, so more chastity belt kink. You really need to read that before you read this one or it won't make near as much sense.
for being my beta and for the title.
With each turn of the corridor John found himself hesitating, considering a fleeting excuse to go this way instead of that…check the Gateroom, talk to Lorne about the rotation, practice in the firing range. They weren’t excuses, not really. He was the Military Commander of Atlantis after all, he had important work to do. Finally standing in front of Carson’s door, his mind still sought a way out, even when it didn’t want one, or didn’t think he did. But he’d been like this all week, unsure, leaning one way then the other, sometimes sure, other times uncertain to the point of quiet panic. And then the door slid open. Was it him, or Carson, or Atlantis? He stepped inside and thought it closed, stopped in his place by Carson’s blue eyes staring at him from across the room.
John catches Beckett just as he looks up at the sound of the door opening. For all that this week has left him unsettled, he knows that it’s had the same affect on Carson. Being welcomed with a smile is a relief. Even better, Carson rises and crosses the small sitting room, reaching out to lay a hand on his cheek and place a tentative kiss on his mouth. The taste of the Scotsman, the feel of his lips grounds John, helps calm the heart that he hadn’t realized was racing until just now.
“You came, luv.” Carson’s brilliant smile burns just for him, and John leans into the nearness of the other man, losing his fears and uncertainty. He nods, forehead pressed down into the other man’s shoulder, muscles relaxing. He is content to stand, letting the rightness creep back into his bones, but eventually Carson pushes away and looks at him, smile gone, eyes questioning.
“Are ye alright, John?” And isn’t that just the question? He hasn’t come in a week and he misses it, aches for it sometimes, though he’s been thoroughly fucked. Carson has been like a man possessed ever since John woke up that first morning, cock and balls in the silver cage and a finger sliding into him. It’s the same every day. Carson wakes, wanting him, but never takes his pleasure until after he has stroked John softly, patiently, fingers finding that spot inside and drawing out the muted wave of pleasure to spread through his blood as the cum seeps slowly from his cock. Sometimes, when it’s happening, he wants to be free of the cage, free to get hard and feel the flashfire of orgasm igniting his nerves and searing his body. But he never says anything, always surrenders, this was his choice. Afterward Carson enters him, pushes in and John’s body hums with the feeling being filled, of Carson’s heat and the head of his cock brushing John’s prostate.
John’s confusion must show in his face because suddenly Carson’s lips are back on his, only this time they aren’t gentle. The kiss is hard but not punishing, and after a few seconds John feels himself yield, feels his mouth open, inviting the other man in. It goes on, each of them stealing breaths, until Carson stops, leaning his head on John’s forehead much in the way of the Athosian gesture of respect. John’s uncertainty is gone, now there’s only anticipation. If the mornings are routine, the nights are anything but.
“Take your clothes off, let me look at you.” This is also new, this need to just look. It isn’t like Carson didn’t like to watch him before. But this scrutiny only started when they locked the chastity belt in place. He does as he’s told, discarded clothing on the floor at his feet. John feels it like a hand brushing over sensitive skin as the other man’s eyes sweep up and down, lingering on the leather and metal held snug to his body. He isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.
Carson circles around him fully clothed as he stands in the middle of the room, waiting, needing something to happen. Words are whispered in his ear. “God, you’re beautiful.” They come from behind, warm breath ghosting over his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Do ye want to come tonight, luv?” The words are throaty and rough and they burrow under his skin. John can’t help the gasp at the sharp jolt of pure lust that races through him. If his cock wasn’t held captive, wrapped in finely wrought silver, he would be coming almost before he could get hard. All he can do is close his eyes and nod, hoping that it’s the right answer.
“Stay there.” He does, wanting and not wanting to know at the same time. Some of the noises coming from behind him are recognizable, others make no sense. He focuses on the ones he knows, the sound of clothing being removed, the creak of the bed, the rush of water from the bathroom. Others intrigue him, providing a distraction from the thoughts of being hard, feeling Carson’s hand stroke his length, drowning in the heat of Carson’s mouth on him.
It feels like forever that he’s been standing there, and despite his best efforts his breathing is fast, his heart fluttering. Then Carson pulls him back to reality, his chest pressed warm against John’s back. Oh god, the feel of skin on skin has him trembling. Carson kisses and nips from one shoulder to the other while his hands stroke up and down John’s chest. It is almost too much, too much waiting, too much need, too much feeling. All he can do is gasp and moan and finally just collapse back against the broad muscular chest. He can feel Carson’s cock pressed up against him, snugged in the crack of his ass and the heat sears, makes his muscles tighten with need. He presses back, looking for more…more contact, more heat, more of everything. Right now he wants is to lose his connection with the world and just be as the pleasure rolls over and through him.
Carson catches him, moves him toward the bed murmuring filthy phrases in Gaelic. John doesn’t know what they are but he knows what they mean, he hears it in the way they’re spoken and it sends his mind spinning off in desperate directions. He would do anything for this man.
Maneuvered backwards, he finds himself lying on the bed, pillows holding him up while Carson kisses him again, calling his name. When John finally focuses, he feels a hand reach around and undo the leather buckle that holds the chastity belt in place. It’s only then that he notices the chain is missing from Carson’s neck and he doesn’t know when there was time to use the key and remove the lock that has held it in place for these last seven days.
“Look at me, luv.” Propped on the pillows, knees bent, legs splayed, John displays himself for his lover and then Carson reaches down and gently pulls. Freedom, relief, lust… loss, they all wash through him in such a rush that his eyes widen in shock as the familiar weight of the belt falls away. Carson is panting, thick red cock leaking, barely able to hold himself in check, “Fuck me, John.”
The words are all it takes and John eyes snap to Carson’s. In the space of a heartbeat John is on him, cock full, heart racing. One shove and Carson is on his back, another and rough hands have his legs up and apart and then John is pushing inside, so lost in the need to fuck that he doesn’t notice or care that Carson has prepared himself. Still it’s not gentle and John’s grunts and moans mix with Carson’s cry of pain as John buries himself with one sharp thrust. Then he’s moving, pumping in and out with as hard and fast as he can, hands scrabbling across Carson’s flesh, mouth biting and sucking in between curses. It’s only when he changes his angle that the body under him begins to respond and then it’s the two of them, equally desperate, legs wound together, driving John deeper with each inward movement. It doesn’t take long before John’s body tenses and he’s shouting, swearing as he comes, hip bones driving into the tender flesh of Carson’s inner thighs. Hands clamped on shoulders, legs locked, he empties himself of all the pent up fire until there is nothing left. With a last thrust he stills and collapses, head dropping, gasping, arms too spent to hold his weight anymore.