[Poe nearly sinks John with that last sucker-punch, but before he can double over, Poe is kissing him better. Keeping him in the ring, but on the ropes. Right where he wants him.
He knows exactly what he's doing. John underestimated him. The sweet, simple boy from Yavin isn't so simple, or sweet. Or a boy. John has never been more aware of Poe's masculinity as he is right now, hyper-sensitive to the rough of his fingertips and cut of his teeth.
John's ears are a weak spot. He doesn't like it when people touch them, mostly because he likes it too much. He shivers, biting back noise, his nipples and dick already harder, and more sensitive than is comfortable to ignore.
He's mostly naked, and Poe is still dressed. John's hands go thoughtlessly to the hem of Poe's shirt, tugging at it. Demanding his equal participation.
John hates being he centre of attention. The focus. He knows if people look at him long enough, hard enough, they'll see the cracks. That he isn't as smart, strong, or worthy of respect as they think he is, and will be angry at John for tricking them into believing he's something he's not.
Sooner or later, they'll catch him. Realize he's not a hero, or even a decent man, and strip him of everything he holds dear. Which isn't a hell of a lot to begin with.
Just his purpose, and his friends. His pride is already dead and buried. Poe probably knows that much, with the way John shakes just to be touched. How easily he breaks at the prospect of affection.
It all seems obvious to John, but most days he can't look in the mirror. He hates the sight of himself.
He feels panic clawing upwards out of his throat, and it manifests in the dig of his nails against Poe's taut belly, and the sharp increase of his breath.
no subject
He knows exactly what he's doing. John underestimated him. The sweet, simple boy from Yavin isn't so simple, or sweet. Or a boy. John has never been more aware of Poe's masculinity as he is right now, hyper-sensitive to the rough of his fingertips and cut of his teeth.
John's ears are a weak spot. He doesn't like it when people touch them, mostly because he likes it too much. He shivers, biting back noise, his nipples and dick already harder, and more sensitive than is comfortable to ignore.
He's mostly naked, and Poe is still dressed. John's hands go thoughtlessly to the hem of Poe's shirt, tugging at it. Demanding his equal participation.
John hates being he centre of attention. The focus. He knows if people look at him long enough, hard enough, they'll see the cracks. That he isn't as smart, strong, or worthy of respect as they think he is, and will be angry at John for tricking them into believing he's something he's not.
Sooner or later, they'll catch him. Realize he's not a hero, or even a decent man, and strip him of everything he holds dear. Which isn't a hell of a lot to begin with.
Just his purpose, and his friends. His pride is already dead and buried. Poe probably knows that much, with the way John shakes just to be touched. How easily he breaks at the prospect of affection.
It all seems obvious to John, but most days he can't look in the mirror. He hates the sight of himself.
He feels panic clawing upwards out of his throat, and it manifests in the dig of his nails against Poe's taut belly, and the sharp increase of his breath.
As always, he suffers in silence.]