No one knocks on the door. Maybe they are just lucky and the room closest to them is empty. Or maybe everyone instinctively knows that if Poe makes Owain scream, he's well within his rights to do so. Whether out of pleasure or pain. The outside, however, is the last thing on Poe's mind right now. Though there really isn't a hell of a lot on his mind at all, other than the vice grip of Owain's body around his cock, his husky laugh, the way his nails rake over Poe's skin.
He'd felt mostly in control of himself, even when his restraint had snapped. Still felt like he was making decisions for his body, not the other way around.
But then Owain called him a good boy.
He flushed, darkly, and instantly - hadn't even known he could, with so much blood in his cock, but he did - his skin suddenly flamingly hot - his hips bucking hard to meet Owain's hips. He began to drive into him with a reckless abandon, each punishing thrust causing his balls to smack against Owain's ass with a dull slapping sound, pinning him hard into the sheets and then pulling almost the entire length out before slamming it back in again. It was very clear he was following orders.
He had absolutely no control at all, despite the position, and he had lost any ability to tell what his mouth was doing - cursing and grunting with every thrust. His impending orgasm came on extremely suddenly, his bucking hips turning a little more frantic, but he wasn't done--
"Hurt me--" he blurted out, far less of a promise and far far more of a plea. This was begging. "Hurt me, Owain, or I'm going to come right n-- fucking-- hurt me--"
Again, he screams when Poe bucks into him. There's a second before he does it, a second before he's snapping his neck back until his tendons are straining visibly against his skin as he cries out, where he fucking notices. He sees the flush in Poe's skin, sees the way he reacts to being called a good boy, and he's excited. A flutter of joy in his stomach that mixes with an aching, fucking terrible arousal, his dick grinding hard against Poe's stomach as he finds some semblance of composure and looks up at him from below.
He brings his fingertips to Poe's back, eyes all but rolling into the back of his head with each slap against his ass. He scratches up Poe's spine with one hand, finds his master's hair, holds tight in black curls and pulls him closer with an almost angry sounding ffffffffuck hissed through his teeth.
He pants, right up against Poe's ear, as he tries to find his voice.
"Do you really think... that'll stop you?" His voice is a whisper, and it's fucking drowning in barely contained restraint. It's wavering, tremoring, but his intentions are hard and solid, and he rakes his nails on his free hand down Poe's back, tearing at skin. "I... I c-- I could bruise you. Choke you. Make you bleed-- make you cry-- and... and all I'd have to do is tell you what a good boy you are-- tell you how much I fucking need this, need you, need you to fuck me, how much you're fucking helping me, how much you mean to me, how fucking-- insanely-- insanely, perfect your cock is-- and you'll be filling my ass with cum."
He curls his fingernails in, digging hard, as much for grip and stability as an intent to hurt. He snaps his neck back again, twisting his hips in weak miniscule fractions to get more friction against his cock, clenching his ass as tight as he can to keep Poe inside of him longer.
"You're-- you're a good boy, Captain Dameron," he says, rolling the words over his tongue, tasting the complete fucking breakdown of power, stripping the word Captain of any its authority. "So fucking good. Behaving for me. Being a good, good boy. Good boys deserve a reward, Captain. And I-- I wanna make you come."
The pain was supposed to be a distraction - something hard and sharp to keep him off the edge. And it worked. Sort of. It broke his concentration enough that he didn't immediately come, but it felt - well - really fucking good, especially in conjunction with what he was already doing.
A line of sweat was tracing from the base of his skull, trailing down his spine as he fucked into Owain, grunting with the effort, the sweat sliding into torn flesh and making it sting even more sharply than the cuts itself had, and his head was absolutely full of visions of Owain's hands on his throat, bruising his flesh--
He hissed as Owain's nails bit in again, and instead of keeping him from the edge, this time it pushed him right onto it, his thrusts staggering as he tried not to come right that second, Owain's muscles tightening even harder around him.
And then he lost it.
It was the words, more than anything else. The words and the sting of his sweat in the fresh marks on his back and intense pressure of Owain around his cock and the man's stupid whispered voice and that fucking grin and all of it, very suddenly, was too much. He roared, thrusting hard and deep and pinning Owain there - surging forward to take a crashing, clumsy kiss, as his climax hit with the force of a tsunami. He came harder than he could remember ever doing - wave after wave crashing through him as he unloaded deep inside of Owain, the cum coating his cock and sliding out, trailing down his balls. His muscles were all taut as a bow string - the effort making them shake and tremble, but he held himself tight and deep for as long as he could hold out.
Part of it is just because his body fucking forgets how to work, every part of him focused on each shot of cum blasting into him, each thick and heavy pulse of Poe's cock pressing right up against him and overloading his senses. Part of it is the weight of Poe, crushing his ribs, making him ache and feel trapped in a way he fucking loves, in a way that has his toes curling and his legs squirming as he locks one knee behind Poe's waist to keep him down, keep him there. He doesn't cum, but he's still so fucking hard, his cock leaving a bridge of precum from his tip to Poe's stomach.
He tries, just once, to keep up the teasing. To whisper good boy, to smooth this over, to hush gently into Poe's ear. But he breaks, and he writhes, and he does everything he can to sink lower on Poe's cock, screaming his name at the top of his lungs until he bites down hard into the line of muscle linking his neck to his shoulder. He pierces the skin, drawing fresh dots of blood, the taste of iron blooming on his tongue. He's almost crying as he moans into the wound, digging further scratches into Poe's back, leaving marks of red and pink.
When Poe's done he's fucking exhausted, riddled with pain, and he lets himself just fucking drop. Feeling the rush of cum drain out of him past Poe, sticky and warm and fucking perfect, cock twitching and begging for release between the both of them.
Poe shudders and slumps the rest of his weight against Owain - the only thing he's capable of doing is breathing. Everything else is too damn much. He just breathes, chest heaving, his back raw and everything hurting but he is in a state of pure bliss.
Eventually he can't ignore Owain's cock pressing into his stomach, and with a low groan he shifts his weight only enough that he can lean on one side, the opposite hand sliding between them to grasp Owain's length and slowly begin to pump him.
That it was the bandaged hand was certainly not thought out - it was all instinct.
He's not sure what Poe's doing at first, until he feels the scratch of pre-soaked bandages hitting his length, and then he's moaning with the last noisy scratch his throat can handle, biting his lip, keeping his eyes open against every instinct to shut them because he wants to see Poe like this. Exhausted but giving.
He fucks up into the hand a few times, but then he breathes out, resting his fingers over the man's wrist to still him. He rolls over to kiss Poe, slow and measured and anything but clumsy, and then collapses back into the sheets.
"I can-- do it. Just--"
He swallows, raising one hand, smooths a trace of blood and saliva off of Poe's lips with his thumb. Fuck. Uses that hand to grip his cock.
"Just-- watch me? And then we can-- sleep. Holding each other. If you want."
He makes a low sound of dissent when his wrist gets slapped, but he lets go obediently, meet the kiss with a hazy laziness. He leans a little forward when Owain pulls away again, as he was quite happy to keep kissing, thanks.
His lips part at the touch, a very sleepy smile flickering at his lips, and he presses a kiss to the pad of Owain's thumb before he pulls it away. He has to move, in order to see, so with a low grunt he rolls off of Owain - his now flaccid cock slipping free - and slumps against his side.
He feels empty, without Poe, and that takes longer to adjust to than he thought it would. He lets the feel of cum roll down his thighs, out of the well-fucked and probably bruised hole Poe's left him with, and onto the sheets without giving even the smallest of fucks about the mess. He breathes hard and leans back against the pillow, shifting back an inch or two so Poe can see him better, and he jerks off with one shaking hand.
He watches Poe's expression the whole time, staying quiet other than shallow pants and the broken moans that come from erratic thrusts into his fist. It only takes a few minutes before his whole body tenses and his eyebrows pinch in the middle - he struggles to keep his eyes open so he can look at Poe's face, his perfect fucking face, because this is what he's cumming to, this is the reason why he's shooting his load, this man, this perfect fucking man -
His climax hits harder than the last one, spasms of twitching muscle and groans as he shoots thick ropes onto his own chest. He whispers Poe's name, like he's begging for something as he comes, and when he cools down he just... collapses, softening and easing, red and sweaty and messy and completely and utterly claimed.
"F..."
His eyelids are already starting to flutter shut, into sleep, but he pushes through it, rolling forward to steal a weak, energyless kiss.
Even utterly spent, it was hard not to be stirred by the sight - Poe wouldn't have been able to look away even if he'd wanted to. (He didn't.)
He shifted into the kiss, a little more energy than Owain had (as he'd had a few minutes to recover), but not a hell of a lot more. He raised a hand to Owain's cheek, however, holding him loosely in place, lingering on the kiss as long as the other man would let him.
When he finally let go he reached blindly for one of the sheets, scrubbing himself off haphazardly and then doing the same for Owain before curling in up against him.
He had the sudden, stupid urge to tell Owain that he loved him.
Owain curls up against Poe, chest to chest, eyes shut tight. It's that perfect blend of being warmed by another's body without it being oppressive, and he's drifting away, holding Poe as tightly as his spent and tired limbs will allow.
That urge - that urge to tell Poe he loves him - has been there for days, since before they even met. An undercurrent to everything they've done. Its never been stronger than it is now.
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no subject
He'd felt mostly in control of himself, even when his restraint had snapped. Still felt like he was making decisions for his body, not the other way around.
But then Owain called him a good boy.
He flushed, darkly, and instantly - hadn't even known he could, with so much blood in his cock, but he did - his skin suddenly flamingly hot - his hips bucking hard to meet Owain's hips. He began to drive into him with a reckless abandon, each punishing thrust causing his balls to smack against Owain's ass with a dull slapping sound, pinning him hard into the sheets and then pulling almost the entire length out before slamming it back in again. It was very clear he was following orders.
He had absolutely no control at all, despite the position, and he had lost any ability to tell what his mouth was doing - cursing and grunting with every thrust. His impending orgasm came on extremely suddenly, his bucking hips turning a little more frantic, but he wasn't done--
"Hurt me--" he blurted out, far less of a promise and far far more of a plea. This was begging. "Hurt me, Owain, or I'm going to come right n-- fucking-- hurt me--"
no subject
He brings his fingertips to Poe's back, eyes all but rolling into the back of his head with each slap against his ass. He scratches up Poe's spine with one hand, finds his master's hair, holds tight in black curls and pulls him closer with an almost angry sounding ffffffffuck hissed through his teeth.
He pants, right up against Poe's ear, as he tries to find his voice.
"Do you really think... that'll stop you?" His voice is a whisper, and it's fucking drowning in barely contained restraint. It's wavering, tremoring, but his intentions are hard and solid, and he rakes his nails on his free hand down Poe's back, tearing at skin. "I... I c-- I could bruise you. Choke you. Make you bleed-- make you cry-- and... and all I'd have to do is tell you what a good boy you are-- tell you how much I fucking need this, need you, need you to fuck me, how much you're fucking helping me, how much you mean to me, how fucking-- insanely-- insanely, perfect your cock is-- and you'll be filling my ass with cum."
He curls his fingernails in, digging hard, as much for grip and stability as an intent to hurt. He snaps his neck back again, twisting his hips in weak miniscule fractions to get more friction against his cock, clenching his ass as tight as he can to keep Poe inside of him longer.
"You're-- you're a good boy, Captain Dameron," he says, rolling the words over his tongue, tasting the complete fucking breakdown of power, stripping the word Captain of any its authority. "So fucking good. Behaving for me. Being a good, good boy. Good boys deserve a reward, Captain. And I-- I wanna make you come."
no subject
A line of sweat was tracing from the base of his skull, trailing down his spine as he fucked into Owain, grunting with the effort, the sweat sliding into torn flesh and making it sting even more sharply than the cuts itself had, and his head was absolutely full of visions of Owain's hands on his throat, bruising his flesh--
He hissed as Owain's nails bit in again, and instead of keeping him from the edge, this time it pushed him right onto it, his thrusts staggering as he tried not to come right that second, Owain's muscles tightening even harder around him.
And then he lost it.
It was the words, more than anything else. The words and the sting of his sweat in the fresh marks on his back and intense pressure of Owain around his cock and the man's stupid whispered voice and that fucking grin and all of it, very suddenly, was too much. He roared, thrusting hard and deep and pinning Owain there - surging forward to take a crashing, clumsy kiss, as his climax hit with the force of a tsunami. He came harder than he could remember ever doing - wave after wave crashing through him as he unloaded deep inside of Owain, the cum coating his cock and sliding out, trailing down his balls. His muscles were all taut as a bow string - the effort making them shake and tremble, but he held himself tight and deep for as long as he could hold out.
no subject
Part of it is just because his body fucking forgets how to work, every part of him focused on each shot of cum blasting into him, each thick and heavy pulse of Poe's cock pressing right up against him and overloading his senses. Part of it is the weight of Poe, crushing his ribs, making him ache and feel trapped in a way he fucking loves, in a way that has his toes curling and his legs squirming as he locks one knee behind Poe's waist to keep him down, keep him there. He doesn't cum, but he's still so fucking hard, his cock leaving a bridge of precum from his tip to Poe's stomach.
He tries, just once, to keep up the teasing. To whisper good boy, to smooth this over, to hush gently into Poe's ear. But he breaks, and he writhes, and he does everything he can to sink lower on Poe's cock, screaming his name at the top of his lungs until he bites down hard into the line of muscle linking his neck to his shoulder. He pierces the skin, drawing fresh dots of blood, the taste of iron blooming on his tongue. He's almost crying as he moans into the wound, digging further scratches into Poe's back, leaving marks of red and pink.
When Poe's done he's fucking exhausted, riddled with pain, and he lets himself just fucking drop. Feeling the rush of cum drain out of him past Poe, sticky and warm and fucking perfect, cock twitching and begging for release between the both of them.
"Th... hh... hnnnghhgng."
Eloquent.
no subject
Eventually he can't ignore Owain's cock pressing into his stomach, and with a low groan he shifts his weight only enough that he can lean on one side, the opposite hand sliding between them to grasp Owain's length and slowly begin to pump him.
That it was the bandaged hand was certainly not thought out - it was all instinct.
"... Didn't... Get you a second time..."
no subject
He fucks up into the hand a few times, but then he breathes out, resting his fingers over the man's wrist to still him. He rolls over to kiss Poe, slow and measured and anything but clumsy, and then collapses back into the sheets.
"I can-- do it. Just--"
He swallows, raising one hand, smooths a trace of blood and saliva off of Poe's lips with his thumb. Fuck. Uses that hand to grip his cock.
"Just-- watch me? And then we can-- sleep. Holding each other. If you want."
no subject
His lips part at the touch, a very sleepy smile flickering at his lips, and he presses a kiss to the pad of Owain's thumb before he pulls it away. He has to move, in order to see, so with a low grunt he rolls off of Owain - his now flaccid cock slipping free - and slumps against his side.
"... Yeah. Alright. Sounds like a plan."
no subject
He watches Poe's expression the whole time, staying quiet other than shallow pants and the broken moans that come from erratic thrusts into his fist. It only takes a few minutes before his whole body tenses and his eyebrows pinch in the middle - he struggles to keep his eyes open so he can look at Poe's face, his perfect fucking face, because this is what he's cumming to, this is the reason why he's shooting his load, this man, this perfect fucking man -
His climax hits harder than the last one, spasms of twitching muscle and groans as he shoots thick ropes onto his own chest. He whispers Poe's name, like he's begging for something as he comes, and when he cools down he just... collapses, softening and easing, red and sweaty and messy and completely and utterly claimed.
"F..."
His eyelids are already starting to flutter shut, into sleep, but he pushes through it, rolling forward to steal a weak, energyless kiss.
"F... fuck."
no subject
He shifted into the kiss, a little more energy than Owain had (as he'd had a few minutes to recover), but not a hell of a lot more. He raised a hand to Owain's cheek, however, holding him loosely in place, lingering on the kiss as long as the other man would let him.
When he finally let go he reached blindly for one of the sheets, scrubbing himself off haphazardly and then doing the same for Owain before curling in up against him.
He had the sudden, stupid urge to tell Owain that he loved him.
But he didn't.
no subject
That urge - that urge to tell Poe he loves him - has been there for days, since before they even met. An undercurrent to everything they've done. Its never been stronger than it is now.
He falls asleep before he can act on it.