Poe certainly wouldn't have to wait for long. There wouldn't be any drawn-out teasing or making his dear pilot beg. Not this time around. Armitage may have made a habit of playing with his food before he ate lately because he loved to see his husband wound up and ready to burst.
But the improbable had finally happened: Armitage had become possessive. Not really in the traditional sense of the term. Not with people, but with time, with the hotel itself. Armitage had been given a reason to sink his teeth into Poe and leave a mark that conveyed that he wasn't allowed to leave again. As if either of them had any control over that sort of thing. But Armitage wanted to feel like he did.
There was a sense of urgency when he returned from stripping off his own pants. Like he couldn't possibly wait another second to be inside Poe, like it would drive him mad if he couldn't have him. His erection pressed into the inside Poe's thigh, but he wouldn't claim what he wanted just yet. Not before his fingers could have that pleasure first. The lube was nearly cold upon his fingertips, as Armitage's room was always kept low in temperature. To make up for it, he tried to distract Poe as he worked him open, his opposite hand seeking out his husband's cock.
He didn't say anything. He didn't feel that he needed to. Those hungry, darkened green eyes spoke for him. He was watching Poe, intently. Because as badly as he wanted satisfy his own desires, there would always be something absolutely captivating about watching Poe ride his fingers.