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?"
It's not the sexiest thing, thinking of how other people treat Owain, so it brings him back into the moment, a little bit. He opens his eyes to meet the other man's, holding them.
"I'll make them see it that way, Owain," he murmured lowly. "They'll all see it, by the time I'm done."
He doesn't reply, to the request. Instead he slides his legs back around Owain, the hand with the towel moving to grip Owain's shoulder and pull himself forward, and then he's leaning in and crossing the divide between them - taking a slow, but purposeful kiss, as much as Owain will let him take.
He's still stumbling through too much of this to know how to keep a mood going. He doesn't know shit, and it goes beyond just. All he knows is he loves the way Poe makes him feel, he's starting to see the world in a different light, and he really, really wants to feel every fucking part of him.
The kiss cuts short all conversation between them, with Owain leaning into it, wanting to make things deeper but again not knowing how. He takes everything Poe gives him, going as far as to let go of his cock to just bring his wet hands to Poe's neck and focus on it - and by the time they're done, they're clean, the water's getting cold, and Owain really, really fucking wants to take this to bed.
They drain the bath, get dresed, head back to their room, and Owain takes another little stand of rebellion by walking directly by Poe's side through the trip. At first, it lasts until someone looks at him with shock, and then he staggers back a few steps and stands behind him - but something Poe does, whether consciously or unconsciously, pulls him forward again. They're still by each other's side when they get back to their room.
There are still no sheets, but he doesn't give much of a fuck. He pulls off his sweater and kicks off his boots, tugging Poe forward by the cravat. The oil lamps are halfway down, light flickering against the wall. Darker than the candlelit bathroom, but only just.
"Do you still-- are we-- still..."
He swallows. Takes a breath. Searches Poe's eyes.
"If I say-- that I want you to do what you want with me-- and that-- and that every part of my body you want-- you can have--" he hesitates. "--you know that comes from... me. Right? Not-- the pledge."
He's cleaner, at least, no longer streaked with blood and come - though he's pretty sure that isn't going to be true, for the rest of the night. The bandage around his hand is already running a little red, after he'd accidentally gotten it wet. But he really, really doesn't care, at the moment, being led deeper into the room by the cravat at his throat. He feels more comfortable than he did, before, about sliding an arm around Owain's waist and pulling him closer.
"... Yeah. I think I... get that." Twelve hours ago? He definitely wouldn't have thought that. But the last few hours have been heady as hell, and he can feel the shift.
"As long as you know that it's... it's the same, Owain, it's the same for me. I want you do take everything you want, from me, I want to give you everything you want."
Fuck. It shoots straight to his cock, the idea of-- not owning a part of Poe, necessarily, but having it. Being given this side of him, willingly, this desire, as if he deserves it, as if he's allowed to have it. He couldn't even bring his own books from the House, and here Poe was, pledging so much of himself to Owain. He nods, hard in his pants again, letting go of Poe's cravat and leaving it a little too dishevelled for any good Pledge to ignore.
There's an instinct to say, again, that he's worried Poe doesn't understand what it means, to be so loyal to someone. He spent years learning how to do it, after all. But it wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be right, to accuse him of that after vowing that his own feelings just come from who he is rather than his training. So.
He nods. Hesitates.
"I have no idea what the fuck I want, other than, uh."
He swallows.
"The-- like."
He holds his hands up, nervous.
"Like-- like. You know. The--"
Eyes wide. He looks to the door, as if someone might overhear them. Back to Poe.
He can't help it, the grin splitting his face warmly, and unlike every other damn time he's kissed Owain - where he's waited and held back and let Owain ask, at the very least - he steps right up to him, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for it. It's just firm, and chaste, and he's grinning while he does it.
"Don't think about it so hard," He said as he pulled back, wetting his bottom lip, amused. "A lot of it is instinct, alright? It's okay." He reached out, fingers slipping Owain's belt free once more.
"You seemed to have some idea of what you wanted this morning, though..."
Owain brightens when he realizes what's happening, so he smiles through the whole kiss, making it awkward with too much teeth, but he can't help it, really. Wouldn't want to, even if he could. He's red-faced and shy when Poe pulls away, and he laughs, a quick and cheerful thing that rolls out of him just because he's filled with too much joy to be able to contain it.
And then Poe's slipping his belt away, talking about this morning, and he's red for an entirely different reason. The smile slips away and he watches Poe's hand, mesmerized.
"I..."
This morning. Fuck. He talks in his sleep. He's harder than he's ever been, straining so hard against his pants that it really, really fucking hurts. He might cum again right here, if he's not careful.
"That was-- you--" You were fucking me, telling me I was a good boy, treating me like a whore, and I wanted it, and I still do, wherever that part of me might come from.
He considers asking, outright, if that's what Owain wants. But he doesn't. Partly because that was... a different thing. That was from before. And sure, it's only been a few hours since things shifted, but they have shifted. Owain's behaviour makes that pretty obvious.
So instead he wet his lips. "Do you want me to show you what I like?" He asks, instead, his voice lowering to something almost like a purr, as he pulls Owain's shirt free, fingers pulling open the buttons in an easy arc.
It's all he knows. Objectifying himself, to some level. Wanting that, even now, hardwired into his head. It's why he assumes - despite everything - that when Poe offers to show him what he likes, he means the same thing. Just taking Owain, using him. He should know better, but he doesn't.
"I..."
He nods, though, eyes practically burning a hole through Poe's hand with how hard he's staring at them. When he threads his button through the hole, he stands on his tiptoes, a little, bringing the base of his cock close to Poe, needing.
"Yeah. Yeah, just-- show me. Everything. I'll do anything. With you."
He's still watching Owain's face, though, even as he pushes Owain's shirt off his shoulders and then finally goes for his fly, before pushing his pants down. He avoids touching Owain's cock, though. "Sit down," He murmurs, nodding toward the bed.
"Need to change this, first," he says, pulling away (with a teasing brush of his fingers across Owain's underwear) before he goes over to where the bandages are, quickly replacing the one on his hand. He brings another fresh bandage for Owain, holding it out to him, and then while he's distracted by that, kneels in front of him.
He wets his lips, reaching up to edge Owain's underwear off his hips and down past his knees, taking a deep breath when he finally gets a very close look at what he's dealing with. Damn.
He pushed Owain's knees further apart, sliding in between them, reaching out to take him in hand - just a single, steady stroke - before he lowered his head to press his lips to the underside of the head.
His cock pulses in his underwear as he watches Poe go, and he shifts a little, spreading his legs over the side of the bed and wondering if he should maybe, uh-- move. Get on all fours, maybe, curve his back and arch back so his ass is ready for Poe to just fucking take. He's successfully distracted when the bandage comes over, and he swallows nervously as he focuses on it, raising his hips so Poe can strip him, and he's tying the fresh bandage to his wound when--
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, holy shit, fuck--
He moves his hand, bandage loose and open and hanging off of his wrist as he spreads his legs even further. He watches Poe and he brings in a breath, sharp and loud, more like a gasp than anything else. This is-- a lot. This is too much, already, and he can see the thin river of precum flowing down his head onto Poe's lips. He bites his bottom lip and just-- watches.
"This-- this is what--" He curls his fists into the mattress. "This is what you like?"
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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."
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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?"
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"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."
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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--"
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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.
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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."
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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--"
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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--"
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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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.
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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?"
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"I'll make them see it that way, Owain," he murmured lowly. "They'll all see it, by the time I'm done."
He doesn't reply, to the request. Instead he slides his legs back around Owain, the hand with the towel moving to grip Owain's shoulder and pull himself forward, and then he's leaning in and crossing the divide between them - taking a slow, but purposeful kiss, as much as Owain will let him take.
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The kiss cuts short all conversation between them, with Owain leaning into it, wanting to make things deeper but again not knowing how. He takes everything Poe gives him, going as far as to let go of his cock to just bring his wet hands to Poe's neck and focus on it - and by the time they're done, they're clean, the water's getting cold, and Owain really, really fucking wants to take this to bed.
They drain the bath, get dresed, head back to their room, and Owain takes another little stand of rebellion by walking directly by Poe's side through the trip. At first, it lasts until someone looks at him with shock, and then he staggers back a few steps and stands behind him - but something Poe does, whether consciously or unconsciously, pulls him forward again. They're still by each other's side when they get back to their room.
There are still no sheets, but he doesn't give much of a fuck. He pulls off his sweater and kicks off his boots, tugging Poe forward by the cravat. The oil lamps are halfway down, light flickering against the wall. Darker than the candlelit bathroom, but only just.
"Do you still-- are we-- still..."
He swallows. Takes a breath. Searches Poe's eyes.
"If I say-- that I want you to do what you want with me-- and that-- and that every part of my body you want-- you can have--" he hesitates. "--you know that comes from... me. Right? Not-- the pledge."
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"... Yeah. I think I... get that." Twelve hours ago? He definitely wouldn't have thought that. But the last few hours have been heady as hell, and he can feel the shift.
"As long as you know that it's... it's the same, Owain, it's the same for me. I want you do take everything you want, from me, I want to give you everything you want."
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There's an instinct to say, again, that he's worried Poe doesn't understand what it means, to be so loyal to someone. He spent years learning how to do it, after all. But it wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be right, to accuse him of that after vowing that his own feelings just come from who he is rather than his training. So.
He nods. Hesitates.
"I have no idea what the fuck I want, other than, uh."
He swallows.
"The-- like."
He holds his hands up, nervous.
"Like-- like. You know. The--"
Eyes wide. He looks to the door, as if someone might overhear them. Back to Poe.
"The-- s... sex... stuff."
Fucking nailed it.
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He can't help it, the grin splitting his face warmly, and unlike every other damn time he's kissed Owain - where he's waited and held back and let Owain ask, at the very least - he steps right up to him, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for it. It's just firm, and chaste, and he's grinning while he does it.
"Don't think about it so hard," He said as he pulled back, wetting his bottom lip, amused. "A lot of it is instinct, alright? It's okay." He reached out, fingers slipping Owain's belt free once more.
"You seemed to have some idea of what you wanted this morning, though..."
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Owain brightens when he realizes what's happening, so he smiles through the whole kiss, making it awkward with too much teeth, but he can't help it, really. Wouldn't want to, even if he could. He's red-faced and shy when Poe pulls away, and he laughs, a quick and cheerful thing that rolls out of him just because he's filled with too much joy to be able to contain it.
And then Poe's slipping his belt away, talking about this morning, and he's red for an entirely different reason. The smile slips away and he watches Poe's hand, mesmerized.
"I..."
This morning. Fuck. He talks in his sleep. He's harder than he's ever been, straining so hard against his pants that it really, really fucking hurts. He might cum again right here, if he's not careful.
"That was-- you--" You were fucking me, telling me I was a good boy, treating me like a whore, and I wanted it, and I still do, wherever that part of me might come from.
"It-- yeah. I did. I sure... did. Have that."
Can't say it.
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So instead he wet his lips. "Do you want me to show you what I like?" He asks, instead, his voice lowering to something almost like a purr, as he pulls Owain's shirt free, fingers pulling open the buttons in an easy arc.
"Give you an idea?"
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"I..."
He nods, though, eyes practically burning a hole through Poe's hand with how hard he's staring at them. When he threads his button through the hole, he stands on his tiptoes, a little, bringing the base of his cock close to Poe, needing.
"Yeah. Yeah, just-- show me. Everything. I'll do anything. With you."
With you. Not for you.
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"Need to change this, first," he says, pulling away (with a teasing brush of his fingers across Owain's underwear) before he goes over to where the bandages are, quickly replacing the one on his hand. He brings another fresh bandage for Owain, holding it out to him, and then while he's distracted by that, kneels in front of him.
He wets his lips, reaching up to edge Owain's underwear off his hips and down past his knees, taking a deep breath when he finally gets a very close look at what he's dealing with. Damn.
He pushed Owain's knees further apart, sliding in between them, reaching out to take him in hand - just a single, steady stroke - before he lowered his head to press his lips to the underside of the head.
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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, holy shit, fuck--
He moves his hand, bandage loose and open and hanging off of his wrist as he spreads his legs even further. He watches Poe and he brings in a breath, sharp and loud, more like a gasp than anything else. This is-- a lot. This is too much, already, and he can see the thin river of precum flowing down his head onto Poe's lips. He bites his bottom lip and just-- watches.
"This-- this is what--" He curls his fists into the mattress. "This is what you like?"
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