[ There are certainly times Poe feels crazy. There are times when he feels like a loose bit of debris sailing through space, waiting to crash into a shield or burn up in the atmosphere of his cause. ]
You're still beautiful.
[ He wraps lips and tongue around John's earlobe, grazes the skin with his teeth, and keeps his lips close enough to brush John's ear with every word as he says, ] Your eyes are beautiful.
[ Poe shifts the hand in John's hair to the side of his neck, down to his collarbone, down to his hip. ] Your mouth is beautiful.
[ He rucks John's shirt up just enough to slide his hand underneath and trace his fingers around the outline of one of the nastier scars. ] Every one of these is beautiful.
[ Every one marks a struggle survived.
Poe sucks lightly on John's ear. ] Every time I get to touch you, I find something else.
no subject
[ There are certainly times Poe feels crazy. There are times when he feels like a loose bit of debris sailing through space, waiting to crash into a shield or burn up in the atmosphere of his cause. ]
You're still beautiful.
[ He wraps lips and tongue around John's earlobe, grazes the skin with his teeth, and keeps his lips close enough to brush John's ear with every word as he says, ] Your eyes are beautiful.
[ Poe shifts the hand in John's hair to the side of his neck, down to his collarbone, down to his hip. ] Your mouth is beautiful.
[ He rucks John's shirt up just enough to slide his hand underneath and trace his fingers around the outline of one of the nastier scars. ] Every one of these is beautiful.
[ Every one marks a struggle survived.
Poe sucks lightly on John's ear. ] Every time I get to touch you, I find something else.