shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

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--"

Fuck, that feels good--

He cuts Poe off with a kiss, because he knows that if he doesn't, he knows that if he hears anything else right now, he'll cry and lose his mind and go fully fucking insane from how deliriously happy he is. His lips are trembling and it takes all the willpower he has to make them work, but he does, for a moment, before pulling away and looking at Poe like he's never seen him before. No part of him ever thought-- he just didn't think--

He thought this was impossible. He thought Poe had done more than close this door. He'd thought Poe had burned this whole fucking bridge down.

The hand he'd hooked behind Poe's neck traces fingers over skin to Poe's lips, his thumb gently brushing over the softness and the shine that he left there with that last kiss. His other hand - he draws every finger out of Poe except for one, which he just slowly, slowly fucks through him, keeping up the pace even as he bites his own bottom lip and meets Poe's eyes.

"You've always been mine." It's quiet, and almost apologetic, like he's realizing, suddenly, how much of a terrible burden he's been on Poe through his relationship with Finn. "You've always been-- my ending. No matter how my life might end, I knew - long ago, since before space - that my last thoughts were always going to be of you. It took me... some time, to understand the depths of what I feel for you. But it's always been apart of us. I think. For me, at least. I think for you, too."

He draws his last finger out and arcs his cock away from Poe's hand, aligning his tip with Poe's hole. He teases him, brushing over sensitive flesh with his head, but he can't hold back, either. He's barely an inch inside Poe before he has to stop, stilling his entire body to keep from blowing his load, lowering his head and managing his breathing. When the feeling that had been boiling up from his balls fades away, he inserts another inch, and then another, before he has to stop again and wait.

"Fuck-- sorry. I've just--" He laughs, slightly self-conscious, but still mostly just fucking happy. "I've been-- I've thought about this moment. A lot."

That's the thing with pilots. They don't need a working bridge: they can fly.

It's always overwhelming, whenever Owain talks about how he feels about Poe. It's a little more intense when he feels like he's so amped up that he could have a heart attack at any second, that all his nerve endings are on fire and he's already half gone with need and lust - and love-

Owain's always been more sure about how he felt. About everything. Poe barely treated this place like it was real, before Owain suddenly made it real. He tried to make sense of what he was doing here, tried to press himself into a mold for what his purpose here could possibly be. Paragon of the Resistance. But that hadn't been right. The war wasn't here. And even though Finn was, if that had been his destiny--

Why hadn't he just been left at home?

But there was an answer, and he suddenly got it. As if someone just hit him over the back of his head with it. He swallowed, eyes half lidded, mouth dry.

"... I think you're the reason I'm supposed to be here," he said lowly, almost wonderingly, testing the words out for himself.

They sounded true.

He wanted nothing more than for Owain to just plunge the rest of the distance in, but he resisted the urge to force it, meeting his eyes instead.

"It's alright," he murmured lowly. "I... I think we have time."

Again, Owain is left speechless.

If he could think a little clearer, he might be able to tell Poe exactly how much it means to him to hear that. It's-- validating, because it's something he's always thought, too. He fell hard and fast without much warning, but it was real and it was love and the pain in his chest and the lightning in his blood has only ever gotten so much worse over the time they've known each other. It's hard, for someone like Owain, to look into Poe, find a love that could drown an ocean, and not think yeah, he's what I'm made for.

His heart might break under the weight of this.

He sinks further into Poe, deeper, until the bare skin of his waist is pressed tight against Poe's ass. He clenches his eyes shut and angles his hips in such a way that when he pulls out again, with a slow pace that's almost painful for him, the ridge of his head rubs hard through Poe. His breath catches in his throat and he makes a needy, desperate noise he's never made before, and he finds the strength to finally, finally move, fucking in and out of Poe like he's picking up an old habit.

He finds Poe's cock, again, holding it in one hand while he braces himself against the bed with the other, and he glides his slick palm over the length of it in time with each thrust. He's breathing heavy and almost panting, sweating like he's run a marathon when they've barely even started.

"Poe, I--" He's dizzy, and his voice doesn't sound like his own in his ears, because it's happy and he hasn't felt like that for so, so fucking long. He doesn't even know what to say, which is so unlike him - his voice is just quivering and his heart is too full, and he feels connected. There's no part of him, right now - if there ever even was - that doesn't belong to Poe.

"I just-- fuck--"

He doesn't say anything else, concentrating on not just tensing the fuck up as Owain sank deeper into him - drawing in a long breath and letting it out through his nose, one hand gripping into the silk sheets below him. (It was a little obscene, where they were, but Poe couldn't bring himself to care.)

His back arches as Owain bottoms out, his eyes rolling back into his head as that achingly slow drag backwards sends a violent shudder down his spine. Once Owain is finally fucking him, he lets out a long, helpless moan, rolling his hips to meet after thrust. His cock lay heavy against himself before Owain drew it up, the precum drawing a line from the tip of his cock to his chest.

"Oh fuck--" He groans out, unable to manage anything more coherent than that, all thought fluttering from his head like a million loosed butterflies. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. The only thing that matters is this.

He clumsily reaches with a hand to try to find Owain's throat, fingers raking the man's chest instead as his concentration was lost with another perfect thrust. "Fuck-- Kiss me--"

He changes his pace and adjusts his position seamlessly to match every wave of Poe's hips, flawless and fluid like they're two parts of the same person. He drives into Poe a little faster, pulling out to the tip every so often before gently, gently plunging back in, dragging against sensitive muscle, and - it's not fast, the way he fucks him, even now when he's grinding the ridge of his head riiiight up past his prostate over and over again. It's all steady and careful and slow, like he wants Poe to feel every moment of this to its fullest extent.

The kiss is the same. Long and quiet. He almost misses, at first, with a little too much teeth and a little too much wetness in his need to do this, to give Poe this kiss, to fucking feel his lips on his own, their tongues brushing over and against each other. There's a buzz in his head that stops him from thinking, all the blood in his body concentrated on the aching fucking hardness of his cock and flushing his skin, leaving Odin pink with exertion and already sweaty.

He stops kissing Poe long enough to graze his teeth down the curve of his neck, finding his shoulder and sinking a bite into it, just hard enough to make Poe gasp or writhe or react. He slams a little harder into him when he does, bone deep, body flushed tight against body, and he stays there for a little too long, pushing in deep with all his weight.

"Poe--"

He eases out, again, rooting his fists in the bedspread either side of Poe's waist, and he props himself up to get a better look at Poe's face. He doesn't break eye contact as he fucks his hips forward again, fucking into Poe and just watching him, breathing in every reaction and smile and moan he might make.

"I fucking-- love you, I love you," he staggers out, and it's too fast and too easy and too obvious to say, but he's actually tearing up, his voice is actually choking under the thick, heavy weight of emotion that's been slowly ruining him for the past twelve months. He wipes a tear away before curling his fingers tight against the sheet again, and he hates himself a little even as he grinds the head of his cock deep into Poe, because he knows this isn't sexy, he knows this isn't good, but the tears are already starting to come a little more freely, one already rolling down his cheek and settling on his jaw.

Owain's teeth sink into his shoulder and Poe only barely smothers a cry- coming out as a strangled, aching moan, instead. He nearly comes right there, so absolutely overwhelmed, that final slam nearly sending him right over the edge, every muscle in his back suddenly drawn taut--

But Owain holds fast and that is the only thing that keeps him from completely losing himself, even though his cock weeps with the need of it, just that one little push--

Poe's cock might want it, but Poe doesn't. All too happy to keep the moment stretching on into eternity, if he was able to. The utter fullness and fulfilment and joy something nearly impossible to find, otherwise, and he wants to grip it and drag it down with him until he drowns in it. So the reprieve is welcome, even if it doesn't take complete pressure off of his aching cock. He feels like he's on a hair trigger, but then Owain is pulling out of him again and his eyelids flutter open to try to focus on Owain's face.

He's pulled roughly back from the edge as soon as the first tear is wiped away, the concern flooding in immediately, despite the words.

He knows the words. He'd known them for a long time now.

So they weren't earth shattering. Just a truth, that he'd already known. That he'd known for a while. His attention is pulled elsewhere, eyes immediately training on those tears. Even the fucking ruining thrust can't pull his attention away, even as it makes his whole body shudder.

He braces himself up on an elbow, panting hard, his skin flushed even darker than usual, and he reaches out to slide fingers into Owain's hair and pull him closer.

"Hey--" It's the softest of words, almost more of a pant than anything else, his chest heaving with the effort of bringing himself back down somewhere more stable. Just for a minute.

"Hey, I'm here." It's barely a whisper, but he says it without even a trace of hesitation. Even that quietly, his voice is nothing but confidence. "I'm sorry it took me so long. But I'm here." He knows he could say it. Say exactly what Owain wanted to hear - what he needed to hear - but he doesn't.

Not in the heat of the moment, not like this.

Not when Owain's been waiting so damn long.

So instead he presses a clumsy kiss to the man's lips, still propped up on one arm. "I'm right here."

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