shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

"I just want to actually be able tobe there and this is --" he flailed a giant glove somewhat uselessly.

"I'm not saying no, Odin. You don't need to try to trick me into -- anything. I just want to actually talk face to face."

Fuck, that hand-flailing bullshit was cute. Fuck. Poe's cute. Fuck. Odin puts his head (helmet?) in his hands. He's gotta calm down. It's going to hurt so much more when he gets shot down if he starts thinking things like that.

"Okay. Okay, just-- don't... ugh."

He still feels anxious and queasy like he's marching to his own doom, but the last thing he wants to do is stop Poe from being comfortable, and honestly, he could use the personal touch, too. He steadily floats upright and brings Poe with him, dragging his feet to the airlock and heading inside.

He follows, silently, trying to run over all the reasons that this was a bad idea in his head and every single one of them sounded hollow. Walls he'd built up that turned out to be made out of eggshells.

He stripped out of the suit with the same kind of grim determination, looking more like he was about to go to war than start a conversation, but once he's completely free he pulls in a long breath.

He floated over to Odin, reaching out to grip his shoulders, and he felt solid and oddly warm and it made Poe's stomach churn.

"You know this is - a terrible mistake, right?" It's supposed to be a joke, but it came out too quiet.

Whatever fire and determination and tiny, lingering belief that this might actually end well dies in Odin during the silence as they remove their suits. He's misreading the air, too wrapped up in his anxiety to think things through, and he thinks Poe's mad at him, maybe, that this stony silence is his way of shutting Odin down without using words. It... hurts.

He's fidgeting with his suit even though he's already put it away, just smoothing out the sleeve and swallowing dryly, wanting something to do with his hands so he doesn't have to look at Poe. It's then, of course, that Poe floats over, grips him on the shoulders and - yeah, shuts him down, he thinks. Odin looks at the ground, tiny tears pricking at his eyes and already starting to fall. He hurriedly wipes them away, because they're the last god damn things he needs right now. He wishes he wasn't like this. Quick to be emotional over nothing, crying at twenty three years of age at the drop of a hat.

"If I thought--" His voice cracks, and he hates himself for it. "If I thought it was a terrible mistake, I wouldn't have told y--"

Edited 2017-11-25 06:05 (UTC)

The tears just sort of float - the surface tension of the water keeping them welling far longer in Odin's eyes than they would on earth.

Odin starts talking. Perhaps it would have been polite, to let him finish, but he couldn't. Not when he could actually see Odin's heart break in front of him. So instead of letting him continue, he let go of Odin's shoulder and slid his free hand back into Odin's hair, pulling him towards him and leaning in to take a slightly nervous kiss.

Odin can't see, the water in his eyes blurring things and covering the world in a glossy haze. When Poe pulls him closer, he thinks it's gonna be a reassuring, consoling hug, something platonic and kind and apologetic designed to make Odin feel loved even though he isn't. When Poe kisses him, though, he just-- freezes in place.

This feels different to the kisses they've had before. Whenever there had been emotion behind a kiss he'd shared with Poe, it had always felt - to Odin, at least - that he was just projecting what he wanted into the moment, hoping Poe felt for him something even close to what Odin felt so overwhelmed by. So this nervousness Poe was showing, something so different to the confidence he usually had in bed, it - kills him, a little. Brings him back to life at the same time.

He nervously reaches his hands up, puts one in Poe's hair and the other on his neck, feeling like Poe is still gonna jolt away from him as if he'd some-fucking-how misread the situation and ended up with the wrong idea. When that doesn't happen, Odin takes the hint to take the lead on the kiss, pushing forward, firm, locking his shaking fingers tighter in Poe's curls and deepening things just slightly, just enough to make this real. When he pulls back, he's still shaking from adrenaline and nerves, but there's a smile tugging at his lips that he's failing to pull back.

"Was-- um,"

He stares.

"Wait. What's--"

He stares harder.

"What?"

He runs his tongue over his lips, not quite able to look as casual as he wanted, in this situation. He didn't let go of Odin, though he did try to wipe some of those tears away. He shouldn't be a giant bundle of nerves - he was confident about basically everything else - but he couldn't stop it. He gave Odin a helpless half smile.

"Basically everything I do I a terrible idea." There was a pause, and the sheepish smile spread, crinkling his eyes. "Hasn't seemed to deter me yet."

It takes Odin a moment to process what Poe is trying to say, primarily because he has to systematically check and doublecheck every single word to make sure he's not misunderstanding something. He doesn't tear his eyes away, though, searching for something unreadable in Poe's expression that might tell him this is a-- joke, or a trick, or something, and--

When it clicks in, when that belief that Poe might actually be willing to give something a shot settles firmly into the forefront of his mind, Odin is beaming with joy. He wants to yell at the top of his lungs or conquer a mountain or fistfight a bear or something, but instead he just laughs, weak and nervous but so, so quietly happy.

"Holy shit, really? Holy-- holy shit, Poe!" He all but jumps through the air at Poe, launching from the ground with his toes and throwing his entire bodyweight against him. They drift back, a little, but Odin doesn't give a fuck, so focused as he is on pressing these quick, hurried kisses against the shorter man's lips and nose and forehead between all this exhilarated laughter that keeps swelling through him.

"I'm-- yeah! Me too! Big, dumb, shortsighted decisions are my specialty!" He hits his head on the ceiling and it slows their trajectory and he doesn't even give a fuck. "You're so fucking-- are you serious? Are you gonna do this with me? Wait, fuck, I shouldn't even be asking in case you back down! Don't back down. Don't back down!"

Of course, being the one that Odin jumps into, Poe hits the wall first - letting out a grunt because yeah, something just hit him in the spinal column. Ow. But he doesn't look like he's in pain. Instead he's just beaming back at Odin, chuckling through the myriad kisses.

"Yeah, I'm serious." His voice is a lot more quiet than Odin's, and he runs his fingers through the other man's hair.

"Not totally sure I haven't just, you know, doomed one or the both of us to suffering and misery, but..." He trailed off, leaning forward to press his forehead to Odin's, his voice so quiet that the show would struggle to keep the volume something other people could hear. Because this wasn't for them, damn it.

"... If you honestly-- if you think it's worth it, to try to be happy in the meantime? Then yeah. I want to try, too."

"Of course I do! Of course I do, you-- stupid. Stupid. Holy shit, you're so-- stupid. I can't-- god!" He pulls Poe as tightly to his chest as he can, kissing him on the top of his head and breathing in the smell of his stupid, perfect hair. There's so much fire and electricity running through his veins that he doesn't know what to do with himself, he just keeps-- holding Poe, far too tight, squeezing the other man's ribs and probably making it difficult for him to breathe. He keeps laughing, the most carefree he's ever been, completely overtaken by happiness. A happiness he's never felt before.

He lets himself take a moment to just absorb this, all of this, whatever it is. He lets the warmth flood through his body like honey, he lets the tears of joy prickle at his eyes while he sniffs and chuckles and acts like a damn fool, and then he's crouching a little in the air to be at equal eyeline with Poe. He lovingly, lovingly holds his hands on Poe's neck, gazing into his eyes with an unparalleled softness.

"I'm gonna find a way to make this last," he says, his thumbs on Poe's jawline, stroking reassuring lines over him. "I'm gonna find a way to make you feel-- safe, and comfortable, and happy, for-- years. Years. I don't-- know how yet, but that's all that matters to me, okay? From now on, that's all I am. I'm a man who is gonna find a way to make you happy for as long as you'll have me."

It was, frankly, overwhelming. Not necessarily in a bad way, though there was still that itch at the back of his mind, whispering his dad's name.

But he couldn't help but smile back, his own feelings nearly as overwhelming, if not as easy to completely untangle. He'd been spending so long fighting himself about this that it felt - very strange - to not be fighting at all, any more. But Odin's happiness was infectious, and he couldn't help but laugh with him.

"Slow down, slow down. Let's start with days, alright? Weeks? Months? If you start planning out years and I get ported out tomorrow it would take me a month just to cheer you up when I came back."

"That's not how I do things, buddy!" He's laughing, again, but he's still gazing at Poe with that pure, unguarded bliss. There's a part of him screaming at him to slow down, to hit the brakes before he scares Poe off, but he-- can't. They've only known each other for a small amount of time, but he's wanted this for what feels like so, so long. The fact that Poe is looking at him like that, laughing along with him like that, it's... building Odin into a stronger, better person.

"Oh, man, I wanna tell everyone." He looks past Poe, through the rest of the shuttle, still as dark and peaceful and uncaring as it had been ten minutes ago when he was so raw and afraid to speak from the heart. "What do I-- wait." He meets Poe's eyes, again, and his thumbs are still tracing gentle strokes over his jaw, these small and careful things he's only doing for the excuse to touch him.

"What do I-- call you? Boyfriend? That's-- a lot."

He's wide-eyed, anxious and excited and full of nerves in a way that's at odds with how confidently he was a second ago, when he spoke so openly about making Poe's life better.

"Pretty sure most of the world knows about it, now," he pointed out, amused, tilting his head towards a camera. But Odin's fingers on his skin was so warm and tender that it actually made his chest ache.

"You can call me whatever you want, Odin." Labels had never really bothered him, but there was something about Odin's earnestness that meant he couldn't leave it there. He reached out, pushing a loose stand of hair from Odin's forehead.

"Just wish I could do the same, up here." He murmured it quietly enough that maybe even Odin couldn't hear it.

"Though I'll be pretty blunt and say that I really can't give a damn about any of the rest of them, right now."

"I just want an excuse to say that you're mine out loud," he laughs, but he looks up at the camera, almost surprised to find it buzzing and spinning in place to watch them. It's not that he forgot how public everything they've done tonight has been, but he just cares so much about Poe that he was willing to put it out of his mind just to focus entirely on him.

He hears that comment about his name, though only just, and he's riddled with so much love and appreciation that he doesn't know what to do with it. The fact that his real name means something to Poe, it's... he presses his lips to Poe's forehead, letting him go just long enough to rake his fingers through his hair.

"I'm gonna make you say my name pretty damn hard, later, so I'm not too worried about that," he mumbles, grinning, sharp and white and toothy. "But - you're right. I don't care about anyone else, either. I just - I mean, this is fucking insane, I still can't believe-- do you know how long I've wanted this? The amount of times I would look at you and think, fuck, he's so beautiful, fuck, I wish he knew how badly he makes my heart hurt, and you're just-- if you've felt even a fraction of that with me, I think I might cry."

Every single time Odin looked at him, with that happiness bubbling up so hard, Poe's heart stuttered, threatening to stop. He wanted that. He wanted to be able to step into that joy and revel in it and forget completely about anything else in the universe--

And all he wanted was to get Odin alone. Really alone - not just the pretend privacy offered on the station.

He wanted to murmur Odin's real name and he wanted to feel him and wanted to at least be able to try to demonstrate what he was feeling--

"Then I'd better not say anything, if I don't want to make you cry," he teased lowly. But then his hands slid back from Odin's hair, cupping the side of his face. "No one makes me as happy and as easy as you do. But trust me. I'm all too familiar with the chest ache, recently." He leaned in, taking a relatively chaste kiss because everything else he wanted to do? He shouldn't do here.

Odin leans into Poe's hand, letting his eyes drift shut so he can just absorb Poe's voice as it vibrates through him, warms him. Later, when he's on his own and dwelling in his nightly anxiety, he might worry about all of this - that he's pushing Poe too hard, diving too quickly and too fast into this thing, but. Knowing he makes Poe's chest ache, the way Poe does for him? Fuck, it fills him with a peace he's never known.

"Poe," he starts, and there's just a brief, lingering look that tells the pilot what he's about to do, and then--

He doesn't give a fuck about privacy, he doesn't give a fuck about who's watching. He's digging his hands further in Poe's hair and pulling him in for a deep, firm kiss, parting his lips and hazily watching him through it, his weight against him as they float into the wall, Odin holding Poe against it. He doesn't know where this is going, if it's going any further than just kissing or not, he's not thinking ahead-- he just needs this, he needs Poe, he needs as much of him as Poe is willing to give him.

He's eyes fluttered closed with a soft groan, but he didn't fight the kiss. He should have should have pushed Odin off and laughed and thrown something at him and said something about the cameras. But he was weak. He had learned fairly quickly early on that Odin could basically ruin him - as a sexual partner he was basically everything Poe had ever wanted. So much so that even as he'd felt the feelings creeping in, he hadn't stopped it. His body knew what is wanted, and so did his heart, and he had spent so long lately trying to pretend that they weren't in sync that now he was completely overwhelmed by it.

So his whole body responded to him, cameras be damned, deepening the kiss as a leg hooked around Odin's. His head bangs against the bulkhead again and Poe can't bring himself to care, a warmth spreading through him that was quickly supplanting any sort of rational thought he wanted to keep.

Every reaction from Poe makes Odin feel like he was born for this. The pilot's leg tight around his, the kiss, each inch of Poe's skin alight with the same heat as his own - Odin's heart is so full he wouldn't find the words for it if he tried to voice them. He breathes through his nose as they kiss, eyes shut tight, until he pulls back just enough to bite at Poe's ear and run his hand down his neck.

"I wish you could feel how happy you make me," he laughs, lips pressed up against Poe's ear, voice low enough for the cameras to miss it. They're still completely clothed, chests pressed together, the growing tent in Odin's suit hidden from the cameras at just the right angle. Odin's knee is between Poe's legs, and he's grinding against him, a little, breath in his ear and fingers threading over his scalp. He holds his hand on Poe's neck and angles his jaw away from him so he can lean down, plant hard, possessive bites over Poe's neck. He sucks hard, marking him, harder than the last time he did it, claiming him.

Poe is his, his alone, his, and he wants the world to know it.

Later, he would try to pull apart what had happened and figure out just how Odin had so thoroughly wormed in right past his defences. All the rules he had tried to make for himself, all the grim reminders and predictions - they all crumbled. This was a bad idea, and he knew it, but he couldn't remember why he had been so sure about that before.

Why had he been so set against letting himself be with anyone?

(Because the happier it gets, the harder it hurts, Dameron.)

He wasn't listening.

Instead his entire galaxy had completely narrowed its focus, and it was just him, and Odin, and every claiming mark made something in his chest constrict in a way that should be painful but instead was an intense searing pleasure.

He didn't even think about how displaying his feelings like this to the world would probably get Odin killed. Didn't think about Hux and Ren watching and waiting for the moment where they could reach in and take anything he cared about just to hurt him.

All he could think about was the rumble against his ear and the way his trousers were getting tighter by the second and the friction rubbing against him.

"Show me."

He said it before he really thought it through, the words coming out in a husky breath rather than anything else.

If Hux and Ren found him, brought a knife to his neck or a shot to his back, right now, right this instant, Odin would still die happy. Every hungry bite he kisses along Poe's skin, every inch of Poe he explores with his fingertips is so-- possessive, but careful, at the same time, like Poe is every important thing in the world and Odin sees him for how important he is. Poe is more than he ever wanted. He still can't believe this is happening.

He grinds against the bulge in Poe's pants, but it's slow, weighed down by the lack of gravity. He uses his hand, instead, slipping his fingers between Poe's legs and grinning into his neck as he strokes his cock through the fabric. He's already panting, leaning his forehead against the little red marks he's left on Poe's neck as he looks down between them, watching everything his hand does. He whispers things. Small, desperate words like Poe and fuck. He's harder than he's ever been, that huge cock of his pressing up against Poe's leg through Odin's clothes.

But they drift, slightly, uncomfortable against the wall of the shuttle, and Odin hisses through his teeth, impatient.

"Zero G isn't gonna work," he mumbles. "We could either go to the bed and hope that nobody's there, or--" His voice drops, and the thrill in his voice - hard as he might try to keep locked away - is overwhelming, drowning in more lust than Poe's ever heard from him.

"Confession room. Where everyone will see."

"Fuck."

It isn't an answer, just a declaration, though the tone it is delivered in makes a few things clear. One, that he was incredibly, incredibly aroused (as if his aching cock hadn't given that one away) and two, that he was so overwhelmed it was likely that Odin could talk him into anything at this point.

At some point he had slid his hand down between them, palming Odin's incredible cock through fabric, his own knuckles grinding against himself as he did so.

Bad idea. Bad idea, bad idea--

"They're going to see the whole damn thing anyway," he finally said, but the growl in his voice sounded almost as if he was taking that as a challenge...

There's no modesty in how Odin grinds against Poe, head lolled down and breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Every touch of his cock makes him push harder into Poe and just feel more and more frustrated by the lack of gravity.

"Yeah," Odin pants, labored but in too deep to back down. "I wanna show you off. Let the world see what's mine. What I can do to you."

He shuts his eyes tight, wraps his arms around Poe's chest and just fucking hugs him, needing the love and the affection that comes from the closeness they can have now that they're-- now that they're something-- as much as he needs the palm rubbing his cock the way it is. He just wants to be close to Poe, connected to him, he wants there to be love in what they'e about to do, but--

"There's still time to stop this," He says, because he knows how exposed it would be, fucking on camera for every import and native to see. If the idea didn't turn his cock to steel, maybe he would have said more to forego it all, but he's harder than he's ever been, precum practically pouring down his clothed dick like a fucking faucet. "If-- you want. We can just-- stop. Let go. Be-- chaste. Until earth."

Voyeurism wasn't something that usually appealed to him - he liked to keep his entanglements discreet, for the most part - but he's also not fucking blind. Or whatever the touch version of blind was. Paralyzed?

He can feel Owain's heart hammering in his chest almost as clearly as he feels his own, can feel the fabric under his palm beginning to run damp, and it's too much. He had little resistance to Owain before - he has absolutely none now. If Owain wanted to brand him in front of the entire world, he would let him do it.

His free arm gripped tight around Owain's shoulders, cutting off the word 'earth' with a deep, desperate, kiss, his tongue pushing deep enough to make very very clear just how stupid he thought the of stopping now was.

"Gravity. Ow- Odin. Now." He catches himself, the name about to spill off his tongue just out of pure joy. Secrets, still. They both had secrets, still. But not this this one.

This was far from secret now.

He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe, and let go for just long enough to reach for the wall and start to push them both - still entwined together - toward the confessional.

Odin actually moans into that kiss, mouth slack and passive like he's too lost in his need to be with Poe to take as much of a lead on this as he normally would. He tangles his fingers in Poe's hair, holding him tight, tugging just enough to hurt, and then--

And then he's being pulled to the confessional, and it's clumsy and awkward and rough, with Odin stopping Poe more than once along the way to just kiss his neck or whisper something into his ear or grind their cocks together when he finds enough purchase against the wall to do it. By the time they're in the confessional pod, his suit's a mess, his skin is red and sweaty and he's so insanely hard it actually hurts, how painfully it strains against his clothes.

He slams his fist on the gravity button and seals the two of them inside. He pushes Poe onto the chair and straddles his waist, grinding his dick against Poe's even harder than before, faster, rolling his hips through the motions as he rests one arm on the chair to keep himself balanced. He leans down and kisses Poe's forehead, and fuck, there are actually tears in his eyes, like he still can't believe this is happening. Poe is his. Everyone's going to know it.

"I'm fucking--" going to ruin you, gonna cum real god damn fast if i'm not careful, gonna make you scream my name until your throat is red and raw--

"--falling in love with you. Poe."

It is far too clumsy, and far too messy, and Poe did not even bother to look to see if anyone else in the shuttle was awake or spotted them - he can barely focus on moving forward when he would rather stop, but the end goal of gravity and actually being able to do something without just bouncing off each other manages to keep pulling him to the confessional.

He hits the chair hard and is already half way out of it, arms pulling Odin down against him and he wants to kiss him - all he wants to do is kiss him - but all he can reach at this angle is the man's chest so his lips and teeth find that instead, working around mesh and whatever else that damn suit was made of, and he wants it off and--

And his heart stutters, pounding in his ears, that hollow opening again in his chest like a black hole.

You're going to die, Dameron, and you're going to leave him far worse off than you found him, it whispers, with far too much evidence to back that up. But the other half of his brain is repeating the last damn sentence off of Odin's lips, as if repeated viewings would make it make any more sense. It's a terrible idea - he should immediately remind him what a terrible idea it is, how very badly this is going to go--

But instead he's just pulling himself further up in the chair, sliding hands into Odin's hair and pulling him down to force him to be at kissing level. And he goes for a kiss but doesn't seem to land the mark, just hovers there, lips barely touching, his own pulse racing so fast and so hard that it sounds like a waterfall in his head.

And he whispers, so quietly that it's almost completely inaudible, save for the way the sound rumbles in tentative vibration through the point of contact between them: "--Owain--"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject