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α gσσ∂ sραcε вσү ғяσм α gσσ∂ sραcε ғαмιℓү

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Date: 2018-03-01 08:03 pm (UTC)
volitaunt: (255)
From: [personal profile] volitaunt
[ A direct order. A given rank, of sorts. Poe exhales a laugh, feeling something in him slot comfortably in to this new set of parameters. ( John's hands on his shoulders, his commands in Poe's ears, that first moment when he let himself feel something more than simple attraction. )

( There, too, perhaps, the first crack in his relationship with Karen, John's actions more than simple understanding--also a demand, openness mirroring openness. )

( And there it is, the guilt, the guilt over feeling good when he left her feeling broken. )

Deal with it, Poe thinks. He did what he did. He said what he said. He's still angry, too, angry that she would call him cruel for not being able to love her when he'd just told her how many of his own had died. It's the anger that frees him for the moment from the guilt.

Deal with it. ]


I think I can do that.

[ He's still tentative.

But that kiss on his wrist is enough to make Poe want to curl up and take a nap, pressed against John, trusting for once that the world will still be in one piece when he wakes up. He laces his fingers between John's, both hands, drawing them up to his mouth so he can kiss the knuckles of one of John's hands, then the other.

Don't fuck this up. ]
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