[ Poe chuckles against John’s mouth, a little surprised (a little pleased) by how quickly John comes undone. Now it’s up to him to use it well, and gently. ]
Good. [ Repetition, yes, but this time with a note of approval. ] Arms up.
[ If John obeys, Poe will lift his shirt, pulling it up and out of the way, casting it off to the side. He was right: John has scars. A lot of them. A body riddled with the leavings of conflict. Poe kisses John’s neck, sliding his hands up along John’s arms until he can lace their fingers together and draw John’s hands down to the man’s sides.
Poe knows the kind of man John is. Or at least he recognizes one facet. Humor, deflection. The easy way he keeps people at a distance. John is good at what he does. And what he does is lie. Poe learned more about the Sheppard hidden in the dark while he was drunk than he learned about the man in all the sober weeks they’ve known each other.
He kisses John’s chest. On one side of John’s dog tags, then the other. He tongues the metal and the skin underneath, sweat-salt and copper filling his mouth. He keeps his lips against John’s chest when he speaks again. ] Don’t move your hands unless you want to be punished for it, Sheppard.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-18 01:37 am (UTC)Good. [ Repetition, yes, but this time with a note of approval. ] Arms up.
[ If John obeys, Poe will lift his shirt, pulling it up and out of the way, casting it off to the side. He was right: John has scars. A lot of them. A body riddled with the leavings of conflict. Poe kisses John’s neck, sliding his hands up along John’s arms until he can lace their fingers together and draw John’s hands down to the man’s sides.
Poe knows the kind of man John is. Or at least he recognizes one facet. Humor, deflection. The easy way he keeps people at a distance. John is good at what he does. And what he does is lie. Poe learned more about the Sheppard hidden in the dark while he was drunk than he learned about the man in all the sober weeks they’ve known each other.
He kisses John’s chest. On one side of John’s dog tags, then the other. He tongues the metal and the skin underneath, sweat-salt and copper filling his mouth. He keeps his lips against John’s chest when he speaks again. ] Don’t move your hands unless you want to be punished for it, Sheppard.
[ And then he pops the button on John's pants. ]