[Poe is so many firsts for John. He’s never been in a real relationship with a man before. Never been washed before. Never been fucked until he cried before.
The wash cloth is just the right of rough against his skin. Poe scrubs and rinses him, and John doesn’t have do anything but offer his skin. He lifts his arm for Poe, still trembling, watching as the now sudsy water slips between his fingers and travels in rivulets down his bicep. Whether it’s the lingering effects of the powder, or Poe, and everything that happened in bed, but John feels like he’s dreaming. He’s half expecting to wake up on the cold floor of a Wraith hive, post-stun.
Poe kisses his neck, and John knows this is real. Or so close to real he doesn’t want to wake up, and for his memories of this moment to fade away. Not yet. He wants to enjoy this just a little longer, until the inevitable crash and burn of all his dreams. John can’t remember the last time he slept alone, and without nightmares.
He tilts his head back to look at Poe, his eyes are still heavy, and it’s hard to keep them open, but he wants to see him.
Just to make sure it’s his face, and those eyes. John could’ve dreamed those up.]
I’m… sorry if I got weird earlier.
[Acknowledging that anything happened at all feels like a huge leap. Easier to make when it still feels like he’s flying.]
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Date: 2018-03-13 11:37 pm (UTC)[Poe is so many firsts for John. He’s never been in a real relationship with a man before. Never been washed before. Never been fucked until he cried before.
The wash cloth is just the right of rough against his skin. Poe scrubs and rinses him, and John doesn’t have do anything but offer his skin. He lifts his arm for Poe, still trembling, watching as the now sudsy water slips between his fingers and travels in rivulets down his bicep. Whether it’s the lingering effects of the powder, or Poe, and everything that happened in bed, but John feels like he’s dreaming. He’s half expecting to wake up on the cold floor of a Wraith hive, post-stun.
Poe kisses his neck, and John knows this is real. Or so close to real he doesn’t want to wake up, and for his memories of this moment to fade away. Not yet. He wants to enjoy this just a little longer, until the inevitable crash and burn of all his dreams. John can’t remember the last time he slept alone, and without nightmares.
He tilts his head back to look at Poe, his eyes are still heavy, and it’s hard to keep them open, but he wants to see him.
Just to make sure it’s his face, and those eyes. John could’ve dreamed those up.]
I’m… sorry if I got weird earlier.
[Acknowledging that anything happened at all feels like a huge leap. Easier to make when it still feels like he’s flying.]