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The hotel suite is the same mix of beige and white as every other room they've stayed in. Honestly, Jason is just glad to be off the bus, away from Hawkey’s awful taste in music, and able to stretch his legs.
Mid pawned him off on Apollo, electing to bunk with Slade despite Jason's protests. It's not that he minds having Apollo as a roommate; he's just a little flustered at the thought of sharing a room with their Captain.
They make their way up in the elevator together, Apollo keying them into the room and holding the door wide for Jason to haul his suitcase through. The two queens take up most of the space, pristine white sheets rumpling when Jason throws his belongings onto the nearest bed.
“Do you want to take the shower first, or can I?” Jason asks, unearthing his toiletries and a fresh shirt from the depths of his bag. Being trapped in a confined space with a bunch of men who have absurd superstitions about showering leaves a certain funk Jason is keen to be rid of.
Apollo waves him towards the bathroom, carting his belongings into the room and kicking the door shut behind them. “Take your time. We can order room service when you're done?”
A night-in sounds perfect. Jason says as much, stomach fluttering at Apollo’s returning smile. He ducks into the ensuite before he can make a fool of himself, not bothering to close the door behind himself. It's not like Apollo hasn't seen Jason in the shower before.
His head feels clearer by the time he steps out, relaxed and comfortable as he dries off with one of the fluffy hotel towels. His hair curls in the lingering steam, unruly when he tries to fix it in the mirror.
Jason tilts his jaw beneath the fluorescents, wincing at the scrape of budding stubble against his palm. “Can I borrow a razor? I didn't pack one myself.”
“There's one in my duffel,” Apollo calls back, distracted as he thumbs through the room service menu. Jason emerges into the main suite, and Apollo gestures towards the canvas bag in the corner armchair emblazoned with a Wildstorm logo. “Front pocket on the left.”
“Thanks,” Jason says, crossing the room to rifle through. There's a leather case tucked into the pocket, sleek and unassuming. Jason slides it free, tugging open the zip and pausing.
It's not a shaving kit, but it is some sort of kit. There are thin metal rods in varying widths and shapes tucked into holds, capped with rings that Jason could comfortably fit one finger through. There's a vial of clear liquid at the center, unlabeled but familiar. They all look immaculately polished, bright silver against the dark leather.
Jason frowns at the unusual set of implements, trying to discern their use. Apollo glances up at his stalling, eyes falling to the open case in his hands.
“Ah,” he says.
“What are these?” Jason asks. He'd almost mistake them for cutlery, or straws, if they were hollow. They look expensive, possibly medical grade from the quality of the steel.
Apollo turns to face him, expression artfully blank. Like he's watching for Jason's reaction. “Sounding rods.”
Jason squints. He thinks he's heard of sounding rods before in passing, some offhand comment thrown out at a party or maybe a documentary, but the details escape him now. “What are they used for?”
“Sexual pleasure,” Apollo says, wry. His bluntness makes Jason's cheeks dust pink. He thought he was past being embarrassed in front of his Captain, but his inexperience has him off-balance.
Apollo takes mercy on him, crossing the room to lean over Jason's shoulder and point to the thinnest rod.
“You insert them in your urethra, starting from the smallest and working your way up in sizing.” Jason feels a little dizzy looking at the progression of widths. He can't imagine fitting all that inside his dick.
“And that feels good?” Jason asks, dubious.
Apollo laughs, and Jason wonders belatedly if the question was rude. “Yes.” And then lower, “I could show you, if you'd like?”
Jason feels like the room’s spinning for one wild second before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. Squinting down at the rods, he murmurs, “I’d like to watch, if that’s okay?” He isn’t sure why he’s asking if it’s okay, like Apollo didn’t just lay it all out there a moment earlier. Maybe it’s how it felt more like an offer for Jason than anything else.
Apollo slips the case from Jason’s fingers and sets off across the room, to the bed he claimed as his own, and settles amidst the white sheets as though this is nothing. Not some kink Jason thinks he’s only vaguely heard of. Not the two of them not twenty minutes into sharing a room already getting up to something sexual. Like this is just how reality is and everything is fine.
Jason’s feet urge him to follow, his palms beg him to haul himself up on Apollo’s bed to settle on the edge of it, leg tucked under himself, his full attention on the way Apollo casually unfastens his slacks and eases his flaccid cock free.
Jason swallows and tries not to get too far ahead of himself, tries to rally against the way his cock is already swelling beneath the soft hotel towel tucked around his waist. It’s a useless endeavor and he knows it.
Apollo spreads his legs wide to accommodate the kit he lays on the sheets. His motions are confident, sliding the 5mm rod free as Jason settles on the bed. Apollo pulls the vial of lube out, dipping the rod in deep, until it's glistening beneath the lights.
Apollo's cock is hardening beneath both their gazes, making Jason bite his lip in anticipation. Apollo glances up, as if to ensure Jason is paying attention, and the gentle play of the rod against his slit zings something hot and needy down Jason’s spine.
Jason holds his breath as the metal breaches him, sliding in steadily under Apollo's persistence. It's like his cock swallows all those inches, the sounding rod disappearing but for the ring and the dribble of lube it leaves behind.
Apollo exhales, when the ringed tip comes to rest against his crown, and Jason does too. Time feels like it's passing differently, sticking like molasses around this moment. He's mesmerized by the sight, by the knowledge that all that length is buried so deep inside Apollo’s cock.
Jason's curiosity burns, the urge to know what that feels like. He can't imagine there's anything like it, to be touched so deeply, so intimately. His cock aches between his legs, and Jason grips the towel in his fist tighter, throat unexpectedly dry.
Apollo gives his cock a slow stroke, fingers playing along the swell of the rod Jason can see beneath his skin, and when he next looks up, the sight of his blown pupils steals Jason's breath all over again. There's a burning arousal in that gaze, one that scorches Jason with its intensity.
Without meaning to, Jason finds himself asking, “Can I touch it?”
Something flares bright and brilliant in Apollo’s eyes and that devilish smile that Jason’s grown so used to flashes for a moment in time before Apollo leans back on one hand and nods toward his cock. He doesn’t say yes, but his actions speak volumes.
All Jason can hear is the sound of their breath, the wind against the window outside the hotel room, and that sweet molasses pull keeps a hold on him as he moves. Slow, deliberate, like there’s not a single thing to rush in the world.
His towel falls away, baring him to the room, to Apollo’s hungry gaze, but Jason barely notices it. His focus is singular, his intent deliberate. His knees slide against the comforter, thighs parting enough to settle him where he’s touching Apollo’s legs, between them, a place he’s never been. He’s open wide, on display, and Jason’s as aware of that as he is the rolling desire swelling up inside him.
His fingertips slip around Apollo’s velvety shaft, curl to grasp, and his breath shutters as he feels the bulge of the rod against his palm. There’s something about it, about the sheer intimacy of knowing it’s inside Apollo, that he’s intentionally filled himself with it. Jason’s thumb brushes the bundle of nerves just below the crown, rubs a slow circle there, and then slides upwards, catching the faintest hint of lube and passing lightly over the metal tip, just barely peeking over the edge where the ring attaches to the rod. It’s warm, intimate, makes Jason feel like he’s touching an extension of Apollo’s body and he’s almost certain he’s never been harder in his life.
Apollo’s free hand grasps his own, wraps around it, guides him into stroking, into applying pressure against the rod. His head falls back and Jason’s left staring at the long line of Apollo’s throat, in awe of how much pleasure this is so clearly bringing him. For a long moment, Apollo guides his hand, faster and faster and then he stops, holds Jason’s hand tight, groans, his hips jerking, and Jason knows he’s nearly cum. His own cock twitches and he can feel the precum stringing from the tip, arousal a stark presence in the near-silent room.
They stay there, frozen in time until Apollo’s breathing returns to normal, until he’s watching Jason, eyes bright, face filled with pleasure, and he whispers, “Pull it out.”
Jason's not sure he breathes. He pinches the ring, and glances up at Apollo to check that he's not misunderstood.
“Easy,” Apollo cautions, and Jason watches him bite back a groan, toes curling on either side of Jason's hips, when he draws it out an inch. “Fuck.”
The reaction has Jason's blood pumping, cock heavy between his thighs as he bites his lip and pulls the sounding rod back another few crucial inches. It feels like it goes on forever, the metal slick and glinting in the lamplight, a connection point between Jason's fingers and Apollo's cock, reaching to the deepest, most intimate part of his Captain.
At the apex, Jason pauses, seized by a sudden thought. Apollo watches him, waiting out his curiosity. “What happens if I push it back in?”
The grin that tugs at the corner of Apollo's lips is sharp and aroused. “Try it. Slowly.”
Jason’s breath is lodged in his throat, stuck somewhere between his ribs, a haunting presence that won’t leave him as he steadies his hand and holds Apollo’s cock firm in his grip. It’s on the exhale that he pushes the rod in. One smooth breath begetting the slick glide of the rod deep into Apollo’s cock.
In some twisted way, it’s like exercise; his breath expelling into the room at the most difficult part, so he can draw it in again at the easiest moment. The rod taps out, Jason’s finger settling the ring against the glistening tip of Apollo’s cock, and Jason inhales.
He doesn’t ask this time. He sees the part of Apollo’s lips, the strain of his thighs, hears the pop of his toes as he digs them in against the mattress, body eager and ready and on the cusp of something fantastic. It’s easy to go with it, the draw and plunge of the rod, the ramping of Apollo’s rasping breath. It’s the same here as it is on the ice; a gentle flow, an ease that he doesn’t have to claw his way into faking. It’s real and deep and runs like a vibrant strand through everything he does alongside this team. Even here. Even pushing the sounding rod in and out of his Captain’s cock, Jason exists in the expanse of a place where he’s one with them all.
Just as he does on the ice, he finds it. The instant he can draw something glorious out of the connection. His fingers swirl the rod and on Apollo’s long groan, Jason slips it from his cock, faster than any of the other times, though still so achingly controlled. And it’s there that Apollo cums. His breath is a sigh in the air, his body is the peak of arousal and sexuality and everything Jason can possibly want to drink down.
So he does. He leans down and seals his lips around the head of Apollo’s length and gently strokes his shaft through it all, swallowing what he’s given until Apollo’s hand is on his head, stroking, petting, and his breath is strained and desperate, verging on overstimulation.
It’s there that Jason rests, cock softening against his tongue, gaze tipped upwards to watch Apollo coming back down.
Jason knows what he wants. He knows and for once, he’s going to ask for it.
His lips part and his breath ghosts over spit-slick skin as he whispers, “Do it to me?” He wants and yearns and desires to feel all the things Apollo just felt. But he’s also a little afraid, doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know if his body will accept or reject this feeling.
It takes a minute for Apollo to respond. A long stretch of time where he strokes Jason’s hair and gently massages the back of his neck as he comes down. Then he’s there, easing Jason up and back, easing over him until Jason’s flat on his back, thighs parted, and cock so so hard, aching for Apollo’s touch.
Apollo’s fingertips feel like fire against his skin and Jason fights not to arch into it. Even as Apollo alternately touches him and uses the tiny bottle of spray in the kit to clean the rods until they’re gleaming under the hotel room lights. When he touches him with purpose again, Jason’s breath is stuck in his throat, living in the space between his ribs, and he feels like he’s already coming apart.
The smallest rod, glimmering with lube, touches the warm skin at the head of his cock and Jason fights to hold himself still, eases beneath Apollo’s quiet shushing noises. And then the rod is dipping into his slit. The barest bit of it disappears, gets swallowed up by his cock, and Jason can’t stop staring at it. Staring at the way he’s taking something in his cock. Another inch disappears and Jason throws his head back, stares at the spackled ceiling because his balls are tight and if he keeps looking, he’s going to cum. Going to shoot so fast he’ll never know what it feels like to have it all the way in.
Sensation spirals through his body and he feels the faintest burn, a line somewhere between pleasure and pain, and he grips the sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do. He wants to beg for more, wants to say hang on, wants to cum and wants it to never end. The rod shifts inside him and he feels every single bit of it. The rod pulls up and pushes back down and Jason’s mind tells him he’s being fucked with it. He’s coming unhinged, unglued at the seams.
Pleasure ripples through him with every twist and every fuck of that slim little rod inside him and his world is a mantra of, “Yes”, and, “More,” and, “Fuck.” Apollo’s voice is a rumble and Jason can’t grasp onto the words. All he knows is there’s a tone in that voice that tells him he’s doing good, that he’s allowed to feel the things he’s feeling, that everything’s alright.
Jason lets go of the bed and pushes his hands into his hair. His core tightens and his thighs tremble and he tugs at the strands of his own hair because he can’t. Can’t hold on. Can’t cum. Can’t let it be over yet. But Apollo’s movements are slow, relentless, an eternal march forward and Jason’s losing his mind.
It’s at the cusp of his orgasm that Jason feels the brush of Apollo’s lips to his sensitive skin. Opens his eyes to see his Captain pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, those blazing eyes fixed on him. The attention is scalding, fire rippling through him beneath that intensity. His breath is a vacuum and his orgasm is a backdraft, and there isn’t a single thing Jason can do to stop himself from the all-consuming well of his need.
It might be the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt. He feels like he’s clenched so hard his bones might snap, ground to dust as each wave of pleasure rolls through him and lights him anew. Jason’s slightly afraid it might never end, that it will be too much, but after a few moments of blind ecstasy, it begins to ebb.
Apollo’s fingers are still on the sounding rod’s ring, holding it just slightly back from the crown of Jason’s cock. His cum dribbles out around the metal, the most spine-tingling sensation rippling through Jason as he watches it drip down his shaft.
He’s not quite settled when Apollo draws the rod out, slow and sensual. Jason groans loudly, toes curling as it strokes his oversensitive nerves on its way through his passage. More than that, the sight of it drawing out of his cock, all those impossible inches freed, slick with his cum, has Jason’s cheeks heating with an odd sense of pride.
Apollo grabs for the discarded towel when the rod is free, gently cleaning Jason’s cock as he tries to work out if his legs will support him enough to stand. There’s a self-satisfied smile curling Apollo’s lips, evident in his tone when he asks, “Intense, isn’t it?”
Jason just nods, unable to find any sort of words to encapsulate that feeling. Of being fucked through his cock, of being so full he felt he found the cusp of pleasure-pain. It surprises him how much he craves that feeling again, now that he’s deprived of it.
His dismay must show on his features, because Apollo laughs. “There’s nothing quite like it. I can help you find a good set, if you’d like?” he offers, and Jason flushes at being so easily read.
He fidgets, reaching down to thumb at his slit, surprised to find that absolutely no evidence of the sound remains. It’s odd to have such an intense reaction and have nothing to show for it.
Jason swallows, wetting his lips when he answers, “If I got my own set, would you show me how to use them all?” He has no reservations that having Apollo here to guide him, to drive Jason up against that edge with such an expert hand, is integral to the experience. He doesn’t think he could achieve the same on his own.
Apollo’s look is knowingly smug. “It would be my pleasure,” he purrs, lips wrapping around the syllables in a way that tugs heat back to Jason’s softening cock.
He doesn’t think he could cum again. Not so soon, not after such intensity. But he does let it direct his desire to reach down and gently draw Apollo up the length of his body, until he’s nestled in the space between Jason’s thighs and Jason’s lips are on his jaw.
He doesn’t dare push his luck too far. Not tonight. Something in him desires the proximity, the grounding having his Captain so close provides. He thinks with the way Apollo cradles the back of his neck, the way his eyelids flutter closed that, perhaps, he’s not alone.
