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?
[ Poe doesn’t look relieved or disappointed by the gentle application of brakes – but if anything, his eyes light a little when Peter says “next time.” ]
You know that means you have to come back to me in one piece, Starboy.
[ He exhales shakily, turning his head to kiss the heel of Peter’s palm. ]
[ Mr. Poe "Every Job is Practically a Suicide Mission" Dameron. But it comes out lightly, teasingly, even if it is a little more real than Peter intends it to be.
He covers for the misstep by ducking down, capturing Poe's mouth in a heated kiss. His hand leaves Poe's face to curl around his wrist again, pressing it down into the mattress. ]
This still okay? Or is this a "next time" thing, too?
[ The thing about Poe is that he can be very easily distracted with the right stimuli – like that deeper kiss and the way Peter pins his wrist again. The reaction is still pretty immediate – the little gasp, the way his heart rate kicks up a notch – but this time, his nod is eager instead of trying to ease off into pretending he's keeping his perfect cool.
(It keeps him from thinking about the niggling reminder at the back of his mind that their time together is never guaranteed.) ]
He guides Poe's wrists up over his head, crossing them so he can pin them with one hand. They're probably on an equal level strength-wise, if Peter's honest (even if his pride wants to insist that Peter is obviously – obviously – the stronger of the two), and he's reasonably sure that Poe could twist his way out of Peter's grip, if he really needed to.
But for now, Peter's banking on Poe wanting this, at least for the moment, and that Peter can distract him successfully enough that it won't be an issue.
He slots his mouth over Poe's again – heated again, but sharper, more insistent. His teeth catch Poe's lower lip, his tongue slips into Poe's mouth, and he's far more demanding, far more hungry than he's been all night. The guy asked for rough, and Peter's more than happy to offer that. ]
[ Whatever reluctance was still at the edge of Poe's awareness drops when Peter's lips crash into his own. (Because he trusts Peter, and he's genuinely willing to believe that this compromising position isn't going to go anywhere he doesn't want it to – but self-preservation always makes him know his exits, even now.)
The sting of Peter's teeth startles another sharp inhale out of Poe, and his head swims with the sudden wet slide of Peter's tongue; he's momentarily caught by surprise. But his brain catches up to the rest of him quickly enough, and he meets Peter's kiss with building veracity, a similar edge of hunger burning at the sidelines.
His eagerness starts to get the better of him as he presses up into the kiss, starting to strain against the grip on his wrists. He's not really pulling, not really trying to yank his hands free, but he's testing the strength pinning him down – and also just trying to get closer to Peter, since everyone knows how damn hard it is for Poe to keep still. ]
[ Better still, once Poe starts kissing him back, once he starts moving, wanting and demanding. Peter smiles into the kiss, his grip tightening briefly just to show he doesn't intend on letting Poe go anywhere – not yet, anyway.
He pushes himself up, giving himself a few seconds to admire Poe beneath him – flushed and wanting, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Dark eyes and swollen lips. ]
You look good like this.
[ His free hand smooths down Poe's bare chest, resting against his sternum briefly to feel the eager rhythm of his heartbeat. ]
Next time we do this, if you let me cuff you, I'll just take my sweet fucking time. I'll leave you twisting for so long that you're begging me to touch your cock.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He nips at the line of Poe’s jaw, the pressure light and quick. ]
So you might wanna try being more specific.
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
Is this where I tell you that my safeword is "droid?"
no subject
Wait. Is it really?
no subject
What? It's a perfectly good safeword. Short and easy to remember.
no subject
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?
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.) ]
no subject
You know that means you have to come back to me in one piece, Starboy.
[ He exhales shakily, turning his head to kiss the heel of Peter’s palm. ]
I’m good.
[ ... Hard as fuck again, but good. ]
no subject
[ Mr. Poe "Every Job is Practically a Suicide Mission" Dameron. But it comes out lightly, teasingly, even if it is a little more real than Peter intends it to be.
He covers for the misstep by ducking down, capturing Poe's mouth in a heated kiss. His hand leaves Poe's face to curl around his wrist again, pressing it down into the mattress. ]
This still okay? Or is this a "next time" thing, too?
no subject
(It keeps him from thinking about the niggling reminder at the back of his mind that their time together is never guaranteed.) ]
No, yeah, definitely okay.
no subject
He guides Poe's wrists up over his head, crossing them so he can pin them with one hand. They're probably on an equal level strength-wise, if Peter's honest (even if his pride wants to insist that Peter is obviously – obviously – the stronger of the two), and he's reasonably sure that Poe could twist his way out of Peter's grip, if he really needed to.
But for now, Peter's banking on Poe wanting this, at least for the moment, and that Peter can distract him successfully enough that it won't be an issue.
He slots his mouth over Poe's again – heated again, but sharper, more insistent. His teeth catch Poe's lower lip, his tongue slips into Poe's mouth, and he's far more demanding, far more hungry than he's been all night. The guy asked for rough, and Peter's more than happy to offer that. ]
no subject
The sting of Peter's teeth startles another sharp inhale out of Poe, and his head swims with the sudden wet slide of Peter's tongue; he's momentarily caught by surprise. But his brain catches up to the rest of him quickly enough, and he meets Peter's kiss with building veracity, a similar edge of hunger burning at the sidelines.
His eagerness starts to get the better of him as he presses up into the kiss, starting to strain against the grip on his wrists. He's not really pulling, not really trying to yank his hands free, but he's testing the strength pinning him down – and also just trying to get closer to Peter, since everyone knows how damn hard it is for Poe to keep still. ]
no subject
He pushes himself up, giving himself a few seconds to admire Poe beneath him – flushed and wanting, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Dark eyes and swollen lips. ]
You look good like this.
[ His free hand smooths down Poe's bare chest, resting against his sternum briefly to feel the eager rhythm of his heartbeat. ]
Next time we do this, if you let me cuff you, I'll just take my sweet fucking time. I'll leave you twisting for so long that you're begging me to touch your cock.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)