He hadn't had time to get the water temperature right, the too hot stream a shock to the system that still ranked well below the one Poe had just dealt him. It didn't matter. Screw it. One hand went to the back of Poe's neck to attempt the impossible task of pressing the man's mouth harder against his, while the other skimmed up along one arm, then the shoulder, only settling once he felt that familiar patch of healing skin. His. Four days later, and there was still something his on the man.

They could die here. Never have to deal with the implications of this in the real world, of the dangers this posed. The base could just blow up and that would be fine.