He had never understood what the appeal of riding was until he'd done it. He understood the appeal of being ridden, sure--seeing your partner on top of you, them doing all the work to make you feel good, the whole on-display aspect of it.
But he'd never considered himself submissive, or an exhibitionist, so he never really considered it as something he might be interested in.
Then Cassidy came along and asked him to try it, just for him, and they could change positions if he wasn't into it, and everything snapped into place.
"God," he groans again, and his fingers flex uselessly on Cassidy's stomach.
Cassidy hasn't said any kinds of 'I told you so's, but even if he did, Jesse wouldn't care.
He gets it. Boy, does he get it. Cassidy's looking at him like he's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, like he wants to eat him alive. If he leans back carefully, he can move in a way that drags Cassidy's cock over his prostate every time he sinks down. His legs are shaking and he's significantly sweatier than Cassidy from expending more effort, and somehow that still makes it good because he gets it, he's doing all the work because he's desperate enough to.
Cassidy's hand slides up his thigh and Jesse has to shakily grab it before it gets any higher.
"You can't," he stutters out. He squeezes Cassidy's hand fondly to show it's nothing bad.
"I want to touch you," Cassidy groans back, and rocks his hips up when Jesse sinks down again.
"Cass," he huffs, "I'll cum, like, right now," he admits. "You can't."
Cassidy doesn't move his hand back and shuts his eyes tightly.
"That's so hot though, Jess, fuck."
Jesse laughs and slows to a stop, taking a moment to settle fully down on Cassidy's lap while he catches his breath some.
"I want this to last more than a minute," he laughs.
Cassidy slips his hand out from under Jesse's and starts rubbing it up and down his thigh. He's squirming under him and obviously wanting to keep going, but at the same time, he looks so pleased trapped under him.
"Me too, but it's not gonna anyway if you keep looking like that."
"What do you mean?"
Cassidy laughs, strained from Jesse's weight on his hips and the situation in general.
"I'd give you a mirror but it'd cum too."
Jesse wants to laugh and ask him what he's talking about, but Cassidy bucks up under him.
"C'mon," he moans, practically growls, and Jesse's words catch before he can say them. Cassidy is trying to roll his hips up more even though he's supposed to be doing the work, and as much as he'd love to let Cassidy keep going, he's in this for the long haul.
He plants his hands at Cassidy's waist to get him still, and even though his thighs sting from bringing himself up, he starts moving again.
"Shit, yes," Cassidy sighs, and Jesse feels another wave of heat buzz through him. He really, really gets it.
Even with all of his squirming and his shutting his eyes to ground himself, Cassidy hardly looks away from him. There's something so good about that, that Cassidy has to look away to keep himself from cumming too soon but still can’t tear his eyes away from him.
His legs shake with it, but he manages to slide himself down harder. His skin is itching with warmth, with the idea that Cassidy can't handle what he looks like sitting on his cock. The idea that he's somehow so attractive like this, to the point that it's too much for Cassidy to look at him, is...
God. He gets it. He has way too much power up here.
He grins to himself. Cassidy's probably going to regret this, to be honest.
Innocently, he asks, "Am I doing okay?"
The noise that comes out of Cassidy is horrible, nearly a sob and definitely with some kind of hateful, 'I'm going to kill you if you delay this any more' sentiment.
"Jesus, Jesse, yeah, you're doing okay."
Jesse bites his lip. This might be a thing, too; there's a certain kind of pang in him when Cassidy lets him know it feels good, and he's already latching onto it.
"Only 'okay'?" he asks, and slows his hips, and Cassidy actually whines under him.
"No, way better than 'okay’," he promises through gritted teeth. "You’re doing so good. It’s so good."
Jesse rocks his hips as Cassidy whimpers his praise out, and every time it makes that same feeling flare low in his stomach.
"Shit," he mutters to himself. "Cass, keep talking, please," he says, and moves a hand off Cassidy's waist to grip himself. It's not to stroke himself, he's just too close already. He squeezes his cock while they're stilled, just to give himself a chance to actually enjoy it if he's right about this.
Cassidy whines "fucking Christ" watching him take measures to keep himself from cumming. "Are you gettin' off to that? Me saying you're good?"
"Not sure yet," Jesse admits. "Say somethin' else."
He swallows. Doing this on command is tough, especially when Jesse's gorgeous, eager face is in the balance. This is more important than life or death.
"Should I just say you're good or do I break out 'good boy's?"
Jesse shivers on top of him, and that's enough of an answer itself even if Cassidy was half-joking.
Cassidy's hands slide evenly up his thighs and squeeze, admiring how, even though Jesse is tense and every part of him seems pulled taut, he still tries to lean into his touch, pushing his sore legs to move again just to feel Cassidy's palms run over them.
"Move again 'n' I'll say it," he finally sighs.
Jesse nods and moves his shaking hands from his dick and Cassidy's stomach, putting them instead flat onto the mattress for support. It puts him hunched over Cassidy, almost eye to eye, and in an overwhelmed impulse, Jesse kisses him. It's sloppy and they're both distracted by each other, but it still lasts until Jesse rolls his hips again and Cassidy has to pull away.
"Good boy," he hisses, and Jesse takes a sharp breath where he's still hovering just over Cassidy's mouth.
Preacher's got a praise kink echoes through his mind like someone's put up a thousand flyers in hundred-point print about it, and he knows he's never going to be able to look at Jesse the same again. Knowing that he can turn that smug, Only The Lord Can Save Us face into this mess, with just a couple nice words? This is going to ruin both of their lives, he knows it.
"Look at you, fuck," he continues, and pushes on Jesse's thighs to force him back harder. “I wish you could see yourself right now, you look like you were made to bounce on my cock all day."
Jesse nods with his lip bitten and, nevermind, that's the worst thing he's ever seen. Jesse agreeing that he was made to ride him and looking gorgeous and debauched and all fucked out is going to haunt every fantasy and dream he ever has again, not to mention how it’s going to sit at the back of his mind for the rest of his life.
"You’re such a good boy, Christ, Jesse.”
He runs his fingers through Jesse's hair a couple times before he grabs it, and gently pulls his head back to get his attention and look him in the eye.
"I want you to sit up properly," he growls, and out of focus, between them, Cassidy sees Jesse's dick twitch at his tone. Good.
Jesse straightens himself back up on him. His legs are shaking even worse than they had been and his breathing is getting heavier with every slide over his cock, but he's moving anyway and staring expectantly at Cassidy.
"Good boy," he says again, and this time Jesse grins at him.
He's close enough or high on praise enough or both that starting a harsh pace on his lap is easy for him despite the pain in his thighs. Cassidy can hear the bed creak as Jesse moves, and distantly hopes it's sturdy enough for future sessions.
This time, when his hand creeps up Jesse's thigh, it isn't stopped, and he makes a loose fist that Jesse fucks into when he lifts himself up.
Jesse makes a noise he might call a yelp if wasn't so desperate and fucks himself harder, caught in constant feeling between Cassidy's hand and Cassidy's cock in him.
"Please," he tries to say, but he's so tense that his voice won't work and it cracks into a whisper.
"What do you want?" Cassidy asks. He almost calls him 'sweetheart' or 'love', almost lets himself mumble out a hundred things about how he'll give Jesse anything he wants, how he'd do anything to make him feel good, but he catches himself. Too early for any of that, even if Jesse is giving him the lay of his life right now.
"I want you to cum in me," Jesse moans once he figures his voice out, and God, Cassidy can do that.
"You gonna be a good boy and cum right after?"
Jesse drops his mouth back open on a silent moan at that, at the idea of just Cassidy's release in him pushing him over the edge.
"Yes," he moans, a promise, and it's so genuine and wanting that Cassidy can't imagine ever refusing him anything. Jesse Custer could get him to donate both his kidneys and all the money in his pockets with the right pout on his face. "Please, Cass, I need it."
"Go on then, be a good boy and make me cum."
He worries about overusing the term, but every time he says it just seems to wind Jesse up tighter.
He thinks Jesse nods again, but he's fucking himself so hard now that Cassidy might have bruises later, so he can't be sure that's not just Jesse’s head bobbing as he rides him. His hands are back on Cassidy, one gripping the side of his waist for dear life and the other holding onto Cassidy's wrist, just to make sure he doesn't take it away from him and stop the feeling of his fingers rubbing over his length. Cassidy wishes he could touch him too, but his hands are already occupied with a palm full of thigh and a fist full of Jesse's leaking cock, and he can't imagine he'd rather have them anywhere else.
Jesse's leaned back so Cassidy's dick is pushing against his prostate every time it slides back in, and every time, without fail, Jesse makes the most overwhelmed, hurt noise, still slipping out though his teeth are so far in his bottom lip the skin’s gone taut and white. Cassidy would be worried about Jesse cumming first if he wasn’t already there.
It’s when Jesse starts whimpering out quiet ‘fuck’s that he’s completely screwed. Every one gets more desperate than the last, like he’s right on the edge, and that’s it.
He tries to warn him with at least a groaned ‘Jesse’, but he can’t even get that out before he’s grabbing onto his thigh harder and cumming in him.
Jesse gasps when he feels it in him, and his whole body shivers from the weird (good) feeling.
“Please,” he moans again, and the movement of his hips has become more forward, more up, more focused on fucking Cassidy’s hand around him than fucking himself.
It takes him a second to stop seeing stars, but when he does and his vision focuses again, all he can see is Jesse desperately squirming, refusing to touch himself even though he’s already made Cassidy cum, and Cassidy tightens his hand around Jesse’s dick and strokes.
It’s sloppy and his hand is shaking, but if Jesse notices it’s a subpar handjob, he doesn’t seem to care.
He isn’t sure if the lights flicker when Jesse cums or if that’s just his vision going funny from how tight Jesse’s squeezing around him, and from watching Jesse spill over his hand and onto his stomach and keep going to keep the feeling there, keep himself peaked, and he doesn’t even slow down until his fingers are dug into Cassidy’s waist and wrist so tightly there might be blood under his nails.
The noise he makes is so loud, too; it’s like every noise he’s swallowed or choked down has come back for revenge, and when he can’t take anymore he moans so loudly that Cassidy should probably call it a shout.
It’s both a blessing and a curse when Jesse lifts up one more time and lets Cassidy’s cock slip out of him, and it flops down onto the pool of Jesse’s own mess. He groans. God, that’s gross. And hot. Why does Jesse make everything hot?
Jesse doesn’t bother keeping up the ‘on display’ thing a second longer than he has to, evident by him collapsing and landing so hard on the bed beside him that Cassidy bounces a little.
“Fuck,” he groans.
Jesse rearranges himself so he’s slung halfway over Cassidy’s side, thigh over his and arm over his torso. His cheek squishes awkwardly on Cassidy’s shoulder where he’s propped it to look up at him, but if he minds, he’s too tired to move himself.
“I’m doing that again,” he states. “Not right now, but eventually.”
Cassidy worms his arm out from where Jesse’s crushing it to him and puts it over his shoulders. His fingers go to Jesse’s hair automatically, so used to touching it now that he doesn’t bother asking or hesitating. It’s sweaty, because Jesse is, and that’s gross too but it doesn’t stop him. He even kisses his sweaty forehead and Jesse smiles.
“God, you fuckin’ better.”