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[ when cassidy stops the movement, john only gives him a moment to touch before he continues it, pushing cassidy until his back meets the nearest wall, to which john presses him, though not nearly as hard as he could. there's something teasingly gentle about it, the way he lightly brushes his hips against cassidy's rather than grind, his mouth curved into a smile that's a little challenging, haughty. his hands leave the warmth of cassidy's back to take hold of his, catching them, trapping them, pulling them away from his own body. ]

Oh, yes. [ the tip of his nose grazes cassidy's. ] Unless you can prove me wrong.

[ this time he rolls his hips against the young man hard. ]

[ whether he knows it or not (he might very well know it at this point), john just hit upon something very good. because as much as cassidy enjoys being in charge, he enjoys it just as much – possibly more – when other people take it from him (in the bedroom, at least, or the living room as it were). if he wanted to, he could struggle and probably throw john off. he suspects he wouldn't need to, because if he gave even the slightest indication he didn't want to play this game, john would stop. (when did he start trusting him so much?) as it is, he goes a little weak in the knees when john traps his hands.

before he can even think of a reply, john's grinding against him and arresting the breath in his throat. his brain shorts out, his body moving on reflex to keep that friction going. ]

Now, John, you're hardly playing fair. [ as if cassidy's concerned with playing fair. he flexes his fingers and twists his wrists slightly, testing john's grip. ]

Aren't I?

[ slowly, john moves cassidy's hands so that they're at his sides, the backs of his palms pressed as firmly against the wall as the rest of his body. his grip does not shift much beneath cassidy's tests, but there's nothing threatening about it. over the years, john has learned the difference between restraint and aggression, and in his opinion, is good at utilising that to his advantage. john would stop, if cassidy wanted him to. he knows what's it's like when someone doesn't, and your mind is too muddled to know the difference between what you want and what you think you deserve, in some twisted, addled way.

he dips his head, kissing cassidy's jaw lightly, trailing his mouth down to the hollow of his neck, searching for the beat of his pulse. he loves it when he can feel it quicken just that little bit beneath his lips. his hips move back a little, hopefully enough to frustrate him for just a moment, before he presses in with his thigh between cassidy's legs. ]

I think it's a perfectly suitable means of ascertaining exactly how much you want me to keep going.

[ he bites, softly, at the line of cassidy's collarbone. he and the younger man are similar, in that sense; they both like to have control taken from them, not to be completely overwhelmed and dominated, but to be handled, just a little. right now john wants simply to excite him, to tease him enough to get a little rise (ha) out him. ]

[ it wasn't long ago that cassidy found himself in a similar situation, but under very different circumstances. his mind had been muddled, his feelings more so, and he'd tried to fight back and failed – with devastating consequences. the position may be similar, trapped against a wall, his body incited to react, but this time his mind is clear and he knows exactly what he wants. even if john did have some murky ulterior motive (which, when he thinks about john, seems laughable, but if he did), cassidy has nothing left to lose.

he does have something exceedingly nice to gain, however. like john's mouth on his throat. his pulse does quicken, fluttering under john's lips. a pathetic, needy sound escapes him when john pulls back, only to be followed by a low moan when his thigh is pressed between his legs. he rocks against it, almost fully hard now. ]

Think of it this way. [ his voice is rough around the edges, his breathing a series of huffs punctuated by short gasps. ] If you stopped now, I might be tempted to use the knife in my bedside drawer to gut you like a fish.

[ it's actually under his pillow, but. details. ]

But that would be a damn waste. So instead I would hold it against your throat while I fucked myself on your cock. [ it's all hyperbole, of course. he'd never actually do something like that unless it were mutually agreed upon. ...which is a thought for another time, perhaps. ]

Edited 2015-05-26 17:01 (UTC)

[ there's only so much restraint john can muster, being as he is a man of distinct weakness when it comes to sex. he can tease, certainly, but usually the desire to get on with it overcomes the desire to frustrate his partner. his teeth catch a little harder on cassidy's collar as he finds himself making a slightly strangled noise of desire at the feel of cassidy's arousal against his thigh, through so many terrible layers of clothes between them. for just the slightest second his hold on cassidy's hands loosens before he squeezes them again, dragging them up to shoulder height.

it should not be as astonishingly attractive to him, the idea of cassidy in his lap, with a knife pressed to his throat. he shouldn't feel his own cock twitch and harden, but it does, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up a little. maybe he should stop, test the probability. the only problem is that he's worked himself up too much already; stopping now would be a travesty.

he almost gives into the temptation to kiss him, but stops himself at the last possible moment. his lips move against cassidy's when he speaks. ]

Don't make promises you can't keep, Captain.

[ in other words, put that thought away for another time, but hold onto it, please. there is a pause; he releases cassidy's hands at the very same moment that he crushes their mouths together, his stomach twisting almost painfully with sexual energy. his own hands, now free, cup cassidy's jaw immediately, a muffled groan passing between their mouths as he bucks his hips slightly against cassidy in a reverse of what he'd been doing to him. ]

[ as much as cassidy enjoys the game, he doesn't usually complain when his partner gives it up, especially since it feels like victory on his part. he smirks when he feels john's grip loosen, and as tightly pressed as they are, he feels john's reaction against his hip when he suggests bringing the knife into play. that's interesting. he definitely won't be forgetting it any time soon. he never forgets a piece of information he might be able to wield against someone later.

part of him also suspects this might also be a momentary lapse rather than permanent surrender. a respite before the heat from teasing grows too high. he wouldn't mind either way. as long as they don't stop.

he kisses back briefly, then pulls away just far enough to speak, his words a harsh breath. ] I don't.

[ just so that's clear. then he dives back into the kiss with enthusiasm, his hands curling around john's wrists, his thumbs brushing the pulse points, before slipping down his forearms and shifting to his waist, then further back. digging his fingers into john's ass, he drags him forward to grind them more forcefully together and feeds a low, drawn-out moan into his mouth. ]

Good.

[ john only breaks the kiss when he suddenly feels far too hot in his own skin, shrugging his hoodie off his shoulders and then yanking his t-shirt up, over his head before tossing it aside. once it's gone, he peels cassidy away from the wall by the small of his back before a hand slides down past the waistband of his sweatpants, returning cassidy's favours. ]

You know, I keep wondering how I managed to resist fucking you that first time. [ in the gardens, he means. ] I've never been much good at restraining myself from pursuing who I want.

[ who he wants badly, right now. he's not sure if it's the running or the aching loneliness that made him go running in the first place that brought him here; there's something in cassidy that inspires a strange sense of kinship in john, and he can't quite put his finger on it. perhaps it's something to do with their encounter, that time, in the bar. cassidy is a safe place to seek. ]

[ there's no small amount of irony in john feeling safe with cassidy, who in his own time is a notorious criminal, who has committed crimes considered so heinous his future, should he be caught, is dark with a ninety percent chance of death by hanging. but if he's honest, the feeling of safety isn't entirely one-sided and might have its roots in that time in the bar for him as well. there's something about seeing someone at their most vulnerable that leaves an impression on the soul, proof that cassidy has one.

the part about wanting him, badly, is undeniably mutual. it becomes even more obvious when john strips from the waist up and cassidy's eyes rake him from shoulders to stomach. he imagines himself tracing the lines between john's scars with his tongue, like drawing constellations on a star map. it's all he can do to drag his gaze back up to his face when he speaks.

a grin curves his mouth as he slides his palms up john's abdomen, over his chest. ] Perhaps for the same reason I resisted then, too. [ his rings are missing, except for one on his thumb; in their absence are faint pale stripes around the base of his fingers. ] Because you're a hunter, and you take pleasure in the chase.

[ he leans in, catches john's lower lip between his teeth and then soothes the bite with his tongue. his arms wind around john's neck. ]

No reason for restraint now, though.

[ for a moment, something breathless in john seems to soften as he simply looks at cassidy, concentrates on the warmth of him in his arms, his solid shape. he wonders who he was before this city, who he'd be once he returned. a good man, to john. someone who embraced his vulnerability and just as quietly released it when it had to burrow back down into wherever it preferred to hide. ]

None at all.

[ with that, the softness disappears again, and lust throws him back into more kisses. his nails scrape against cassidy's back, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave the faintest of red trails. as much as he wants to stay bound up in cassidy's embrace, though, he soon finds himself gently extricating himself from it. his knees bend, slowly, as he sinks down, trailing kisses along the middle of cassidy's body. down his sternum, his abdomen, until he's on his knees.

his hands pull down at the waistband of cassidy's sweatpants, slowly as he can, revealing cassidy bit by bit. ]

I see there's some form of modern clothing you've taken to. No frilled sleeves for me, tonight?

[ there's not much time for cassidy to reply; as soon as the sweatpants are halfway down the young man's thighs, john dips his head forward to take the head of his cock in his mouth, sucking softly, moving minimally, teasingly. ]

[ usually, cassidy feels much older than his age, and it incenses him when people treat him like a green boy when he has more skill and has accomplished more than most grey-bearded sailors. but, when john looks at him, he suddenly feels like a kid who's been play-acting at being the man he's claimed to be all these years. like john's superior age gives him the ability to see right through him.

it passes as quickly as it came, as soon as john speaks and the lust returns. they're on an even keel once again. the nails dragging down his back puts a little arch in it, the red lines crisscrossing with several scars, though the lines john makes will fade while the scars remain. it feels good, makes him moan softly against john's mouth. then that mouth is moving away, down and down, and cassidy's pulse jumps in anticipation.

there's nothing under his sweatpants except his cock, fully hard and aching by now (and, for the record, uncut). it takes a small eternity for john to push his pants down and get a hand around him, but when he does, it's well worth the wait. he starts to laugh at what john said but it turns into a helpless moan by the end. ] Shit.

[ his eyes roll closed, but he opens them again a moment later because sight of john on his knees, sucking his cock is one he does not want to miss for anything. his fingers slide into john's hair and tug lightly, not directing but encouraging him. he laughs. ]

If I'd known I was getting a visitor, I might've put on nicer clothes. [ his hips give a small, involuntary jerk. ] Or I would've taken them off altogether.

[ let's be real. ]

[ if only cassidy knew that's exactly how he'd felt in that bar, like a child that had lost its parent, even though it was the other way around, just about. he'd been locked in such despair, such pain, enough that he hadn't the strength to turn away a kind hand. as little as he ever desires to speak of it again, john is painfully grateful to cassidy for that night. his is a kindness that he won't forget. stupidly, it's the only way he can really think to feasibly thank him, to give him sex and himself. there's a good reason why he never talks about these sorts of things aloud.

there's a light, purring laugh that rises in the back of john's throat, muffled but resonant. oh, how he would have loved for cassidy to answer the door naked. as if just the thought of him hadn't been enough for john to arrive on his floor halfway to hard. he's always caught between how much, in these moments, he wants to kiss the people he's invariably giving oral sex to. it's always such a dilemma. gripping cassidy firmly at the base of his cock, he begins to move back and forth along him, slowly, perhaps a little bit too slowly, but he does it on purpose. his other hand creeps around to cassidy's arse again, squeezing, encouraging his hips forward, encouraging him to fuck his mouth, if he wants.

the hand in his hair elicits another muffled moan, and he wishes for a moment that he wanted to take his hands off of cassidy just long enough to palm himself through the fabric of his shorts, soothe his own aching cock, but he stays as is. he doesn't want cassidy to come, though. this is is just a warm up. ]

[ as he (probably) told john that night, he doesn't need repayment in the form of sexual favors for what he did for him. that being said, he won't refuse whatever john wants to offer. he's not that stupid or that noble. there's just something about john that makes cassidy willing to comfort him when he's crying into his beer at a bar and accept solicitations for sex at four in the morning. (the second one isn't too outrageous for cassidy, actually.) it absolutely has nothing to do with him being about the same age as a certain someone else in cassidy's life, because that, and being unfairly attractive, is where their similarities end.

it's john he's thinking of as he groans in response to the laughter, which he feels all the way to the base of his spine. he may not want cassidy to come just yet, but if he keeps making noises around cassidy's cock, they might not have a choice in the matter.

the message, that he's allowed to fuck john's mouth, is received loud and clear. the knot of pleasure in his stomach tightens. breathing low and ragged, he puts both hands on the back of john's head and holds him steady as he, slowly, rolls his hips forward. ]

How deep can you take it? [ he keeps his thrusts shallow to start. one hand slides back to john's cheek, his thumb brushing the hollow formed by sucking. then, with his other hand, he turns john's head slightly and angles his hips so the head of his cock drags along the inside of his cheek where he can feel it under his thumb. ] Deeper? [ he tugs john forward again so his next thrust is straight, but this time he pushes in a little further. ] Christ, your mouth's as hot as it is pretty.

[ cassidy probably did tell john that. that doesn't mean john exactly listened. his shame and embarrassment still follow him, snapping lightly at his ankles. no one needs or deserves to be burdened with his pain.

let's put it this way, john likes having things in his mouth enough that the first, shallow movement of cassidy's hips has him groaning again, brows pinching with need as he breathes sharply through his nose. the roughness with which he grips cassidy's behind should be indication enough that yes, deeper, please. john has always been terribly thankful that he doesn't have much of a gag reflex, especially at times like these.

perhaps letting cassidy come like this isn't the worst plan, he reconsiders. there'll always be time for more, and more than enough time for john to get him excited again. this may be a solicitation for sex at four in the morning, but john's entirely of the mind to draw this out and really make it count. there's something about loneliness and sleeplessness that makes him intensely desperate for contact, hyper-aware of sexual need in himself and others. the desire to please someone else is as much of a healing balm as getting pleasure himself.

the next time cassidy pulls back, john tips his head back enough against his hands for his mouth to leave his cock, just for a moment, before he slides his lips along the side of him, ultimately dragging his mouth over his balls just lightly enough to be teasing. he repeats the motion along the side of cassidy's cock once more as he moves back into place, staring at him with lazy, smug eyes. hand wrapped once more around cassidy's cock, john opens his mouth to speak with his lips moving against him. ]

Come on, Cassidy, [ he intones, roughly, for once slipping the young man's name, not his title, between his lips. ] If you truly feel that way, then fuck my mouth like you mean it.

[ a challenge, one without malice, but overflowing with need. ]

[ they could draw it out. they could fuck until dawn, fall asleep as the birds are chirping, wake up and do it all over again. cassidy wouldn't be opposed to the idea, far from it. he'd have someone in his bed at all times if it were totally up to him. doesn't have to be the same person, in fact he'd probably grow bored if it were, but ... he might not mind if it were john. at least for a while.

though, honestly, it's a little difficult to think beyond the present with the way john drags his lips over his cock and mouths his balls, causing a twist in the pit of his stomach. a broken moan falls from his lips. but what affects him just as much, if not more, is the sound of his name – his actual name. the one his mother used to call him inside for dinner, the one his friends yelled in the streets, the one his father used when barking orders at him on deck, the one avery whispered at night – the one he used before assuming the role of captain. to the world, he's captain hawking, but to those closest to him he's cassidy. and the way john says it, it sounds at once intimate and deliciously filthy.

the hot breath washing over his damp, highly sensitized flesh only makes the need worse. he moans low and gravelly, not unlike a growl. his hands slip into john's hair again, one on top and one in back, his fingers curling around it and holding his head still. this time, he doesn't waste any time building speed and shoving deep into john's mouth, nudging the back of his throat.

and it feels fucking incredible.

each thrust is punctuated by a short, hot "ah" or "oh," his heart pounding, his fingers twisting slightly in john's hair. when he feels his control slipping, he slows down enough to push all the way in, past the back of his throat until john's nose is pressed into his stomach, and the noise it wrings from him is absolutely wrecked. ]

[ john was never one to fully appreciate a quick act for the sake of getting your release over and done with. it's why he so often liked to worm his way at least a little into the affections of others, into their good graces, so that it seemed worth spending time to draw it out. it helped that he generally knew what he was doing, too, when it came to sex. he wouldn't mind that, fucking until dawn, fucking until they could barely keep their eyes open and then do it all again after sleeping. it's all time that he doesn't have to spend alone. hours sleeping in bed with company are hours that he won't have when he's by himself.

the satisfaction that floods john as cassidy grips his hair and really, truly gets going is obscene. his knees feel unsteady for a moment as he finally gives in to the need to touch himself, slipping a hand down beneath his shorts to take hold of his slick, almost sore cock and pump his hand over it a few times just to feed the desire, staying still for cassidy, breathing regularly and carefully through his nose. the way cassidy's cock slides between his lips is absolutely ideal.

reluctant to release his own cock, now, john contents himself with keeping just one hand dug into the flesh of cassidy's arse. as the momentum picks up, as he listens to the sound cassidy makes, john grips his skin harder for a moment before moving his hand to press a finger between his cheeks, teasingly brushing against him, groaning around cassidy's cock, almost coming himself when he hears the noise that cassidy makes, when john's nose is pressed against his skin, when he has cassidy in his mouth up to the hilt.

christ, how he loves to be the cause of these sounds. ]

[ oh, john certainly knows what he's doing. cassidy would be the first to agree. it's part of the reason he wouldn't mind losing time with him, hours, even half a day (or an entire day). he'd claim it was the whole reason, but deep down he knows it's not. john has done exactly what he so often likes to do and stolen his way into cassidy's affections. that's why a text from him at four in the morning brings a smile to cassidy's face before he even knows the reason for the message.

considering their (very brief) history, however, it wouldn't have been difficult to guess to reason. their intentions towards each other have never been anything but clear. it doesn't go unnoticed when john's hand disappears into his shorts and the sight sends a shock of heat through cassidy's system. as much as he wishes it were his hand doing the job, watching john do it himself and knowing the cause was the act of sucking him off is just as satisfying in its own way.

almost too satisfying. he nearly comes when john teases his ass, letting out a strangled moan and a curse. he draws back, pressing against that finger, until the head of his cock rests against john's bottom lip. the next few thrusts are quick and shallow before his fingers tighten in john's hair and he pushes all the way in again, down his throat. ] How's that? [ his voice is a low rasp. ] Deep enough for you?

[ precariously close to the edge, he pulls back and pauses to catch his breath. ]

Look at me. [ he tilts john's head, bringing one of his hands down from his hair, his thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where it's stretched around his cock. ] You wanna fuck me? [ it's a rhetorical question. he knows john does. ] You want me to come down your throat first? Or you want to be a bloody bastard and make me wait?

[ the way cassidy moves his cock in john's mouth makes him groan and his shoulders shiver. pressing his finger against cassidy's entrance, he doesn't try anything too adventurous yet. there's more than enough time for that. the drag of his palm on his own cock is rough, needy. he wants to fuck cassidy so, so badly, his own need starting to override his desire to please the young man.

it shouldn't be so easy to find himself here. this is always john's problem, always his trouble, the fact that he should find a reason to think and hesitate before he solicits sex from people he's fond of, and for christ's sake, he shouldn't damn well be fond of him in the first place. his knees ache slightly from the floor beneath, and his back arches, his body dipping down as he grips himself harder in his hand, almost painfully. ]

I want to hear those sounds you make when you come, feel your body tremble beneath my hands and then do it all over again when I fuck you. [ his eyes never leave cassidy's as he speaks, pausing only to suck softly on the head of him. ] So I won't make you wait. I'll just make it happen over and over again.

[ his voice slows as he says "over and over" and there's not much time for cassidy to reply, because john sinks down over him again, taking his hand off his cock and gripping cassidy's hips as he takes him deep in his mouth, taking over the duties of it. he's given cassidy enough power recently; it's time to take it back. he won't stop until cassidy is done, until he can feel the warmth of him in the back of his throat, until he's sensitive and shaking from it and can barely take it anymore. ]

[ if anyone could make him come just by talking to him, it would be john. as if the sound of his voice weren't erotic enough, the words he says – the images he creates in cassidy's head – are downright obscene. he doesn't come yet but it's a near thing, especially when john dips his head mid-speech to tease him. his hips jerk in response, an involuntary reaction because his mind is elsewhere, playing out the idea of john fucking him while he's still sated and sensitive from coming once, fucking him until he hardens and comes a second time, then doing it all again.

over and over again. he won't forget the sound of those words anytime soon.

he only returns to the present when john takes him back in his mouth, and his fingers tighten in john's hair and his head tips back and a hot, needy moan is torn from his throat. his hips rock forward, though it's clear john has the control now and frankly, cassidy is happy to give it to him. he's reaching a point where he might give john just about anything he asked for.

pushing his fingers through john's hair, he tilts his head down again to watch, his breathing ragged. ] Over and over again, huh? Can you— ah, recover that fast? [ he doesn't say old man, but it's implied in his tone, in the way his lips tick upwards at the corner.

that self-assured smile doesn't last for long, though, since each time john sinks down and sucks back up it brings him closer and closer, his noises growing more desperate, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. ] Fuck, fuck... John.

[ christ above, john needs to start telling people about his telepathy. it always made it so convenient, the opportunity to keep whispering filthy things to whoever he's gone down on, even though his mouth is occupied. he doesn't answer, this time, because he doesn't want to break the rhythm, so all he does is raise his brows, looking up at cassidy from beneath his lashes, cheeks hollowing sharply for a moment as his lips tighten around his cock. he waits for cassidy to catch his gaze before lowering it again, a gaze that says it all, that promises cassidy he can recover that quickly. he digs his fingers harder into cassidy's hip, possibly enough to bruise, later, or at the very least leave flushed red marks from his nails.

with a casual sort of deftness, a ridiculous and stupid confidence in himself that he knows what he's doing (as if cassidy's not making that clear enough as it is), he makes two shallow, short movements before sliding all the way down again, agonisingly staying there for just a moment. a moment that he takes to watch cassidy squirm, his body reacting on impulse and lust. it's so satisfying. his own cock twitches, and he moans softly, subdued around cassidy, part of it involuntary and part of it purposeful. he vastly enjoys the way cassidy says his name, the way it trips and stumbles out of his mouth when he's so, so close to coming. john's always pretty ambivalent about people coming in his mouth until the moment that it's almost or has happened, and in that moment the vaguely smug pleasure of making someone else come kicks in.

if john knew exactly how much cassidy liked his talk, he probably wouldn't last long enough right now to get around to fucking him.

he'll stay there until the young man can barely take it anymore, lick him clean and slow down, soften the movements of his tongue and mouth on cassidy's cock until it's a whisper of a touch, but just enough, all the same, to keep him trembling. almost too much, but not quite. and when he feels cassidy's body slump, sink against the wall, he'll know it's time to press on. ]

[ if there are bruises left behind by john's fingers, cassidy will wear them gladly. civilized society already considers him an animal, and in this at least they're not wrong. he just likes having the reminder days later, so he can look at them and remember john's hands on his hips, holding him steady as he surrounded cassidy with the tight, wet heat of his mouth. those two shallow bobs cause him to teeter, but it's when john sinks all the way down again and fucking moans that he finally goes over the edge.

his body goes tight as a bowstring and he tries to pull john's head away as he draws his hips back, but he doesn't get far before he's coming on john's tongue, crying out a litany of curses and wordless moans, punctuated by gasps. as the waves of pleasure ebb, he drops back against the wall, one hand splayed on it for added balance, left panting as the fingers of his other hand comb through john's hair where he'd been grabbing it. ]

Fuck.

[ a smile tugs up the corners of his lips as he tips his head back. the way john continues to tease him sends shocks of nearly painful pleasure down his spine and wrings a few more quiet moans from him. his legs might actually shake a little as he struggles to stay upright against the gentle onslaught, until he gives john's hair another tug to interrupt the caresses of his tongue. ] Christ... Enough! [ he laughs softly. ] Enough.

[ john resists, just slightly, when cassidy tries to pull him back. the sudden spike in heat and salt in his mouth is of no concern to him, he relishes openly in having brought cassidy this far, even if it's not for the first time. he obliges quickly, though, when the young man pulls at his hair, a wild grin emerging on his face as soon as his lips finally slip away from cassidy's cock.

he stands slowly enough that he can kiss his way back up cassidy's stomach, the line of his sternum and up his neck, curving his body inwards against the young man without grazing their hips, conscious of cassidy's sensitivity more so than the ache he's feeling. having relegated his hands to touching cassidy and subsequently pulling his own shorts off entirely, kicking them aside, his own cock is left to need and neglect, but it will only make fucking cassidy that much sweeter. his palms slide and press against cassidy's sides, his voice quiet but rough. ]

Enough? [ the flash of his teeth is as coy as it is promising, electrified and even more enthralled now by this that he already was. ] Darling, I've only just started with you.

[ it would probably be manhandling if john wasn't so damn elegant about it. he steps away from cassidy, but takes his hand to pull him away from the wall, towards him, smoothly taking his waist and twisting him around to face the bedroom. it's kind of like a dance routine, one that they've both experienced enough times. with his chest pressed against cassidy's back, he grinds his hips forward, sliding the firm, damp weight of his cock against cassidy's arse as he nudges him towards the bed. patience is not a virtue that john can boast about, but sometimes, he has a handle on it. just enough. when the want to get his mouth on cassidy again is strong enough to override the already overwhelming need to get right down to a good fuck. ]

[ wherever john puts his lips and hands on the way back up leaves a bloom of tingling warmth behind, and by the time he's standing cassidy feels it all over. as john strips out of his shorts, cassidy shoves his sweatpants the rest of the way down and kicks them off. glancing down, he takes in the blessed sight of john's cock and his mouth nearly waters when he remembers the taste of it, the weight on his tongue, sliding between his lips. it's all he can do to keep from touching it now, getting his hand around it and relishing the heft in his palm.

but then, a mark on john's hip grabs his attention, which leads him to notice other marks he was too ... distracted to notice before. john's sporting quite a few, such that cassidy might think he'd been in a scrap – might, if he didn't know exactly how one acquires marks such as those. and it's not from getting punched in the chest or knocked to the ground.

a smirk flicks the corner of his lips, and he'd comment on it if john didn't choose that moment to speak. so, cassidy settles for a knowing look, a silent promise to return to it later.

the sound of john's voice sparks against cassidy's nerves, lights a fire in his veins. reminds him of an itch that still needs scratching. honestly, he doesn't mind being manhandled, but he really likes the way john does it, exactly like a dance. the only kind of dance in which cassidy has any talent. when john grinds against him, his eyes roll shut and his head drops back, his breath shuddering as he exhales. god, he needs john to be fucking him yesterday. ]

Yeah? [ he raises one arm, bends his elbow and threads his fingers through john's hair. a grin plays across his lips, his voice low. ] We'll see how long you last once you're inside me.

[ his hand trails down from john's hair and twists to grab his wrist instead, and he laces their fingers as he leads john to the bed and climbs on. ]

[ freedom from all clothing is quite the relief, right now, even if john's shorts hadn't been of the most restrictive material. there's a sense of liberation in the body, all over the skin, to be completely naked, especially in the company of people around whom you're not very shy. not that john's shy around anyone, really, but sometimes a little more comfort creeps into the action that just trying to pull off being sexually impressive in some capacity.

he's practically forgotten his souvenirs from his time with daphne himself, if only from the sheer distraction of cassidy being naked and very much in touching distance. as they move towards the bed, john presses his nose into his hair, breathing in the scent of him, of cleanliness and of the faint musk that follows people around when they're aroused.

just before the bed, when cassidy speaks, john stops him, holding him tight against his body. equal parts the sheer pleasure and enjoyment of having a taut, stupidly handsome body in such devastating close proximity to your own, and also to maintain that sense of challenge, the push and pull they give each other.

the hand that isn't entwined with cassidy's slides upwards to curl into the young man's hair, tugging back on it firmly but with no intention to cause pain, just so that cassidy would lean his head back and expose the plane of his neck to him. john trails his mouth roughly over his skin, scraping teeth as his muffled voice teasingly, distracted continues to chatter even though mind and body are in an awkward entanglement currently. ]

What, you think I want you that badly? [ as if he doesn't punctuate the sentence with another grind of his hips against cassidy's arse, as if a soft groan doesn't quickly spill out of his mouth afterwards. ] I can't imagine what gave you that impression.

[ only now does john let cassidy onto the bed, reluctantly releasing both his hair and his hand, pressing the palm against the small of his back to encourage him to lie flat on his stomach. he positions one knee between cassidy's thighs, leaning forward to run both hands down cassidy's sides as he peppers a trail of kisses down his back, along his spine, taking his time to nose and explore this line of skin. ]

Such confidence you have.

[ as his kisses lower, so do his hands, and when they've made their way all the way down cassidy's thighs, john's body has slide down so that he is positioned neatly where his knee had been before. his breath is warm against cassidy's hot skin. his tongue warmer still as it laps against cassidy's entrance in a way that could almost be described as lazy. ]

[ despite being from the seventeenth century, when men and women tend to cover themselves more than they do in the modern era, cassidy is entirely comfortable in his own skin. he prefers wearing as few clothes as a situation permits, but that's the pirate in him. on land, he likes to dress up just to show off his ill-begotten finery, not out of any sense of modesty. and of course, in a time without sunblock, clothing is often the foremost line of defense against sunburn. that doesn't stop him from removing his shirt and shoes on the long, lazy days at sea, and when they go swimming they usually do so naked.

but his favorite place to be naked is in the presence of someone to whom he is extremely attracted. he's especially appreciative of the lack of clothes when john holds him against his body and they're skin-to-skin and he can feel every line and contour of john's front along his back. it doesn't take much for john to tip his head back, he's still so sated from his orgasm his movements are rather like a rag doll's. the scrape of john's teeth on his neck sends a shiver down his spine and causes a hitch in his breath. but it's the feel of john grinding against his ass that makes him moan, his jaw tight as he refrains from reaching back for john's cock and putting it in himself. he's not exactly ready for it, but at this point he'd take it anyway.

fortunately, they're on the bed before he loses that self-control, and cassidy stretches out on his stomach as john wordlessly instructed. he retrieves the knife from under his pillow (sheathed) and tosses it on the floor before shoving his arms back under the pillow, bunching it beneath his head as he gets comfortable. he hums appreciatively as john trails his mouth down his back, lazy waves of pleasure rolling through him. a smile curves his lips. ]

Mm, I know you do. You wouldn't be here if you didn't.

[ honestly, it's only going to boost his confidence if john's messaging him in the middle of the night for a fuck. he might've said something else, too, if john weren't then sliding down, settling between his thighs, and–

oh. ] Fuck.

[ the reaction is instantaneous and racks his whole body, his muscles coiling, his fingers clenching the underside of the pillow. he inhales deeply and his lips part in a silent moan, before he lets the breath go in a rush. he's still sensitive enough that john's tongue there is almost too much. he feels a tightening in the pit of his stomach, though he can't possibly get hard again so soon. even so... he bends one of his legs, bringing his knee higher to spread himself wider. don't stop. ]

[ he can't help snorting with laughter at the sight of cassidy tossing a sheathed knife out of the way, not even remotely surprised by its presence beneath the young man's pillow. he went through a similar phase, once, though admittedly with a gun and not a knife. another time, though, for sharp objects being held at one's neck.

of course john wants to be here. he's spent most of his life always being where he wants to be, never sticking around the places he doesn't, but knowing what it's like to be trapped is still fresh in his mind, even though he's been here for months. knowing that you don't want to be in your own home, the home you have loved and cared for and built long enough to make your own, feeling like a ghost in its corridors, resenting all the things you used to adore about it. the solidity, the safety of it, all gone. while he's been here in eudio, john's made something of a point of only doing what he wants. obligations haven't come into any part of it. the freedom of choice and movement is all that he has needed, and it feels so good, when he doesn't mire himself down in guilt for being here and for being fractionally happy.

but that's not what he's thinking about right now. far from it.

idly, he strokes the back of cassidy's thigh, brushing his fingers up and down in a way that could almost be termed as affectionate. rolling his hips down, he slides his cock against the bed, aching and needing, but not enough yet to give himself the attention he's craving. times like these are practically the only ones when john is actually quiet, diligent in his attentions to other people, tongue drifting in lazy, purposeful circles around cassidy.

the gentle stroking comes to an end, however, when john's hand catches against the back of the young man's knee and pushes it up that little bit higher as he sinks lower, licking down his perineum until he's teasing a little at cassidy's balls. you know, just to double check how that sensitivity is going. once he's satisfied with this, his entire body shifts and rises. he needs to get the essentials ready.

again, as he moves up the bed and over cassidy, john slides his body against him, cock hard and a little wet as it teases between the man's cheeks, mouth and tongue sliding in a lazy collection of bites and kisses up cassidy's back. until he's back by cassidy's ear, breathing soft but shallow against it, not uttering a word, pulling at his lobe with his teeth. revelling in the silence, as he stretches an arm across to wrestle with the bedside drawer where he knows cassidy keeps lubricant and condoms. a silent "thank you, freddie baxter" passes through his mind, and it makes him smile a little.

he could go back down again, pleasure cassidy with his mouth, but he rather likes where he is now. he rises only enough so that he can move his hands into a position where he can squeeze lube onto his fingertips. ]

So, Captain, [ he murmurs, low and gravelly into cassidy's ear, ] Tell me what it is you want.

[ with that, a slick finger presses at cassidy's arse, but agonisingly, goes no further into him. not until he hears it come from the man himself. ]

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HOW IS THIS FOR A DRUNK TAG >:c

IT'S BEAUTIFUL you're beautiful

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omg this ran away from me i'm so sorry

no ur not don't lie. also i'm sorry (not sorry) for this.

not even a little and aaaAARRHGHH

roars back

ROARS LOUDER

huffs

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