shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

He's not wrong. Every word hurts worse, blades sliding between his ribs. And the sudden weight of guilt when he realises he hadn't actually thought of Finn for the last few minutes, but now he can't think of anything else. He'd promised. He'd promised--

He swallows. And then when he speaks, his voice is rough, gravel grinding.

"And the second?"

"Or I make you do something really fucking stupid." He puts his hands back on Poe's cheeks, one thumb gently feeling the softness of his lips, the calloused skin of a tiny scar. "If you kiss me like that, I will never - never - be able to let you go again."

His voice is steadier. Louder, again, drowning out the stillness of the pond as he forces himself to be strong through this. This is the last, last, last, very last ounce of willpower he has, and he's using it to give this choice to Poe instead of making it himself. He's seconds away from closing the distance between them again, from pressing their lips together again and kissing him until he cries even harder than he was a moment ago.

Running away with him to the mountains.

"You don't even--" He catches himself sounding like he's begging, which he is, but he can't, he can't make Poe make this decision because he begged for it. He takes a moment. "You don't have to say anything. Nod, or-- or kiss me, and we'll run away. Tomorrow. Tonight. Now. Just us. We'll figure the rest out as it comes."

It isn't really a choice.

It might have been, a year ago, before he knew the levels of self deception he would go to, to be here.

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he wouldn't be able to leave Odin alone. That even if he rejected him, again, fully, swore they'd never speak again- in a month, or less, he'd be back in this position, with the same choice that wasn't a choice. Pretending he could govern his own heart.

There was no way to win, here. No matter what he did, he was hurting someone he loved.

For a moment there was silence, just a slow, shakey breath between them, Poe almost utterly still. And then- a slight hesitancy - before Poe was leaning in and breaching the gap. The kiss was far gentler, this time. Almost sorrowful. But then he was raising his hands to cup Owain's face, pressing closer as he deepened the kiss.

It was the only real choice there was.

Every other choice was this one, over and over again, until he chose the right one.

For a moment, he does what he thinks might be the right thing to do.

He lets Poe kiss him, and again, he does nothing. He gives him time to back out of this, even after making a decision, if that's what this is. A chance to head home and see Finn and say I almost did something very fucking cruel to you and I'm sorry. Owain would have pushed him to go, six months ago. To work out what he wants and find him and talk to him without making this any more complicated than it already was.

But a year is a long time for a wound to fester. The arrow that killed his father struck faster than that. Magnus had the right idea, about a quick death, but how the fuck are you supposed to drown a love like Owain's when it's so unerringly immortal?

He gives Poe all of three seconds to back out before he's deepening the kiss, gasping in a way that isn't particularly attracting or loving but it's desperate like he's surfacing from waters he's been drowning in for too long. He tangles his fingers in Poe's hair and he's still just shaking as he presses his tongue in deeper, tasting and claiming and taking away every part of Poe he can. He almost loses his balance, when he rocks on his feet and shuts his eyes and leans into this, and he waits until his lungs are constricting and all but on fire before he pulls away. Just for a second, just to breathe, and then he's back.

It lasts for too long, and when he pulls back, finally, there's a ghost of a laugh behind his eyes. But no smile.

"Poe--" He sways, a little, and he rests his forehead against Poe's, just nervously moving his hands over his cheeks and his neck and his throat and his shoulders like he wants to touch Poe but he doesn't know how to, anymore. "Poe, this-- I'm not fucking around on this anymore, okay? This can't-- I won't let this be a mistake you try to take back in a day, I'm not-- I can't not have you anymore, I can't not have you--"

"You were never a mistake, Owain." His own hands fall, just a little, until they are clasped on either side of Owain's throat. Poe looks, unfortunately, miserable. He feels miserable. He can't help it. He knows he's doing the same thing, again, that he's going to hurt Finn even worse than he first hurt Owain because he had promised.

But he means it. Owain had never been a mistake. His mistakes had all been on how he dealt with Owain. How he hurt him, again and again. (And now about to do it to Finn, too.)

His chest was so tight it felt that it might tear itself apart as it continued to constrict.

"Ever. I've made-- I've made a lot of fucking mistakes, Owain, but not you." He swallowed, thickly, his thumbs tight against the man's jaw. "I've spent - I've spent an entire year, pretending that I'm okay with not having you--"

Owain cuts through Poe's sentence with a broken, ugly sob, the sound humiliating and vulnerable and a signal that something's changing. He's letting Poe in again. Believing that this could work, this time, that Poe really means it and that all the desperate, impossible things he's been trying so hard to bury might actually have a chance of survival.

When he kisses Poe again, his lips are shaking like it's snowing, and there's a sudden shot through the heart when he thinks about the guy waiting for him back home. He doesn't mean much - not in the face of Poe - but they were probably going to get married, one day, even if just out of inertia, on Owain's side of things. He feels like a monster, to do to him what Poe did to Owain first.

All he has to do is open his eyes and see Poe and he feels as okay about it as he'll ever feel.

He pulls back and tries not to drown beneath the riptide of he's just going to leave again that threatens to pull him under, and he looks at Poe dead in the eyes, full of the same resolve he felt when he tried to die to save his friends back in Ylisse.

"You've always had me. I've always been yours. Fuck, I've been telling you that for a year, it always comes back to you for me--" He shakes his head, fast, and kisses Poe again, still shocked that he's allowed. "I wanna-- we need to go. We can't go-- home. They'll be there. Where can we--?"

He meets every kiss with a growing desperation, hands falling to grip Owain's clothes, instead. To entangle and ensnare himself and make it impossible to pull away again.

He didn't have a place in mind - didn't have anywhere else to go. He knew his resolve would break under his guilt the moment he saw Finn. Knew he would end up spending a week, utterly shattered, as he tried to pull himself free of the fallout.

He also knew it was inevitable, now. He couldn't live a lie, now that'd he'd seen it, for what it was. It didn't mean it was going to be easy.

Just - just one night, before he tore his life to shreds and had to glue it back together. Just enough to cement in him the rightness of it, in the face of every wrong.

"Anywhere. I don't care. We can't-- we can't run from it, Owain. I can't make this choice and just-- pretend I'm not. But -- a few hours-- just tonight-- I need you, Owain. Fuck, but I need you."

"I know, I know, I'm not saying--" Owain shakes his head, the guilt that hits him now stemming from doing this to Poe rather than doing this to Finn or His. "We both have a lot of roots to uplift. But I can't-- I won't be able to do it right, if I'm just thinking-- if I'm just, like, "I need to get through this as quick as possible so I can see him", I need-- I need a night with you, I need--"

He buries his fingers at the front of Poe's shirt, scared that he's saying the wrong thing. Stupid traitor pond didn't keep him calm, either.

Owain takes a second to go through the options. The mountains, somewhere secluded and far away, seemed like a perfect option, if it wasn't for the connection to someone else. Camping, in nature, somewhere deep in the woods - that had always been really, really important to him, but he knows it's where things with Finn started, too, so he can't suggest that. He bites the inside of his cheek until something makes sense.

"There's a hotel. Maurtia Falls." He rushes this out, because it sounds dirty, running away to a hotel, when this is anything but. "It's where I stayed last year, after I moved out. We can just-- we could just go. Now."

"I know." His fingers twist in time with his heart and he pulls closer. "You don't have to explain it. I get it."

He felt it.

One night, so that he could face the rest without wanting to run to Owain through every second of it.

He nodded, multiple times. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He kissed him again, as if to give himself courage. "Okay. We'll go there. Right now." He swallowed, meeting Owain's eyes. "Right now."

Owain lingers, before they leave. It's the last time he'll be by this pond with Poe as friends, if that's what they ever even were. He droops down enough to rest his forehead on Poe's collar and just listens, for a moment, to the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. It's still hard to believe this is real.

The trip to the hotel room takes a while, not because Owain is scared of being seen - he's not, and he actually kind of welcomes it, because if he's going to be confronted by him or by Finn, it'll be a lot easier to weather the storm when Poe's standing by his side - but because they walk, just so there'll be a little more time together before these few hours are over and they'll have to handle what they've done.

It feels weird, for Owain, to enter this hotel knowing a year ago he was broken by the isolation of it, clawing at his sheets and struggling just to make it through the night. The room they get is different to the one he stayed in last December, but it's still fancy and lined with red silk sheets and adorned with things that cost too much money, and when Owain closes the door behind Poe and seals them both in, he has no idea what to do with his hands.

He sits on the end of the bed, looks at Poe, breathes in deep, and breathes out.

"I don't even know what I want to do, now that you're here," he admits, and there's a shake of a laugh behind so much anxiety. "I've thought-- I think about you a lot. When I'm with him. I always pretend-- that he's-- but we don't have to do anything physical. I don't know. I don't know if that's... I don't know."

Poe knows what he wants, every atom in him almost humming for it. Words only mean so much, and he needs that connection, needs to feel that bond forged again.

But also?

Also, needs to not fuck this up, right now.

So he flops down on the bed and looks up at the ceiling and tries to pull in all the lose and flying feelings before the tear him apart.

"I just want to be with you," he says finally, a long moment later, turning his head to find Owain's eyes, then sitting upright again. "Just- just for a little while, forget about everyone else in the universe."

I just want to be with you.

It's all he's ever wanted to hear from Poe, and the words alone are enough to fill his chest with the kind of joy he thought he'd never be able to feel again. He moves on the bed, up the silk sheets to be closer to Poe, and he watches him, eyes wide, cheeks pink, throat dry.

"Say--"

He thinks of all those countless, countless fucking nights he spent dreaming that it was Poe's body beneath his, not-- not anyone else's, not his boyfriend's, not those of his friends, not faceless natives, Poe. He can't find his voice, all of a sudden, and it takes effort for him to speak, thick through nerves.

"Say that again."

It breaks his heart, the way that Owain is looking at him.

But for for the first time in over a year, it breaks his heart in a way where the pain feels incredibly good. (Breaking from growing out of it bounds.) He reaches out, thumb brushing that reddened cheek, tracing Owain's cheekbone and brushing back into his hair and across his ear.

"I just want to be with you, Owain."

It's enough. Finally, what he has with Poe is just-- enough.

It takes all his willpower not to cut Poe off, to interrupt what he's saying with a kiss or a hand beneath his clothes. He feels like he's standing over a cliff and looking down, adrenaline pumping through him and fear clutching at his throat, but he also feels safe, and how long has it been since he's felt like that?

He moves closer, so close that he can hear every breath Poe takes, and he leans in to draw his lips along Poe's neck. He presses soft, lingering kisses up to his jawline and stops, bringing his hands to Poe's waist and holding them there.

"Again."

He feels his heart stop, for a fraction of a second, as Owain's lips draw against his throat, before starting again with a deafening lurch, slamming too quickly against his ribs. A year of repressed longing, causing his heart to race at the slightest fucking touch.

He's good, though. He stays still, just letting Owain slide into place, trying to regulate his own breathing and bring his heart back in line. Come on, Dameron. You're not sixteen.

When Owain's hands settled on his hips, he slid his hand further into the man's hair, fingernails scraping at his scalp.

"You going to make me repeat myself a hundred times, or are you going to kiss me?"

"I really like hearing it," Owain confesses, like it's something to be ashamed of. "I've dreamed of hearing you say things like that. Like - literally - like, when I actually manage to fall asleep at night, it's only ever because I'm thinking of you, and then - and then you're in my dreams, saying things like -"

He stumbles over himself, reddening quick until he's shaking his head to clear this. He just wants to touch Poe, to be with Poe, to either hear more things like that or just feel more things like that. He could collapse, right now, just from the electricity shooting from Poe's fingers into his scalp and down his spine, but he uses all the willpower he has to sit up straight and meet Poe's lips with his own.

It starts out easy, soft, chaste. It stays that way for about three seconds, before Owain is pulling on Poe's shirt and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear it over his head. He shrugs off his own shirt, mostly one armed, the other resting on Poe's chest, tracing over a scar with his thumb. He's surprised, that despite how jealous and possessive he's been - despite the awful, awful things he would think when he was alone and jerking off and thinking of Poe, things like is he as good as me or do you ever think of my cock when you're with him - that none of that fills his head right now.

All he can think about is how fucking beautiful Poe looks like this, waiting for him.

He is surprisingly passive - he doesn't go for Owain's clothes, doesn't tug at his shirt or at his waistband. Owain seems very capable of getting rid of his clothes himself, and Poe is all too happy to just let it happen, though he does press into the kiss, deepening it. He breaks, whenever Owain has to pull away to do something - to speak.

"I just--" The first two words between their lips, before they are taken again with a low groan, "Want to-- be with you--"

Unable to continue to remain passive, his free hand presses against the small of Owain's bare back and drags him up against him.

"--Owain--"

He groans, way too fucking loud and way too fucking desperate, so much energy shooting through his cock just from those words alone, his underwear so painfully tight he feels he might tear the god damn fabric in half. He struggles to strip himself bear as quickly as he can, whispering fuck when it takes ten seconds rather than five, and then he's doing the same to Poe, ripping his pants off his body without even waiting for him to roll his hips to help. It means he ends up dragging Poe a few inches closer beneath him, and Owain leans down with a shaky breath as he puts trembling hands to Poe's neck.

"I've fucking-- I fucking-- All I-- all I've ever-- wanted--"

He's in pieces, unable to string a coherent sentence together, and when he takes Poe in another kiss it's fucking hard, pressure and pain and clumsiness. He hisses in air as he moves down to kiss Poe's neck, sucking hard and biting down, leaving a mark in the same place he left it one of the first real times they fucked.

"Nnngh--!" The aborted sound choked in his throat as Owain bit down, and the last of Poe's restraint was taken with it. He reaches out clumsily but with a very direct intent, his hand going straight for Owain's cock, gripping from the underside, his wrist rubbing against the partition between head and shaft, the the foreskin rolling with it as he began to stroke. He could never explain why or how Owain managed to stoke such a heated fire in him - every cell in his body suddenly alight with need. The wait had just made it worse. Because he knew, he knew how fucking perfect Owain felt and he knew he could have had this, at any time, if he's just stopped being a fucking idiot for thirty seconds, but it's not--

It's still not about the sex, somehow. Or at least not the pleasure.

It's for that moment where there's no space between them and nothing else in the universe.

"I'm such an-- idiot -- Owain, fuck, I've needed you so badly and I refused to fucking see it --"

Edited 2018-01-13 03:05 (UTC)

"Don't." He sounds like he's in pain, closing his eyes tight the second Poe calls himself an idiot, and the bite he's leaving on Poe's skin lessens in pressure. He's talking into his shoulder, leaving gentle kisses between words, breath shallow and almost scared. "Don't-- call yourself that, you're still-- perfect, and you're here, it's-- you've been happy, or-- trying to be, this whole thing is just--"

This whole thing is hard. Confusing. He doesn't know what tonight means for them, in the long term, what this means for them now, except that maybe they're both finding a way to be whole again. They'll run away together, like they said they would, but what comes after? He tilts his head back to bite softly at Poe's lower lip, and then he just rests there, forehead against forehead, breath ghosting over breath.

For a second all he can do is roll his hips into Poe's hand, gliding the length of him between the warm fingers taking hold, precum flowing heavily down his shaft, filling the air with the wet and obscene sounds of flesh on flesh. He's already so god damn close to hitting his climax that the only thing holding him back is willpower alone, and when he reaches down to lightly squeeze the head of Poe's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip, the low and throaty groan he makes is exactly the same as it always was, back when they were together.

"Tell me--" He bucks a little too hard into Poe's hand, grunting like he's never been touched before. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"Trying and being aren't-- aren't the same thing--"

He gets distracted, though, both by Owain's hand rolling over the head of his cock and by that groan that just sends a shuddering pulse of blood straight to his cock, throbbing beneath Owain's fingers.

He doesn't stop stroking him, but he does push Owain backwards a little, hand firmly on his shoulder, so that the man is forced to meet his eyes.

"I don't want you to fuck me, Owain," he says in a voice utterly laden with need. It might undermine the point, if he didn't continue: "I need you to make love to me."

There might have been a time where Poe pushing Owain back sent fear through his heart. He might have leapt to conclusions, thinking Poe was going back on this, changing his mind, something, but-- but after today, the thought doesn't even cross his mind. He just leans back, as he's told, eyes wide and full of light, listening like the only things that matter to him in this world are the words that might leave Poe's lips.

"I--"

It's rare, for him to be speechless, but he is, eyes flickering down and away as he struggles to accept the overwhelming purity and joy that bursts through his system. His hand on Poe's cock steadies, a little, but he slowly strokes down to his base only a few more times before letting go. He's smiling, kindly and softly and so, so, so fucking warmly, even as he brings his fingers to his mouth and drags his tongue along them, sliding them between his lips, getting them wet.

He looks at Poe briefly for permission, and then he's lowering his hand back between Poe's legs, slipping under him and pushing him down on his back with his other hand. He circles Poe's hole with the tip of his middle finger, closing the distance between them to leave a soft and reassuring kiss to his forehead, and it's agonizingly teasing, the way he doesn't enter Poe until he's fucking ready - it takes a few minutes of silent gasps and gentle lips before he's stretching Poe open, taking his long, slender finger halfway inside of him and then cautiously adding a second.

It's not lovemaking, not yet - he's fucking Poe with his fingers, curling them inwards until he finds Poe's prostate, which he presses against hard, wanting to see if he can make him buck and roll and beg.

He waits, for far too long, for the tumble of words and feelings to start spilling from his lips. The longer the moment passes the hotter Poe feels - a flush growing under his skin and spreading across his face and throat and chest. He doesn't break the silence, but his eyes lock onto Owain's fingers as he lets himself be pulled more fully into place. He almost reaches out to press his own fingers into Owain's mouth - not out of any plan, but out of pure desire. But he holds back, because his heart is starting to beat far too fast and his eyeslids are fluttering as Owain lowers his hand.

His lips part, silently, eyes still locked on Owain's face, a gentle pant of a breath as he slowly works him open. He's looking incredibly stoic and reserved, slowly pumping Owain's cock - until he gave a sudden almost- violent shudder, moaning wantonly as Owain's fingers felt like the first damn thing that had ever touched him like that in the history of the universe.

The grin that breaks through Owain's face is equal parts pride and affection. It's been a long, long time since he's been able to see Poe fall apart like that. A long, long time since the sight of a man writhing beneath him sent shivers down his spine, rather than a detached sense of this is fun that felt good but never meant much.

His fingers fuck in and out of Poe a little faster, pressing hard against his prostate with every thrust. He brings his lips to Poe's throat and hums against it as he kisses him, tastes him, remembers him. He stretches his fingers apart, a little, trying to let Poe feel the full fucking weight of this, and when he dares to slide a third finger inside, he holds every finger deep in Poe, to the base, before pulling out. He buries his cock to the hilt of Poe's fist as he does, subconsciously, barely aware he's doing it.

"I..."

The words don't come again, but he moves, kisses the top of Poe's scalp, breathing in his scent and shutting his eyes. Fuck.

"Please." He's almost shivering with need and anticipation, hand sliding behind Owain's head and gripping far too hard, his hips rolling against those fingers as if he could force them deeper. Force them to move. When Owain pulls them out he groans with frustration, his hand squeezing firm around the base of Owain's cock. He tugged, a little, angling it downward.

"I need to feel you inside of me," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and deep.

"Please, Owain, I need to feel that I'm yours--"

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