shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

Owain's expression doesn't change, but that kiss warms him and melts away a lot of the ice that had been starting to rest in his chest. He turns to look at Poe, considering something, then leans over to kiss him as quickly as he can on the lips bfore pulling back just as fast.

He wishes he had important people in his life to introduce Poe to. A cousin, maybe. But he's alone.

"I want to do anything I can to help, or-- or aid, or assist, or-- or anything else," he mumbles. "Maybe we should just-- skip my birthday stuff and go find her. This General lady."

Poe shook his head.

"She was banished from the Capitol planet over ten years go. We have to get out to the frontier, first." He paused, wetting his lips, before sitting up so that he could watch Owain's face carefully.

"Look, you have - absolutely no idea - what it means to me that you're even thinking about going this route, Owain. I'm never going to be able to explain that. But I'm not throwing you into the lion's den without any protection. It's gonna take a little bit to make sure that doing this isn't just a one-way street to getting you killing before we can celebrate your nineteenth birthday. So - no skipping. We're not going to have a whole day like this just to ourselves for a long time."

Edited (fuck you i know how grammar works) 2018-01-31 23:40 (UTC)

Owain's disappointed, but if there's nothing he can do, there's nothing he can do. He figures dragging his feet on this and asking to, like, steal a way off this planet to go find her already is probably not the right thing to do, but even if it was, he's caught up in the last thing Poe says.

Wait, fuck.

"Shit! What?!" He panics, a little, bolting upright, grass in his hair and head a little dizzy from the motion. "This is the last peaceful day we'll have that's just-- just us? Fuck! We can't just do Owain stuff, then! We need to do Poe stuff!"

Poe immediately reached out a steadying hand to grasp Owain's shoulder.

"Hey! Hey - relax. It's your birthday. That's what I want to do. Alright? I want to give you the whole day, so. We'll do Owain stuff, and that'll be Poe stuff too. Yeah?"

"That seems... like... bullshit?"

He eyes Poe with just the greatest fuckin' surplus of suspicion, but then his shoulders droop. Enough thinking about Kes. Enough thinking about the rebellion. He hopes to his feet and holds his arm out for Poe to anchor onto as he pulls him to his feet.

"Cake. At the clocktower. And then-- I want to buy you a present. And then... some slight fucking." Well. He scratches his neck as he thinks on what else he might want.

"I don't know. I just want to be with you. I don't actually care about the context of the date."

An amused smirk flickered across his lips at 'some slight fucking', crinkling his eyes. He took Owain's arm and swung up right, dusting himself off so that the little loose pieces of grass all fell away.

"Just slight, huh?" The tone was teasing, but he nodded. "Cake, clocktower, and present? Apparently." Though he frowned at that. "... Right. I should get you a birthday present. That's usually something people do on birthdays, rather than the other way around."

Owain brushes some extra dust off of Poe, an old habit to always keep an eye on his master to make sure he's dressed appropriately ingrained into him. That habit might feel toxic, if Owain wasn't still wearing his cravat like a trophy. Active decisions overruling instinct. Finding equality against all odds.

"You gave me my journal. And my clothes. You don't need to get me anything else." He smooths down Poe's lapel, nodding when he's satisfied, though the firmness of his body beneath his uniform makes the tips of his ears go red as he thinks about last night. Yes. There will be. Some slight fucking.

He pauses.

"... Except for, like, the slight fucking."

Edited 2018-02-01 05:27 (UTC)

"Making sure you're outfitted with necessities isn't exactly the same as a present," he pointed out. But something crossed on his face.

An idea.

He already knew he would have to get a matching one.

So why not today?

"Actually, I have an idea. But. After the cake and maybe after the slight fucking, first."

"The journal wasn't... necessary. The journal was you showing me a kindness. Just--" He roughs up Poe's hair, messing all the work he put into smoothing him down and making him presentable a second ago. "Just!! Don't worry about doing anything. Okay? I'm serious. You've given me so much already."

He folds his arms over his chest, but is of course immediately placated by the acknowlegement of cake and potential fucks-of-the-slightest-nature. He looks over the city, and he doesn't want to leave the little slice of tranquility they've found here, but they'll find it again at the clocktower. They'll always find it, as long as they're together.

They stop by a bakery and pick up the darkest chocolate cake Owain's ever seen, and it's so much more bitter than sweet, but he loves it. The clocktower has winding stone steps to the clockface itself that opens up to a balcony just below it, and they sit out there together to eat, high above the rest of the world and the jungle that spans over the planet. Owain cuts Poe a slice of cake once they're here and he reclines against his side, wanting to dangle his legs over the building but having the common sense not to. Weird how much caring about not dying gives you a sense of self-preservation, suddenly.

He digs a fork into his part of the cake, chomping down and getting crumbs on the corners of his lips, and he looks at Poe. Wind in his hair.

"You're not eating."

He hadn't touched a bite - had instead gotten distracted by watching Owain, those traitor butterflies in his chest again maybe everything tremor with the power of their combined flight. He'd gotten distracted just looking at the way the light bent around Owain's cheekbone and the way it illuminated his skin, slightly transparent and warm with the red bloom beneath skin and he--

Fuck, he was in trouble.

"Sorry," he murmured, but he didn't seem in a rush, watching a sliver of dark chocolate cake slide into Owain's lips. He was in a lot of trouble.

Owain tilts his head, uncharacteristically innocent in all of this. If he'd known what Poe was thinking, he'd have very obviously tried to pose to catch the light at his best angle, or would accidentally choke on a segment of cake that he was pretending to deepthroat. As it is, he just watches Poe with that tell-tale perceptiveness of his - like he could just pierce through his skull and read his thoughts, if he watched him long enough.

He can't, and he doesn't, but he does slowly stop chewing as an idea hits him. He swallows and goes a little warm around the collar, looking at anything but Poe while he thinks this through. He... thinks... it's a good idea, what he wants to do. Maybe.

Owain catches another bite-sized cut of cake on his fork and holds it up to Poe's lips, redder by the second but watching with an almost angry intensity. Do it. Do it. Eat it.

The blush running under Owain's skin made Poe want to pin him down and kiss him hard, right there, but it was unmistakable, what he was ring asked to do.

So instead, without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, lips parting around the offered piece of cake, pulling it deep into his mouth and letting the fork slide clean from his lips.

He licked his lips, tasting flecks of chocolate. Yeah. That was a good way to eat cake. Still without looking away, he sunk his fingers into just the edge of his piece, pulling a little of the dark material away, then holding it between his thumb and forefingers out to Owain.

For a moment, Owain is overwhelmed by the joyful innocence of feeding dessert to the man he loves, despite the less than pure way his cock twitches when Poe keeps eye contact. He pulls the fork back and twirls it through his fingers, grinning to himself and letting himself feel big for a while before he puts it back down.

And then Poe has his fingers out, and--

Owain doesn't seem to know what he's doing, drowning in that boyish naivete that only ever seems to last long enough for Poe to help him feel secure. He lets Poe feed him, and for an instant it looks like that might be the end of this, but then he's carefully, carefully lapping at Poe's fingers, flicking the tip of his tongue over Poe's middle finger the same way he would to his cock. He takes the end of Poe's index finger into his mouth and sucks, tasting cake and heat and flesh, making a bit of a show out of taking him down further and sucking, applying pressure, tight, wet, warm, hard, right up to his knuckle.

And then he pulls back, acting like nothing happened. He wipes a crumb off of his face with his thumb.

Chuckles a little, maybe. Smug piece of shit.

If Poe is affected by the display - (and he really, really is) - it doesn't show on his face. He just holds still and watches, that same unblinking gaze even as Owain quite obscenely sucks on his fingers.

A few seconds pass, Poe's expression still unreadable, until without saying a word he reaches out, sliding his damp fingers around the other side of Owain's face, and pulls him into a kiss.

It's not a heated kiss, or a fast one - it wasn't the sort of kiss given as a prelude to tearing off clothing. It was slow and it was purposeful, and it made Poe's heart hammer hard against his ribs.

Owain's biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling, as he always does when he feels like he's done something daring by taking the lead on anything physical. He's pointedly looking out over the rest of the city, redfaced and all too obvious in how he's feeling, so much easier to read than Poe is.

He chances a look back, and when he does, Poe's taking his lips in his own and Owain's letting out a noise like he's getting into a bath after a long day. Just-- relief, pleasure, leaning into this. He lets it stay slow and purposeful, every brush of soft lips against his own making his stomach do flips like he's falling, but it doesn't take long before he tries to make things deeper.

Poe isn't as frantic or as intense or as determined to take this faster as Owain is, and it's frustrating, in a way that makes Owain smile regardless. He figures if he has to challenge Poe to stop holding back, then that's-- fun. He can have fun with that. With the taste of cake still sticking to the tip of his tongue, he pulls back and puts his hand under Poe's jacket, resting on his abdomen over his shirt.

He looks down, watches his hand as two fingers slide between the gap of his lowest buttons to rest on bare skin. He grins, again, looking at Poe.

"It is my birthday, you know."

There was something almost - not disappointing, exactly, but perhaps bittersweet - about how Owain's fingers trailed against his skin, intent clear. It wasn't even that he wasn't happy to follow that intent, either. His body responded for him, instantly, the muscles of his abdomen fluttering under Owain's touch.

"Huh. So it is," He said, smiling slyly, pushing the bittersweet feeling down into his chest as far as it would go.

He was letting himself get way, way too deep.

His hand on Owain's jaw shifted, the pad of his thumb gently brushing over the man's lips. Gods, but he had the most amazing lips--

"And how exactly would you like to celebrate?"

He's young and he's new and as far as Owain is concerned, being able to open himself up like this is as much of a show of vulnerability as anything else. He'd missed the cues that this was romantic - how could he not, when the only romantic affection he'd ever witnessed between two people belonged to his parents who were already so in love? - but he didn't miss the way Poe wanted him, even if he misunderstood why. Misunderstood how.

He leans against that hand. Always leaning. Always touchstarved.

"Just... like." He stumbles over the teasing, because again, he's so fucking new, and this is something he misses, too. "Just, like, in a sexy way, or something. Like, like with sex, or whatever. Even though I guess we probably shouldn't do that up here? I'm just, like."

He laughs, the tips of his ears an even darker shade of pink, spreading over his cheeks and his nose, lighting up.

"Just-- I don't know. Every time I see you I want to be as close to you as I can. I want to just-- be by your side, or-- or have you talk to me, or just. Be. With you. And we're alone, so I'm like... I want to be the most close. Kind of thing."

He let out an aborted breath of a laugh, the amused smile pulling to his lips despite himself. Like with sex, or whatever, indeed.

"Maybe not right here on the balcony, no," He mused, but even as he said that, he pivoted, swinging a leg up over Owain's and sliding easily into his lap. "Though there's a little space behind the clock-face that's out of the way..."

Owain should move, but he's pinned by Poe, and he doesn't really think he wants to. He slowly unbuttons the bottom of Poe's shirt, working his way upwards as he pulls Poe's neck down with his other hand to kiss him. Soft, slow. Intimate, despite the way he keeps surging forward for more.

He wouldn't mind if they stayed here. Wouldn't mind if they were seen from below, by wandering eyes of the military, of people who thought Pledges should stay quiet and unseen and hidden from view unless otherwise addressed. The thrill of the idea makes him hard, but there's something that stops him from asking for it.

In the end, he just wants to feel close to Poe. Close in a way that belongs to him and him alone.

They leave the balcony, though Owain drags his feet about getting Poe off of his lap. They head inside, into the dark stone tower with filtered sunbeams lighting it through open windows, and Owain has Poe up against the wall in a matter of seconds, kissing him with that same slow but needy intensity, hand snaking down his own pants to fish his cock out through the top of his waistband and slowly jerk off. Too eager, as always.

He doesn't try to slow Owain down, despite longing to. Despite wanting to linger in that slow, intimate kiss for as long as he can. But he doesn't actually fight the urgency as it rises, his own pulse jumping to meet it, despite himself. Sure, he wasn't eighteen, but having an eighteen year old jump his bones could get his blood boiling just as quickly.

He groaned into the kiss, reaching out for Owain's cock the second that the man pulled out his cock, giving him good, firm strokes. His other hand went for his own pants, not to pull out his cock but to get them open and push them down his hips, trousers sliding down to his knees and passed them as he kicked them off, still fully clothed above the waist, and underwear below, already tenting.

He fucks hard into Poe's hand, pushing him further back against the wall as he does. He lets Poe get undressed with minimal interference, though he does settle his open palms on Poe's shoulders and is far too obvious with his staring. He reaches into Poe's underwear and slowly beats him off, tugging the waistband down beneath his balls and skipping any foreplay.

His other hand moves up Poe's neck and lingers there as he presses forward into another kiss, finding a rhythm of his hips jutting forward, almost standing on his tiptoes as his legs tense and push out from the feeling of it. It's a struggle to keep his feet flat on the ground so he and Poe can kiss comfortably despite the height difference, a struggle to not just lean forward and fuck him when neither of them are really alert enough for that after last night and getting up so early, but--

But this is nice. The swiftness in his hand, the way his fist is gripping tight on Poe's cock and jerking him off with too much of his eighteen year old energy, means that he's less focused on pushing forward with the kiss. It stays slow, stays intimate and careful, and Owain thinks-- even if this is all they do, get each other to cum with the lingering taste of chocolate on their lips, Owain stroking Poe faster and faster and tighter and tighter-- he'll still so happily lose his mind.

The hand on his cock is so disconnected from the deep, slow kiss, that he doesn't even think about it before his free hand touches Owain's wrist - not grabbing it, but pressing, almost pushing him away. It was too much, and he didn't want it - not like that.

It didn't stop his other hand, however, his strokes on Owain's cock starting to quicken their pace - not anything like the energetic strokes that Owain had been offering, but tight and purposeful anyway.

He breaks off the kiss, pressing his forehead to Owain's and sucking in a breath. There's a lot of things that he feels like he wants to say. And almost none of them things he can. So he settles on the obvious.

"... What about a little more than a slight fucking?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

He eases away, startled, at first. Looking at Poe like he's done something wrong. Rejected, again, as he was when he asked to dance. There's panic in him that he doesn't know what to do with, and it flashes through his expression for a few short seconds as he immediately runs through everything he just did and tries to find what he did wrong--

But then Poe's asking to fuck, and the panic eases, just enough to make him grin shaky and unsure despite the anxiety still hiding back behind his eyes. He eases both hands away from Poe and hesitates, second guessing himself, but then settles them on Poe's hips.

"... Can I? Like, that's-- this is alright?"

He would have chuckled, if that look of panic hadn't slipped like ice through his heart, clenching it quietly but painfully. Just another reminder that the tentative balance they had found was just that - wavering on the edge of a knife. So instead he just smiled - a slightly sad edge to the corner of his eyes, but a growing warmth to it.

He hadn't stopped stroking him, though the strokes had slowed, and he ran the pad of his thumb over the head of Owain's cock.

"Yeah." He leaned in, as if he was about to take a kiss, but instead his teeth pull at Owain's bottom lip. "Come on."

Sex, in the end, has always been about intimacy for Owain. Even at the start, when the thought of being called a good boy rang so clearly in his head as a sign of obedience, it meant-- approval, like he was doing right as a pledge. Now, when he's just-- driven by a lust to connect, it's because it's Poe and he wants to bridge what distance they have as physically as they can.

And that intimacy is still there, through the hand on his cock. Through the way Poe almost kisses him, but then pulls at his lip, making Owain moan without meaning to and step forward. Poe still wants him. Just for being him.

He hesitates, nevertheless, but-- he's a soldier. His hands grip tight on Poe's hips, and he grins, and then he's fucking lifting him against the wall, holding him tight against the stone.

And then he remembers lube.

"Fuck." Awkward. "Can you-- like-- just-- lick... your... hand and then-- and then like jerk-- me off?"

He stares at Poe. Red. Too embarrassed and awkward and shyly, goofishly happy to panic.

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