[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. ]
[John can't remember the last time he's been carried. Not while he was conscious, anyway. He doesn't like to look weak, or feel weak, and he'd always rather stand on his own two feet, but this? Poe's arms around him, supporting him, holding him close, while he's still being wracked with tremors and too exhausted to carry himself? He can't bring himself to fight it.
When Poe had left for the bathroom, John was scared he was leaving. That he'd seen something ugly and changed his mind about him, and John would be left to shiver in a puddle of his own sweat, and break himself out of the spreader bar.
But Poe came back, and kissed him more. Unlocked him, carried him, and John also can't help but look up at him and think "I love this man" and that's even more terrifying than being abandoned, but it's the kind of fear he could get used to, and has had to get used to, with his new family and Atlantis. With finally having something to lose.
His fingers curl into Poe's hair, damp and oily with sweat, and John relaxes against him, as much as he can relax with the powder still electrifying every square inch or skin to skin contact.]
[ Poe rests his forehead against John's, oblivious to the significance of the motion. ] Mm?
[ He eases John down into the tub, studying those gold-green eyes and feeling something warm and familiar move in his chest. As soon as John is settled, Poe climbs in himself, the water sloshing dangerously high against the sides of the enormous tub.
He could look at John all day. Instead he shifts the man enough to maneuver in behind him, his legs on either side of John, his arms around John's stomach. He snags a chunk of spicy-smelling soap from the lip of the tub, a washcloth from the same place, and sinks both into the water. ] What is it?
[Their foreheads touch, and with John’s heart blown wide-open, he almost cries again. This time with homesickness. He misses Atlantis. Misses his people. Misses his galaxy, and all of its problems. At least they were his problems.
John wants to go back, but he wants Poe to come with him, too. He can't not fall in love with the city, and the ocean, and everything good that Atlantis stands for. Their cause is a worthy one.
But so is Poe's. He's fought so hard, and for so long. Even longer than John has. He's heard the story of Kes and Shara-Bey. Poe was born into his war. He didn't choose it, and he can't just walk away. Knowing the answer, John would never ask him to.
The Resistance is in Poe's blood, same as the DNA of the Ancients is in John's.
Poe lowers him into the tub and John melts into the warm water. Vague worries temporarily forgotten. He doesn't expect Poe to climb in after him, behind him, and isn't sure what to do when he's there. Too tired to overthink, or protest, or be anything but cooperative, John leans back into him.
Baths aren't something he indulges in. John's used to military showers. In and out in three minutes, unless you're jerking off. Lying against Poe, all his various aches and pains, inside and out, dissipating into the warm water, John's thinking of using the tub more often.
He swallows to wet his throat, and to force down three dangerous words threatening to compromise his position. Too much, too soon. Even now, high and soft, broken open, more relaxed and at peace than he can remember feeling since before the war, there are some lines John won't cross.
[ Poe laughs quietly. He's not sure what he was expecting, but somehow it wasn't that. Up comes the soap and wash cloth. He smooths the former over the back of John's neck, down his shoulders, lathering John's skin, then goes over the spots again with the cloth, wiping John clean. He'll get to the man's hair, but for now he's focused on John's body, on gently scrubbing everywhere he can reach.
He can't remember the last time he did something like this. If he's ever done something like this. From the Naval Academy to the Navy to D'Qar and the Resistance, it was always quick showers or a round with the sonics and go. Maybe the closest he's ever come was swimming in the rivers and ponds on Yavin with a girl he liked when he was sixteen. Sitting in the shallows side by side, shoulders touching, like that alone was magic.
This feels the same. Poe kisses the back of John's neck and rests his chin on John's shoulder. ]
[Poe is so many firsts for John. He’s never been in a real relationship with a man before. Never been washed before. Never been fucked until he cried before.
The wash cloth is just the right of rough against his skin. Poe scrubs and rinses him, and John doesn’t have do anything but offer his skin. He lifts his arm for Poe, still trembling, watching as the now sudsy water slips between his fingers and travels in rivulets down his bicep. Whether it’s the lingering effects of the powder, or Poe, and everything that happened in bed, but John feels like he’s dreaming. He’s half expecting to wake up on the cold floor of a Wraith hive, post-stun.
Poe kisses his neck, and John knows this is real. Or so close to real he doesn’t want to wake up, and for his memories of this moment to fade away. Not yet. He wants to enjoy this just a little longer, until the inevitable crash and burn of all his dreams. John can’t remember the last time he slept alone, and without nightmares.
He tilts his head back to look at Poe, his eyes are still heavy, and it’s hard to keep them open, but he wants to see him.
Just to make sure it’s his face, and those eyes. John could’ve dreamed those up.]
I’m… sorry if I got weird earlier.
[Acknowledging that anything happened at all feels like a huge leap. Easier to make when it still feels like he’s flying.]
[ He sets the soap to one side and slides his hand up along John's arm to lace their fingers together, staring at the picture that makes, brown skin on white. ] Water might get cold, though.
[ Poe looks down at John's face, almost startlingly close, and kisses the man's nose. ] Weird how?
[ His mind goes to John crying out on the bed, bucking and thrashing, tears on his face, and Poe shifts so he can press his forehead to John's shoulder, bringing their linked hands down so he can wrap his arm (and John's) around the man's stomach.
He's only heard people calling his name like that before when there's nothing he can do to save them. Holding John, holding him close and letting him drift, is like a benediction. ]
[Crying. Moaning. Shaking. Begging. Coming so many times he isn't sure he stopped coming.
Their arms across his belly remind him that he's still aching inside, though not unpleasantly. The shape of Poe stamped into him, along with his release. John likes it there.
He's not a man who's ever wanted to be owned by anyone, but belonging to Poe, maybe that's different. Like he wanted his marriage to be.
John rubs Poe's leg with his free hand beneath the water, over the muscle and swirls of dark hair.]
[ The combined sensation of warm water and John's hand feeds in to the background buzz of euphoria Poe still feels from the powder. He relaxes, sinking a little deeper in to the water, lifting his head to watch tints of red floating to the surface as the powder--nonconductive now, just pigment without power--comes off their skin. Red, Poe thinks, suits them both.
There's a brief, brief impulse to tease John, but it passes as quickly as it came. He can't do it. Not when the man is so clearly uncomfortable. ]
Didn't notice. [ Poe sinks in until his head rests on the edge of the tub, shoulders just exposed enough for John to use them as a headrest if he wants to. He runs a hand through John's sweaty hair. ] Duck yourself under so I can wash your hair.
[John looks back over his scarred shoulder at Poe as his fingers go through his hair, smiling in the way that creases the corners of his eyes. Bright. Without any unspoken heaviness, or gravity at the corners of his mouth.]
Of course you didn't.
[John dunks his head between his knees, spine rounding, blowing bubbles to keep the pinkened water out of his nose. He comes back up again with a gasp, dark hair plastered back from his face. It's longer wet than dry, unevenly cut. John hasn't seen a base barber in years. He doesn't trust them not to shave his head.
It's been some time since anyone's washed his hair. The last time was probably the last proper haircut he'd ever had, sometime during his marriage, at the salon Nancy went to. She tried to make him look presentable, from time to time. For special occasions.
He can't help shaking his head, flinging water everywhere.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 06:41 am (UTC)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.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 07:02 am (UTC)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. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 07:18 am (UTC)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.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 07:50 pm (UTC)[ 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. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 08:49 pm (UTC)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-
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 09:02 pm (UTC)[ 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.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 09:38 pm (UTC)[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.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 09:55 pm (UTC)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?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 10:05 pm (UTC)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.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 10:16 pm (UTC)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.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-11 11:35 pm (UTC)[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.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-12 03:13 am (UTC)[ 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.
(no subject)
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.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 03:29 am (UTC)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. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 04:23 am (UTC)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.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 04:38 am (UTC)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. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 03:35 pm (UTC)When Poe had left for the bathroom, John was scared he was leaving. That he'd seen something ugly and changed his mind about him, and John would be left to shiver in a puddle of his own sweat, and break himself out of the spreader bar.
But Poe came back, and kissed him more. Unlocked him, carried him, and John also can't help but look up at him and think "I love this man" and that's even more terrifying than being abandoned, but it's the kind of fear he could get used to, and has had to get used to, with his new family and Atlantis. With finally having something to lose.
His fingers curl into Poe's hair, damp and oily with sweat, and John relaxes against him, as much as he can relax with the powder still electrifying every square inch or skin to skin contact.]
I...
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 08:57 pm (UTC)[ He eases John down into the tub, studying those gold-green eyes and feeling something warm and familiar move in his chest. As soon as John is settled, Poe climbs in himself, the water sloshing dangerously high against the sides of the enormous tub.
He could look at John all day. Instead he shifts the man enough to maneuver in behind him, his legs on either side of John, his arms around John's stomach. He snags a chunk of spicy-smelling soap from the lip of the tub, a washcloth from the same place, and sinks both into the water. ] What is it?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 09:51 pm (UTC)John wants to go back, but he wants Poe to come with him, too. He can't not fall in love with the city, and the ocean, and everything good that Atlantis stands for. Their cause is a worthy one.
But so is Poe's. He's fought so hard, and for so long. Even longer than John has. He's heard the story of Kes and Shara-Bey. Poe was born into his war. He didn't choose it, and he can't just walk away. Knowing the answer, John would never ask him to.
The Resistance is in Poe's blood, same as the DNA of the Ancients is in John's.
Poe lowers him into the tub and John melts into the warm water. Vague worries temporarily forgotten. He doesn't expect Poe to climb in after him, behind him, and isn't sure what to do when he's there. Too tired to overthink, or protest, or be anything but cooperative, John leans back into him.
Baths aren't something he indulges in. John's used to military showers. In and out in three minutes, unless you're jerking off. Lying against Poe, all his various aches and pains, inside and out, dissipating into the warm water, John's thinking of using the tub more often.
He swallows to wet his throat, and to force down three dangerous words threatening to compromise his position. Too much, too soon. Even now, high and soft, broken open, more relaxed and at peace than he can remember feeling since before the war, there are some lines John won't cross.
He doesn't know how.]
I can't feel my legs.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 10:50 pm (UTC)He can't remember the last time he did something like this. If he's ever done something like this. From the Naval Academy to the Navy to D'Qar and the Resistance, it was always quick showers or a round with the sonics and go. Maybe the closest he's ever come was swimming in the rivers and ponds on Yavin with a girl he liked when he was sixteen. Sitting in the shallows side by side, shoulders touching, like that alone was magic.
This feels the same. Poe kisses the back of John's neck and rests his chin on John's shoulder. ]
Guess we'll have to stay in 'til you can.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-13 11:37 pm (UTC)[Poe is so many firsts for John. He’s never been in a real relationship with a man before. Never been washed before. Never been fucked until he cried before.
The wash cloth is just the right of rough against his skin. Poe scrubs and rinses him, and John doesn’t have do anything but offer his skin. He lifts his arm for Poe, still trembling, watching as the now sudsy water slips between his fingers and travels in rivulets down his bicep. Whether it’s the lingering effects of the powder, or Poe, and everything that happened in bed, but John feels like he’s dreaming. He’s half expecting to wake up on the cold floor of a Wraith hive, post-stun.
Poe kisses his neck, and John knows this is real. Or so close to real he doesn’t want to wake up, and for his memories of this moment to fade away. Not yet. He wants to enjoy this just a little longer, until the inevitable crash and burn of all his dreams. John can’t remember the last time he slept alone, and without nightmares.
He tilts his head back to look at Poe, his eyes are still heavy, and it’s hard to keep them open, but he wants to see him.
Just to make sure it’s his face, and those eyes. John could’ve dreamed those up.]
I’m… sorry if I got weird earlier.
[Acknowledging that anything happened at all feels like a huge leap. Easier to make when it still feels like he’s flying.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-14 12:04 am (UTC)[ He sets the soap to one side and slides his hand up along John's arm to lace their fingers together, staring at the picture that makes, brown skin on white. ] Water might get cold, though.
[ Poe looks down at John's face, almost startlingly close, and kisses the man's nose. ] Weird how?
[ His mind goes to John crying out on the bed, bucking and thrashing, tears on his face, and Poe shifts so he can press his forehead to John's shoulder, bringing their linked hands down so he can wrap his arm (and John's) around the man's stomach.
He's only heard people calling his name like that before when there's nothing he can do to save them. Holding John, holding him close and letting him drift, is like a benediction. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-14 12:28 am (UTC)Y'know. Weird.
[Crying. Moaning. Shaking. Begging. Coming so many times he isn't sure he stopped coming.
Their arms across his belly remind him that he's still aching inside, though not unpleasantly. The shape of Poe stamped into him, along with his release. John likes it there.
He's not a man who's ever wanted to be owned by anyone, but belonging to Poe, maybe that's different. Like he wanted his marriage to be.
John rubs Poe's leg with his free hand beneath the water, over the muscle and swirls of dark hair.]
Embarrassing. Awkward. Uncomfortable.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-14 01:43 am (UTC)There's a brief, brief impulse to tease John, but it passes as quickly as it came. He can't do it. Not when the man is so clearly uncomfortable. ]
Didn't notice. [ Poe sinks in until his head rests on the edge of the tub, shoulders just exposed enough for John to use them as a headrest if he wants to. He runs a hand through John's sweaty hair. ] Duck yourself under so I can wash your hair.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-03-14 03:19 am (UTC)Of course you didn't.
[John dunks his head between his knees, spine rounding, blowing bubbles to keep the pinkened water out of his nose. He comes back up again with a gasp, dark hair plastered back from his face. It's longer wet than dry, unevenly cut. John hasn't seen a base barber in years. He doesn't trust them not to shave his head.
It's been some time since anyone's washed his hair. The last time was probably the last proper haircut he'd ever had, sometime during his marriage, at the salon Nancy went to. She tried to make him look presentable, from time to time. For special occasions.
He can't help shaking his head, flinging water everywhere.]
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