[ He waits with the patience of a goddamn saint as Poe turns himself over, as he situates himself on his hands and knees. Once he's up, Peter brackets Poe's hips with his hands, smoothing his palms up over his sides.
He frowns briefly at the dark bruises over Poe's left shoulder blade. He has to remind himself that they look worse than they are, considering Poe hasn't had any real trouble with moving all night, but he still feels that strange, cold sense of—
—of worry, he thinks. Concern. That familiar and unfamiliar dread that this could be over too soon—
He snaps back into reality at the change in Poe's breathing, at the shuddering sound that escapes him as he touches himself, and Peter clicks his tongue in disapproval. He grabs hold of Poe's wrist, tugging and pinning it to the small of Poe's back. ]
no subject
He frowns briefly at the dark bruises over Poe's left shoulder blade. He has to remind himself that they look worse than they are, considering Poe hasn't had any real trouble with moving all night, but he still feels that strange, cold sense of—
—of worry, he thinks. Concern. That familiar and unfamiliar dread that this could be over too soon—
He snaps back into reality at the change in Poe's breathing, at the shuddering sound that escapes him as he touches himself, and Peter clicks his tongue in disapproval. He grabs hold of Poe's wrist, tugging and pinning it to the small of Poe's back. ]
Now, who said you could do that?