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α gσσ∂ sραcε вσү ғяσм α gσσ∂ sραcε ғαмιℓү

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Date: 2018-02-25 02:52 am (UTC)
volitaunt: (242)
From: [personal profile] volitaunt
[ Poe tries to find something to grip that isn't John, his hands sliding uselessly over the cabinets, while that snip of pain in his lower lip and the blossoming taste of blood drives Poe's adrenaline somewhere safe, toward stubbornness, toward anger.

John's grip on him fractures Poe's focus on anything but emotion, sensation narrowing to the heat in his stomach and the painful stimulation at his crotch. Then there's the friction of John's dick against him and Poe's hips twitch forward. His nails scrape the smooth cabinet fronts. He hates John Sheppard for just a second, hates him for doing exactly what Poe has been trying to avoid.

Do you know how crazy you drive me? Because you're going to find out.

He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the danger in John's own, so he can pretend he isn't being forced toward a vulnerability he's not sure he's ready to show.

( Poe doesn't find his own fragility beautiful. It's ugly, it's weak, it's a poisonous voice that whispers memories of peace in his darkest moments and make him wish for a place away from war. )

Poe is angry. It's safer than being anything else. ]


What if I won't?
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