sunburned | (no subject)

There's no warning, but maybe there shouldn't be - it's in keeping with what they're doing here. His fingers tighten in Priestly's hair as he comes, hard, a small, broken sound leaking out of him along with everything else.

Priestly doesn't wait to be told what to do. He doesn't reach out for John—even though his hands twitch to do so again—but he does close his lips and close his eyes and swallow repeatedly. And wishes very, very hard for someone to touch him soon because he's on the razor edge of coming too and he just wants to get there, however he can.

It's a decision that John can allow him. He stands back and watches Priestly swallow, combing his fingers through his hair.

"Naked," he says. "And on the bed, if you please."

"Yes, Captain," he says, his throat a little raw, even though he hasn't been invited to speak.

It's hard taking his clothes off and not just wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking off for the five seconds it's going to take him to come, harder than he though it would be. But it's worth it so he gets there in the end, naked and stretched out on John's bed.

The effect of that has yet to wain. Granby sheds what's left of his clothes and comes to stand next to the bed. He arches an eyebrow.

"Over you go," he says. "Up on your knees. Hands on the bed frame. Don't let your cock touch the sheets."

It takes a few moments for the instructions to get through Priestly's foggy brain, then he's scrambling to comply with a complete lack of finesse or grace. Mostly his priority is to end up in the right place, and to not come halfway through from the air on his cock or the sound of John's firm voice.

There are still two ties dropped on the bed and Granby reaches for his own, first. He might only have one hand now but, in essence, he's been working with one hand for years, now, hanging onto dragons by his harnesses, staying stable while he made down. He loops silk around Priestly's wrists, tying a knot and pulling it tight enough to hold. He scrapes blunt nails along the line of Priestly's spine and then he reaches for Priestly's own tie, balling it in his fist.

"Now open your mouth."

Priestly does, and even manages not to talk when he does it. Which is actually getting harder to do and not easier because what he wants to do right now is beg. He tugs at the knots on his wrists, not to try to free himself but just to feel them there.

For a moment, John just stands there, looking at Priestly, kneeling there with his mouth open, cock flushed and leaking. It's a beautiful sight. He leans in, pressing the balled up tie into Priestly's mouth.

"We've still got to have that conversation about doing what you're told," he says, getting up onto the bed.

At this point, the only thing Priestly can do is look at him. Turn his head and rest his eyes on Granby and say everything he needs to with only his expression--"Now?" and "Who me?" and "I'm ready for it. I'm ready for you."

That look's got such a lot of heat in it and John's not sure he can keep this whole thing up; he's already aware of his cock twisting in reaction.

He brings his hand down hard against Priestly's arse.

"You really need to be better at following simple instructions."

Priestly actually gasps at the contact, which only serves to draw the tie further into his mouth, soggy and rough against his tongue. He sucks on it, just because he can, just because he has to work something in his mouth right now.

His skin feels hot and tight all over and he can feel the invisible print of John's hand on his ass, still, and he almost wants to cry he's so close.

This isn't something that particularly works for Granby, as it happens, not usually, but he finds himself caught and held by Priestly's reaction to it. He drags his nails against reddened skin, and then he slaps him again, just as hard.

That's it. Priestly cries out from deep in his throat, muffled by the tie, and he's coming all over his stomach and the headboard without John even touching him more than to smack his ass.

He hangs his head and can't even look him in the eye and he can't believe that just happened, but it feels so good. So good.

Well, that's just beautiful. Granby can't help the low rumble of laughter in his chest, but it's not meant unkindly. He leans in, reaching between Priestly's spread thighs and fondling his softening cock warmly.

"I'm not done with you," he warns, cupping his balls and squeezing before trailing his fingers against the skin behind them.

There isn't a part of Priestly that he doesn't intend to touch.

Now Priestly tries to say something, consequences be damned, but he can't even form words, can only make helpless guttural and keening sounds. It's almost too much, almost, and he doesn't think he could get it up again without a crane at this point, he came so hard, but he still wants more. He'll still take anything John wants to give him, and then take it again.

The noises that Priestly makes are just about perfect. Granby could tug the gag out of his mouth, but he won't. Not yet. In the drawer beside the bed, there's a handful of the the little silver packets that seem to have replaced other kinds of slick.

He doesn't bother with one of them yet, though, bending his head and trailing his mouth against Priestly's bare skin, pausing to suck up a mark against his tailbone.

Priestly shudders under his touch, involuntarily, every part of his sensitized now. Even the barest brush against his skin brings on a whole-body reaction, pulls another sound from his throat. He's not sure how much more he can take, and he absolutely wants to find out.

The shudder only serves to provoke him. He groans, softly, the sound muffled by Priestly's skin as his mouth wanders lower. His hands against Priestly's inner thighs urge them wider.

Priestly offers no resistance, is completely pliable when John moves him. He could probably be bent in improbably ways right now if anyone tried. "Yes," he tries to say, but the word never escapes from his throat.

He lingers there, tongue and jaw working, hands keeping Priestly spread for his mouth. He's almost hard again, but he's determined to take his time - Priestly was the one who wanted to to be used.

Priestly gasps, or he tries to, again and again, sucking in air but still feeling tingly and light-headed. It's relentless in the most amazing way, and he wouldn't be surprised if he just floated off mentally soon, on this cloud of sensation.

There is, however, a limit for how long John can be patient. He pulls away, rubbing his thumb against muscle slick from his mouth before he reaches for one of those packets, tearing it open with his teeth. He squeezes the contents into the cleft of Priestly's arse, following it immediately with the tip of his finger.

Priestly isn't sure whether the 'don't move' order still applies, but he figures it probably does and even if it didn't, he's not sure he could make his body do what it wants to anyway. And what it wants is to feel more of that. Something harder. Something to bring him back down to earth.

He doesn't hesitate and he probably goes faster than he ought to, pushing his finger into Priestly's body to the knuckle, fucking him smoothly with it, not giving him time to adjust. He leans his weight on his bent forearm across the small of Priestly's back, holding him in place.