shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

PSL || poe/odin

WAY TO REJECT ME YOU FLIGHTY AIRBORN PIECE OF SHIT! WAY TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP FOR ME AND MY HEART, FOREVER AND EVER, ALWAYS UNTIL FOREVER

HEY YO YOU TOLD ME TO WRITE A LIST SO GUESS WHAT!!!!!! IT'S TIME FOR US TO GET FUNKY AS FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

god i am not going to bother formatting this

TO DO LIST:
1. SEXTING FROM BOOT CAMP ringverse AU
2. prince/concubine AU - owain's the prince, poe's a concubine to the king, paranoia and political assassination ensues, etc etc etc etc etc
3. vampire hooker AU?? owain gonna get his gothic goth goth dick wet in that spooky vampire butt
4. HAHA BOOM WE'RE DOING IT I LINKED THE POST DOWN THERE
5. enemies of war AU - owain's a good guy on the bad guy side who almost loses his life trying to save poe even though he's an enemy soldier, poes like What, Shit, Damn, gay shit ensues
6. HNENENGH
7. ANGELS AND DEMONSSSSSSsss
8. 20s AU///?? YES. YES ALRIGHT
9. WW1 AU WHATS Up
10. ?? there was something that was supposed to go here from the kink meme
11. samurai champloo AU what up. chon'sin. Shit
12. bBODYSWAPPpappapp

long-term AU posts:

⚔⛉☆ PLEDGED

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

Owain's nods are frantic and silent, eyes staying on Poe's for as long as they can before there are too many tears and he feels like he's looking through glass. He shuts them tight after being anchored in, his breath coming out of him rattled and shaky and terrified, and the way he fucks into Poe stutters like a record scratch, but his chest is too heavy and he wants this too much to stop.

He can feel the wetness of his tears roll down his neck, his throat, his collarbone, but he doesn't wipe them away this time. He just lowers his head into the kiss and bucks his hips forward like he's losing control of them, every few thrusts coming harder now, hammering into that perfect spot with a strength and a precision Owain doesn't even mean to have. He hadn't expected Poe to say I love you, even if it's true that he needs to hear it - at a very core level, under all the doubts and the pit of fire in his stomach and the second guesses and the fucking, fucking anxiety, he believes that Poe wouldn't be here if those feelings were a part of him.

He's here. It took a long time, but he's here, and he wants him.

There's a calm that rushes through him, a calm that he's only ever felt because of Poe, and with another long breath after breaking from the kiss, he feels steadier on every level. He moves his hands, just a little, re-positioning his fists on the silk sheets before he puts all his weight on one arm. He draws his other hand down to Poe's slick, precum-heavy cock and circles his thumb on the underside of his head.

He says nothing, as he leans in to kiss Poe, but there's a determination in him now to see this through, to fucking wreck Poe. His thrusts become narrower, more precise, each inch of his length stretching through him, faster and faster. He doesn't take Poe in his fist and hammer his cock like he should - he knows that would make him blow, he knows that would end this faster than anything - but he teases the most sensitive parts of him, overloading each nerve with the slick, wet, loud noise of his hand, circling his head and his tip with his hand enclosed over all of it, ready to catch his cum when it shoots out.

He fucks faster and faster, still so much slower than how things used to be between them when i was all just physical, but when he feels his climax boiling up in the base of his balls at a speed he's never felt before, he stops entirely and focuses on Poe. He raises his eyes to Poe's again, old tears still clinging to every long lash, and--

Smiles, and laughs, that low and masculine and throaty laugh that Poe always laughed, the sound he only ever did when they were tangled up like this together.

"I'm right here." He was still murmuring it, lowly, barely above a whisper, even as his breath hitched with every stuttering thrust. He presses his lips to Owain's cheek, to his throat - catching the salt with his lips and his tongue as if he could stem the tide that way. But ever kiss gets pulled further apart, because the thrusts are coming quicker now, harder, and he's having a hard time completely holding on to his sense of time and space. He just wants to be here, just wants to be fully here, just--

The ragged moan that was pulled from his lips as that barest touch of Owain's fingers on his cock, the palm sliding over his head and fuck he wants that grip, that pressure - he needs Owain's hand on him, really on him, or - or so he would think, if he could think. But he can't.

He could feel his orgasm rolling up from within him. Like an avalanche starting with the thinnest whispers of snow on snow, halfway up a mountain. But Owain stopped, again, and Poe let out a low, long, pathetic moan, his heart restarting from where it had nearly stopped. So fucking close to the edge, again, and yet - (again) - couldn't actually blame Owain for it.

Part of him just wanted to beg Owain to keep going, regardless - just keep fucking him, for hours, or days, no matter how weak and limp and oversensitive he became. But that part of him was here for something different.

It wasn't what Poe was here for.

That laugh?

Fuck, but that laugh was what he was here for. The smile split his face before he could stop it, even though his brows were still half furrowed in concentration, the vestiges of worry still at the edges of his eyes even though the rest of him was caught in some kind of near-painful ecstasy.

"Fuck, but you are beautiful." The words held a weight of awe that rarely entered Poe's voice. A truth that he could say, right now, right here, even if it wasn't the one that Owain wanted. The words may be different, but the tone was the same. (The tone would take the full meaning, even if the words would not.)

His eyes crinkled as his smile spread, misting slightly, and he forced himself to breathe.

"So fucking beautiful."

I'm right here.

The arm Owain was resting on bends, and he drops his weight on Poe's body, chest touching chest. He moves his hand from Poe's cock so that he can just fucking embrace him - arms tight around Poe's back, his abs softly grinding over Poe's cock with each thrust in a way that would be too much, too rough, if he was fucking any faster than he was, but feels perfect as they are now.

Between Poe's skin and the sheets, Owain's arm crosses his shoulderblades at an angle, his fingers digging into his shoulder on the other side. His other loops beneath Poe's waist, lifting him away from the bed just an inch or two so that when he drills into him, he can bottom out even further than before. His thrusts come a little slower, but harder, pounding into Poe at just the right angle, flesh slapping obscenely against flesh even as Owain bites his bottom lip, digs his face into the curve of Poe's neck and tries, again, despite all the warmth and the laughter and the joy spreading through him, not to cry.

If he's beautiful--

If he's beautiful--

The moon reflects the light of the sun, and if any part of him is beautiful, it's only because Poe made him that way.

"Poe--"

His voice is a coarse whisper, barely able to be heard, his voice ghosting over Poe's ear as he speaks. He grazes his teeth over Poe's earlobe, just once, and then he breathes again, stuttering and long and slow. If he weren't so blinded by this, he'd think twice, maybe, about being stupid and poetic and dramatic. He'd let this moment just be, but romance is a part of him, words are a part of him, so even though he shakes under the the pressure of getting this out - will Poe laugh at him, maybe? - he tries, anyway.

"I wouldn't--"

Again, as he thrusts deeper into Poe, the heat of his skin rolls over his cock, Poe's precum marking his stomach.

"I wouldn't be who I am-- without you," he tries, and there's the watery quiver of a sob barely bitten back as he lowers his head into Poe's shoulder, hiding his face from view. He's stumbling, unable to get what he wants to say out there, that he's only able to be loved by Poe because he's the only person who gets him, that he's only able to be looked at like that by Poe because he's Poe's.

"If you-- if I'm-- okay, as who I am, it's because I just-- everything about me is you, you've always been-- it's always been--"

Every thrust is making sparks dance in his vision and he has to swallow hard and shut his eyes incredibly tightly for a few seconds just so that he can enjoy it without immediately succumbing. He can feel the ridge of every muscle in Owain's abdomen as they move over his cock, and he leaks almost continuously, making the space between them slicker with every claiming thrust.

Because that's what this is. He's being claimed, utterly and completely. That's what he wants.

He wants to be able to concentrate on what Owain is saying. He can hear the tears in the man's voice and the gravel in his throat and all he wants to do is reassure him. But every word comes with Owain taking him, utterly and completely.

"--I'm yours--" he moans, and it's half an echo and half an assertion, his spine arching and his whole body pressing up into Owain's as his muscles shake with tension.

"--- I'm-- Owain, I'm yours--"

It takes a moment for Owain to actually hear the words, the heartbeat pulsing through his ears too loud for him to make sense of anything. His nose is pressed tight against Poe's skin when he registers it - Poe smells like the sky, somehow - and when he does, when he gets it, when I'm yours breaks through him -

Fuck, fuck, fuck -

Owain doesn't moan when he finally comes.

He shuts his eyes so tight it hurts, and he loses all sense of control in his body. He convulses, fucking into Poe in lurching thrusts, and he doesn't realize how hard he's pounding him until his cloudy, zoned out brain connects those noises he's hearing to the the bed skidding against the floor and the headboard hitting the wall. He's stuck on I'm yours, pinning Poe's entire body down on his cock, his fingers digging hard enough into Poe's back to bruise, fingers twisting and curling and scratching over him like he's frantically scrambling for something to hold onto because he's falling, falling.

The build up to shooting his load takes longer than normal, edged and dragged out even when he's fucking Poe so hard the room feels like it's shaking, and he's whimpering as the boiling heat in his cock grows more and more painful. His mouth is half-open against Poe's shoulder, canine teeth scraping skin without Owain even noticing that's what he's doing, and when his climax finally, finally hits him, when he cries out just once when he explodes, he sinks his teeth hard into Poe's shoulder and silently cries through the whole thing, hips staggering as jet after jet after jet pours out of him into Poe. It floods down his length and onto the sheets and Owain's just ruined, lifting Poe off the bed a few inches to unload as much of his come into him as he can before his strength gives out and the jaw on Poe's shoulder starts to ease.

He was an absolute mess. His whole back was arched in an unsustainable way, Owain's hands leaving dark bruises on his skin. He was already just about to come when Owain did, the bed slamming against the wall with a rhythmic crash.

He was already almost gone when Owain's teeth sunk into him.

He came so hard that his vision blacked out. He probably yelled something - his throat was raw from it even if he didn't register it. (Even if everyone else on this floor - as well as the one above and below - heard him scream Owain's name.)

He coated his own chest in his cum, shot after shot that didn't seem to end, until everything in him was almost painfully empty. His whole body was shaking almost uncontrollably and he slumped in Owain's grip, something close to a whimper on his lips.

He feels like the air has been pulled out of his lungs and the muscles in his body have all been turned to lead, by the time he finally, finally finishes. He collapses on top of Poe with a grunt, and he stays there, for a moment, his own torso and his stomach roped with Poe's cum, and then he's pulling on all the strength in the god damn world to sit up.

His hair is a mess, skin pink and red from exertion, like he's the one who just got fucked into oblivion. He kisses Poe, not necessarily silencing the whimper, but muffling it with a hum of his own. Even now, after everything they just did, after giving everything he has to Poe, the man he loves, the man he'll only, only, only ever love, his heart skips a beat and jumps with the innocence of a first crush.

He carefully, carefully pulls out of Poe and rolls onto his back, exhausted, cock slowly starting to soften. He knows he should shower, but he's warm and he's exhausted and he feels like his bones are buzzing. He can barely move, and Poe's cum on his chest and his stomach is already starting to cool, but he's happy. He's breathing hard as he tilts his head to look at Poe, and for a second, all thoughts of Finn and any mistakes that brought them here are completely swept from his mind.

"Hi."

Poe sinks into the sheets like they are swallowing him whole. Everything below his waist is either humming in afterglow or just feels numb, and he's pretty sure that if he tried to sit up he would just pass out. So, he doesn't. He is very, very content to just lie there, thanks. Trying to get his breath back again. He feels, rather than sees, Owain collapse down next to him, and he clumsily feels around with his hand until he can find Owain's and thread their fingers together, gripping tight.

After a while he finally turns his head, a ghost of a laugh on his lips and in his eyes, and there's nothing in his expression that's anything save love.

"... Hi." His eyes crinkle warmly. "... Come here often?"

He couldn't help himself.

Again, his veins pulse with an electricity that shocks through him so fast he barely knows what to do with himself, and he squeezes Poe's hand back with as much strength as his tired, limp body will allow. He kicks off some of the sheets that had tangled around his ankles so he can just lay there, completely naked, warm and comfortable and tired and finally, finally loved.

"I'm sure as shit gonna come here again," he mumbles, grinning from ear to ear, and he's zoning out again, a sort of tired haze making his words flow through him without any thought. "You seen the service in this joint? The waiters go to bed with you. Or... something. I think I'm calling you a waiter? I don't know. I'm tired."

He looks over to Poe, and for once he's actually aware of how he must look. Soft smiles, hair all sticking up in every direction, collapsed against the pillow, completely and utterly devastated by Poe. He's aware, now, when he feels the warmth in his cheeks and the tears prickling at his eyes again, that when he looks at Poe - like this - he must look at him the same way his dad looked at his mom.

His voice is a little dry, when he finds it again. Forcing himself to speak because he doesn't want to fall asleep. Not when they have so much to do tonight - with Finn, with his own.

"Did I do okay?"

He can't help it. He's chuckling, lowly, in the back of his throat, though it is almost ridiculous enough to be called a giggle. It makes his eyes water, and he raises he other hand to rub at them.

Well.

Maybe that's not what was making his eyes water, after all. Maybe they were just leaking, after everything.

Poe looks just as mussed as Owain does - his tanned skin flushed several shades darker, the sweat on his throat making it look glossy, and a few curls of his perfect hair have stuck to his forehead. He met Owain's eyes, and without a single thought in his mind other than how fucking perfect Owain was, simply said:

"... Yeah. Yeah, I think that was probably okay."

Owain laughs, because Poe's giggling, and it's quiet, at first, but then it runs away with him. What starts out quiet and tired builds on top of each other with giggles of his own, until he's laughing at the fact that he won't stop laughing and it just grows until his lungs are on fire and his eyes are watering and his sides won't stop aching. He laughs with an unbidden, pure happiness, soon curled up on his side with his face resting against Poe's shoulder, and he only stops when his throat is sore and his chest is heavy and everything stops feeling like a dream.

The setting sun filtering in through the half-drawn curtains, the sky being painted with streaks of gold and scarlet. He takes a long, long breath, the overwhelming joy and right of his moment finally giving way to bricks of sand that crumble in his stomach, and he rolls back onto his back. Through all of it, he's still holding Poe's hand.

"... How long do you think we can stay here?"

It's a quiet question, one asked less with guilt and more just... nerves. He runs his thumb over Poe's knuckles, subconsciously focusing his thumb on Poe's ring finger.

"I don't really... know what to do. How to do this. How to tell them."

Edited 2018-01-19 01:34 (UTC)

He's out of breath and tired and sated and every atom is humming with happiness. Well. No. Not every atom. Because as the numbness is wearing off, the deep ache was settling in, in its stead. He hadn't been taken like that in - in a long, long time.

He didn't mind.

When Owain finally began to speak, though, the smile drifted off of Poe's lips and disappeared. Somehow, he'd completely forgotten. It had just left his mind, pushed aside by Owain and being together and feeling whole--

But the blade drove itself deep into his chest, almost like he could taste the blood at the back of his throat, and he swallowed. Right.

Right.

"... I don't know." It was his honest answer, and it was quiet, and low. "... but we- I can't really-- I have to do it. And soon."

He knew, even as he asked, that the question would hurt. But that's what all of this is about, right? They spent too long hurting each other, too long not just ripping off bandaids, too long dying slow deaths and pretending they were alive. Owain is willing to hurt Poe, a little, if it'll be good for the both of them. He never used to be like that.

He says nothing, to Poe's answer. Acknowledges it with a flutter of his eyes and a soft, gentle kiss to the bite he left on his shoulder, silently telling him with actions, rather than words, that he's okay, and that Owain's here, and that he loves him, and that they'll get through this.

"What do we do after? Can we see each other again, like-- tonight? Or..."

PSL || poe/odin

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

(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)