand. He kisses Poe's shoulder and neck, slowly, carefully, pulling out. Tucking himself back into his pants. John's job isn't over yet.
Moving to his knees behind Poe, he gently follows the network of silk, slippery with sweat, to the first knot on Poe's foot. With his fingers now, no gloves, he begins the careful process of unraveling him. Just as slowly, and skillfully, as he first tied Poe up, but with even more reverence.
He unbinds Poe's foot, leans down, and kisses the sole.]
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 03:51 am (UTC)Maybe this is what the Force feels like.
He should say something. He can't. There are tears on his face again, and he's not sure whether they're from the release of tensed muscles or exhaustion or something else.
All Poe wants to think about is John's hands on him, on the knots, on the slow unraveling of the bindings. It's like coming back to the real world after being away. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 04:18 am (UTC)One leg released, then the other, stretched back out for the first time in nearly in an hour. John kisses both knees, thighs, and hips. He's quiet in concentration. Unwinding. Untying. Unbinding. He flips Poe over onto his back, kneeling between his legs to continue working. Silk sliding softly over sweat slick skin as the tension eases in small increments, slowly, but surely.
Soon enough, Poe's hips are free, his dick lying soft against the dark thatch of his pubes and lower belly. John shifts back, lifts it with one hand, wraps his lips around it, sucks him clean. Licking the mess away from his lower belly, he starts on the master knot at the centre of the ropes constricting Poe's torso like a second ribcage taut.
With a twist of his fingers, Poe can breathe again.]
Slow, easy breaths. Slow, or you're going to get a stitch. [John inhales, sets the example.] One. Two.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 04:31 am (UTC)He doesn't have to. John cleans him up, gently, and goes back to work, just as gently.
Poe's instinct is to gasp for breath when the ropes around his ribcage go slack. He doesn't, obeying John's orders, eyes on John's face. One, two. One, two. ]
You're beautiful. [ His voice is hoarse. He wants to reach out and touch John's face, the silver at his temples. He still can't move his arms.
Even if he could touch John, Poe isn't sure he has the strength to do it. He feels like he could fall asleep right here, sweat and all. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-04-01 04:52 am (UTC)So are you.
[John kisses down Poe's throat to the base of his neck, lips skimming the chain of his necklace. Lets go of Poe's hands, to slide his hands down Poe's sweaty arms to his shoulders and the last lashings of rope.
He works his fingers beneath the rope framing his chest, pushing it up over his pectorals, loosening knots until the silk falls away. John massages Poe's shoulders, looking down into his eyes.]
How do you feel?
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 02:03 am (UTC)He's also... calm.
Lifting an arm is a herculean effort. He lets his hand fall against John's neck, moving his thumb in tiny circles against John's skin.
He's calm. Purely, genuinely calm. There hasn't been a moment in the past few months--the past few years--like this. It's the feeling he associates with his small room on Yavin 4, with the early morning sounds of the jungle or a late night view of familiar stars.
Poe studies John's face, wanting to kiss him, too tired to lift his head. ]
I'm not sure.
[ Poe closes his eyes. ]
Good.
[ That doesn't begin to cover it. ]
Really good.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 02:56 am (UTC)Then he says it was good. Really good. John exhales a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and leans back to coil the rope around his arm before dropping it down onto the floor, along with the toy, powder, and anything else they'd be messing around with.]
Good. I mean, I was hoping it would feel good.
[He returns with a kiss, and a soft towel, gently rubbing Poe down from his shoulders all the way to his toes, leaving every inch of him clean and dry. Well, clean as they're going to get, without showering. He thinks about pulling Poe into the tub, but he looks so comfortable, even at peace, with where he is, and John doesn't want to ruin the moment. He grabs a pillow instead, and slides it beneath Poe's head, carefully pulling out the sweat soaked comforter from under him. He has a clean one stowed aside.
No one can say John doesn't think ahead.]
Do you need anything? PJ's? Water? Advil? Me to shut up?
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 03:09 am (UTC)[ He can't articulate the release, the freedom, the flightless euphoria. He closes his eyes as John rubs him down, content to let it happen, the impulse to try and do his part in all of this smothered by exhaustion and serenity. He's still got one arm flung out over his head, the other sliding John's neck and dropping to the bed as John works.
Poe lifts his head for the pillow, tries to wriggle his way off of the comforter as John pulls. Then he lays there, curled on his side, watching John through half-closed eyes. He breathes out a laugh. ]
I need you to get into bed with me.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 03:25 am (UTC)[John leans down, kisses Poe's forehead. Pulling away only because he has to. It almost hurts to put space between them right now. Poe's... adorable like this, all soft and sincere. It's a side of him John's only starting to get to know. He loves the rebel, the daredevil pilot and captain, but he loves Poe the man, too. Wants to hold him, and protect him, at all costs.
He undresses quickly, boots and uniform discarded onto the floor, wipes himself down just as quickly, and crawls naked into bed beside Poe, pulling the comforter up with him. As soon as they're close again, he pulls Poe into his arms, cradling him against his chest.]
How's that?
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 03:44 am (UTC)[ An affirmative noise. Poe's eyelids drift shut. He could get used to this. Being held, feeling strangely treasured. He slides an arm around John's waist, turning his face against John's chest and rubbing the tip of his nose against the cleft of his pectorals. He kisses the spot and then settles with his head against John's chest again. ]
Where'd you learn to do that, anyway?
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 04:00 am (UTC)I read a book, and practiced a couple times, but mostly I just winged it. The real thing was a lot different than the photos. I mean, the model wasn't half as hot as you are. Keeping my focus was the hardest part.
[He grins down at Poe, squeezing him against his side. Loving the weight and warmth of his body.]
But you're worth the effort.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 04:08 am (UTC)The words hit him in an unexpected place, somewhere he's guarded for so long he'd all but forgot it existed. He didn't know he wanted to hear them. He didn't know how much they would mean.
Maybe it's just that he feels so exposed. Maybe it's just John. But those four words go a long way to salve the wounds Leia left when she chose his torturer over him.
There are three dangerous words of Poe's own hanging unspoken in his mind. Half-formed. Still able to be pushed away for as long as they stay in that nebulous state. ]
You winged it. [ There's a tracery of amusement in the statement. ] I'm scared to see what happens when you really plan.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 04:26 am (UTC)[Murmured teasingly against Poe's temple, fingers stroking up and down over Poe's bicep beneath the sheets.]
I'd turn this place into a theater of operations.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 04:30 am (UTC)Book another weekend scared. Definitely.
[ For a second all he does is breathe and focus on the brush of John's fingers across skin still tender from the bindings. ]
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 04:54 am (UTC)He traces a red line over the rise of Poe's shoulder. He'll be wearing the harness for a day or two, until the marks fade. John likes the idea of that. A lot]
You're welcome. Thank you, babe.
[Yeah, he said it again. Without the safety net of the ropes between them.]
no subject
Date: 2018-04-02 05:05 am (UTC)It's sound. Deep. Dreamless. The kind of sleep that heals and refreshes and is so rare and precious that Poe hasn't seen it in years. He drifts back to consciousness in the circle of John's arms, and just stays that way for a while, listening to John breathe, smelling the salt of dried sweat on them both.
Eventually he shifts just enough to kiss the base of John's throat. ]