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It's not that Martin doesn't like Douglas talking during sex, god knows his filthy mouth has gotten Martin hard just from a telephone conversation. It's the feeling of power he gets when Douglas literally can't speak because he's losing his mind in the moment, particularly when Douglas is riding him, like now.
Martin looks up at his first officer and lover, hips thrusting at a pace he likes to call cruising altitude. He can keep going for hours at this pace without coming, slowly driving Douglas further and further into bliss. Moments ago Douglas passed verbal, leaving off with a string of disconnected syllables. "Love", "yes", "god, "please." The room is humid with sex.
Douglas is also holding one of the room's towels behind him in both hands. Martin likes it because it allows for Douglas to drop the towel if he needs his hands in case of a leg cramp or some emergency, but has the same effect as tying Douglas's hands behind him would, pulling his shoulders back, presenting Douglas's lightly furred chest and pert nipples tartishly. Douglas likes it because it forces him not to be lazy, keeping him upright, forcing him down on Martin's cock. "So deep it's like you're fucking me right up to my heart," Douglas said, before he went non-verbal.
Still keeping the slow cruising speed, Martin thrusts slowly, deeply, up into Douglas, watching Douglas's face. Douglas's mouth hangs slightly open and his half-lidded eyes blink slowly, looking into some ecstatic distance. His breaths are deep, almost meditative, and except for a breathy whine now and then, he is silent. Martin smiles, feeling the tight grip of Douglas pull and stroke at his cock as he thrusts, keeping his arousal at a slow burn as well. Martin chose a thicker condom for tonight, knowing they have hours; the thick latex deadens the hot, tight sensation just enough that Martin could keep going like this for as long as his pelvis holds out.
Some night, he'd like to see just how long he can keep Douglas non-verbal. Not tonight, but sometime; edging both of them until past the light of dawn when they're both shaking with mindless need and exhaustion. His hips stutter in their rhythm at the thought and Douglas pants out a burst of whimpers.
"Shh, shh," Martin hushes his lover, stroking his hands up Douglas's sweat-misted thighs, brushing up and down, not getting near Douglas's deep red cock, jutting up between them. Douglas usually can't come without his cock being touched, but Martin has set them a challenge tonight. Douglas just doesn't know about it yet.
The sight of Douglas over Martin, face flushed, glistening with sweat, mouth working like he's trying to speak still, but is too far gone for words. Eyes practically glazed. Beautiful.
"Beautiful," Martin whispers aloud, stroking up Douglas's slick sides, rubbing his thumbs around Douglas's nipples.
Douglas's face turns slightly away, his forehead bunching.
"No." Martin runs his palm up as high as he can reach, just to where Douglas's shoulder joins his throat. "Look at me, Douglas."
Panting, Douglas's gaze focuses for a moment, locking on Martin, burning down like the blaze of an equatorial summer sun.
"You are beautiful," Martin says as he continues slowly, maddeningly thrusting. "You are beautiful. Like this and always. And you are mine."
A wordless keening whimper is Douglas's only response.
"Mine." With a wicked smile, Martin curves his fingers, running his trimmed nails through Douglas's damp chest hair, teasing the skin before deliberately scratching over Douglas's tight nipples.
Douglas tips his head back, groaning, still gripping the towel, bracing himself for what's coming next.
"Mine." Martin grips Douglas's hips, plants his feet on the bed and bucks up into his lover, unable to resist anymore. The bed shakes. Douglas nearly shouts, higher-pitched breathy moans forced from him in short bursts as Martin thrusts up into him hard, over and over.
He doesn't want to, he wants to see, but Martin can't help closing his eyes as he slams up into Douglas, biting his lip and putting what focus he has into getting just the right angle for Douglas. His short nails dig crescents into Douglas's hips and arse as he grips him, the sweat-slick skin slipping in his grip.
Above him, Douglas's moans intensify, turning into needy rising cries as he gets closer and closer.
Martin's own breath quickly becomes near-growls as he fucks up hard into Douglas, holding just enough back that he won't reach his own peak first, and forces his eyes open to watch. His eyes meet Douglas's, staring down at him, pleading, blasted half-out into orbit from his near-orgasmic fugue, begging with wordless whimpers for Martin to touch his cock, let him come.
Panting from effort, Martin grins evilly, shifting his hips on the bed slightly, and thrusts hard into Douglas at a new angle, grinding.
Douglas's eyes clench shut and he throws back his head and howls.
"There it is. Flight path locked in," Martin grunts through gritted, grinning teeth, pounding his cock up into Douglas at the new angle, rubbing up against Douglas's prostate on every stroke.
With every heaving breath, Douglas emits short howls toward the water-stained ceiling of the hotel room, each howl getting shorter and breathier until he falls completely silent. His body tenses, locking up, his breath comes in short tense gasps, and Martin knows it's very soon.
"Yes. Mine. You're mine." Martin grunts, eyes locked on Douglas as he pistons up against his lover's most sensitive spot, chasing his own pleasure now as well. "And when you come. That's mine too."
Douglas's eyes fly open, and he locks his gaze on Martin, just as Martin feels the first tightening of Douglas's internal muscles squeeze his cock. Face twisted as though he's in intense pain, Douglas keeps his eyes locked with Martin's as the waves of pressure peak, and Douglas is curling forward, shoulders still straining against his grip on the towel, his untouched cock twitching violently as he ejaculates, semen striping his own chest and Martin's. His held breath rasps out, followed by something like a sob.
Between the pulsing of Douglas's internal muscles and the sight of his lover coming so intensely without any contact to his cock, Martin can't help but follow him over the precipice, thrusting up as hard and deep as he can, clutching and clawing at Douglas as he comes inside his lover.
They hold each other a while, coming back down, Martin stroking Douglas's neck and back, now that he has all but collapsed over him, still holding the towel. They pant wordlessly into the shared airspace between them, sharing languourous kisses. Douglas licks sweat and his own come from the dip at the base of Martin's throat.
Too soon there are practical matters to deal with, and Martin pulls out and disposes of the condom, laying Douglas on his side, pulling the towel from Douglas's unresisting hands to clean them both up. Quickly he returns wobble-legged to the bed, pulling the hotel duvet over their dampened bodies.
As soon as Martin is settled in bed, Douglas pulls him close, humming and nuzzling into Martin's shoulder like a great cat.
Feeling post-coital lassitude drag at his consciousness, Martin runs his fingers through Douglas's sweat-damp hair. "So that was all right then?" he says, hazy-eyed, grinning insouciantly.
"Mmm," is all Douglas can manage, raising his lips to Martin's. The room is silent then, but for the soft noises of Martin and Douglas kissing each other to sleep.