The wet heat of Peter's mouth on his neck makes Poe melt almost immediately under that touch, his eyes sliding shut, though that shit-eating grin only widens. ]
I mean, not to say you went easy on me before, but it did feel kind of like you kept the kid-gloves on.
I'm not acknowledging it's a word because it absolutely isn't.
[ He applies a bit of pressure, encouraging Poe to lie back on the bed. Peter settles half atop him, half-propped up on an elbow, using his free hand to feel along the bare skin of Poe's chest. ]
But, yeah. That's much easier to work with.
[ He nips the hinge of Poe's jaw again, a bit more pressure this time. ]
You and I are gonna have to really narrow down what "rough" means, though.
Like, do you want me to fuck you hard enough that you feel it weeks from now?
[ He mouths at Poe's neck, not quite committing to leaving a bruise. Instead, he avoids focusing on one spot for too long, avoids applying too much pressure. ]
You want me to mark you up so much that you look like you blew up another speeder?
[ Poe doesn't exactly need much encouragement to lie back on the bed, and he's happy to make himself comfortable with Peter keeping close. Peter feels good just resting chest-to-chest, even with most of his weight supported, the warmth of his skin practically making Poe's body hum with approval.
Yeah, this is good.
Poe's breath catches as Peter's teeth dig into his neck, and he arches along with the path of the other man's lips and tongue. He shifts under Peter, combing his blunt nails through Peter's hair encouragingly. ]
Mmn, okay, "weeks" might be pushin' it, but I think you're on the right track.
[ His voice is rougher, but that cocky grin gives itself away on another little laugh. ]
Like, maybe hard enough I'm feeling it for a week, but plural might get impractical.
[ ... Okay. The defensiveness tells Peter that Poe's not just joking around, and Peter's smile turns a little sharper. ]
Hey, I'm not criticizing. I was just trying to figure out if you were being for real or not.
You do tend to bullshit.
[ Not that Peter has any room to complain about that, considering he's practically made of bullshit.
He goes back to what he was doing, mouthing at the sensitive point just beneath Poe's jaw, tasting that faint trace of salt, feeling the rhythm of Poe's heartbeat against his lips. ]
"Droid," huh?
[ And he repeats it a little more experimentally, shifting so he's better settled between Poe's legs. ]
But Peter is back to leaving those trails of heat along every tantalizingly sensitive inch of Poe's throat, and his breathing is quicker, his pulse thumping faster.
It's hard not to get ahead of himself when he even likes the simple ways Peter touches him. ]
[ He feels the way Poe's pulse jumps, hears the way his breathing roughens, and he smiles to himself, nipping at the juncture of Poe's shoulder and neck. ]
So what kinda wild shit are you getting up to?
And better question – why am I just now finding out about this?
[ In Peter’s defense, their hookups are usually pretty spontaneous and in the wake of plenty of drinks. They’re on tight schedules, and things just sort of happen – which is great, but more about “where’s the lube,” and not “check out this leash and collar.”
That standard fare is about what Poe indulges in regularly, anyway. He doesn’t tend to have the hours he might want to dedicate to really getting down with someone, considering most of his life is spent ducking the First Order and running missions for the Resistance.
That kind of takes priority over kinky sex. ]
I like how you think I have time to get up to much.
[ His tone is light, hedged by a breathy laugh, though it betrays the reality of how he scrapes by these days: a commander of the Resistance, not a foot soldier or volunteer mechanic. He has places to be more often than not.
Of course, in his earlier days running drugs and other smuggling-related or dubious activities, hedonism tended to go hand-in-hand with his life. He’s done a lot of growing up since then – even if his proclivities haven’t necessarily changed. ]
You say that like I haven't just been using it for ages.
[ Poe is momentarily distracted by how good Peter looks hovering over him like that, with his messy hair and that insufferable look on his face that has absolutely been on Poe's own more than once.
(Like, repeatedly.)
He huffs a short sigh, his hand dropping to Peter's shoulder to absently knead into muscle. ]
Maybe you're overestimating the kind of wild shit I'm doing, but— y'know. It's not a bad idea to go with something distinct when you're upping the intensity.
Yeah, I get that. Having a safeword for this is legitimate.
You're sure you don't want anything on top of that?
[ He curls his fingers around one of Poe's wrists, before pressing it down beside Poe's head. His grip is tight, pointed, but not yet unyielding. A demonstration, more than anything. ]
'Cause I could hold you down. Or I could cuff you. Or whatever else you think you might wanna try.
[ Poe is totally trying to keep his cool right now, but despite his best efforts, his breathing catches sharply when Peter presses his wrist against the bed. They’re both strong, obviously, but Peter’s definitely got the height and broadness going for him, so realistically, getting out of something might be a trial for Poe, scrappy as he may be. But he’s also not concerned about Peter and what he might do with the upper hand.
He trusts the guy a lot more than he realizes.
Poe clears his throat so he doesn’t accidentally croak when he speaks. ]
Is this where you tell me you’ve just got cuffs lying around?
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[ And he says it automatically, as he's moving closer on the bed. ]
And you're seriously gonna give me a complex with how little faith you apparently have in me.
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That just means you're gonna have to send me off with the right impression so I won't end up doubting you again.
[ Duh. ]
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[ This, as he's ducking down to mouth at Poe's neck. He reaches up, fingers tangling in his dark curls. ]
At least give me a hint on how you want it next.
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The wet heat of Peter's mouth on his neck makes Poe melt almost immediately under that touch, his eyes sliding shut, though that shit-eating grin only widens. ]
I mean, not to say you went easy on me before, but it did feel kind of like you kept the kid-gloves on.
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[ And he says it lightly, feigning an air of surprise. ]
But that was because of how delicate and fragile you are. I thought you'd appreciate me being so gentle.
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“Ungentle,” maybe?
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[ He nips at the line of Poe’s jaw, the pressure light and quick. ]
So you might wanna try being more specific.
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[ Poe huffs out a breathless chuckle, reaching up to wind his fingers in Peter's hair to enjoy the light scrape of teeth. ]
Is "rough as fuck" a little clearer?
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[ He applies a bit of pressure, encouraging Poe to lie back on the bed. Peter settles half atop him, half-propped up on an elbow, using his free hand to feel along the bare skin of Poe's chest. ]
But, yeah. That's much easier to work with.
[ He nips the hinge of Poe's jaw again, a bit more pressure this time. ]
You and I are gonna have to really narrow down what "rough" means, though.
Like, do you want me to fuck you hard enough that you feel it weeks from now?
[ He mouths at Poe's neck, not quite committing to leaving a bruise. Instead, he avoids focusing on one spot for too long, avoids applying too much pressure. ]
You want me to mark you up so much that you look like you blew up another speeder?
Or did you want something else?
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Yeah, this is good.
Poe's breath catches as Peter's teeth dig into his neck, and he arches along with the path of the other man's lips and tongue. He shifts under Peter, combing his blunt nails through Peter's hair encouragingly. ]
Mmn, okay, "weeks" might be pushin' it, but I think you're on the right track.
[ His voice is rougher, but that cocky grin gives itself away on another little laugh. ]
Like, maybe hard enough I'm feeling it for a week, but plural might get impractical.
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Good to know.
[ He shifts, offering the same attentions to the other side of Poe's neck. ]
See? That's why we need to have this discussion. That's valuable info, Dameron.
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Is this where I tell you that my safeword is "droid?"
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Wait. Is it really?
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What? It's a perfectly good safeword. Short and easy to remember.
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Hey, I'm not criticizing. I was just trying to figure out if you were being for real or not.
You do tend to bullshit.
[ Not that Peter has any room to complain about that, considering he's practically made of bullshit.
He goes back to what he was doing, mouthing at the sensitive point just beneath Poe's jaw, tasting that faint trace of salt, feeling the rhythm of Poe's heartbeat against his lips. ]
"Droid," huh?
[ And he repeats it a little more experimentally, shifting so he's better settled between Poe's legs. ]
no subject
Look who's talkin'.
[ Like they're not both pro bullshitters.
But Peter is back to leaving those trails of heat along every tantalizingly sensitive inch of Poe's throat, and his breathing is quicker, his pulse thumping faster.
It's hard not to get ahead of himself when he even likes the simple ways Peter touches him. ]
Yeah, "droid." Got a better suggestion?
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[ He feels the way Poe's pulse jumps, hears the way his breathing roughens, and he smiles to himself, nipping at the juncture of Poe's shoulder and neck. ]
So what kinda wild shit are you getting up to?
And better question – why am I just now finding out about this?
no subject
[ In Peter’s defense, their hookups are usually pretty spontaneous and in the wake of plenty of drinks. They’re on tight schedules, and things just sort of happen – which is great, but more about “where’s the lube,” and not “check out this leash and collar.”
That standard fare is about what Poe indulges in regularly, anyway. He doesn’t tend to have the hours he might want to dedicate to really getting down with someone, considering most of his life is spent ducking the First Order and running missions for the Resistance.
That kind of takes priority over kinky sex. ]
I like how you think I have time to get up to much.
[ His tone is light, hedged by a breathy laugh, though it betrays the reality of how he scrapes by these days: a commander of the Resistance, not a foot soldier or volunteer mechanic. He has places to be more often than not.
Of course, in his earlier days running drugs and other smuggling-related or dubious activities, hedonism tended to go hand-in-hand with his life. He’s done a lot of growing up since then – even if his proclivities haven’t necessarily changed. ]
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[ And he points it out brightly.
He pauses, propping himself up with both hands pressed into the bed, bracketing Poe's head. ]
And we've definitely got time now. And last I checked, I was supposed to be distracting you from my seriously shitty time management skills.
So...
[ Peter trails off, cutting Poe an expectant look. ]
no subject
[ Poe is momentarily distracted by how good Peter looks hovering over him like that, with his messy hair and that insufferable look on his face that has absolutely been on Poe's own more than once.
(Like, repeatedly.)
He huffs a short sigh, his hand dropping to Peter's shoulder to absently knead into muscle. ]
Maybe you're overestimating the kind of wild shit I'm doing, but— y'know. It's not a bad idea to go with something distinct when you're upping the intensity.
[ Which, like, is what he asked for? ]
no subject
You're sure you don't want anything on top of that?
[ He curls his fingers around one of Poe's wrists, before pressing it down beside Poe's head. His grip is tight, pointed, but not yet unyielding. A demonstration, more than anything. ]
'Cause I could hold you down. Or I could cuff you. Or whatever else you think you might wanna try.
no subject
He trusts the guy a lot more than he realizes.
Poe clears his throat so he doesn’t accidentally croak when he speaks. ]
Is this where you tell me you’ve just got cuffs lying around?
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Peter smiles.
He eases his grip, curling his hand over the line of Poe's jaw. ]
I've dabbled in bounty-hunting.
[ Usually the easier jobs – someone skipping bail or some scrawny so-and-so wanted for minor infractions. ]
no subject
Poe, as much as he tries to stay visibly at ease, gulps as Peter’s broad hand curls under his jaw.
thisisfinethisisfinethisisfinethisisfine
His eyes are darker, heavy-lidded, and he does his best to keep his voice level. ]
I guess that’s— a pretty good reason to keep them.
no subject
You okay there?
[ It's easy to mistake that sharp reaction for arousal, and easier still to assume that a lack of immediate rejection counts as agreement.
But.
Peter would much rather have enthusiastic consent. (Ironic, considering Peter has an awful habit of hemming and hawing, himself.)
His thumb traces the swell of Poe's cheek. ]
We can keep going just like this. Save the new stuff for next time.
[ (Assuming there's a next time, a traitorous, cynical voice whispers at the back of his head.) ]
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