Post Founder's Day

[rockabillyboy]

For a while now they've been laboring under the weight of their losses, and, as a result, they've been kind of careful with each other. In the cab on the way home, Jack realises that he doesn't necessarily want to be careful anymore. He leans in, pressing a sloppy kiss against the side of Poison's neck, right against his pulse. His hand slides dangerously high up his husband's thigh.

"What've you got on under these?"

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[afabulouskilljoy]

Jack gets him, because a mad dash up two flights of stairs has left his legs complaining. Poison yelps, cackles, and he curls around Jack's grip because he's not going to make it easy for him. Not until he's pinned down somewhere.

"Fuck," he laughs, breathless. Poison makes a half-hearted attempt to get loose, but Jack's arms are strong, solid around him. So he ends up slumping back some instead, leaning his weight into Jack.

[rockabillyboy]

Poison's a dead weight, but Jack's got enough upper body strength to haul him forward a few steps until he can all but drop him on the bed. He presses his weight into the small of his back, keeping him pinned.

"Are you going to be good?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison lands face-down and Jack's hand is a firm weight on his back. He squirms a little, grinds against the bed. The friction almost makes him groan.

"You know how I feel about authority," he said, flashing a grin over his shoulder. "Gonna make me?"

[rockabillyboy]

"Damn straight," says Jack, keeping one hand pressed against Poison's back, palming his denim clad ass with the other. "And you know I can, too."

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison breathes a euphoric-sounding cuss and rolls his hips against the bed more deliberately this time. His jeans are tight, like they always are, and the position isn't very forgiving.

He loves that fucking tone.

[rockabillyboy]

Without warning, Jack lands an open handed smack across the seat of Poison's jeans. His palm stings, and his cock throbs.

"How hard do you think you can take it without telling me to stop?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Fuck," he yelps, hips jumping forward. The denim helps ease the impact, but he hadn't been expecting it. Poison gets his forearms under him to brace himself against the bed. He's aching hard, but he's also stubborn.

"Sounds like we're gonna have to find out the old fashioned way," he says as he peers over his shoulder again, red hair falling in his face. "Red, right?"

It's been that long, he realizes. Whatever, it doesn't matter, as long as they're still on the same page with their safe words.

[rockabillyboy]

"Red," says Jack, his hand for a moment, while they get this right. "Yellow if you need me to slow down but you don't want to stop altogether." He slaps his husband's ass again. "What colour's the light, Poison?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison lowers his head and just grins like a fiend. The next smack makes him bit his lip, stubborn streak kicking in. He adjusts himself on the bed a little, but doesn't disrupt Jack's hand, firm on his back.

"Green, baby."

[rockabillyboy]

Jack shifts his weight slightly, straddling Poison's hips so that he can squirm his hands underneath him and start to unbuckle his belt.

"Tell me if it changes."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Always," he promises.

Poison does make himself a little useful, trying to lift his hips so Jack can get his belt, his jeans loose. As soon as the black denim slides down enough, there's the tease of red lace. It does, in fact, match his hair.

[rockabillyboy]

"God, those are some slutty panties," says Jack, hauling Poison's jeans down around his knees, leaning his thighs bare, shoving his shirt up to show the small of his back. "Are those new? Did you wear those for me?"

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Yeah, figured it'd be a nice surprise, even if all we did at the end of the day was undress." He knows that Jack likes looking. Poison tries to stay still, more exposed now with his shirt shoved up and his jeans down around his knees. It's perfect, and it turns him on beyond reason to know that Jack likes what he sees.

[rockabillyboy]

Jack slaps Poison's ass, nothing but that that thin layer of lace between his palm and Poison's skin.

"It is," he says, enjoying the way that a red mark comes up on Poison's pale skin. "A nice surprise."

[afabulouskilljoy]

This time it stings and Poison curls his fingers in the blanket on top of the bed, bracing himself more. "I know how you feel about this ass in lace."

He tries to sound cocky, but he's getting distracted, trying to figure out when the next hit might land. And he's trying, and failing, to ignore how it feels to have almost nothing between his cock and the bed.

[rockabillyboy]

"I feel that way about that ass without lace, too," says Jack, slapping Poison again, wanting to hear that cockiness give way to something else.

[afabulouskilljoy]

It jars him; it forces his hips down against the bed and a little cry sneaks out of him, because the sharp sting of Jack's hand suddenly gives way to the sweet friction of his cock rubbing against the bed. "Fuck," he gasps out, feeling his face get hot.

[rockabillyboy]

"Don't you dare rub off against the sheets," says Jack, slapping Poison's thigh this time, his pale skin flawless until it's marked. "Don't make a mess."

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison tenses to try to keep his hips from moving after the next smack. The new stings distract from the old ones, building a steady burn across his ass, his thigh.

"Killing me, baby."

[rockabillyboy]

"No," says Jack, shaking his head, smiling where Poison can't see him, but managing to keep his voice stern as he slaps Poison's other thigh. "I'm not. And I don't want to hear you call me Baby again. You know what I want to hear."

[afabulouskilljoy]

Poison pushes his face into the bed for a second, trying hard to collect himself. He pulls his thigh in, tries to, and takes a sharp, shivering breath.

"Yes, sir."

[rockabillyboy]

Jack huffs a laugh and sakes his head, slapping Poison again, a rapid trio of slaps right across the cleft of his ass.

"Nope," he says. "Try again. Come on. You know what I want. And I know saying it? I know it makes you squirm."

[afabulouskilljoy]

"Fuck--fuck--" Poison yelps and tries to jerk his hips away, tries to escape the quick, hard hits that come as punishment for getting it wrong.

"Daddy," he gasps out, voice ragged. It's been too fucking long and he aches just from saying it.

[rockabillyboy]

Heat floods through Jack when he hears the way Poison says it.

"Again," he says, scraping his nails over impact reddened skin. "Louder."

[afabulouskilljoy]

He tries to bite back the next noise rising in his throat as Jack's nails drag over tender skin. He's burning.

"Daddy." He means it this time, louder, aching with want. Poison's dying to touch himself or drop his hips. He wets his lips, wonders what he can get away with. Jack wants to be filthy, and Poison wants to ride it.