Brendan basically melted when Poe touched him, the soft sounds doing nothing but fuelling his conviction. Later he might double think what he was doing, but Poe was, at heart, a man of action before thought. Flying was instinct. You had less than a split second to make a decision, or you ended up dead. Earth had been driving him crazy by having him have to constantly think about consequences before he did things, which explained why he wasn't that good at it.

Like now.

Like how Brendan's words went straight to his cock, despite himself, and he groaned, fingers pinching as they were dragged upwards, his other hand grasping hard into the hint of bare flesh at Brendan's hip. If he was working on anything other than instinct, he would try to put the breaks on, say something about how they just just take it easy, he wasn't going anywhere.

But he's pretty sure Manabu would put the breaks on, too.

"You know we have nanites, right," he said instead, his head turning to nip at Brendan's ear. We don't need condoms. We're basically invincible. Except, of course, for the will of the Porter. He was too short to just pick Brendan up from where he was, so he just pressed him back toward the bed. The one thought that did occur was a vague sense of irony - he'd done this before. Recently. The other way around, of course - he'd been so upset that he'd begged Melkor to fuck him until he couldn't remember his name.

The least he could do was pass it forward.

"So yeah, I'm going to fuck you, Brendan," he said as the back of Brendan's knees hit the bed, his voice far deeper and far huskier than it had been even ten minutes ago. He pushed him backward and followed him down, pressing a hard, driving kiss against Brendan's mouth, tongue diving deep as if in warning for what was coming later. His other hand had moved up Brendan's chest, fingers grasping for the other nipple before he twisted them both, groaning into Brendan's mouth. "I'm going to take you so hard that you won't walk straight for a week--"