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priestly

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Where they end up is the hut that Granby shares with Laurence. Short on patience, Granby steps in, pressing Priestly back against the wall beside the door before he leans in for a hot, hard kiss.

"So, aside from keeping you quiet," he murmurs. "What else did you have in mind?"

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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.

It's not as though Priestly is going anywhere, and he's very sure that he can take more than this. Not because he does this very often—he doesn't and he never has—but because he's so boneless right now, so relaxed and so willing.

There's not much resistance there when he starts to work another finger in alongside the first. He rolls his wrist, fucking Priestly's deeply, ignoring his aching cock.

"Ready?" he asks, voice low.

Priestly can't answer verbally, but he figures that answering a direct question with his body doesn't violate his prohibitions, so he pushes himself back on John's fingers, fucking himself with them as much as he can with his limited range of motion.

And that's just perfect. For a moment, Granby just watches the ride of Priestly's hips and the press of his fingers. He can't stand it much longer, though, dragging his fingers free and curling them around his cock, stroking, slicking, the friction making his breath catch.

He moves in closer on his knees, sliding the head of his cock along the cleft of Priestly's backside, rubbing over his hole, teasing.

Teasing both of them, really.

Priestly pushes back again, but less insistently this time since that wasn't actually a question. Well, it was sort of a question. A nonverbal question. What he really wants to do now is just give in to it, just collapse and let John take over and do everything. Everything.

With a push of his hips, he slides inside, only an inch and then he pauses, bending his head to catch his breath.

"Come on then," he says, his hand against the small of Priestly's back again. "Let me see you."

Priestly arches his back, pushes back against him, and makes a desperate sound in his throat that he can only pray will be interpreted as "now, please, now, please, now" or some variation thereof because there's no way he can express himself more clearly than to just offer all of him to John.

It's mesmerising, watching the rock of Priestly's hips back onto his cock. Granby squeezes his hip, drags him back harder and there's a loud sound of skin on skin.

He groans, softly and rocks hips hips, pushing deeper.

"Stop," he growls. "Don't move."

Priestly actually hasn't had any trouble following any of the orders until now. But not moving right now is an order of an entirely new magnitude. He manages, but his body shakes as he does.

There's very little restraint in him, right then. His hand stays hard on Priestly's hip and he slams into him, dragging almost all of the way out before he thrusts back in, hard enough to rock Priestly forward on his knees, whether he told him to stay still or not.

Priestly's moving even more than he normally would because he's offering no resistance, now backwards thrust to meet him. He feels like finally, finally he's getting it, sensation so sharp it's shooting right through his daze. He's going to be a mess when this is over. A useless wreck. And it's amazing.

And now there's barely a conscious thought in his head, he's so lost in it. His fingers tighten on Priestly's hip, hard enough to bruise. He forgets to bite back a moan.

Priestly is so far past what he imagined he could take and well into stuff he never even really imagined. Okay, he's probably imagined it at some point, but only because he was a very imaginative teenager when it came to porn. He had no idea, though. Not then, not even an hour ago. It's so much. It overwhelms him.

He'll probably be ashamed of it, later, but, right then, he's not even thinking about Priestly, not in any terms more sophisticated than the sensation, the friction and the heat of him. He yanks Priestly's body back down onto him and groans, a hoarse, strangled sound.

He's so close that he can taste it.

Priestly's whole body moves wherever John pushes and pulls it, getting him so deep, deep enough to really feel it, hard and tight and full. He makes noises loud enough to be heard through the gag, not words but cries and shouts and stifled gasps. Loud enough to make sure that John hears him and knows.

It's the sounds that do it in the end. He all but shouts himself when he comes, hips jerking, nails digging into the skin over Priestly's hip.

It's a long moment before he can do anything other than kneel there but then he's moving to loosen the bindings around Priestly's hands, tugging the tie out of his mouth and pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

It takes Priestly longer than that to come back to himself, to get a firm grasp on reality again, to feel John solid against him, lips against his skin. He breathes deeply, filling his lungs with oxygen, then turns his head and searches for a kiss, something solid and grounding. He doesn't think he can move much more than that.

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