Owain takes Poe's hand and leads him back to the bed, leaving the sword behind them, the grip on his wrist light like air. He never would have done this a few days ago - taking the lead on what he wants, guiding Poe rather than standing behind him - but he's lost the subtle firmness of his touch, the decisive rebellion in every little movement he made. He's touching him with that same nervous fear of someone who's never touched before, even as he carries the will and individuality he's been growing since Poe first bought him clothes.
Whatever this is, though, it's a need for comfort, rather than an expression of lust. He pulls Poe down to the bed - urges him, more accurately, with a quiet pinch at fabric and a pleading look in his eyes - and then immediately lays alongside of him, his back to Poe's chest.
He breathes out, facing the wall, with no idea about what he's doing, or what he wants. He watches the wall as if it might give him direction, or something, and when it doesn't, he rolls back over to be face to face.
Poe's lips are close, and he swallows, looking at them.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I just want-- closeness. For a bit. We were too far away from each other-- tonight. I don't want to feel like that again."
"Yeah, I'd rather not repeat the experience, either," Poe admits in a low murmur. He slides in closer, nudging himself in under Owain's head and wrapping his arms losely around him. He turned his head, nose nuzzling just beside Owain's ear as he breathed him in deeply.
Four days.
He couldn't really say that he hadn't felt something for Owain even before he met him - a mixture of guilt and something else - but the last few days had pushed Poe's heart to its limits. Even trying to think in terms of time made him frustrated.
They'd been chosen to be together long before either of them even knew themselves.
It wasn't just Owain, that had come with expectations. Poe had merely been fighting his.
Owain tries to just absorb this moment until he falls asleep, but it doesn't work.
Every long period of silence just aches, rather than comforts. A dull thrum in the back of his stomach that makes everything feel heated and uncomfortable in a way he can't really pinpoint. Last night - even the night before - laying like this with Poe would have been everything to him. Just a quiet moment with someone who he knows cares about him.
It feels cheap, after everything with Kes.
The minutes tick by and they're both still awake, Owain unable to even shut his eyes because of all the thoughts in his head. He just stares distantly over Poe's head after he nestles in, his heart skipping every time there's breath against his ear but otherwise just-- silent.
It takes him a while to realize just how incredibly, incredibly fucking guilty he feels. For acting the way he did. For letting Kes's pride influence him so much. He wants to show Poe that it was just-- a moment, a mistake, because everything up until now feels cheap, in the shadow of their vow and the blood Poe gave him. To lose so much will after Poe did so much for him - it says a lot, Owain thinks, about what a pathetic and terrible man he is. Poe deserves so much more than whatever they are.
He presses his lips to the top of Poe's hair and breathes in his scent, and it's so fucking familiar now. The thought that he could have been away from that if he kept acting the way he did just-- breaks his heart, and he tangles his fingers in those curls, unaware of just how badly he's shaking until he sees his hands tremble. He swallows and shifts down, until he's level with Poe's throat, and he leans in, teeth scraping over skin as he kisses him there.
He's not sure why it comes on so fast, or what it means - but those feather light touches harden, and so does Owain, as he slips his hand down Poe's waistband and finds his cock. He doesn't take him out of his clothes, but he strokes in firm, long lines, the kiss on his neck coming harder, his teeth deeper, every few seconds.
Poe is lost somewhere in his own thoughts, nestled into Owain. They are jumbled and make no sense, circling in on his father and why it's so damn hard to even talk to him and wondering what it is that Kes actually wants, from all of this. He thinks he knows. Grandchildren. Heirs. A continuation not solely to his line but also Lon'qu's. He knows, at his core, what a disappointment he is. Normally he gets away without caring.
But normally he hasn't just seen his dad almost rip something incredibly important to him away. Four days ago, he would have only been frustrated by the pettiness of it, but now? He can feel the panic in his breast at losing Owain. He said I had to be perfect for you... it makes him queasy and he grips a little tighter, just as Owain shifts. For a second he thinks he broke the moment, that Owain was pulling away, but then his lips find Poe's throat and Poe lets out a quiet sound on the end of a released breath.
He half thinks to say, you don't have to do this but the teeth come a little harder and Poe's eyes flutter closed, his breath coming a little faster, his pulse picking up. He doesn't know where the line is until Owain is crossing it, and Poe's cock immediately fills, under the touch, straining against his clothes. He moans as Owain's teeth sink deeper, the feeling almost claiming and suddenly he wants nothing else. Wants Owain to mark him, to claim him, completely of his own free will. So he doesn't speak - either to beg or encourage - and instead just rolls his hips harder against Owain's hand, wings alive and fluttering against his ribs.
He's a little too rough. In that few seconds it takes for Poe to strain his clothes, Owain feels like the poor guy isn't getting hard fast enough for him, so each stroke of his hand is haphazard and quick, needy more than pleasurable. His teeth against Poe's neck catch and he grunts when it happens, pulling at skin, scratching. He doesn't stop until Poe is like steel in his grip, and then he breathes out, pulling away.
He tugs at his nightshirt, tearing a rip in the bottom in his haste to get it off, and then he's bare from the waist up, traces of Poe's blood still there in the dying light of the oil lamp. He rolls Poe onto his back and straddles his waist, leaning down to sink into a kiss, hard and clumsy and bad but lonely and fast and starving. He pulls his hands through Poe's hair and tugs so he'll arch his neck back, exposing his throat again, which Owain sinks into with even harder kisses than before, humming into all the bright pink hickeys he leaves.
He lets go and rests his hands on Poe's chest, hard in his clothes, grinding his ass back hard against Poe's cock, and he hates himself, a little. He always does. Aimless loathing that flutters into his expression, so clearly directed inwards. He finds Poe's hand, the one with the cut, and he thinks it's fucked up to do this, maybe, to rub his dick over the scar Poe gave himself like it's something to fetishize, but that doesn't stop him from guiding Poe's hand down Owain's pants, wrapping his hand over Poe's fist and fucking into it, smearing precum down his wrist.
"F-Fuck," he pants, and it's new, Poe's only seen him like this when Owain was dreaming, just desperately horny and throwing himself into something like an animal. Tell me I'm good and tell me you love me are both there, right on the corners of his lips, and he bites it all down, hiding it all away.
He doesn't try to take the lead, or even match it, all of the horrible feelings from the evening just lending themselves to making him want to feel reassured - to feel whole, again, and right, and justified. He's not sure this would accomplish any of them, but it's still Owain's. Nothing about this was Poe's request or preference - at least not as far as Owain knew. This was entirely Owain's desire and that - all on its own - was enough to get Poe's pulse thumping hard and heavy.
He gets a half a second of breather when Owain pulls back to take off his shirt and the view is... Breathtaking. Quite literally. Owain's body is flawless, the only mark on him was Poe's own blood and a very dark desire rose in him seemingly from no where at all. Fuck the war, just keep Owain at home and in his bed until he's begging just like he was in that dream--
The shame washes so quickly over him that he feels ill, but he's hard as a fucking rock. He meets the kiss with far more needy vigour than the last, kissing back hard enough to bruise, hands gripping Owain's hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. He hisses when his neck is snapped backwards and moans, writhing, as Owain makes hickies bloom on his throat, perfect and raw. The fantasy about claiming Owain is gone in an instant - replaced with a far, far more satisfying one of Owain claiming him. He groans something - obviously meant to be words but not coming out like them.
His hazy eyes open just in time to catch that look on Owain's face, and his heart lurches in a far less sexual way.
"Owain--" he starts, though whatever he was going to say is utterly lost as Owain takes his hand and starts fucking himself with it. The bandage curls at the edges with each rough stroke and it stings, throbbing sorely, but he takes the message and doubles down, fingers wrapping firmly around Owain's cock and strokes it roughly - more thoroughly than the man had been striking him, mere minutes before - well and truly trying to fuck him with his hand, rather than pretend this is foreplay. He braces himself up on an elbow, half upright, and reaches up to grip the back of Owain's neck, hard and tight, before dragging him down to claim his lips.
It's dry and it's scratchy but he doesn't think he's ever felt anything better. His mouth drops open in a silent holy shit when Poe starts fucking going at it, and his knees press hard indents into Poe's side as he squirms and shuts his eyes and just-- experiences it all. He feels like he's gonna cum already if this keeps up, his thrusts into Poe's hand coming shallow and rickety until he gives up and just pushes hard into his fist and holds himself there, and maybe that's what Poe wants, but Owain--
Owain wants more. He wants both. To claim and to be claimed. He kisses Poe back with all the strength in the world, but he doesn't let it last. He pulls back, cheeks red, eyes downcast.
He grinds back against Poe's cock one more time and reaches down behind him to pull it out of his clothes. It's clumsy and it's awkward and Owain's getting annoyed with himself for not just being able to fucking do this, but eventually the cool air of the night makes contact with Poe's skin and Owain breathes out a breath. He strokes it a few more times, gets his uninjured palm slick with precum, then brings his hand back up to Poe's lips, holding his index and middle fingers right up against them.
"Suck," he says, and-- it's a command, it's a command, it's a command. "Get my fingers wet."
His hips had been rolling up against Owain entirely of their own volition - something he only actually realised after Owain finally releases his trapped cock. Fuck, but he wants out of his pants. Not really something he's able to do, at the moment.
His strokes had slowed, in the meantime - still rough and thorough but the pace had definitely slowed. He groaned, lowly, as Owain brought his hand to his lips, half-lidded eyes dark with lust met Owain's as he leaned in, tongue running between the two offered fingers before pulling them between his lips and sucking. Hard. He didn't even bother not to pretend that he was thinking about something else, entirely. Any hesitancy had fled, when Owain's hand had touched him - all thoughts dumped from his mind so his body could live fully in the moment.
And fuck, but he wanted to hear Owain command him again.
His eyes fluttered, his strokes picking up a little more speed as he coating Owain's fingers in saliva, the slightly salty taste of his own precum on his tongue.
It almost hurts, the way the bandage scrapes over his cock, but he still finds himself grunting like an animal in heat and bucking into it every time the coarse fabric grazes his head. He's getting worse, more vocal, louder than he was the first time he and Poe did this, breathing hard growls that roll from the bottom of his chest. He's staring down at those slick fingers with that same self-loathing and that same need to just fucking take Poe and be close and be his and be owned and own and to have it all, all of it, all on his terms, his terms, their terms, not Kes's, not the world's.
He bucks forward and shuts his eyes when Poe sucks his fingers, fucking hard into Poe's fist and pushing his fingers in to feel the soft wetness of his tongue. He rubs his thumb over Poe's bottom lip and thrusts into each stroke with louder moans, louder, he's gonna be fucking shouting at the top of his lungs by the time this is done. He keeps this going, fucking into Poe's mouth with his fingers until he can see how slick and wet they are, and then he draws them back, taking a breath.
This is another thing he only has the basest of experience with, but fuck, he doesn't care. He leans back, prying his dick out of Poe's grip, and he rests himself more on Poe's legs than his waist, arm behind him on the mattress to keep steady. He arches himself up with one leg and reaches beneath himself to find his hole, which he slowly starts to fuck with one finger Poe made slick for him. It's-- tight, he's not even sure he'll be able to fit two fingers inside himself, let alone Poe's cock-- but he grunts, and he stretches, and he's aggressive, too aggressive than he needs to be as he puts on a show, forces that hole open.
He inserts his second finger and he looks up at Poe, eyes dark, hazed over by lust and anger. Anger at everyone for making him feel for even a fucking second that he's worth less than what he is.
"Stroke your cock," he orders, and again, it's loud, too loud for where they are. "With-- your injured hand. Get ready for what I'm gonna do to you."
He grins, laughs, throaty and deep.
"I might be the one who's gonna get a dick in my ass, but you're the one that's gonna get fucked."
He wonders exactly what it was that taught Owain how to talk like that. Not just here, and now, but that first morning where he was grunting and panting and begging even while still asleep. Something very hot and dark flares in his chest, briefly, as he wonders what kind of lessons that might have involved and who he was going to need to stab to keep them from teaching that kind of shit --
But it also had the side effect of being fucking hot. Owain's anger may as well have been an aphrodisiac, as far as Poe was concerned. Because he felt it, too. It was a righteous anger and a rebellious one, and regardless of how everyone else in the universe might have felt about Owain, Poe gazed at him like there was nothing more fucking beautiful in existence.
He did as ordered - as soon as he was ordered - though his strokes were slow and even, his fingers flicking down to watch Owain prepare himself. It was too rough, and he had half a mind to tell him so - but kept his mouth shut. He was not telling Owain to do a damn fucking thing tonight.
"Fuck," he groaned, his cock pulsing a long line of precum down his shaft and over his fingers. "... Fuck, Owain--"
He stretches himself out until it's done, until the clean movements of sinking his fingers into his heat and out again come easily, and then he sits back up, taking a breath. He doesn't stop Poe from slowly stroking his cock even as he aligns the two of them together - he can feel Poe's hand against his ass with every tedious, upward stroke, and he waits until he's gripping himself at the base before he sinks down.
He writhes on the tip of Poe's cock once it enters him, grunting hard through his teeth. Even this is almost too much for him to handle, with a searing pain all but tearing him apart, and he clenches down, too angry and inexperienced to fight the instinct and just relax. It hurts, but the slickness of his saliva and the precum coating him from the inside makes it bearable, and he doesn't care enough about the pain to stop. Poe is still dressed, but his nails find Poe's chest and he digs in for grip, scratching off a layer of skin and cutting small, tiny droplets of blood over flesh.
"Okay," he grunts. "Okay-- fucking-- back to me. Hand on my cock. Don't stop until I say you can."
He lowers himself further, pushing about a quarter of Poe's dick through that ring of tight, pink muscle until he has to stop and take a breath. He eases, a little, but it's not enough, and the pain is shooting up through his body and into his skull, giving him a headache.
But every little burst of pain - every shot that aches through him - makes his cock just fucking pulse, precum beading at the tip and flowing down in streams, completely covering Poe's hand, the bandage, his body beneath Owain. He fucking needs this.
It's fucking tight, but his heavy lust gets tempered, a little, by the obvious pain contorting Owain's face. He takes Owain's cock when he's told to, long smooth strokes despite the bandage, running his thumb over the slick head with every pass. It's incredibly erotic, if it didn't also make his heart hurt with an entirely different sort of longing.
That brief moment of yearning for just a slow, loving consummation - and a deep flush blooms under his skin at the thought. Not now. Not when Owain was obviously trying so hard to prove something, if only to himself. But suddenly he just wanted to lose himself in Owain, every stroke taking a millennia and falling into a trance--
He was pulled out of it by the sharp pain on his chest, his breath hitching, lips parting wordlessly, but his cock throbbed hotly, another gush of precum sliding down his shaft even as the head was now buried in Owain's body, and he had to resist the urge to fuck up into him.
"... You gotta... Fuck, Owain, you're so tight, you got to relax--"
Be a good boy? Was that what he was going to say? Owain falters, a little, and his resolve flickers, almost dies. He doesn't let it. He grits his teeth and keeps trying to move, sinking just a little further before he has to stop again, the pain too much. Fuck. Fuck! He digs his nails back into Poe's chest, and there's still anger in his voice, a determination that shakes under the weight of itself.
"I just--"
He digs his knees into Poe's sides, right at his hips. Telling him, silently, to fuck up into him, to fucking move, because it hurts too much to do this on his own and he just-- he wants this to just-- work. He's getting frustrated, and it's starting to show, and he chews the inside of his cheek as he tries to find what he wants to say.
"I just-- want us to belong to each other." There's too much anger in him for it to just fade, but it lessens, when he meets Poe's eyes. "I just -- want to do -- anything to you. Because you can do anything to me. Because it's-- us, my body is as much yours as yours is mine, I want us to just-- I just want to do this. Claim you. Be claimed. Equally. Fuck everyone else."
"I'd prefer to just fuck each other," he joked, his voice wry and low. It was lame. Sorry.
Despite Owain's silent urging, he didn't fuck up into him - and instead shifted to pull himself out altogether. Before Owain had a chance to protest, he made a low shhh sound. He kept stroking Owain's cock with his bandaged hand, though he moved his free one to trace the line of precum from it with his fingers, gathering as much as he could.
"I... Want that too," he admitted in a low voice, before reaching under Owain with slick fingers and finding the abused ring of muscle that had been trying so hard to envelope him. He wasn't really going for stretching, exactly, as he pushed a fingers deep inside. He wanted to get Owain to relax, so instead he curled his finger, searching for his prostate, and massaging it firmly when he found it. "But I want you to feel-- amazing, Owain, you deserve to feel amazing--"
He's too stubborn to let go, right away. Even as Poe pulls out of him, he makes a noise, almost like he doesn't want this. It's the shushing that placates him, and he clenches his jaw, feeling bizarrely exposed for the first time tonight as Poe reaches forward to help him. He just wants-- more than this, more than fucking, he wants-- importance.
He lets Poe touch him and his knees fucking buckle when Poe finds what he's looking for. He keels forward, eyes wide, and this is-- holy fuck, this is new, he's never felt this before. He pushes his hips back against Poe's fingers with a grunt, cock achingly, achingly fucking hard as the swell of weird half-pressure runs through him, this over explosion of nerves that makes him want to squirm and buck and move.
"Fuck-- fuck, holy shit? What are y--"
He cuts himself of with a long, long groan, biting down to keep quiet but arching his back, giving Poe further access. He doesn't relax, not yet, but everything inside of him feels like it's fucking exploding, and so much of his baseless hate and righteous anger is leaving him in waves.
"There we go," Poe whispered, arousal flooding through him as he felt Owain's body reverberate with need, his muscles contracting even tighter with the sudden pleasure. He slowed his finger, each press against Owain's prostate now achingly teasing, trying to draw another on of those gratifying curses from Owain's lips.
He doesn't let go, just he does shift so he can sit almost upright, leaning in to press warm, open mouthed kisses against Owain's chest.
"Fuck, you're beautiful-" he whispers, to himself, but in full earshot of the man sitting astride him. "You gotta... Relax, Owain... Focus on the pleasure, and before you know it, I'll be sinking deep inside you--"
He lets Poe carry him through this, easing his body more and more just with the sound of his voice alone. Every part of him fully and completely trusts Poe to take care of him, to take him deeper, to show him how to do this. He can't stop the quick, sudden bucks that come every time Poe overloads him, touching just the right place with just the right amount of pleasure to make him want to pin himself down and beg for more, but it's-- fine. He can deal with it.
He can deal with it, right up until the last thing Poe says. The moan that breaks through him is fucking heaven, crashing far too loudly against the walls of the room. With shaking hands, he finds Poe's hair again, craning him back like before, angling down so he can kiss Poe almost violently hard in an attempt to shut him up. The way he whispered sent shivers straight to his cock alone, but-- sinking deep inside you--
"Shut the fuck up or you're gonna make me cum."
It's hoarse and commanding, whispered right against Poe's lips as he pulls back, breath ghosting over them. He adjusts himself, a little, keening back against Poe's fingers, and when the firm but teasing push against his prostate is too much for him to deal with, he lets go of Poe's hair and slumps forward, completely weak.
"Just-- fuck-- come on, I need this, don't drag this out. You gonna make me beg? Tell you how badly I want this?"
Every time Owain pulls hard on his hair like that it makes Poe's cock twitch, almost violently, and he moans into Owain's mouth with absolutely no restraint. If he'd thought about where they were, maybe he would have thought to try to stifle himself - stifle Owain - but honestly? He doesn't fucking care who hears.
He moans again when Owain tells him to shut the fuck up. "Tempting..." He admits, his cock leaking almost continuously. Tempting, but fuck, he needed this so badly.
"Fucking tempting," he reiterates, his hand slipping off of Owain's cock for a second, elbow bracing to keep him upright, the other hand slowly dragging his fingers from Owain's body. With the palm of his hand he spread the new precum over his own cock, then angled it to line up with Owain's body. "Relax, and press down on it, slowly, as your body adjusts, alright?"
He lay back, so that he could slowly roll his hips upward, pressing firmly until the right ring of muscle suddenly gave way enough to let the head of his clock back inside. "Fuck--" he whispered, his other hand gripping Owain's hip and slowly but steadily guiding him down onto his cock. "Fuck, Owain---"
Owain watches Poe with just-- open vulnerability, masked by his need to rebel and his need to connect. He would beg, if Poe asked. Beg and cry and scream just to feel him. When he doesn't have to, when Poe shows him mercy, he kisses him again, softer. Somewhere between grateful and blatantly affectionate.
He rushes things, at first. Pins himself down on the first few inches of Poe's cock all at once, taking more than he should and biting his lip when it stings. He's impatient, he's young, he wants to handle this better - wants to get taken care of like he was in his dream. He hisses and he adjusts, leaning his weight into Poe's hands as he slowly, slowly lets himself sink, forcing himself to relax and open up to Poe in the way he's being taught.
It takes a while, but Owain is fucking determined to see this through, and he sinks lower and lower until Poe's balls are right against his ass and every mind-shattering inch of him is stretching him apart. He still has that instinct to just tighten, to wring each nerve in Poe's cock, but the way he looks at him, the way he whispers - it's enough to keep Owain relaxed, enough to keep him in check.
"I'm gonna..."
He's sweating, looking almost dazed when he meets Poe's eyes, half-lidded and darkened by lust. He takes a long breath, chest rising, abs tightening.
He talks him though it, or at least tries to - his whispers far less like actually sentences than they are murmurs of encouragement or single words of warning ("Easy--"). He resists the urge to push up into Owain's body, keeping his own hips still, even though the heat and the pressure are intense. But whatever this started as - Owain grinding against him with an angry determination - it has changed into something else. Something that keeps feeding the butterflies in his chest and sending them into a frenzy.
He's almost nervous in a weird sort of way, which surprises him. Maybe it's because Owain keeps wincing, but he doesn't think so. It's something else. He can't put his finger on it.
When Owain bottoms out, Poe groans, rubbing his thumbs into the hollows of Owain's hips.
There's a moment before he actually moves where Owain just looks at Poe. Takes in his eyes, his lips. He drapes his arms over Poe's shoulders and loosely locks them against his neck, keeping Poe looking up at him so he can watch every expression Owain makes, feel every breath.
He starts to rise, and he can feel himself stretching and making way for Poe. He tries to keep eye contact the whole time, but once he starts hitting a rhythm he just-- clouds over, focused on the feeling of tight pressure filling him from the inside. His dick twitches and leaks fresh lines of precum every time the flared ridge of Poe's head brushes hard over that spot that just keeps fucking ruining him, and he's not moaning, not yet, he's going too achingly, achingly slow for that, but his lips part in voiceless need.
He fucks himself down on Poe about half a dozen times before he has to stop, skin red and flushed from exhaustion, knees shaking. He almost acts like he's waking up when his eyes drift back into focus, and he grins, dopey and kind of stupid, laughing easily from within his chest. Completely relaxed. No more anger.
"Fffffuck." He arches his neck down, finds Poe's ear, breathes against it. Bites the shell of it, right at the top, laughing again.
It's almost tortuously slow - ever fibre of Poe's being fighting the urge to shallowing thrust up into Owain's body. His grip on the man's hip tightens, fingers driving into flesh, but that's the only outward sign of his restraint. His lips are parted, his breath slow and low - a heavy pant each time Owain lowers himself onto him and Poe's cock pulses with frustrated need.
Owain's grin draws an immediate one in reply from Poe, his eyes crinkling with warm. He pushes himself up a little more upright, but still can't quite meet Owain's lips, so he presses a few clumsy, warm kisses to his chest.
"... You're going to... drive me completely insane," Poe murmured, almost a complaint, if there wasn't a deep well of fondness to the words.
"Yeah, well." He's too fogged out by all this to string two thoughts together, let alone something hot enough to drive Poe as wild as he wants him to, so he just slowly, slowly tries to move again, whispering good just under his breath, another grin slapped stupidly to his face.
Again, he rides Poe's cock for about four long, perfect seconds, and then he's back down, resting entirely on Poe's waist and breathing hard through his mouth. He's panting, labored and unsteady, and he raises both of his arms back from Poe,resting his hands on top of his own head and laughing out again. Fuck.
"Fuck, you're gonna have to-- just--"
He scratches through his hair and then rests his hands on Poe's shoulders, one hand drifting down enough to stroke slow, gentle motions against his collarbone. He'd been talking a big game, up until a moment ago, but this is Poe. This is what Poe does. Fucking ruins him, resets him to happy instead of subservient like Kes.
"Can you-- I want-- I want you to fuck me," he finally spits out. "I want-- you-- to fuck me. Please."
"I think... I might be able to do that," Poe replied, the grin turning a little smug, all thoughts from earlier in the evening having completely left him. This had nothing to do with father, with pledges or masters, just - being with Owain. Being with a man who he - well, to put it blunty, if not eloquently - really fucking liked. He chuckled, low and rough, as he pressed another kiss to Owain's chest.
He considered telling him to move, but- decided against it. Instead, he moved the hand on Owain's hip to the small of his back - spreading warm fingers over his spine - and used his other hand to brace hard against the bed below. Keeping his hand firm on Owain's back, pressing him down against him, he rolled his own hips up, thrusting firmly deep into the man straddling him with a soft grunt.
Fuck, yeah, that was just fine. At least for a few thrusts. Each was slow and a little too spaced out, withdrawing only half way before thrusting deep again, and Poe was working his bottom lip between his own teeth, gazing up at him.
"You tell me exactly how you want it, and I'll give it to you," he whispered, thrusting up to make a point. "Any way you want it--"
He falls apart, almost immediately. Hyper sensitive, wrecked by every stretch and every nerve, every fucking inch that fills his hole. He knows what he wants, knows he wants to either pound his ass down against Poe until the man's back is arching off the bed and he's all but drowning in sweat as he cums. Knows he wants it the other way around, too - just like in his dream. Fucked into a writhing mess of limbs and cum as Poe calls him a good boy and takes him in every possible way.
But this is already too much, and he doesn't think he could handle that, not yet. He stays uncomfortably still as Poe fucks him, just-- adjusting-- until he can put a boundary between what he's feeling and what he wants. He shuts his eyes, tries to will down everything he's feeling to something more manageable, then carefully starts rocking his hips back into each thrust. It's slow, miniscule, but it's an attempt and that alone is a huge god damn sign of his agency in this.
When Poe thrusts up to make that point, he buckles down, already feeling his load boiling at his base.
"Just--" He takes a breath, looks down at Poe, open and vulnerable and trusting and ready. "Just-- if you make me cum-- don't stop? Keep going-- until I-- again. Okay?"
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no subject
Whatever this is, though, it's a need for comfort, rather than an expression of lust. He pulls Poe down to the bed - urges him, more accurately, with a quiet pinch at fabric and a pleading look in his eyes - and then immediately lays alongside of him, his back to Poe's chest.
He breathes out, facing the wall, with no idea about what he's doing, or what he wants. He watches the wall as if it might give him direction, or something, and when it doesn't, he rolls back over to be face to face.
Poe's lips are close, and he swallows, looking at them.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I just want-- closeness. For a bit. We were too far away from each other-- tonight. I don't want to feel like that again."
no subject
Four days.
He couldn't really say that he hadn't felt something for Owain even before he met him - a mixture of guilt and something else - but the last few days had pushed Poe's heart to its limits. Even trying to think in terms of time made him frustrated.
They'd been chosen to be together long before either of them even knew themselves.
It wasn't just Owain, that had come with expectations. Poe had merely been fighting his.
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Every long period of silence just aches, rather than comforts. A dull thrum in the back of his stomach that makes everything feel heated and uncomfortable in a way he can't really pinpoint. Last night - even the night before - laying like this with Poe would have been everything to him. Just a quiet moment with someone who he knows cares about him.
It feels cheap, after everything with Kes.
The minutes tick by and they're both still awake, Owain unable to even shut his eyes because of all the thoughts in his head. He just stares distantly over Poe's head after he nestles in, his heart skipping every time there's breath against his ear but otherwise just-- silent.
It takes him a while to realize just how incredibly, incredibly fucking guilty he feels. For acting the way he did. For letting Kes's pride influence him so much. He wants to show Poe that it was just-- a moment, a mistake, because everything up until now feels cheap, in the shadow of their vow and the blood Poe gave him. To lose so much will after Poe did so much for him - it says a lot, Owain thinks, about what a pathetic and terrible man he is. Poe deserves so much more than whatever they are.
He presses his lips to the top of Poe's hair and breathes in his scent, and it's so fucking familiar now. The thought that he could have been away from that if he kept acting the way he did just-- breaks his heart, and he tangles his fingers in those curls, unaware of just how badly he's shaking until he sees his hands tremble. He swallows and shifts down, until he's level with Poe's throat, and he leans in, teeth scraping over skin as he kisses him there.
He's not sure why it comes on so fast, or what it means - but those feather light touches harden, and so does Owain, as he slips his hand down Poe's waistband and finds his cock. He doesn't take him out of his clothes, but he strokes in firm, long lines, the kiss on his neck coming harder, his teeth deeper, every few seconds.
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But normally he hasn't just seen his dad almost rip something incredibly important to him away. Four days ago, he would have only been frustrated by the pettiness of it, but now? He can feel the panic in his breast at losing Owain. He said I had to be perfect for you... it makes him queasy and he grips a little tighter, just as Owain shifts. For a second he thinks he broke the moment, that Owain was pulling away, but then his lips find Poe's throat and Poe lets out a quiet sound on the end of a released breath.
He half thinks to say, you don't have to do this but the teeth come a little harder and Poe's eyes flutter closed, his breath coming a little faster, his pulse picking up. He doesn't know where the line is until Owain is crossing it, and Poe's cock immediately fills, under the touch, straining against his clothes. He moans as Owain's teeth sink deeper, the feeling almost claiming and suddenly he wants nothing else. Wants Owain to mark him, to claim him, completely of his own free will. So he doesn't speak - either to beg or encourage - and instead just rolls his hips harder against Owain's hand, wings alive and fluttering against his ribs.
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He tugs at his nightshirt, tearing a rip in the bottom in his haste to get it off, and then he's bare from the waist up, traces of Poe's blood still there in the dying light of the oil lamp. He rolls Poe onto his back and straddles his waist, leaning down to sink into a kiss, hard and clumsy and bad but lonely and fast and starving. He pulls his hands through Poe's hair and tugs so he'll arch his neck back, exposing his throat again, which Owain sinks into with even harder kisses than before, humming into all the bright pink hickeys he leaves.
He lets go and rests his hands on Poe's chest, hard in his clothes, grinding his ass back hard against Poe's cock, and he hates himself, a little. He always does. Aimless loathing that flutters into his expression, so clearly directed inwards. He finds Poe's hand, the one with the cut, and he thinks it's fucked up to do this, maybe, to rub his dick over the scar Poe gave himself like it's something to fetishize, but that doesn't stop him from guiding Poe's hand down Owain's pants, wrapping his hand over Poe's fist and fucking into it, smearing precum down his wrist.
"F-Fuck," he pants, and it's new, Poe's only seen him like this when Owain was dreaming, just desperately horny and throwing himself into something like an animal. Tell me I'm good and tell me you love me are both there, right on the corners of his lips, and he bites it all down, hiding it all away.
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He gets a half a second of breather when Owain pulls back to take off his shirt and the view is... Breathtaking. Quite literally. Owain's body is flawless, the only mark on him was Poe's own blood and a very dark desire rose in him seemingly from no where at all. Fuck the war, just keep Owain at home and in his bed until he's begging just like he was in that dream--
The shame washes so quickly over him that he feels ill, but he's hard as a fucking rock. He meets the kiss with far more needy vigour than the last, kissing back hard enough to bruise, hands gripping Owain's hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. He hisses when his neck is snapped backwards and moans, writhing, as Owain makes hickies bloom on his throat, perfect and raw. The fantasy about claiming Owain is gone in an instant - replaced with a far, far more satisfying one of Owain claiming him. He groans something - obviously meant to be words but not coming out like them.
His hazy eyes open just in time to catch that look on Owain's face, and his heart lurches in a far less sexual way.
"Owain--" he starts, though whatever he was going to say is utterly lost as Owain takes his hand and starts fucking himself with it. The bandage curls at the edges with each rough stroke and it stings, throbbing sorely, but he takes the message and doubles down, fingers wrapping firmly around Owain's cock and strokes it roughly - more thoroughly than the man had been striking him, mere minutes before - well and truly trying to fuck him with his hand, rather than pretend this is foreplay. He braces himself up on an elbow, half upright, and reaches up to grip the back of Owain's neck, hard and tight, before dragging him down to claim his lips.
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Owain wants more. He wants both. To claim and to be claimed. He kisses Poe back with all the strength in the world, but he doesn't let it last. He pulls back, cheeks red, eyes downcast.
He grinds back against Poe's cock one more time and reaches down behind him to pull it out of his clothes. It's clumsy and it's awkward and Owain's getting annoyed with himself for not just being able to fucking do this, but eventually the cool air of the night makes contact with Poe's skin and Owain breathes out a breath. He strokes it a few more times, gets his uninjured palm slick with precum, then brings his hand back up to Poe's lips, holding his index and middle fingers right up against them.
"Suck," he says, and-- it's a command, it's a command, it's a command. "Get my fingers wet."
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His strokes had slowed, in the meantime - still rough and thorough but the pace had definitely slowed. He groaned, lowly, as Owain brought his hand to his lips, half-lidded eyes dark with lust met Owain's as he leaned in, tongue running between the two offered fingers before pulling them between his lips and sucking. Hard. He didn't even bother not to pretend that he was thinking about something else, entirely. Any hesitancy had fled, when Owain's hand had touched him - all thoughts dumped from his mind so his body could live fully in the moment.
And fuck, but he wanted to hear Owain command him again.
His eyes fluttered, his strokes picking up a little more speed as he coating Owain's fingers in saliva, the slightly salty taste of his own precum on his tongue.
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He bucks forward and shuts his eyes when Poe sucks his fingers, fucking hard into Poe's fist and pushing his fingers in to feel the soft wetness of his tongue. He rubs his thumb over Poe's bottom lip and thrusts into each stroke with louder moans, louder, he's gonna be fucking shouting at the top of his lungs by the time this is done. He keeps this going, fucking into Poe's mouth with his fingers until he can see how slick and wet they are, and then he draws them back, taking a breath.
This is another thing he only has the basest of experience with, but fuck, he doesn't care. He leans back, prying his dick out of Poe's grip, and he rests himself more on Poe's legs than his waist, arm behind him on the mattress to keep steady. He arches himself up with one leg and reaches beneath himself to find his hole, which he slowly starts to fuck with one finger Poe made slick for him. It's-- tight, he's not even sure he'll be able to fit two fingers inside himself, let alone Poe's cock-- but he grunts, and he stretches, and he's aggressive, too aggressive than he needs to be as he puts on a show, forces that hole open.
He inserts his second finger and he looks up at Poe, eyes dark, hazed over by lust and anger. Anger at everyone for making him feel for even a fucking second that he's worth less than what he is.
"Stroke your cock," he orders, and again, it's loud, too loud for where they are. "With-- your injured hand. Get ready for what I'm gonna do to you."
He grins, laughs, throaty and deep.
"I might be the one who's gonna get a dick in my ass, but you're the one that's gonna get fucked."
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But it also had the side effect of being fucking hot. Owain's anger may as well have been an aphrodisiac, as far as Poe was concerned. Because he felt it, too. It was a righteous anger and a rebellious one, and regardless of how everyone else in the universe might have felt about Owain, Poe gazed at him like there was nothing more fucking beautiful in existence.
He did as ordered - as soon as he was ordered - though his strokes were slow and even, his fingers flicking down to watch Owain prepare himself. It was too rough, and he had half a mind to tell him so - but kept his mouth shut. He was not telling Owain to do a damn fucking thing tonight.
"Fuck," he groaned, his cock pulsing a long line of precum down his shaft and over his fingers. "... Fuck, Owain--"
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He writhes on the tip of Poe's cock once it enters him, grunting hard through his teeth. Even this is almost too much for him to handle, with a searing pain all but tearing him apart, and he clenches down, too angry and inexperienced to fight the instinct and just relax. It hurts, but the slickness of his saliva and the precum coating him from the inside makes it bearable, and he doesn't care enough about the pain to stop. Poe is still dressed, but his nails find Poe's chest and he digs in for grip, scratching off a layer of skin and cutting small, tiny droplets of blood over flesh.
"Okay," he grunts. "Okay-- fucking-- back to me. Hand on my cock. Don't stop until I say you can."
He lowers himself further, pushing about a quarter of Poe's dick through that ring of tight, pink muscle until he has to stop and take a breath. He eases, a little, but it's not enough, and the pain is shooting up through his body and into his skull, giving him a headache.
But every little burst of pain - every shot that aches through him - makes his cock just fucking pulse, precum beading at the tip and flowing down in streams, completely covering Poe's hand, the bandage, his body beneath Owain. He fucking needs this.
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That brief moment of yearning for just a slow, loving consummation - and a deep flush blooms under his skin at the thought. Not now. Not when Owain was obviously trying so hard to prove something, if only to himself. But suddenly he just wanted to lose himself in Owain, every stroke taking a millennia and falling into a trance--
He was pulled out of it by the sharp pain on his chest, his breath hitching, lips parting wordlessly, but his cock throbbed hotly, another gush of precum sliding down his shaft even as the head was now buried in Owain's body, and he had to resist the urge to fuck up into him.
"... You gotta... Fuck, Owain, you're so tight, you got to relax--"
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Be a good boy? Was that what he was going to say? Owain falters, a little, and his resolve flickers, almost dies. He doesn't let it. He grits his teeth and keeps trying to move, sinking just a little further before he has to stop again, the pain too much. Fuck. Fuck! He digs his nails back into Poe's chest, and there's still anger in his voice, a determination that shakes under the weight of itself.
"I just--"
He digs his knees into Poe's sides, right at his hips. Telling him, silently, to fuck up into him, to fucking move, because it hurts too much to do this on his own and he just-- he wants this to just-- work. He's getting frustrated, and it's starting to show, and he chews the inside of his cheek as he tries to find what he wants to say.
"I just-- want us to belong to each other." There's too much anger in him for it to just fade, but it lessens, when he meets Poe's eyes. "I just -- want to do -- anything to you. Because you can do anything to me. Because it's-- us, my body is as much yours as yours is mine, I want us to just-- I just want to do this. Claim you. Be claimed. Equally. Fuck everyone else."
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Despite Owain's silent urging, he didn't fuck up into him - and instead shifted to pull himself out altogether. Before Owain had a chance to protest, he made a low shhh sound. He kept stroking Owain's cock with his bandaged hand, though he moved his free one to trace the line of precum from it with his fingers, gathering as much as he could.
"I... Want that too," he admitted in a low voice, before reaching under Owain with slick fingers and finding the abused ring of muscle that had been trying so hard to envelope him. He wasn't really going for stretching, exactly, as he pushed a fingers deep inside. He wanted to get Owain to relax, so instead he curled his finger, searching for his prostate, and massaging it firmly when he found it. "But I want you to feel-- amazing, Owain, you deserve to feel amazing--"
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He lets Poe touch him and his knees fucking buckle when Poe finds what he's looking for. He keels forward, eyes wide, and this is-- holy fuck, this is new, he's never felt this before. He pushes his hips back against Poe's fingers with a grunt, cock achingly, achingly fucking hard as the swell of weird half-pressure runs through him, this over explosion of nerves that makes him want to squirm and buck and move.
"Fuck-- fuck, holy shit? What are y--"
He cuts himself of with a long, long groan, biting down to keep quiet but arching his back, giving Poe further access. He doesn't relax, not yet, but everything inside of him feels like it's fucking exploding, and so much of his baseless hate and righteous anger is leaving him in waves.
"Poe-- fuck--"
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He doesn't let go, just he does shift so he can sit almost upright, leaning in to press warm, open mouthed kisses against Owain's chest.
"Fuck, you're beautiful-" he whispers, to himself, but in full earshot of the man sitting astride him. "You gotta... Relax, Owain... Focus on the pleasure, and before you know it, I'll be sinking deep inside you--"
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He can deal with it, right up until the last thing Poe says. The moan that breaks through him is fucking heaven, crashing far too loudly against the walls of the room. With shaking hands, he finds Poe's hair again, craning him back like before, angling down so he can kiss Poe almost violently hard in an attempt to shut him up. The way he whispered sent shivers straight to his cock alone, but-- sinking deep inside you--
"Shut the fuck up or you're gonna make me cum."
It's hoarse and commanding, whispered right against Poe's lips as he pulls back, breath ghosting over them. He adjusts himself, a little, keening back against Poe's fingers, and when the firm but teasing push against his prostate is too much for him to deal with, he lets go of Poe's hair and slumps forward, completely weak.
"Just-- fuck-- come on, I need this, don't drag this out. You gonna make me beg? Tell you how badly I want this?"
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He moans again when Owain tells him to shut the fuck up. "Tempting..." He admits, his cock leaking almost continuously. Tempting, but fuck, he needed this so badly.
"Fucking tempting," he reiterates, his hand slipping off of Owain's cock for a second, elbow bracing to keep him upright, the other hand slowly dragging his fingers from Owain's body. With the palm of his hand he spread the new precum over his own cock, then angled it to line up with Owain's body. "Relax, and press down on it, slowly, as your body adjusts, alright?"
He lay back, so that he could slowly roll his hips upward, pressing firmly until the right ring of muscle suddenly gave way enough to let the head of his clock back inside. "Fuck--" he whispered, his other hand gripping Owain's hip and slowly but steadily guiding him down onto his cock. "Fuck, Owain---"
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He rushes things, at first. Pins himself down on the first few inches of Poe's cock all at once, taking more than he should and biting his lip when it stings. He's impatient, he's young, he wants to handle this better - wants to get taken care of like he was in his dream. He hisses and he adjusts, leaning his weight into Poe's hands as he slowly, slowly lets himself sink, forcing himself to relax and open up to Poe in the way he's being taught.
It takes a while, but Owain is fucking determined to see this through, and he sinks lower and lower until Poe's balls are right against his ass and every mind-shattering inch of him is stretching him apart. He still has that instinct to just tighten, to wring each nerve in Poe's cock, but the way he looks at him, the way he whispers - it's enough to keep Owain relaxed, enough to keep him in check.
"I'm gonna..."
He's sweating, looking almost dazed when he meets Poe's eyes, half-lidded and darkened by lust. He takes a long breath, chest rising, abs tightening.
"I'm gonna... move. I'm gonna try to move."
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He's almost nervous in a weird sort of way, which surprises him. Maybe it's because Owain keeps wincing, but he doesn't think so. It's something else. He can't put his finger on it.
When Owain bottoms out, Poe groans, rubbing his thumbs into the hollows of Owain's hips.
"... Yeah... Yeah, alright."
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He starts to rise, and he can feel himself stretching and making way for Poe. He tries to keep eye contact the whole time, but once he starts hitting a rhythm he just-- clouds over, focused on the feeling of tight pressure filling him from the inside. His dick twitches and leaks fresh lines of precum every time the flared ridge of Poe's head brushes hard over that spot that just keeps fucking ruining him, and he's not moaning, not yet, he's going too achingly, achingly slow for that, but his lips part in voiceless need.
He fucks himself down on Poe about half a dozen times before he has to stop, skin red and flushed from exhaustion, knees shaking. He almost acts like he's waking up when his eyes drift back into focus, and he grins, dopey and kind of stupid, laughing easily from within his chest. Completely relaxed. No more anger.
"Fffffuck." He arches his neck down, finds Poe's ear, breathes against it. Bites the shell of it, right at the top, laughing again.
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Owain's grin draws an immediate one in reply from Poe, his eyes crinkling with warm. He pushes himself up a little more upright, but still can't quite meet Owain's lips, so he presses a few clumsy, warm kisses to his chest.
"... You're going to... drive me completely insane," Poe murmured, almost a complaint, if there wasn't a deep well of fondness to the words.
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Again, he rides Poe's cock for about four long, perfect seconds, and then he's back down, resting entirely on Poe's waist and breathing hard through his mouth. He's panting, labored and unsteady, and he raises both of his arms back from Poe,resting his hands on top of his own head and laughing out again. Fuck.
"Fuck, you're gonna have to-- just--"
He scratches through his hair and then rests his hands on Poe's shoulders, one hand drifting down enough to stroke slow, gentle motions against his collarbone. He'd been talking a big game, up until a moment ago, but this is Poe. This is what Poe does. Fucking ruins him, resets him to happy instead of subservient like Kes.
"Can you-- I want-- I want you to fuck me," he finally spits out. "I want-- you-- to fuck me. Please."
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He considered telling him to move, but- decided against it. Instead, he moved the hand on Owain's hip to the small of his back - spreading warm fingers over his spine - and used his other hand to brace hard against the bed below. Keeping his hand firm on Owain's back, pressing him down against him, he rolled his own hips up, thrusting firmly deep into the man straddling him with a soft grunt.
Fuck, yeah, that was just fine. At least for a few thrusts. Each was slow and a little too spaced out, withdrawing only half way before thrusting deep again, and Poe was working his bottom lip between his own teeth, gazing up at him.
"You tell me exactly how you want it, and I'll give it to you," he whispered, thrusting up to make a point. "Any way you want it--"
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But this is already too much, and he doesn't think he could handle that, not yet. He stays uncomfortably still as Poe fucks him, just-- adjusting-- until he can put a boundary between what he's feeling and what he wants. He shuts his eyes, tries to will down everything he's feeling to something more manageable, then carefully starts rocking his hips back into each thrust. It's slow, miniscule, but it's an attempt and that alone is a huge god damn sign of his agency in this.
When Poe thrusts up to make that point, he buckles down, already feeling his load boiling at his base.
"Just--" He takes a breath, looks down at Poe, open and vulnerable and trusting and ready. "Just-- if you make me cum-- don't stop? Keep going-- until I-- again. Okay?"
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