[ Poe's hands slide down to John's pajama pants, his thumbs teasing under the band. ] You don't have any buttons for me to play with.

[ Stil, Poe kneels, drawing the pants down to John's ankles. He kisses the back of one of John's calves, lifts that foot free of the shackles of cloth, kisses the other calf, repeats. Then he eases himself back to his feet, hooking his hands underneath John's shirt and lifting as he straightens up. ]

Arms up. [ Murmured in John's ear. Then: ] Maybe I should have let you get dressed. Would've taken me longer that way.