[John sighs with relief against Poe’s mouth, melting against him. He should be ashamed of himself, and angry at Poe, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything but gratitude. Humbled by Poe’s generousity. John would thank him, if he could stop kissing him. He can’t.
His hands go straight to Poe’s hair, petting it back from his forehead and temples as they kiss. When John’s had enough of that, his hands roam indulgently over Poe’s broad shoulders and chest, both of which earn a steady hum of approval. His callused palms grate against Poe’s nipples on their way down to the front of his pants. John gropes him roughly through the canvas, too impatient to unbuckle his belt, because he’s been wanting to do that since the first night Poe had nearly broken him.
no subject
His hands go straight to Poe’s hair, petting it back from his forehead and temples as they kiss. When John’s had enough of that, his hands roam indulgently over Poe’s broad shoulders and chest, both of which earn a steady hum of approval. His callused palms grate against Poe’s nipples on their way down to the front of his pants. John gropes him roughly through the canvas, too impatient to unbuckle his belt, because he’s been wanting to do that since the first night Poe had nearly broken him.
A man only has so much self-control.]