He sees Kes, suddenly. The tutors, telling him that he's a possession, one that might be cared for or loved but will ultimately end up dirty and scar-riddled and dead before Poe is marked by even the slightest cut. The slightest cut that marks his hand, now.
If he doesn't understand independence, than Poe doesn't understand the weight of being pledged. The years he spent second-guessing his training before his resistance and his confused was systematically crushed. It was easy, for him to be emotionally manipulated by Poe's father, regardless of his intentions. Stripping Owain of everything he loves and needs and cares for was easy, when everything he loved and needed and cared for died, and he was told that letting go of his humanity was all he could do to honour them.
He had vowed, before Poe interrupted the ceremony. Vowed to give up every part of him, as if he hadn't already, other than a desire for clothes and an urge to get fucked like the whore he is. Was willing to do it. Was willing to die, right there in that room, if Poe told him to take that knife and sink it into himself even further.
He pulls his arms away.
"Ah..."
He looks at Poe's back, the strength in him, the broadness of his shoulders, capable of carrying the world. Fixing it, maybe, if they're in a world that needs to be fixed.
"I was..."
He rubs at his side, aching, suddenly. Today took more out of him than he expected.
"I was gonna--"
He thinks of Lissa, of Lon'qu, of the love they had.
It's what helps him decide to speak up, despite Kes. Despite everyone.
He didn't turn around for several seconds. He'd felt the distance, as Owain pulled away, but he didn't turn to follow him. Instead he focused on his hand, drying the wound carefully, and slowly wrapping a bandage around his hand. The sounds of the outside world seemed to fade away, when Owain finally finished speaking, and Poe just breathed. No immediate reaction, though he had obviously heard it.
He tried to keep his hands steady, as he finally wrapped the bandage around his palm. Only once that was done, did he finally turn and face Owain with a stuttering skip of his pulse.
It didn't matter, right then, how terrible an idea it was. That small act of rebellion with the blood had just made Poe want to see more of them. So he met Owain's eyes with a challenge in his own.
There's not a single, single part of him that sees that as a command. Poe doesn't dominate him in this.
The build up would last for days, if Owain were relying on courage alone. He'd never thought of himself as a coward, or even as someone brave, but he feels as his world is starting to bloom into petals grown by Poe, that he's been scared, running fast and blind for a very long time. But it's not courage he needs to rebel. Not now, not after the ceremony. It's base instinct - instinct that Poe allows of him, instinct that Poe gave back - that has him stepping forward.
He doesn't know how to do this. He's never kissed anyone, never been kissed, never allowed himself the thought of it outside of lonely dreams and submissive fantasies. He'd always been told that if Poe ever wanted this from him, he could give it, but he was never to take the lead. Even if Poe asked him to, it would be an illusion of control, nothing more - but this? The soft, feather light touch of one hand on Poe's hip, the other where he was marked with blood, his own bare torso and the muscles of his stomach taut with hope and excitement and nerves, it's all him, all Owain, every last surging nerve, every last thrum of his heart.
The build up still takes a long time - Owain hovering like he needs more permission - but he strains against those shackles, curling his nails into Poe's shirt every time he thinks he might speak, wanting to do this by himself.
The kiss is clumsy and naive and over just as soon as it began. Chaste and sweet with blood still stained on his lips. It's obvious, when he pulls back with pinched brows and wide eyes, that he really, really fucking wants more of this, wants more than kissing, wants more of everything, but he doesn't have it in him to ask, doesn't have it in him to be the one to take this further.
He bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't apologize.
He's patient. He's incredibly patient, watching Owain with a steady gaze even as the man hesitates.
The kiss itself is sweet and soft and over in and instant. A flicker of youth, and a reminder. Part of him knows, that's where he should leave it. A gesture given, and accepted. He should have just smiled, and brushed Owain's hair from his eyes and carried on.
The day had been an utter whirlwind, and Poe hadn't quite caught up to the gravity of it. The weight of it. He's still riding high on victory and rebellion. So though he knows he should be giving Owain time and processing power, he doesn't move. He just breathes.
He smiles at the question, tip of his tongue pressing into the back of an incisor, mischievous and ready to say yes but unable to just blurt it out. He tilts his head, like he's considering the question, thoughts already full of the answer.
Thoughts of the Poe in his dream come to mind and make him blush. They were only in this room a few hours ago. He's surprised how quickly he forgot.
"Yes."
He rakes his hand down Poe's chest, hand finding his heartbeat. It feels so much different now that he understands, just a little more, what they are. Pledge in name, something else in spirit.
He presses his lips together as he looks at Poe, no idea where to go with this. Again, his youth and inexperience have maybe never been more clear, and he repositions himself a few times before he tries anything. Shifting his weight, moving his hands to rest in about four different places on Poe before they settle resting on the bridges between his shoulders and his neck. He breathes in like he's about to go fucking diving.
"Okay, well."
Okay, then.
The kiss starts out just as chaste as before, Owain ghosting over Poe with a softness and an innocence that still contradicts the ragged fraying skin on his hand and the sword under their bed he's been raised for. It lasts longer, this time, but it's still not deep - no parted lips on his part, no tongue against tongue. He briefly scrapes his teeth over Poe's bottom lip as he pulls back, eyes wide and hopeful, but he still doesn't have the guts to take this where he wants to.
He goes red, starting to feel embarrassed. He knows first kisses aren't supposed to be-- amazing, but he wants it to be. Not for Poe's sake. For his own, as a person with wants and needs and desires.
"I want you to help me through this," he says, an attempt to be firm and independent while still asking for help. "Because-- because I want to do-- everything-- and I don't know how, or how far you'll let me take this. How far you want me to take this."
He lets a long breath go, before he reaches out. Wordlessly cupping bothe sides of Owain's face, his palm stinging with the pressure but he didn't care. He didn't know the answer to that. Was pretty sure, on some level, that he'd already taken this far enough.
On another, that after what he swore today, there was no going back anyway.
"We'll figure it out," he promised, quietly, thumbs brushing over Owain's cheeks. Then he was stepping in, having to pull the taller man down slightly, raising up on the balls of his feet as he pressed a warm kiss to Owain's lips. It was chaste, at first, but then his lips were parting, teeth pulling gently at Owain's bottom lip before encouraging his lips apart, deepening the kiss as soon a he was able to. He pressed closer, his heart slamming so hard against his ribs it made him shudder. He pulled back, for air, a haziness to his eyes that was emphasized by his shallow breaths. His hands slipped down from Owain's neck, fingers trailing over the bloodied shirt. "Should probably- we should probably get cleaned up."
The kiss still isn't great, because Owain is trembling all over from nerves again - but every unexpected thing Poe does, the teeth on his lips and the tongue against his, drags a fucking violent moan out of him, like this alone is the height of pleasure. When Poe pulls back for air, he actually whimpers because of how badly he doesn't want this to end, leaning down after him until he has no choice but to break away.
But oh, right. The blood. He'll be sad to see it go, but he supposes he can't wear it forever.
He puts his thumb to Poe's lip and very lovingly smears the last remain of blood away from it, slightly dried but wettened by the kiss. There's... a way... that they can do this.
"Would you..." He swallows. "Would you be opposed--"
He's struggling with his wording here, and it's only partially because he's embarrassed. He wants to ask Poe for consent, but he doesn't know how to phrase it without asking for permission. He sighs, frustrated, and it's-- obvious, at least, that he's pulling hard against the shackles of his training to figure this out.
"If... you wanted to. We could-- share a bath. Or... something."
Poe smiles, and it's far too fond - a surge of pride welling through him, again, mirroring and accentuating how he felt with that bloody thumbprint.
"Yeah. A bath." His hand falls from Owain's face, trailing down his chest, stopping to hover where the shirt was damp with blood. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself, and nodded. "There's a bath for the officers - it's private."
He looked up again, a wry smile pulling at his lips.
"And everyone would expect you to go with me anyway, now."
Owain can't connect the way he deflates to the reason for it, but it takes the wind out of his sails to be reminded of how nobody will think twice about him and Poe locked away together. As much fear as he felt when everyone looked at them on the walk back to their rooms, he'd found a small seed of pride in it. To an extent.
Nobody's going to know how they are behind closed walls. He gets that. Asked for that, even. But it's hard to navigate that, amongst the oppressing feeling of a lifetime of corruption and a small flower blooming in his chest saying that he wants Poe to keep treating him like he's special more than anything.
Before they head out, Owain presses another kiss to Poe's lips, shy and quick and chaste and over far too fast again because he still doesn't know how to take the lead. They head out of their rooms (still bloodied, though Owain at least puts his shirt back on), still getting strange looks but generally ignored, as Owain's demeanour changes pretty much the second they're in public again. All hints of heart-skipping excitement just sweep away from him, and he's standing tall and subservient behind Poe, training he still can't run away from despite everything he's feeling.
The private bathroom is bigger than the bedroom he shared with the other servants back at the House, and he doesn't comment on it, but it's the first time something has felt distinctly unfair. He locks the door behind them and lights the cream-coloured candles standing in bronze arms on the wall, all of them hidden in lattices that cast flickering shadows on the tiles. There's a series of small steps up to the thick, elevated bath inlaid in a shelf of marble - obviously designed so that when the pledges stood beside their Masters in the bath, they wouldn't be looming over them.
Owain boils water and starts to fill the bath, and the candlelight isn't dim enough to hide the shy excitement on his face when he turns back to look at Poe from the corner of his eyes.
"You can - uh -"
He hesitates.
"You can undress yourself... or... I can. If you want. I can do that. If that's-- okay. This time."
He expected it, though, knew it would happen - the shift as soon as they stepped from private to public. He hated it with such a fire that it tempered everything else he was feeling, pushing it all down into his chest and slowly cooling. But that was probably for the best. What was left was righteous vindication, and a solemn promise to himself that Owain would only feel like that for the absolute minimum amount of time possible.
At least away from the Capitol, they could be less formal even in public. But part of him wanted to just reach back and grab Owain's hand again.
He didn't.
He relaxed, slightly, when they got to the bath, and Poe helped Owain prepare, helped pour the heated water into the tub. He was about to start removing his own clothes when Owain spoke up, and he watched him for a minute before that small, fond smile returned, and he gestured with his head for Owain to come over.
There's no methodical worshipping at Poe's feet when he takes off his shoes. He doesn't make sure, once they're off, that they're neatly aligned next to each other, like he did last time - he just sorta puts them together and then off to the side, not even noticing when one of them falls over after he propped it up in a weird way. When he takes off the cape, unties the cravat, he folds them up and puts them up on the sink a ways away from the bath, and when he's back to Poe's shirt, he's--
He's so much more nervous than he was last time.
The buttons are still mostly open from the ritual, so he has to start from the middle, warm faced and nervous. His fingers tremble enough when he pulls at the first button he finds that he messes up, not pulling it through the hole. He has to shut his eyes and breathe and tell himself he's done this a thousand times before, on mannequins and on tutors and on Kes, before he can try again. His hands are actually starting to sweat, a little, and he laughs awkwardly as he dries them on his blood-stained sweater, taking a breath before getting back to it.
He undoes each button and pulls Poe's shirt off and then just-- stares. His blood, right there, all over his chest. Blood that Poe took from him in silence, then gave back in turn. Just looking at Poe makes him hard as fuck, and it's impossible to hide it, the firm outline of his cock running down the inside of his leg. He gets to Poe's belt buckle and he looks up at him, just once, then pulls it off. He hooks his fingers under Poe's waistband and just-- quietly--
"Fuck, Poe." He clenches his jaw tight. "If people knew you were letting me do this-- letting me think about you the way I'm thinking about you-- you'd be punished. I'd be punished. Wants like these are-- supposed to be above me."
"Yeah, well, fuck everyone else," Poe muttered, his chest rising and falling a little too deeply, trying to keep his eyes on Owain's face.
It's been a long time since he had nerves like this - something fluttering hard in his chest and in his throat. Owain's careful fingers work as a reminder to his youth, and suddenly Poe is very aware of a gap between them that had nothing to do with station.
But the nerves and the doubt disappear as soon as Owain speaks, a hard throb of arousal going straight to his groin. He took a deep breath and stepped in a little closer, fingers finding the hem of Owain's shirt.
He just said fuck, but again, hearing the word come from Poe makes him laugh like a kid, still scandalized-- even amongst all these bigger fucking scandals-- that someone at his station might swear like that. He bites his bottom lip, pulling back a grin, and then he's meeting Poe's eyes.
"Poe," he says, a little louder than he's supposed to, like he's daring someone from the outside to hear him. "Fuck. Poe. Fuck-- I want-- you. I want this. I want..."
He leans in, and he's very, very close to kissing Poe, but he doesn't, in the end. Just stays there, hovering, because he can. He can do this. He's allowed this decision - to decide if he wants to kiss Poe, to decide if he doesn't. This last barrier, this inch between their lips, is something Poe gave him. Something he's taken.
He drops his voice to a whisper.
"I don't know what-- what I'm feeling-- means," he says. "But I've thought about you a lot. In ways that I was never-- supposed to think about you. Thoughts of doing things with you that I'm only supposed to think about if you give the command."
He shifts his hand down Poe's pants, until they're close to his cock. An inch away, just like their lips.
"It's gotten worse since I've actually met you," he confesses, slowly, slowly, slowly unzipping Poe's pants, meeting his eyeline. "It's not just-- physical. Anymore. The things I find myself wanting for. Though, ah - the physical - I already... I've already been dreaming about you. You were really, really lucky to leave so early this morning."
He'd given Owain that inch. That was his. But fuck, he wanted to. He wet his lips, dragging the lower one between his teeth. His spine is drawn taut, but he doesn't move closer.
"... I was there," He admitted, his voice far lower than it had been even a minute ago, his breath almost coming in pants as Owain's fingers went lower. "You-- I left after you--" Fuck, but he was hard. He was hard, and he was pretty damn sure that he should be trying to stop Owain, right now. Say something along the lines of 'of course this is going to be overwhelming and confusing, and maybe we should just cool off'.
He could do that. Right? He could do the right thing, ignore the heat in his blood and his cock and try to rationalise it out--
"Listen, Owain, I--" The word hung in the air too long, and he swallowed, lurching as if he was going to close the gap himself - three quarters of an inch before he stopped himself. "... fuck, but you ruin me--"
His instinct is to be embarrassed and to apologize, but for some reason, it just doesn't come. He just tilts his head a little closer - an eighth of an inch away - and he listens. He can feel the vibration of each one of Poe's words against his lips, and he shuts his eyes, almost convinces himself they're touching.
And then he pulls back.
"Poe."
He slowly slides Poe's pants down his thighs, leaning forward and down, putting his head in Poe's shoulder as his clothes drop to the floor. He drags his hands up and finds them on Poe's underwear, slipping his fingers under the waistband. He doesn't meet Poe's eyes when he talks.
"If this is-- some kind of-- partnership," he says, hovering over the word like it's foreign and unknowable to him, the rest of his thought coming in a slow dredge while he figures out how to sort his feelings. You ruin me rings in his head and makes him want to just throw Poe against the ground and take him, here, blood or no blood. Be taken by him in turn. He takes a breath.
"If we're-- partners-- then-- you have to want this as much as I do, for us to do anything." He swallows. He's scared, thousands of hours of conditioning still clawing at him. It's unsaid, the fact that he doesn't know how to do anything physical or emotional or real. It's unsaid, the fact that he's scared, but it's there, under the surface of everything.
He strips Poe of his underwear, gently grazing his teeth over his collarbone as he does, and then he stands back to his full height. Purposefully looking anywhere but at Poe, because he knows once he does, he won't be able to stop himself from whatever might come next.
Of course it's obvious, that Owain doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't even know where to look. Because if he was looking at Poe, it would be pretty damn obvious how much he wanted this, too.
He steps out of his clothes, hands coming to rest on Owain's hip, fingers going for his belt buckle as he tried to ignore the way his own cock stood at rigid attention, threatening to brush itself against Owain with every movement.
"Listen, Owain - I'm having a hard time - getting a thought in, over how much I want you." He slowly pulled the belt free, then dropped it to the side. He only noticed then that he'd forgotten Owain's shoes, and carefully kneeled - absolutely naked - in front of them.
"But we have - time, okay. You've got time to - think about this." Looking at Owain's shoes, he could at least get the words out, carefully pulling off his boots. "And it also doesn't have to be a... a vow. If you want it, you can have it. I'm not going to hold you to anything." He slid the other boot off, and then slowly stood up, his face flushed as he tried to meet Owain's eye. "We've - made a lot of promises, today. But I can promise you one more - I want you, Owain. Fuck if I know exactly how, emotionally speaking, but physically I am pretty damn sure we can work out."
He doesn't look at Poe until he's on his knees, and then a shot of power shoots through him. It-- clarifies things, because he identifies what that feeling means immediately. That's what people want. That's what people want - to feel above someone. That's why people do this. Shots of power. Position, status. This is the feeling people get when someone waits on them.
This is the fucking foundation of their society?
There's a flood of righteous anger that fills his veins, settling in his chest, and so much of it is aimed at Kes, of all people. Did Poe's father feel like this in front of Lon'qu, at any point? You're on your knees and that makes me feel strong. He feels sick, a little, and he balls his hands into fists, waiting until Poe stands again. He should answer him. Tell him he's waited long enough. Tell him what he's feeling, that he understands, suddenly, why he did so much of what he did. Why being a Pledge isn't right.
And then--
And then he sees Poe fully, for the man he is. The man who gave him independence. The man who values freedom and safety over law and power. The man who saw an injustice in the world - because that's what this is - and vowed to change it.
Poe barely says work out-- before Owain is slamming his lips against him hard enough to leave a mark, leaning against his body and pushing Poe backwards until he's knocked hard against the cold wall. He's biting at Poe's lips until they open, fishing into his pants to pull out his cock, and he grinds it hard against Poe's. He pulls both their cocks into his fist and jerks them off, hard and fast, panting as he kisses him, wet and frantic and noisy--
It barely lasts a full minute, if that, but then he's already shooting his load, right there, right on Poe's abs, grunting and bucking forward like an animal and letting loose all over his naked body. Too much fucking inexperience, too much nervous excitement and wanting to feel Poe against him for years to make this last-- rope after rope of cum jets from his dick and streaks white all the way up to Poe's chest, and he shakes until it passes, staggering on his feet and slumping against him.
Fuck.
"Bath--" he chokes out, and his cock doesn't even fully soften before he already starts getting hard again, already wanting more. "Bath-- or back to bed, or-- or-- or the floor, or the wall, or just-- more, let's-- I want to do more, anything, anything you want--"
"Oh f--" But he doesn't get the word out before he's slammed back against the wall, and fuck but if it isn't the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to him. His mind is racing about a million miles a minute when it isn't short circuiting completely - Owain's hand gripping their cocks like a vice and he's moaning desperately into Owain's mouth--
He doesn't come. With almost a decade on him, he just doesn't have the immediacy that he did when he was 18. But part of him doesn't feel like he needed to, just then - Owain's orgasm overwhelming on his own, the cum streaking across the drying blood on his chest.
He breathes, hard, bring an arm up to hold Owain close, keep him steady as he slumps.
"...fuck," he whispers, quietly, with his usual eloquence. "Fuck, okay, let's-- bath - yeah, that - bath then bed--"
Owain nods, all the strength he had designated towards being able to speak just melting away from him. He's kind of shaky, when he gets to the bath, and he should let Poe take off the rest of his clothes for him, but fuck it, he just wants this done. He kicks off his pants and pulls himself into the water, relaxing into the warmth on his skin, and he pulls Poe in after.
He carefully, carefully unties the bandage around his bicep, and for the first time, Poe sees his personal brand inked right into Owain's skin. Owain doesn't comment on it. Most of these are burned on when masters aren't there to collect their pledges when they turn of age, but his is a tattoo, marked onto him when he hit thirteen. It was a kindness, from Kes, to not burn him.
There's a hand towel and soaps on the flat ledge of the bath, and Owain takes them, looking up at Poe. He shifts forward in the water and starts to clean the blood off of his neck, off of his collarbone. This feels - in its own way - even more intimate than what they just did. He meets Poe's eyes.
"I-- think-- I understand-- what you're fighting for. A little more."
He takes a few seconds to try to calm the fuck down, first, while Owain is stripping off the last of his clothes. He's still hard as a rock, but at least he's starting to be able to think in full sentences. Maybe. Sort of.
Okay, very short sentences.
He lets Owain pull him in, then sits cross legged in front of him in the water. That helped mute the urgent need, at least, and he could relax a little.
His face fell, when the tattoo was revealed. He reached out, as if to touch it, but didn't quite get there. I'll have to get one, too, he thinks to himself, but he doesn't say it outloud.
He has more than enough marks already marring his skin. In some places there are scars cutting across scars that were older - a decade of warfare had taken its toll. The worst was an almost star-shaped scar in his left shoulder - an exploding arrowhead that had almost taken him down with it. But there are long cuts scattered across his skin, where a sword cut through fabric and almost through him.
He's survived. But the stories are all still there.
"... You mean with the Pledge system?" He asks, tilting his neck to let Owain get better access.
The warm water cleans the dirt and the blood and the cum, but it doesn't clear the scars on his skin, even though they're what Owain focuses on. He feels like so much more of a ghost compared to Poe - pale skin, purely unmarred, skin only touched in places the Pledge and Poe have touched him, in every sense of the word. He hesitates on the arrow scar on his shoulder and thinks of his father, dying for him. He hesitates on the long cuts of the sword, thinking of his mother.
"The Pledge system."
He takes the towel further into the water, smoothing it over Poe's stomach, wiping everything away. He hesitates, wets his lips. Looks at Poe's eyes, as he lets the towel float to the surface of the bath and slowly puts his hand around Poe's cock again.
"I feel like a person, I think." It comes out dirty and filthy, every instinct in him raking at his throat, trying to drag those thoughts back down and into him. "You did-- so much for me-- when I was willing to leave every thought in my head other than I need to serve the Captain behind me. And now I feel-- solid. Real. Because. You let me want things. Have things. Clothes. You."
He strokes Poe's cock in careful, staggering motions, slowed by the water, obviously doing what he knows feels good to him, because that's the only experience he has.
Every drop of blood that had been returned to the rest of his system immediately went straight back into his cock the second that Owain's hand found it again. His eyelids flickered, and he gripped the side of the tub with an arm, before carefully picking up the towel.
Even while Owain stroked him, he tried to slowly clean the blood off him. It was just. A bit staggered.
"That's..." He trails off because fuck, but that feels good, even if it is achingly slow, and the warm water wants to keep him relaxed. It doesn't matter. He rolls his hips toward Owain unconsciously.
"... that's because you always... were a person, Owain, it's not-- it's not a question--" He broke off again, eyes sliding shut and the towel coming to a stop on Owain's chest as his entire focus was locked on Owain's hand.
"You're the only person who sees me like that." He thinks of Holdo. It was such a minor admonishment, but it's still ringing around in his head. He lowers his voice. "Short and succinct when addressing a superior officer."
His hand falters, but not enough to make him want to stop. Another slow, steady stroke, circling Poe's head in the water before sliding back down his length. He doesn't have the bravery to do more than this, still - can't even beat Poe off as hard and as fast as he did at the wall, wouldn't be able to do that again - but he watches the rise and fall of Poe's chest, the way he stops cleaning his blood off of Owain, and it makes him harder than ever, makes him want more.
But at the same time -
But at the same time, he's afraid.
It almost slips out of his mouth, but he locks it away, just in time. Tell me I'm good. He can't ask that.
"Can you, ah..." This, at least, he can ask. "Can you-- kiss me again?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He sees Kes, suddenly. The tutors, telling him that he's a possession, one that might be cared for or loved but will ultimately end up dirty and scar-riddled and dead before Poe is marked by even the slightest cut. The slightest cut that marks his hand, now.
If he doesn't understand independence, than Poe doesn't understand the weight of being pledged. The years he spent second-guessing his training before his resistance and his confused was systematically crushed. It was easy, for him to be emotionally manipulated by Poe's father, regardless of his intentions. Stripping Owain of everything he loves and needs and cares for was easy, when everything he loved and needed and cared for died, and he was told that letting go of his humanity was all he could do to honour them.
He had vowed, before Poe interrupted the ceremony. Vowed to give up every part of him, as if he hadn't already, other than a desire for clothes and an urge to get fucked like the whore he is. Was willing to do it. Was willing to die, right there in that room, if Poe told him to take that knife and sink it into himself even further.
He pulls his arms away.
"Ah..."
He looks at Poe's back, the strength in him, the broadness of his shoulders, capable of carrying the world. Fixing it, maybe, if they're in a world that needs to be fixed.
"I was..."
He rubs at his side, aching, suddenly. Today took more out of him than he expected.
"I was gonna--"
He thinks of Lissa, of Lon'qu, of the love they had.
It's what helps him decide to speak up, despite Kes. Despite everyone.
"I want to kiss you. I think."
no subject
He tried to keep his hands steady, as he finally wrapped the bandage around his palm. Only once that was done, did he finally turn and face Owain with a stuttering skip of his pulse.
It didn't matter, right then, how terrible an idea it was. That small act of rebellion with the blood had just made Poe want to see more of them. So he met Owain's eyes with a challenge in his own.
"Then kiss me."
no subject
There's not a single, single part of him that sees that as a command. Poe doesn't dominate him in this.
The build up would last for days, if Owain were relying on courage alone. He'd never thought of himself as a coward, or even as someone brave, but he feels as his world is starting to bloom into petals grown by Poe, that he's been scared, running fast and blind for a very long time. But it's not courage he needs to rebel. Not now, not after the ceremony. It's base instinct - instinct that Poe allows of him, instinct that Poe gave back - that has him stepping forward.
He doesn't know how to do this. He's never kissed anyone, never been kissed, never allowed himself the thought of it outside of lonely dreams and submissive fantasies. He'd always been told that if Poe ever wanted this from him, he could give it, but he was never to take the lead. Even if Poe asked him to, it would be an illusion of control, nothing more - but this? The soft, feather light touch of one hand on Poe's hip, the other where he was marked with blood, his own bare torso and the muscles of his stomach taut with hope and excitement and nerves, it's all him, all Owain, every last surging nerve, every last thrum of his heart.
The build up still takes a long time - Owain hovering like he needs more permission - but he strains against those shackles, curling his nails into Poe's shirt every time he thinks he might speak, wanting to do this by himself.
The kiss is clumsy and naive and over just as soon as it began. Chaste and sweet with blood still stained on his lips. It's obvious, when he pulls back with pinched brows and wide eyes, that he really, really fucking wants more of this, wants more than kissing, wants more of everything, but he doesn't have it in him to ask, doesn't have it in him to be the one to take this further.
He bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't apologize.
no subject
The kiss itself is sweet and soft and over in and instant. A flicker of youth, and a reminder. Part of him knows, that's where he should leave it. A gesture given, and accepted. He should have just smiled, and brushed Owain's hair from his eyes and carried on.
The day had been an utter whirlwind, and Poe hadn't quite caught up to the gravity of it. The weight of it. He's still riding high on victory and rebellion. So though he knows he should be giving Owain time and processing power, he doesn't move. He just breathes.
"... Did you want to kiss me again?"
no subject
Thoughts of the Poe in his dream come to mind and make him blush. They were only in this room a few hours ago. He's surprised how quickly he forgot.
"Yes."
He rakes his hand down Poe's chest, hand finding his heartbeat. It feels so much different now that he understands, just a little more, what they are. Pledge in name, something else in spirit.
"Do you want me to kiss you again?"
no subject
"Yes."
He doesn't surge forward. He just stands, and waits, though his lips are slightly parted and his chest feels a little tight.
The morning feels a half a lifetime away, somehow. Everything about it had felt wrong. This?
This probably was wrong, too.
But it felt right.
"Yeah. I do."
no subject
He presses his lips together as he looks at Poe, no idea where to go with this. Again, his youth and inexperience have maybe never been more clear, and he repositions himself a few times before he tries anything. Shifting his weight, moving his hands to rest in about four different places on Poe before they settle resting on the bridges between his shoulders and his neck. He breathes in like he's about to go fucking diving.
"Okay, well."
Okay, then.
The kiss starts out just as chaste as before, Owain ghosting over Poe with a softness and an innocence that still contradicts the ragged fraying skin on his hand and the sword under their bed he's been raised for. It lasts longer, this time, but it's still not deep - no parted lips on his part, no tongue against tongue. He briefly scrapes his teeth over Poe's bottom lip as he pulls back, eyes wide and hopeful, but he still doesn't have the guts to take this where he wants to.
He goes red, starting to feel embarrassed. He knows first kisses aren't supposed to be-- amazing, but he wants it to be. Not for Poe's sake. For his own, as a person with wants and needs and desires.
"I want you to help me through this," he says, an attempt to be firm and independent while still asking for help. "Because-- because I want to do-- everything-- and I don't know how, or how far you'll let me take this. How far you want me to take this."
no subject
On another, that after what he swore today, there was no going back anyway.
"We'll figure it out," he promised, quietly, thumbs brushing over Owain's cheeks. Then he was stepping in, having to pull the taller man down slightly, raising up on the balls of his feet as he pressed a warm kiss to Owain's lips. It was chaste, at first, but then his lips were parting, teeth pulling gently at Owain's bottom lip before encouraging his lips apart, deepening the kiss as soon a he was able to. He pressed closer, his heart slamming so hard against his ribs it made him shudder. He pulled back, for air, a haziness to his eyes that was emphasized by his shallow breaths. His hands slipped down from Owain's neck, fingers trailing over the bloodied shirt. "Should probably- we should probably get cleaned up."
no subject
But oh, right. The blood. He'll be sad to see it go, but he supposes he can't wear it forever.
He puts his thumb to Poe's lip and very lovingly smears the last remain of blood away from it, slightly dried but wettened by the kiss. There's... a way... that they can do this.
"Would you..." He swallows. "Would you be opposed--"
He's struggling with his wording here, and it's only partially because he's embarrassed. He wants to ask Poe for consent, but he doesn't know how to phrase it without asking for permission. He sighs, frustrated, and it's-- obvious, at least, that he's pulling hard against the shackles of his training to figure this out.
"If... you wanted to. We could-- share a bath. Or... something."
no subject
"Yeah. A bath." His hand falls from Owain's face, trailing down his chest, stopping to hover where the shirt was damp with blood. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself, and nodded. "There's a bath for the officers - it's private."
He looked up again, a wry smile pulling at his lips.
"And everyone would expect you to go with me anyway, now."
no subject
Owain can't connect the way he deflates to the reason for it, but it takes the wind out of his sails to be reminded of how nobody will think twice about him and Poe locked away together. As much fear as he felt when everyone looked at them on the walk back to their rooms, he'd found a small seed of pride in it. To an extent.
Nobody's going to know how they are behind closed walls. He gets that. Asked for that, even. But it's hard to navigate that, amongst the oppressing feeling of a lifetime of corruption and a small flower blooming in his chest saying that he wants Poe to keep treating him like he's special more than anything.
Before they head out, Owain presses another kiss to Poe's lips, shy and quick and chaste and over far too fast again because he still doesn't know how to take the lead. They head out of their rooms (still bloodied, though Owain at least puts his shirt back on), still getting strange looks but generally ignored, as Owain's demeanour changes pretty much the second they're in public again. All hints of heart-skipping excitement just sweep away from him, and he's standing tall and subservient behind Poe, training he still can't run away from despite everything he's feeling.
The private bathroom is bigger than the bedroom he shared with the other servants back at the House, and he doesn't comment on it, but it's the first time something has felt distinctly unfair. He locks the door behind them and lights the cream-coloured candles standing in bronze arms on the wall, all of them hidden in lattices that cast flickering shadows on the tiles. There's a series of small steps up to the thick, elevated bath inlaid in a shelf of marble - obviously designed so that when the pledges stood beside their Masters in the bath, they wouldn't be looming over them.
Owain boils water and starts to fill the bath, and the candlelight isn't dim enough to hide the shy excitement on his face when he turns back to look at Poe from the corner of his eyes.
"You can - uh -"
He hesitates.
"You can undress yourself... or... I can. If you want. I can do that. If that's-- okay. This time."
no subject
He expected it, though, knew it would happen - the shift as soon as they stepped from private to public. He hated it with such a fire that it tempered everything else he was feeling, pushing it all down into his chest and slowly cooling. But that was probably for the best. What was left was righteous vindication, and a solemn promise to himself that Owain would only feel like that for the absolute minimum amount of time possible.
At least away from the Capitol, they could be less formal even in public. But part of him wanted to just reach back and grab Owain's hand again.
He didn't.
He relaxed, slightly, when they got to the bath, and Poe helped Owain prepare, helped pour the heated water into the tub. He was about to start removing his own clothes when Owain spoke up, and he watched him for a minute before that small, fond smile returned, and he gestured with his head for Owain to come over.
"Yeah, it's alright. You do mine, I'll do yours."
no subject
There's no methodical worshipping at Poe's feet when he takes off his shoes. He doesn't make sure, once they're off, that they're neatly aligned next to each other, like he did last time - he just sorta puts them together and then off to the side, not even noticing when one of them falls over after he propped it up in a weird way. When he takes off the cape, unties the cravat, he folds them up and puts them up on the sink a ways away from the bath, and when he's back to Poe's shirt, he's--
He's so much more nervous than he was last time.
The buttons are still mostly open from the ritual, so he has to start from the middle, warm faced and nervous. His fingers tremble enough when he pulls at the first button he finds that he messes up, not pulling it through the hole. He has to shut his eyes and breathe and tell himself he's done this a thousand times before, on mannequins and on tutors and on Kes, before he can try again. His hands are actually starting to sweat, a little, and he laughs awkwardly as he dries them on his blood-stained sweater, taking a breath before getting back to it.
He undoes each button and pulls Poe's shirt off and then just-- stares. His blood, right there, all over his chest. Blood that Poe took from him in silence, then gave back in turn. Just looking at Poe makes him hard as fuck, and it's impossible to hide it, the firm outline of his cock running down the inside of his leg. He gets to Poe's belt buckle and he looks up at him, just once, then pulls it off. He hooks his fingers under Poe's waistband and just-- quietly--
"Fuck, Poe." He clenches his jaw tight. "If people knew you were letting me do this-- letting me think about you the way I'm thinking about you-- you'd be punished. I'd be punished. Wants like these are-- supposed to be above me."
no subject
It's been a long time since he had nerves like this - something fluttering hard in his chest and in his throat. Owain's careful fingers work as a reminder to his youth, and suddenly Poe is very aware of a gap between them that had nothing to do with station.
But the nerves and the doubt disappear as soon as Owain speaks, a hard throb of arousal going straight to his groin. He took a deep breath and stepped in a little closer, fingers finding the hem of Owain's shirt.
"... Say it again?"
no subject
"Poe," he says, a little louder than he's supposed to, like he's daring someone from the outside to hear him. "Fuck. Poe. Fuck-- I want-- you. I want this. I want..."
He leans in, and he's very, very close to kissing Poe, but he doesn't, in the end. Just stays there, hovering, because he can. He can do this. He's allowed this decision - to decide if he wants to kiss Poe, to decide if he doesn't. This last barrier, this inch between their lips, is something Poe gave him. Something he's taken.
He drops his voice to a whisper.
"I don't know what-- what I'm feeling-- means," he says. "But I've thought about you a lot. In ways that I was never-- supposed to think about you. Thoughts of doing things with you that I'm only supposed to think about if you give the command."
He shifts his hand down Poe's pants, until they're close to his cock. An inch away, just like their lips.
"It's gotten worse since I've actually met you," he confesses, slowly, slowly, slowly unzipping Poe's pants, meeting his eyeline. "It's not just-- physical. Anymore. The things I find myself wanting for. Though, ah - the physical - I already... I've already been dreaming about you. You were really, really lucky to leave so early this morning."
no subject
He'd given Owain that inch. That was his. But fuck, he wanted to. He wet his lips, dragging the lower one between his teeth. His spine is drawn taut, but he doesn't move closer.
"... I was there," He admitted, his voice far lower than it had been even a minute ago, his breath almost coming in pants as Owain's fingers went lower. "You-- I left after you--" Fuck, but he was hard. He was hard, and he was pretty damn sure that he should be trying to stop Owain, right now. Say something along the lines of 'of course this is going to be overwhelming and confusing, and maybe we should just cool off'.
He could do that. Right? He could do the right thing, ignore the heat in his blood and his cock and try to rationalise it out--
"Listen, Owain, I--" The word hung in the air too long, and he swallowed, lurching as if he was going to close the gap himself - three quarters of an inch before he stopped himself. "... fuck, but you ruin me--"
no subject
And then he pulls back.
"Poe."
He slowly slides Poe's pants down his thighs, leaning forward and down, putting his head in Poe's shoulder as his clothes drop to the floor. He drags his hands up and finds them on Poe's underwear, slipping his fingers under the waistband. He doesn't meet Poe's eyes when he talks.
"If this is-- some kind of-- partnership," he says, hovering over the word like it's foreign and unknowable to him, the rest of his thought coming in a slow dredge while he figures out how to sort his feelings. You ruin me rings in his head and makes him want to just throw Poe against the ground and take him, here, blood or no blood. Be taken by him in turn. He takes a breath.
"If we're-- partners-- then-- you have to want this as much as I do, for us to do anything." He swallows. He's scared, thousands of hours of conditioning still clawing at him. It's unsaid, the fact that he doesn't know how to do anything physical or emotional or real. It's unsaid, the fact that he's scared, but it's there, under the surface of everything.
He strips Poe of his underwear, gently grazing his teeth over his collarbone as he does, and then he stands back to his full height. Purposefully looking anywhere but at Poe, because he knows once he does, he won't be able to stop himself from whatever might come next.
no subject
He steps out of his clothes, hands coming to rest on Owain's hip, fingers going for his belt buckle as he tried to ignore the way his own cock stood at rigid attention, threatening to brush itself against Owain with every movement.
"Listen, Owain - I'm having a hard time - getting a thought in, over how much I want you." He slowly pulled the belt free, then dropped it to the side. He only noticed then that he'd forgotten Owain's shoes, and carefully kneeled - absolutely naked - in front of them.
"But we have - time, okay. You've got time to - think about this." Looking at Owain's shoes, he could at least get the words out, carefully pulling off his boots. "And it also doesn't have to be a... a vow. If you want it, you can have it. I'm not going to hold you to anything." He slid the other boot off, and then slowly stood up, his face flushed as he tried to meet Owain's eye. "We've - made a lot of promises, today. But I can promise you one more - I want you, Owain. Fuck if I know exactly how, emotionally speaking, but physically I am pretty damn sure we can work out."
no subject
This is the fucking foundation of their society?
There's a flood of righteous anger that fills his veins, settling in his chest, and so much of it is aimed at Kes, of all people. Did Poe's father feel like this in front of Lon'qu, at any point? You're on your knees and that makes me feel strong. He feels sick, a little, and he balls his hands into fists, waiting until Poe stands again. He should answer him. Tell him he's waited long enough. Tell him what he's feeling, that he understands, suddenly, why he did so much of what he did. Why being a Pledge isn't right.
And then--
And then he sees Poe fully, for the man he is. The man who gave him independence. The man who values freedom and safety over law and power. The man who saw an injustice in the world - because that's what this is - and vowed to change it.
Poe barely says work out-- before Owain is slamming his lips against him hard enough to leave a mark, leaning against his body and pushing Poe backwards until he's knocked hard against the cold wall. He's biting at Poe's lips until they open, fishing into his pants to pull out his cock, and he grinds it hard against Poe's. He pulls both their cocks into his fist and jerks them off, hard and fast, panting as he kisses him, wet and frantic and noisy--
It barely lasts a full minute, if that, but then he's already shooting his load, right there, right on Poe's abs, grunting and bucking forward like an animal and letting loose all over his naked body. Too much fucking inexperience, too much nervous excitement and wanting to feel Poe against him for years to make this last-- rope after rope of cum jets from his dick and streaks white all the way up to Poe's chest, and he shakes until it passes, staggering on his feet and slumping against him.
Fuck.
"Bath--" he chokes out, and his cock doesn't even fully soften before he already starts getting hard again, already wanting more. "Bath-- or back to bed, or-- or-- or the floor, or the wall, or just-- more, let's-- I want to do more, anything, anything you want--"
no subject
He doesn't come. With almost a decade on him, he just doesn't have the immediacy that he did when he was 18. But part of him doesn't feel like he needed to, just then - Owain's orgasm overwhelming on his own, the cum streaking across the drying blood on his chest.
He breathes, hard, bring an arm up to hold Owain close, keep him steady as he slumps.
"...fuck," he whispers, quietly, with his usual eloquence. "Fuck, okay, let's-- bath - yeah, that - bath then bed--"
no subject
He carefully, carefully unties the bandage around his bicep, and for the first time, Poe sees his personal brand inked right into Owain's skin. Owain doesn't comment on it. Most of these are burned on when masters aren't there to collect their pledges when they turn of age, but his is a tattoo, marked onto him when he hit thirteen. It was a kindness, from Kes, to not burn him.
There's a hand towel and soaps on the flat ledge of the bath, and Owain takes them, looking up at Poe. He shifts forward in the water and starts to clean the blood off of his neck, off of his collarbone. This feels - in its own way - even more intimate than what they just did. He meets Poe's eyes.
"I-- think-- I understand-- what you're fighting for. A little more."
That's all he's got. All he can vocalize, so far.
no subject
Okay, very short sentences.
He lets Owain pull him in, then sits cross legged in front of him in the water. That helped mute the urgent need, at least, and he could relax a little.
His face fell, when the tattoo was revealed. He reached out, as if to touch it, but didn't quite get there. I'll have to get one, too, he thinks to himself, but he doesn't say it outloud.
He has more than enough marks already marring his skin. In some places there are scars cutting across scars that were older - a decade of warfare had taken its toll. The worst was an almost star-shaped scar in his left shoulder - an exploding arrowhead that had almost taken him down with it. But there are long cuts scattered across his skin, where a sword cut through fabric and almost through him.
He's survived. But the stories are all still there.
"... You mean with the Pledge system?" He asks, tilting his neck to let Owain get better access.
no subject
"The Pledge system."
He takes the towel further into the water, smoothing it over Poe's stomach, wiping everything away. He hesitates, wets his lips. Looks at Poe's eyes, as he lets the towel float to the surface of the bath and slowly puts his hand around Poe's cock again.
"I feel like a person, I think." It comes out dirty and filthy, every instinct in him raking at his throat, trying to drag those thoughts back down and into him. "You did-- so much for me-- when I was willing to leave every thought in my head other than I need to serve the Captain behind me. And now I feel-- solid. Real. Because. You let me want things. Have things. Clothes. You."
He strokes Poe's cock in careful, staggering motions, slowed by the water, obviously doing what he knows feels good to him, because that's the only experience he has.
"This."
no subject
Even while Owain stroked him, he tried to slowly clean the blood off him. It was just. A bit staggered.
"That's..." He trails off because fuck, but that feels good, even if it is achingly slow, and the warm water wants to keep him relaxed. It doesn't matter. He rolls his hips toward Owain unconsciously.
"... that's because you always... were a person, Owain, it's not-- it's not a question--" He broke off again, eyes sliding shut and the towel coming to a stop on Owain's chest as his entire focus was locked on Owain's hand.
no subject
His hand falters, but not enough to make him want to stop. Another slow, steady stroke, circling Poe's head in the water before sliding back down his length. He doesn't have the bravery to do more than this, still - can't even beat Poe off as hard and as fast as he did at the wall, wouldn't be able to do that again - but he watches the rise and fall of Poe's chest, the way he stops cleaning his blood off of Owain, and it makes him harder than ever, makes him want more.
But at the same time -
But at the same time, he's afraid.
It almost slips out of his mouth, but he locks it away, just in time. Tell me I'm good. He can't ask that.
"Can you, ah..." This, at least, he can ask. "Can you-- kiss me again?"
(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)