[ And even is his voice is still hoarse with want and desire, he somehow manages to sound gentle, pressing his lips to Poe's temple. ]
I'm gonna take care of you.
[ A reassurance and a promise, wrapped up in one. ]
I've got you.
[ He works his way back up to that ruthless pace from before, his hand curled around Poe's cock, offering special attention to the head. He aims for Poe's prostate, over and over, and focused as he is on maintaining that rhythm, he only has mind enough to offer quick, shallow little presses of his mouth against Poe's shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw.
Peter tends to babble when he's in the heat of the moment, and now's no different. He offers up every little bit of praise that comes to his head, heedless of his usual reluctance to inflate Poe's ego. (shit, poe— you've been so fucking good— god, you should hear how you sound— look at you, poe, you could fucking cut glass with that jawline—)
And as he gets close to that edge, his entire body tenses, and when he finally lets himself fall over, he groans out Poe's name against his shoulder. His rhythm stutters, grows frantic as he fucks Poe, as he rides out wave after golden, molten wave, and—
He relaxes, sagging a little against Poe's back, but he keeps stroking Poe, keeps up that pressure, keeps up that rhythm. He's left the guy twisting in the wind for long enough. Peter's a little sadistic, sure, but he's not a monster. ]
no subject
[ And even is his voice is still hoarse with want and desire, he somehow manages to sound gentle, pressing his lips to Poe's temple. ]
I'm gonna take care of you.
[ A reassurance and a promise, wrapped up in one. ]
I've got you.
[ He works his way back up to that ruthless pace from before, his hand curled around Poe's cock, offering special attention to the head. He aims for Poe's prostate, over and over, and focused as he is on maintaining that rhythm, he only has mind enough to offer quick, shallow little presses of his mouth against Poe's shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw.
Peter tends to babble when he's in the heat of the moment, and now's no different. He offers up every little bit of praise that comes to his head, heedless of his usual reluctance to inflate Poe's ego. (shit, poe— you've been so fucking good— god, you should hear how you sound— look at you, poe, you could fucking cut glass with that jawline—)
And as he gets close to that edge, his entire body tenses, and when he finally lets himself fall over, he groans out Poe's name against his shoulder. His rhythm stutters, grows frantic as he fucks Poe, as he rides out wave after golden, molten wave, and—
He relaxes, sagging a little against Poe's back, but he keeps stroking Poe, keeps up that pressure, keeps up that rhythm. He's left the guy twisting in the wind for long enough. Peter's a little sadistic, sure, but he's not a monster. ]
Don't hold back.