[ If you had asked him a few hours ago, Peter would've sworn on his ship that Poe Dameron didn't have a submissive bone in his body. Peter is pretty sure that Poe was the type of guy who could lose a limb, shrug, and start firing with his remaining hand. He was the type of guy who'd laugh in the face of danger. He was the type of guy who'd stand in front of the huge, gaping maw of certain death and have the fucking gall to tell it about its bad breath.
That's all still certainly true, but now, Peter can hear the whine in Poe's voice, and he drinks in those desperate sobs like he's a man dying of thirst in a desert. Peter can hear the way Poe's voice is one hard thrust away from a plea, and—
God, Peter fucking loves it.
He mouths at the line of Poe's neck and shoulder, bites and sucks new marks to the surface as he fucks him at that same, relentless pace, finding Poe's prostate with each slide home. He glances down, sees how swollen Poe's cock is, sees how precum leaks from the tip, sees the way it twitches with every hard thrust. Poe must be fucking aching, and while Peter certainly knows how goddamn awful it feels and is a little sympathetic, it's also exactly what he was hoping to see. ]
Tell me what you need.
[ He noses at Poe's hair just behind his ear, and he slides his hand up to the base of Poe's neck, fingers splayed wide, keeping the pressure minimal – just so Poe can have the sensation of it without any of the risk.
no subject
That's all still certainly true, but now, Peter can hear the whine in Poe's voice, and he drinks in those desperate sobs like he's a man dying of thirst in a desert. Peter can hear the way Poe's voice is one hard thrust away from a plea, and—
God, Peter fucking loves it.
He mouths at the line of Poe's neck and shoulder, bites and sucks new marks to the surface as he fucks him at that same, relentless pace, finding Poe's prostate with each slide home. He glances down, sees how swollen Poe's cock is, sees how precum leaks from the tip, sees the way it twitches with every hard thrust. Poe must be fucking aching, and while Peter certainly knows how goddamn awful it feels and is a little sympathetic, it's also exactly what he was hoping to see. ]
Tell me what you need.
[ He noses at Poe's hair just behind his ear, and he slides his hand up to the base of Poe's neck, fingers splayed wide, keeping the pressure minimal – just so Poe can have the sensation of it without any of the risk.
Peter still wants to hear him, after all. ]
Ask for it.