[ Poe laughs breathlessly, feeling like he's run ten miles and could run twenty more. He's certainly going to put John through his paces. He's barely even started yet. ]
The mean has to go somewhere.
[ He proves his point by dragging his finger roughly down John's rectal wall against his prostate and withdrawing, just to penetrate again with his thumb. He works the tissue like he's finessing a bit of machinery into place, withdraws again, then penetrates with three fingers and drags them in a quick circle inside John. ]
[t probably says something about John that it drives him crazy, to be held down and manhandled. Poe's fingers are thick, rough and strong, so much more satisfying than his own. How's John supposed to go back, after this? Poe's ruined him. John knows that much.
He catches the blanket between his teeth, muffling a strangled moan. He arches beneath Poe, slippery with sweat, but can't get any leverage. Poe digs deeper, and John collapses all over again. He can only breathe in short, pitched gasps, because every curve of those fingers steals the air right out of his lungs.]
Poe, please-
[John doesn't even know what he's pleading for, other than a reprieve from the pressure already building up again between his hips, inside of him, which feels dangerously like he might wet himself. Not exactly the same, but similar enough John can't help but squirm with panic.]
Relax, John. [ This time it's a murmur, reassuring, while he works his fingers gently against the bump of John's swelling prostate. It'll be better if John is relaxed.
Poe can't help thinking about that first night, about bulling through John's doorway and pinning him against the dresser. The dazed look on his face, the desperation to do something while Poe made him hold still, made the night about John even against the man's instincts.
Poe feels his heartbeat pulsing through his dick and moans into John's ear. ] Just relax.
[John doesn't relax so much as he goes limp. The sustained direct stimulation is tranquilizing. Every stroke of Poe's fingers makes him convulse inside, moan in his throat, and tremble.
He's high as a kite, the powder absorbed into his blood stream through his skin and soft tissues. John doesn't know up from down. The sound of Poe's voice, his fingers, and the weight of his body on top of John are all feeding into the same pool of pleasure.
John's not disobeying anymore, at the very least. If only because he can't.
Poe speaks again, and John comes just from the heat of his breath against his ear. He shudders, flinching, his thighs spasming on either side of Poe's arm. Another moan, but this time he can't mute it, high and ragged. Torn from him.]
[ Poe eases out of John, kissing the back of his neck, then down along his spine as he sits up. ]
Hold that thought.
[ Off the bed, over to the bag, and out comes a black spreader bar and padded leather cuffs. And a small bag of toys and lube. He hadn't really planned on using any or all of the above tonight but you know what? Sometimes you have to fly with the jet stream. ]
Can you roll over?
[ He makes his way back to the bed, fixing one cuff gently around John's ankle, then the other, still holding the spreader bar tucked under on arm. He kisses the back of John's calf. ] I can do it for you.
[No, John can't roll over. He can't do anything except sweat and shake, which is exactly what he does while Poe is doing whatever he's doing. John's face is still firmly planted against the bed. He hears Poe moving around, twitches when Poe touches him, almost painfully oversensitive all over, but doesn't register what the cuff is right away. His head feels like it's full of cotton candy.
He turns his head, trying to look at Poe through his eyelashes. The room is in soft-focus. Everything feels soft. Except Poe. He's sharp, and hot, and just thinking about him makes John throb inside.]
[ Poe smiles. He slides up on to the bed, eases his arms around John, and rolls the man gently onto his side and then his back. His skin is luminous, electric to the touch, and Poe's pelvic muscles contract sharply, sending a little bot of light rippling through him from stomach to skull.
Another echo of that first night: ] Don't worry about it.
[ He kisses John then, slowly, working the man's lower lip between tongue and teeth. Another line of kisses down John's stomach to his dick, which Poe works over more slowly, coaxing with kisses and licks until John starts to harden.
Then he eases down to connect the spreader bar to the cuffs, extending it little by little until John's legs are forced apart. ]
[John goes over like a rag-doll. His dick is the stiffest part of his body, and only after being kissed to life. He's known for a while he can get off with just his fingers inside of himself, or being fucked. John's dick doesn't even have to be hard for him to come. It bothers him if he stops to think about it. Makes him feel like less of a man, in some ways.
He's not thinking about it right now, though. Not thinking about anything past the fact he's had two, maybe even three orgasms already, and Poe hasn't gotten off once, which means he isn't finished yet. Between the powder, and Poe, John doesn't know if he can survive much more of this.
There's a clicking between his legs, and John's slick thighs are pushed apart. He shifts against the bed, squinting down at himself, but can't quite lift his head high enough to see.]
[ The first thing Poe does is put one of his toy selections in the hotel room's little fridge. It's an afterthought, and impulse, but he can't help grinning a little as he does it.
Poe is a monster news at eleven.
It's almost medical, the way Poe takes a massager and slicks it with lubricant, looking down at John with the remains of that smile on his face. He goes down on one knee on the side of the bed, wincing a little at his dick chafes against his pants. ]
For the record, this wasn't really what I had planned when I came to get you.
[ He slides the massager up into John and turns it on, rolling the vibrating head around the rim of John's anus before he moves it deeper, rocking it back and forth, keeping it on the lowest setting.
[Thanks to Poe's fingers, John's already been stretched and softened. The toy goes in easy, thicker and more solid than Poe's fingers, but smoother and slippery. John takes to the new length and girth with a wince and rock of his hips. The vibration catches him off-guard with a gasp, eyes widening before squeezing shut. He can feel the buzz all the way up into his teeth.
He's never done much with toys. In college an ex-girlfriend left a dildo at his dormitory and he'd experimented, but it was just a gateway to going farther with the real thing.
Sex has always been about connection for John. It's not just the pleasure he's hungry for, but the body to body contact, too. The warmth and life of another human being, whether you're inside them, or they're inside you, or you're just touching each other.
John shifts against the bed uneasily, fingers curling into the sheets. Not sure what to make of this situation, and how it feels. The bar holding his legs apart, and the vibrator inside of him. It feels strange to have an object stimulating him, making his hair stand on end, pushing into him where he's softest and most vulnerable.
He opens his eyes and searches for Poe until he finds him, breathing heavily. His eyes are large with fear, pupils still blown from the effects of the powder, but there's trust in them too, tentative and delicate.
[ When John's eyes meet his, Poe almost folds. That look makes him want to take John in his arms and just sit, the two of them wrapped around each other, safe in this place for as long as it lasts.
It's the first time Poe has thought of Riverview as safe. It's almost a shock, to realize he feels that here. Even with Kylo Ren and now Hux present. They're two men without armies, two men against a significant number of Rebel forces and their allies.
Poe is going to miss it. He's going to miss the sense of safety, the sense that victory in a fight would be a foregone conclusion.
He's going to miss John.
Poe keeps the toy in, leaning in to kiss along the line of one of John's scars. ] It's okay.
[ He climbs further onto the bed, knees on either side of John's stomach, still massaging the man lightly. He leans in and kisses the corner of John's mouth. ] It's all right. I'm right here.
[ For now, for as long as he can be, he's right here. ]
[Poe tells John it's okay, and John believes him. That, more than the high, more than the bar between his legs, more than the toy inside of him, is what's most frightening.
John believes Poe's eyes, and his lips, the words that spill out of them. He trusts that the hand holding the toy inside of him doesn't mean him harm, or humiliation, and that they're still connected, even with something between them.]
Okay.
[He doesn't know if he's supposed to, or if he's allowed right now, but he wraps both arms around Poe's neck and holds him close. Then the vibration starts to feel better. Less shocking, like some kind of torture device on low battery, and more like an extension of Poe's touch.
John feels the buzz in his belly, in his hole, in the stretched passage of muscle and tissue beyond, in his prostate, and the base of his dick. He closes his eyes, shudders again, the bar clanking against the cuffs as his feet move and his heels dig into the bed. Makes a small noise at the resistance, a tremble moving down his legs.]
[ Poe closes his eyes, enjoying the closeness himself, the soft buzz of contact as John pulls him down. He rocks against John, shuddering at the rub of his dick against cloth and the other man. His arm is pinned lightly between them, making the gentle rotation of the massager harder, but Poe doesn't care. He'd rather John be comfortable. He'd rather be held. ]
I'm turning it up now.
[ He lets the statement hang for a moment, gives John a chance to protest, then follows through. ]
[John arches beneath him, fingers twisting into the back of Poe's shirt. He's panting now, desperately, his chest heaving against the wall of Poe's chest.
He sees stars. Literal stars. His vision is spotting. The stimulation has him flying higher than his body can keep up with. No inertial dampeners here. Just powdered rocket fuel.
John's head falls back, baring his wet throat, eyes sliding half-shut. Still looking at Poe, when he can focus. Vocal breathing, both rough and treble, rising with every press of the massager into his prostate.
He's going to come again, he can feel it, the waves are already rocking his body, twisting him up inside. His nails dig into Poe's back through the fabric of his shirt.]
[ Poe twitches the settings up again, bearing down just a little harder, rolling the massager against John's walls, not planning on letting up this time after John lets go. Not until John really lets go, stops thinking, stops protesting, stops being afraid.
God, Poe wants to ride him hard right now, right now, but he keeps himself in check. There are a few things with which he has patience. Ship maintenance, droids, wildlife, and sex. He can wait. ]
[His body is operating on auto-pilot, and there's nothing he can do to take back the controls. John's only option is to ride out the turbulence, and brace for impact.
The third orgasm is the most violent so far. It has all the strength of the first two, but built upon. Past the point any sane person would keep touching themselves, and farther. It's a rough ride. He pants and convulses, tremors wracking him from head to toe. He's dripping with sweat, dark hair sticking to his face, skin sticking to the sheets, dog tags caught up around his neck.
His thighs spasm, but the bar between his ankles keeps his legs spread. Prevents him from clamping down and controlling anything. John startles, gasping, makes a strangeled noise in his throat, his heart racing, blood already picked up by the powder rushing faster and harder.
That pushes John over the edge, deeper, into a feedback loop that lasts a full minute, maybe even two, of John panting, struggling and whimpering, aftershocks rolling through him so powerfully they're visible as they travel up and down his body.
John almost passes out. His eyes, focused on Poe's eyes, struggling to stay open.]
[ Poe relents. A little bit. For the moment. He doesn't want John actually passing out. He kisses John's mouth lightly, switching the massager off and easing it out. He tosses it aside onto the bed, its job done for now. Poe eases back enough to peel off his shirt, dumping it onto the floor.
He winces as he unbuttons his pants, closing his eyes in relief as he pulls them down.
That shit was starting to hurt.
He lays on top of John, feeling the man's sweat gloss his own stomach. Poe shivers. Kisses John again, a crook of a smile on his face.]
[John sighs with relief when Poe removes the massager. He's still vibrating all over, in his brain, muscle, and bones. Any more buzzing and he'll lose his damn mind, if he hasn't already.
He lets go of Poe, sinking (collapsing) back against the bed. His breathing is still shallow, and he watches Poe with heavy, glossy eyes. Greener when they're wet, and his skin is flush with blood.]
I think we're a little past buddy at this point.
[Then it sinks in, what Poe's saying and doing. Undressing. Looking at him like that, with a devil may care smile, because is the devil, or at least a demon, put on this rock to torment John for all his many sins, apparently.
John's eyes widen, brow fretting.]
Wait, no- no. C'mon. I'm... I'm tired. It's too much.
[ His own touch at he lubes his dick is almost too much. Poe closes his eyes, even if it means he can't see John's own.
He can at least still feel the tremors in John's body, can almost feel them vibrating through him with the tactile boost from the powder. Poe shifts back on the bed, gripping the bar and lifting it--and John's legs--so he can position himself. ]
If you'd rather, there's some beads in the fridge I haven't had a chance to use.
Maybe you should try being the strong, silent type-
[And then John's legs are in the air, held in place by the bar, effectively folding him in half. The change in position, his deck trapped between his thighs and his stomach, and the additional pressure against his lower belly, make him exhale like he's been sucker-punched.]
No, no more toys- [More pleading, looking up at Poe helplessly from his back. Heart racing with fear, excitement, and arousal. John doesn't know what he wants, his brain is too scrambled with hormones and drugs. All he does know is that his body is on the verge of breaking, that the slightest touch is almost too much. He's scared of what comes past this.
His tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, still tingling and kiss-swollen.] Poe, please. I can't take anymore. You win. I need some time to recover.
[ Poe kisses one of John's ankles, then nips at it. ]
When I'm done.
[ He settles, the bar held up by his chest, easing himself in to John with a slowness that's almost like torture. Poe wants to just drag John against him and fuck him hard. He'll get there. For now he moves easy, steady, rolling his hips against John's ass and groaning low in his throat as the sensation ripples through him.
Harder. Harder. He shifts a little, re-angles, pushes hard and holds the position as his muscles start to tremble.
Poe grips John's thighs and starts to pick up speed, already feeling the world narrow in on to the two of them, that golden sensation spilling over, filling him up.
He looks down at John, eyes bright, smile somehow both gentle and vicious. ]
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.]
[ Poe thrusts hard against John, almost closing his eyes so he doesn't have to see John crying. Except he did this, he brought them this far, and it feels almost cruel to look away from his own handiwork. He's so close to the edge, muscles tense and stomach throbbing with heat.
He drags himself half-free of John and thrusts again in that particular way he's learned, that particular angle that John always seems to respond to. Once. Twice. Again. Again. He feels it in every part of himself, each shiver of muscle, each line of tension lit like a fast-burning fuse quickly running out of track. Poe's head falls back, eyelids fluttering shut, and he yanks John against him hard, lifting John's ass off the bed.
And then Poe loses track of everything, hanging suspended in release, feeling that lightspeed rush like a kick to the gut that goes on and on. ]
[Release looks, sounds,and feels like a breakdown. Heaving. Sobbing. Shaking. John's an ugly sight, or a beautiful one, depending on your perspective. He tries to cover his face, but he can't keep his hands steady. There's no hiding from this, or from Poe, who drove him here, has front row seats, and can feel everything from the inside.
Poe fucks into him, deeper, even more targeted, and John's head snaps back. He cries out, unbridled. Like he's been shot. He convulses. Sobs Poe's name over and over, with every breath Poe's hips knock out of him. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, the man who doesn't cry, or beg, or surrender, fucked to utter submission and tears.
John's never came so hard in his life.
There is no singular sensation. It's full-body. More powerful and all-consuming than words can describe. For a moment, John doesn't feel any pain. No sadness, anger, or despair. Just relief. A shedding of everything, his past, his regrets, his scars, falling away like lead shackles.
For a moment, John feels free to simply exist, and accept the bliss that washes over him. Without judgement. Unconditionally. Like he never has, except for that first night, when Poe brought him to this same place.
He feels Poe come as he's coming, and for once John doesn't worry about what happens after. Simply sinks back against the bed, entirely exhausted, and trembles through the aftershocks as they come.]
[ Poe eases John's hips back down onto the bed, eases himself free. He's got a gloss of sweat on his forehead, the hum of pleasure singing through his bones, but John....
John is spent. There's a glassy, near-feverish look in his eyes, unfocused and calm. He's shaking. He's soaked in sweat and has soaked the sheets around him, too.
Poe climbs up over him and kisses Sheppard's forehead, his cheekbone, his neck, tender little brushes of lips that aren't meant to do anything but comfort. Poe's shaken, and it shows. He's pushed men, women, and others into multiple orgasms before. That's not the part that gets him. The part that gets him is Sheppard crying out his name, tears pouring down his face, until Poe fucked him into silence.
Poe cups John's face with one hand and plants a light kiss on John's lips.
This time there's no wickedness when he says: ] Hold that thought.
[ Poe climbs off the bed and heads into the bathroom, plugging the tub--big enough for two--and starting to fill it up. He goes back to John, slowly uncuffing one ankle, then the other, kissing the tops of John's feet as tenderly as he kissed his face.
Then he takes one of John's hands, pulling the man upright enough that Poe can get an arm behind his back. And he scoops John off the bed and carries him to the bathroom. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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The mean has to go somewhere.
[ He proves his point by dragging his finger roughly down John's rectal wall against his prostate and withdrawing, just to penetrate again with his thumb. He works the tissue like he's finessing a bit of machinery into place, withdraws again, then penetrates with three fingers and drags them in a quick circle inside John. ]
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He catches the blanket between his teeth, muffling a strangled moan. He arches beneath Poe, slippery with sweat, but can't get any leverage. Poe digs deeper, and John collapses all over again. He can only breathe in short, pitched gasps, because every curve of those fingers steals the air right out of his lungs.]
Poe, please-
[John doesn't even know what he's pleading for, other than a reprieve from the pressure already building up again between his hips, inside of him, which feels dangerously like he might wet himself. Not exactly the same, but similar enough John can't help but squirm with panic.]
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Poe can't help thinking about that first night, about bulling through John's doorway and pinning him against the dresser. The dazed look on his face, the desperation to do something while Poe made him hold still, made the night about John even against the man's instincts.
Poe feels his heartbeat pulsing through his dick and moans into John's ear. ] Just relax.
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He's high as a kite, the powder absorbed into his blood stream through his skin and soft tissues. John doesn't know up from down. The sound of Poe's voice, his fingers, and the weight of his body on top of John are all feeding into the same pool of pleasure.
John's not disobeying anymore, at the very least. If only because he can't.
Poe speaks again, and John comes just from the heat of his breath against his ear. He shudders, flinching, his thighs spasming on either side of Poe's arm. Another moan, but this time he can't mute it, high and ragged. Torn from him.]
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Hold that thought.
[ Off the bed, over to the bag, and out comes a black spreader bar and padded leather cuffs. And a small bag of toys and lube. He hadn't really planned on using any or all of the above tonight but you know what? Sometimes you have to fly with the jet stream. ]
Can you roll over?
[ He makes his way back to the bed, fixing one cuff gently around John's ankle, then the other, still holding the spreader bar tucked under on arm. He kisses the back of John's calf. ] I can do it for you.
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He turns his head, trying to look at Poe through his eyelashes. The room is in soft-focus. Everything feels soft. Except Poe. He's sharp, and hot, and just thinking about him makes John throb inside.]
What're you doing down there?
[And his voice is hoarse already.]
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Another echo of that first night: ] Don't worry about it.
[ He kisses John then, slowly, working the man's lower lip between tongue and teeth. Another line of kisses down John's stomach to his dick, which Poe works over more slowly, coaxing with kisses and licks until John starts to harden.
Then he eases down to connect the spreader bar to the cuffs, extending it little by little until John's legs are forced apart. ]
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He's not thinking about it right now, though. Not thinking about anything past the fact he's had two, maybe even three orgasms already, and Poe hasn't gotten off once, which means he isn't finished yet. Between the powder, and Poe, John doesn't know if he can survive much more of this.
There's a clicking between his legs, and John's slick thighs are pushed apart. He shifts against the bed, squinting down at himself, but can't quite lift his head high enough to see.]
What's that?
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[ The first thing Poe does is put one of his toy selections in the hotel room's little fridge. It's an afterthought, and impulse, but he can't help grinning a little as he does it.
Poe is a monster news at eleven.
It's almost medical, the way Poe takes a massager and slicks it with lubricant, looking down at John with the remains of that smile on his face. He goes down on one knee on the side of the bed, wincing a little at his dick chafes against his pants. ]
For the record, this wasn't really what I had planned when I came to get you.
[ He slides the massager up into John and turns it on, rolling the vibrating head around the rim of John's anus before he moves it deeper, rocking it back and forth, keeping it on the lowest setting.
Poe leans in and kisses John's inner thigh. ]
Kinda figured on doing this tomorrow, actually.
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He's never done much with toys. In college an ex-girlfriend left a dildo at his dormitory and he'd experimented, but it was just a gateway to going farther with the real thing.
Sex has always been about connection for John. It's not just the pleasure he's hungry for, but the body to body contact, too. The warmth and life of another human being, whether you're inside them, or they're inside you, or you're just touching each other.
John shifts against the bed uneasily, fingers curling into the sheets. Not sure what to make of this situation, and how it feels. The bar holding his legs apart, and the vibrator inside of him. It feels strange to have an object stimulating him, making his hair stand on end, pushing into him where he's softest and most vulnerable.
He opens his eyes and searches for Poe until he finds him, breathing heavily. His eyes are large with fear, pupils still blown from the effects of the powder, but there's trust in them too, tentative and delicate.
John's lower lip trembles.]
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It's the first time Poe has thought of Riverview as safe. It's almost a shock, to realize he feels that here. Even with Kylo Ren and now Hux present. They're two men without armies, two men against a significant number of Rebel forces and their allies.
Poe is going to miss it. He's going to miss the sense of safety, the sense that victory in a fight would be a foregone conclusion.
He's going to miss John.
Poe keeps the toy in, leaning in to kiss along the line of one of John's scars. ] It's okay.
[ He climbs further onto the bed, knees on either side of John's stomach, still massaging the man lightly. He leans in and kisses the corner of John's mouth. ] It's all right. I'm right here.
[ For now, for as long as he can be, he's right here. ]
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John believes Poe's eyes, and his lips, the words that spill out of them. He trusts that the hand holding the toy inside of him doesn't mean him harm, or humiliation, and that they're still connected, even with something between them.]
Okay.
[He doesn't know if he's supposed to, or if he's allowed right now, but he wraps both arms around Poe's neck and holds him close. Then the vibration starts to feel better. Less shocking, like some kind of torture device on low battery, and more like an extension of Poe's touch.
John feels the buzz in his belly, in his hole, in the stretched passage of muscle and tissue beyond, in his prostate, and the base of his dick. He closes his eyes, shudders again, the bar clanking against the cuffs as his feet move and his heels dig into the bed. Makes a small noise at the resistance, a tremble moving down his legs.]
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[ Poe closes his eyes, enjoying the closeness himself, the soft buzz of contact as John pulls him down. He rocks against John, shuddering at the rub of his dick against cloth and the other man. His arm is pinned lightly between them, making the gentle rotation of the massager harder, but Poe doesn't care. He'd rather John be comfortable. He'd rather be held. ]
I'm turning it up now.
[ He lets the statement hang for a moment, gives John a chance to protest, then follows through. ]
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He sees stars. Literal stars. His vision is spotting. The stimulation has him flying higher than his body can keep up with. No inertial dampeners here. Just powdered rocket fuel.
John's head falls back, baring his wet throat, eyes sliding half-shut. Still looking at Poe, when he can focus. Vocal breathing, both rough and treble, rising with every press of the massager into his prostate.
He's going to come again, he can feel it, the waves are already rocking his body, twisting him up inside. His nails dig into Poe's back through the fabric of his shirt.]
I can't-
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[ Poe twitches the settings up again, bearing down just a little harder, rolling the massager against John's walls, not planning on letting up this time after John lets go. Not until John really lets go, stops thinking, stops protesting, stops being afraid.
God, Poe wants to ride him hard right now, right now, but he keeps himself in check. There are a few things with which he has patience. Ship maintenance, droids, wildlife, and sex. He can wait. ]
You have twice already.
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[His body is operating on auto-pilot, and there's nothing he can do to take back the controls. John's only option is to ride out the turbulence, and brace for impact.
The third orgasm is the most violent so far. It has all the strength of the first two, but built upon. Past the point any sane person would keep touching themselves, and farther. It's a rough ride. He pants and convulses, tremors wracking him from head to toe. He's dripping with sweat, dark hair sticking to his face, skin sticking to the sheets, dog tags caught up around his neck.
His thighs spasm, but the bar between his ankles keeps his legs spread. Prevents him from clamping down and controlling anything. John startles, gasping, makes a strangeled noise in his throat, his heart racing, blood already picked up by the powder rushing faster and harder.
That pushes John over the edge, deeper, into a feedback loop that lasts a full minute, maybe even two, of John panting, struggling and whimpering, aftershocks rolling through him so powerfully they're visible as they travel up and down his body.
John almost passes out. His eyes, focused on Poe's eyes, struggling to stay open.]
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He winces as he unbuttons his pants, closing his eyes in relief as he pulls them down.
That shit was starting to hurt.
He lays on top of John, feeling the man's sweat gloss his own stomach. Poe shivers. Kisses John again, a crook of a smile on his face.]
Ready for me, buddy?
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He lets go of Poe, sinking (collapsing) back against the bed. His breathing is still shallow, and he watches Poe with heavy, glossy eyes. Greener when they're wet, and his skin is flush with blood.]
I think we're a little past buddy at this point.
[Then it sinks in, what Poe's saying and doing. Undressing. Looking at him like that, with a devil may care smile, because is the devil, or at least a demon, put on this rock to torment John for all his many sins, apparently.
John's eyes widen, brow fretting.]
Wait, no- no. C'mon. I'm... I'm tired. It's too much.
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Boon companion.
[ His own touch at he lubes his dick is almost too much. Poe closes his eyes, even if it means he can't see John's own.
He can at least still feel the tremors in John's body, can almost feel them vibrating through him with the tactile boost from the powder. Poe shifts back on the bed, gripping the bar and lifting it--and John's legs--so he can position himself. ]
If you'd rather, there's some beads in the fridge I haven't had a chance to use.
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[And then John's legs are in the air, held in place by the bar, effectively folding him in half. The change in position, his deck trapped between his thighs and his stomach, and the additional pressure against his lower belly, make him exhale like he's been sucker-punched.]
No, no more toys- [More pleading, looking up at Poe helplessly from his back. Heart racing with fear, excitement, and arousal. John doesn't know what he wants, his brain is too scrambled with hormones and drugs. All he does know is that his body is on the verge of breaking, that the slightest touch is almost too much. He's scared of what comes past this.
His tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, still tingling and kiss-swollen.] Poe, please. I can't take anymore. You win. I need some time to recover.
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[ Poe kisses one of John's ankles, then nips at it. ]
When I'm done.
[ He settles, the bar held up by his chest, easing himself in to John with a slowness that's almost like torture. Poe wants to just drag John against him and fuck him hard. He'll get there. For now he moves easy, steady, rolling his hips against John's ass and groaning low in his throat as the sensation ripples through him.
Harder. Harder. He shifts a little, re-angles, pushes hard and holds the position as his muscles start to tremble.
Poe grips John's thighs and starts to pick up speed, already feeling the world narrow in on to the two of them, that golden sensation spilling over, filling him up.
He looks down at John, eyes bright, smile somehow both gentle and vicious. ]
Once more for me.
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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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He drags himself half-free of John and thrusts again in that particular way he's learned, that particular angle that John always seems to respond to. Once. Twice. Again. Again. He feels it in every part of himself, each shiver of muscle, each line of tension lit like a fast-burning fuse quickly running out of track. Poe's head falls back, eyelids fluttering shut, and he yanks John against him hard, lifting John's ass off the bed.
And then Poe loses track of everything, hanging suspended in release, feeling that lightspeed rush like a kick to the gut that goes on and on. ]
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Poe fucks into him, deeper, even more targeted, and John's head snaps back. He cries out, unbridled. Like he's been shot. He convulses. Sobs Poe's name over and over, with every breath Poe's hips knock out of him. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, the man who doesn't cry, or beg, or surrender, fucked to utter submission and tears.
John's never came so hard in his life.
There is no singular sensation. It's full-body. More powerful and all-consuming than words can describe. For a moment, John doesn't feel any pain. No sadness, anger, or despair. Just relief. A shedding of everything, his past, his regrets, his scars, falling away like lead shackles.
For a moment, John feels free to simply exist, and accept the bliss that washes over him. Without judgement. Unconditionally. Like he never has, except for that first night, when Poe brought him to this same place.
He feels Poe come as he's coming, and for once John doesn't worry about what happens after. Simply sinks back against the bed, entirely exhausted, and trembles through the aftershocks as they come.]
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John is spent. There's a glassy, near-feverish look in his eyes, unfocused and calm. He's shaking. He's soaked in sweat and has soaked the sheets around him, too.
Poe climbs up over him and kisses Sheppard's forehead, his cheekbone, his neck, tender little brushes of lips that aren't meant to do anything but comfort. Poe's shaken, and it shows. He's pushed men, women, and others into multiple orgasms before. That's not the part that gets him. The part that gets him is Sheppard crying out his name, tears pouring down his face, until Poe fucked him into silence.
Poe cups John's face with one hand and plants a light kiss on John's lips.
This time there's no wickedness when he says: ] Hold that thought.
[ Poe climbs off the bed and heads into the bathroom, plugging the tub--big enough for two--and starting to fill it up. He goes back to John, slowly uncuffing one ankle, then the other, kissing the tops of John's feet as tenderly as he kissed his face.
Then he takes one of John's hands, pulling the man upright enough that Poe can get an arm behind his back. And he scoops John off the bed and carries him to the bathroom. ]
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