John growls. Glares. Makes a last ditch effort to struggle, but then Poe pushes into him. Sinks in like it's nothing. Like John is made for him. Right now, it feels like he is. Poe will see the change in John's face as the fights leaves his eyes and everything goes hazey.
It's not John's choice whether he gets fucked or not. He can't resist with Poe in him. Doesn't have the strength. This isn't a battle he can win. John surrenders, and the burden of responsibility, of choice, is lifted from John's shoulders. Laying beneath Poe, helpless to do anything but look up at him, to take what Poe gives, John feels impossibly light.
His head bobs as Poe's hips slap against his ass. It hurts, he's still reeling from the second orgasm, his insides already swollen and oversensitive with abuse, but it's perfect, too. Better than Poe's fingers, or the toy, or clinging onto scraps of pride. The heat of Poe's dick and the friction of raw skin against skin is addicting. It isn't what John wanted, but it's what he needed.
Then Poe adjusts the angle of his hips, starting his strategic assault, and John loses his mind. It's too much. He arches against the bed, seizing. The pressure between his hips is overwhelming. The heat spreads like a wildfire from his belly, burning down his spine and the backs of his thighs. Poe wants him to come again, but it's impossible. Not without falling apart in the process.]
Poe, no, no, no, no. Please, no, please-
[John doesn't hear himself beg, or feel the tears spilling hot from his eyes. All John can feel is inside of himself, the building of something more powerful than he can control or predict. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. What it might look like, or sound like, or feel like.
It's letting go entirely, for real, without any safety nets.]
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Date: 2018-03-13 03:13 am (UTC)John growls. Glares. Makes a last ditch effort to struggle, but then Poe pushes into him. Sinks in like it's nothing. Like John is made for him. Right now, it feels like he is. Poe will see the change in John's face as the fights leaves his eyes and everything goes hazey.
It's not John's choice whether he gets fucked or not. He can't resist with Poe in him. Doesn't have the strength. This isn't a battle he can win. John surrenders, and the burden of responsibility, of choice, is lifted from John's shoulders. Laying beneath Poe, helpless to do anything but look up at him, to take what Poe gives, John feels impossibly light.
His head bobs as Poe's hips slap against his ass. It hurts, he's still reeling from the second orgasm, his insides already swollen and oversensitive with abuse, but it's perfect, too. Better than Poe's fingers, or the toy, or clinging onto scraps of pride. The heat of Poe's dick and the friction of raw skin against skin is addicting. It isn't what John wanted, but it's what he needed.
Then Poe adjusts the angle of his hips, starting his strategic assault, and John loses his mind. It's too much. He arches against the bed, seizing. The pressure between his hips is overwhelming. The heat spreads like a wildfire from his belly, burning down his spine and the backs of his thighs. Poe wants him to come again, but it's impossible. Not without falling apart in the process.]
Poe, no, no, no, no. Please, no, please-
[John doesn't hear himself beg, or feel the tears spilling hot from his eyes. All John can feel is inside of himself, the building of something more powerful than he can control or predict. He doesn't know what will happen if he does. What it might look like, or sound like, or feel like.
It's letting go entirely, for real, without any safety nets.]