[ Peter takes his time at first, but the way he fucks Poe – slow and then sudden and hard – is clearly enough for the pilot. Poe will happily take Peter's dick over his fingers any day, because it's fucking more, and because the sensation of Peter pressed up against him, close and hot and never too much, is far more enthralling. Much more of the taunting, and he probably would have been near begging Peter for it, begging instead of goading, but mercifully, Peter has cut that torment short.
Maybe later.
Every snap of Peter's hips draws a short, gasping groan from Poe, makes his toes curl, his eyes squeeze shut, but it's not until Peter pauses, readjusts, that Poe actually shouts for him. Peter doesn't just continue to brush against his prostate, but every slide home hits that bundle of nerves over and over. Poe's breathless noises melt into shameless moans, cries startled out of him in between stuttered out praises and curses. ]
Peter— fuck, I need, fucking god, Peter, Peter—
[ His name is almost a sob from Poe, and he's painfully aware of his heavy cock, throbbing and practically dripping precum, demanding attention Poe can't give. His arms pull at Peter's grip on his wrist, his writhing kicking up again, wholly unintentionally with nowhere to go, as the need to come starts to supersede his willingness to submit to Peter, in what ways he has. He just wants to touch his cock, just needs to so badly, and he presses his forehead to the sheets with another wrecked moan, unselfconsciously loud. ]
no subject
Maybe later.
Every snap of Peter's hips draws a short, gasping groan from Poe, makes his toes curl, his eyes squeeze shut, but it's not until Peter pauses, readjusts, that Poe actually shouts for him. Peter doesn't just continue to brush against his prostate, but every slide home hits that bundle of nerves over and over. Poe's breathless noises melt into shameless moans, cries startled out of him in between stuttered out praises and curses. ]
Peter— fuck, I need, fucking god, Peter, Peter—
[ His name is almost a sob from Poe, and he's painfully aware of his heavy cock, throbbing and practically dripping precum, demanding attention Poe can't give. His arms pull at Peter's grip on his wrist, his writhing kicking up again, wholly unintentionally with nowhere to go, as the need to come starts to supersede his willingness to submit to Peter, in what ways he has. He just wants to touch his cock, just needs to so badly, and he presses his forehead to the sheets with another wrecked moan, unselfconsciously loud. ]