He feels his breath hitch as Owain's fingers rest against him, the thin
fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide the way his cock automatically
responded to it.
"There are... a lot of ways, in particular," He admitted, unable to
completely smother his grin, despite Owain's nervous look. "But it's your
birthday, Owain. Still." He leaned forward, just enough to press their
foreheads together, his hand resting on Owain's hip.
"... I would just lie here and kiss you forever, if that's what you told me
you wanted."
In all this sweeping, stars-under-the-skin emotion he's been caught up in after Poe's choice to get branded for him, he forgot. A wave of heat rolls from where Poe touches him, and he shuts his eyes, letting himself feel pinned under the gentle brush of that hand on his hip. Idiot, he tells himself. You're eighteen now.
Kissing Poe is only one thing he wants. He wants-- all of him, every part of him-- forever. It's timid and exploratory, every touch to Poe's cock like he's never done it before, hand shaking with nerves as his palm slides over his bulge, and he punctuates each movement by leaning forward to snag a blind, chaste kiss. Touching him like this feels momentous in a way that doesn't really make sense after everything they've done, like this is the moment where touching Poe really fucking matters, and he doesn't wanna mess up.
He carefully, carefully pulls Poe's underwear down, exposing his cock to the air and gently taking hold of it. It's featherlight, in the way a pledge's touches are supposed to be when shaking someone's hand or doing something for their master, stealthy and unnoticable. He steadily firms up his grip until Poe can really fucking feel the heat of his fist, the tightness of his soft skin, as he gently starts to stroke, rolling foreskin back from his head and kissing him once more to make it an even thousand.
"I want... you to fall apart in my hands," he confesses, slowly. "I want to just-- overload you. Make you writhe and cum and feel as intensely as I always do with you."
Every kiss feels a hundred times more sensitive than they should - tingling on his lips almost to the point of over-stimulation - every one of his nerves hyper alert. He is breathing very slowly - very deeply - every breath almost vibrating through his chest. He can feel the weight of every touch - not physically, no, but something else, something deeper, as if ever touch has meaning, and his cock throbs hotly even under the faintest brush of touch. He's so sensitive it almost tickles, and he squirms a little until Owain's grip firms. Then all he can do it pant, heavily, taking the kiss even as he's pressing closer in against him, making it hard to get a good stroke in.
"I already-- fuck, Owain, but I already do... You just- everything you do, I just--"
Shut up, Dameron! He scolds himself, cutting off with a low, helpless moan as he presses forward into another kiss - hot and heavy and open mouthed, the hand on Owain's hip curling with need but he doesn't move it yet.
"... Can I touch you?" He whispers, despite everything, he still can't help but ask. Feels the need to ask.
Poe says too much for Owain's world not to shift a little.
Everything you do. His heart hammers against his chest even though he doesn't fully understand why. These aren't feelings so easily identifiable for a man who grew up being told he had to shut everything about himself down; he watches his parents and knew in the short time they had together that the two of them were in love, and it's why he wants to tell Poe he loves him, because he wants to have with Poe what he knew Lissa and Lon'qu had with each other, but. Actually experiencing all of this? He has no idea what infatuation is, on an emotional level. Couldn't differentiate a crush with a storybook, fairy tale romance he hid away with at night to read under the covers as if it was something filthy.
All he knows is everything you do is how he feels about Poe. Every part of Poe makes his heart hurt.
So he stumbles and nods, feeling small and big all at the same time.
"I'd be mad if you didn't?" He laughs, shifting his elbow back so he can stroke Poe with a touch more access. "I want us to do-- everything. Anything. So... yeah. Don't-- ask. Just-- do?"
"Yeah," He murmurs, an agreement, and one that makes his heart skips a beat. "... Yeah, alright."
Don't ask, just do.
Don't say it, Poe, just show it.
His hands slipped down to Owain's belt buckle, pulling it open with a practised ease even though he's distracted - grinding himself a little into Owain's hand as he strokes. His touch is almost feather light as he pulls Owain's trousers down his thighs, pushing all the fabric as far out of the way as he can manage until it's pooling at Owain's ankles and he can force the rest off with a kick of his foot. He presses a hot kiss to Owain's neck, but he doesn't mark him, just lingers there against his skin and breathing in all of him. He doesn't go for his cock, first, and instead goes for the edge of his sweater, pulling it up and forcing Owain to let go of him for a half second so he could get it off and on the ground. Only once every scrap of fabric was off of Owain was he satisfied, leaning in to take a long, deep kiss as he slid his palm down the length of the man's cock and then curled his fingers warmly around it. Not stroking. Not yet. Just holding.
He's quiet when Poe strips him, but not in a way that makes him particularly obedient. He helps get his clothes off when he's guided, but he's rushing a little now, pulling everything off of himself faster so he can get back to this, the sleepy yet alert kisses and the firm and terrifying touches.
As Poe takes a hold of his cock, he shudders and bucks hard into it, too desperate to feel in his youth. He sucks in air and fills his lungs and wills himself to calm down, shutting his eyes with a flutter and resting his head against Poe's chest. He has no self-restraint at the best of times, but here and now with everything crashing over him with the force of a tidal wave - fuck, he just wants to cum already.
He realizes Poe's still a little dressed, so he buys time by easing him out of all of his clothes, leaving him naked and just fucking admiring the way Poe looks in the late afternoon sun. It's finally starting to set, leaving Poe in warm orange glows and making Owain's heart lodge in his throat every time he looks at him, and this, he thinks, is the way he'll remember Poe when they're older. Relaxed and smiling at him and everything you do still ringing in his head.
If what he feels isn't love, Owain doesn't know what possibly could be.
He guides Poe's hand back to his cock and finds his again once they're pressed together, Owain stroking Poe maybe a little faster than he should be with how careful this moment is.
"Fuck," he whispers again. He'd call Poe Captain or a good boy any other night, but he can't think of him as anything other than who he is. Poe, first and foremost. The man who saved him.
"Fuck, Poe, you don't--"
You don't know what you are, what you mean. He can feel his throat burn with a heavy, swollen emotion and he tries to swallow the lump down but it stays.
"I wish I knew how to tell you what you are to me," he finally says, voice thick. "You got my fucking brand--"
It's hard enough, reminding himself that he has to hold back, when Owain is just being himself. Hard enough to do when he's just laughing or grinning or getting suddenly nervous and Poe wants nothing more that to kiss the nerves away and bring the laugh back.
It's another thing altogether, when Owain is speaking and the words are sliding right into his heart and lodging there, heavier and heavier as they accumulate. It's hard enough, when it isn't so painfully obvious that Owain feels exactly the same way he does.
And that's okay. Owain can feel whatever he wants. Poe gave him that, specifically. Intentionally. The fact that he freely gives those feelings to Poe is enough to make him giddy, but doesn't break the overlying truth. There's still a power imbalance, there. Implicit. In time? In time, maybe they'll be just fine, and Owain will find himself and yet his heart will somehow still be here. With Poe. In time, Poe would even be able to accept that. Gladly. Warmly.
But it's too early.
It's too early and Owain is too young, and Poe is too fucking aware, now, of his own feelings. But he's had a decade to make sense of them. Had a decade to tell the difference between the first heady flutters of a crush, to something deeper.
Just because he's fallen so fast doesn't mean he hasn't realised how fucking hard he's fallen, too.
But he knows he can't expect that, from Owain. Knows he shouldn't.
Knows he can't deny him anything, despite that.
Once he has hold of Owain again he finally does begin to stroke - far slower than Owain is stroking him. His touch is almost too light - fingers barely brushing the underside. His eyes are locked on Owain's face, hair fucking glowing in the low afternoon sun, and he's pretty damn sure he's never seen anything more beautiful, than this. Locks the sight away, deep inside himself. Tells himself: even if this doesn't last - even if I'm only Owain's introduction to life, and not the entirety of it - it's worth it.
He doesn't reply. Not with words, at least. He presses closer, stealing the word 'brand' from Owain's lips with a searching kiss, tongue sliding deep to taste the entirety of him. His grip on Owain's cock firms, tighter, and he begins to stroke a little faster, slowly gaining on the pace that the other man is setting on his own cock. He presses closer, free hand reaching between them to pull Owain's hand back - but he doesn't leave any room for the other man to doubt his intentions. The hand that he'd been using to stroke him he now wraps around them both, letting a shuddering breath out against Owain's lips as he holds their cocks together and gives them both the same achingly slow stroke.
Everything inside of him is starting to fit into place, Poe's touch making him feel whole and human as it always does. His hand tightens around Owain and he squirms back, that kiss earning a soft smile that gives way to a quiet moan of ecstasy as he cants his hips. Everything-- everything-- completes him. He's aware, hyper-aware, that any trace of vigilant servitude in him is dead and fucking buried, at least for today. He almost breaks the kiss and stops what they're doing, because it hits him like a train that they could dance right now. They could dance, like they never had a chance to at the ball, and that's-- that's what Owain wants, he wants to be held, he wants to be held and he wants to do something intimate and romantic and not even strictly physical, just-- danced with.
But things progress in the instant that thought hazily connects, and soon Poe is chasing his hand away and moving everything forward, grinding their cocks against one another and making Owain shudder and moan as he curls forward. With Poe taking over, Owain has both of his hands free, and he slides them across Poe's neck just for the sake of touching him.
"Poe--"
He's shut his eyes again, helpless and vulnerable to all of this. Poe's moving too slowly and he's starting to get impatient - until now, just looking at Poe set a fire in him that made him too giddy and anxious to move, but that fire is beginning to burn in a slightly different colour. Now he just-- he wants more, he wants everything. He fucks into Poe's hand, a river of pre flooding down between them and making everything sound so much more wetter and lewder than beautiful like it feels.
His fingernails carve lines in Poe's neck as he curls them in, and Owain forces his eyes open to get a better look at him. He could say it. He could still say it.
"I..."
It wouldn't be like him to hold back, if he hadn't had years of being held back beaten into him. He could say it, if he had been raised as nobility, as he should have been. He looks at Poe, and it's there, it's so obviously there. Seconds from saying it. Seconds from telling Poe. He swallows, and it's hard to focus, hard to breathe, with the way Poe keeps stroking. Slowly. Too fucking slowly.
Another breath.
Eyes wide. Locked on Poe's.
Vulnerable, young. Barely experienced in the world, let alone in love.
Poe can see it, and it spreads a warmth through him that's so sweet it makes his tongue curl. But he doesn't let him say it. Before Owain can get another word in, he leans in, taking Owain's mouth with his own, kissing him slow, and lovingly, and deep - like there was nothing else in the world to do, save kiss him.
Owain is far from the only one leaking precum between them, and his hand is slick as it strokes them both, gripping a little tighter to make up for the loss of friction, still slow but the pace was picking up. Not consciously, just his body giving in to his need while his mind and heart were completely elsewhere. Locked into Owain's lips and words unsaid.
There's a momentary disappointment that flares in him, because he could have said it. He could have said it, and maybe Poe might have wanted to say it back, and maybe Owain doesn't fully understand the weight of what those words might hold outside of the vaguest fantasies and the base, hopeful thought that he and Poe could be something close to what his parents were to each other - but it could have happened. It could have shaped them into something even better.
But again - he's young and he's naive. It's so, so easy for Poe to captivate him, to change him. The kiss is a firework, all of Poe's intentions and all of his love warming Owain from the inside, and he slowly glides his cock harder against Poe's with a rut of his hips. He can already feel his climax building and he doesn't want this to end yet, so when he breaks the kiss to grunt and lower his head, he puts his hands on Poe's shoulders and squeezes down to warn him to take it easy for a second.
"Fuck, Poe--"
It feels unnatural at this point not to say it, but he looks up and he sees Poe's eyes and he doesn't have it in him anymore. The courage is gone, buried under waves of what if and the fear that everything could end. He swallows hard and slides his leg between Poe's, hooking behind his knee just to tangle them both together even tighter.
His grip almost completely releases - just the feather light touch of his fingers around them both, barely a stroke it's so slow.
He can feel it too - not his climax, he'd been too focused on Owain's pleasure and on keeping himself from saying anything - but the burning need to speak, to put it into words. It's almost painful, keeping it locked in his chest, even as it seeps out of him in almost every other way. He knows this is going to hurt him, in the long run, and he can't care.
Knows perfectly well that if he's never felt like this before, he's never going to feel like this again.
But that's okay. He'll have the brand, always. He'll have their vows. Even if he isn't the one to have Owain's heart.
The thought makes something tight and sour burn in the back of his throat, and he leans in to press his lips to Owain's cheek, then again, to his jaw, and again, against his ear.
You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, he almost says, the sounds right there in the back of his throat, his chest tightening, the sour taste spreading. He's doing this to himself, and he knows it: knows he could break it and hear exactly what he wants to hear and pretend that meant that everything would be fine for the rest of time, but -
He can't.
He owes this to Owain. So he can't.
Instead, he swallows, and whispers something between a question and a plea:
This might be the closest Owain'll ever get to hearing the word in the context he wants to hear it. That thought hits him without warning and he's shocked by how much it hurts, given how new and clumsy his recognition for his own feelings are, and how much - at the same time - it fucking heals him. Poe wants Owain to show him how much he loves him, and that's-- that's... His mouth goes dry, and the uh that slowly ekes out of him is quiet and distant, almost as if he were resistant to the idea. It's rattling around in his head that he won't be enough, that he'll put everything he has into this and Poe will just - hate it - and he suddenly has no idea what to do with his hands.
But he nods, nervous and unable to find the words, fast and eager despite the fear in his eyes that he can't tear away from Poe's. It takes him a moment before he moves, because he's scared - when he kisses Poe again it comes fast and quick without build up, even though it's slow and questioning and searching for reassurance. He doesn't break the kiss as he rolls Poe onto his back and shifts to be a little more on top of him, waist to waist, but he does feel his heart thump harder against his ribs as he brushes fingertips over Poe's cheekbone as if he were made of marble.
He shifts down the cot and it's still such a tight fit for two people. He has to hold Poe's legs up a little so his ass is right up against Owain's thighs, and he shoots him a quick glance to make sure he's comfortable before he looks back down between them. With his thumb at the base of his cock, he breathes out and slowly lines himself up with Poe, gently pressing his tip against his entrance.
"I'll--" he swallows. "I'll-- go slow. Okay? If-- if I'm going to make love to you, then-- I want you to really feel it. Everything."
The quiet uh almost makes him regret it - a guilt rising in his chest. Too much, Poe, you're putting too much pressure on him--
But as soon as Owain's lips meet his, the regret disappears, even as he does everything he can to reassure him. Pour ever last drop of everything he feeling into every touch, letting go of his cock to cup his face instead, then shifting as he was guided.
His skin is flushed, lips parted and expression expectant and... glowing. As if he had a star burning inside him that no matter how hard he tried to extinguish it, it kept flaring brighter.
He can't reach Owain, once their in position, his hands falling back to his side and curling in the sheets, instead. It's fitting, a part of his brain thinks, that they are on the cot. He's not sure why. It just gives him such a deep feeling of fondness that it's impossible to not feel warm about it. He runs his tongue over his lips, far too slowly, as he nods.
"... Yeah. I want to feel it. I want you to feel it. Everything."
Owain laughs, too loud and too happy for how serious the moment feels.
"Are you kidding? I haven't stopped feeling everything since you first became mine."
There's possessiveness there, but a clear distinction - he didn't become Poe's pledge when they met, they became each other's. He doesn't think through his wording, though, not when he just wants to bend down over Poe and pull him into another kiss before he can respond. It's still light, still soft, but he's starting to pick up what he thinks Poe might like in a kiss and he's obviously trying so, so hard to give it to him.
He stays close to Poe's lips as he looks down between them, and the atmosphere in the room feels too full again. He angles his cock down with his hand and grunts as he pushes against Poe's hole a little harder, closing one eye in concentration as he pushes and pushes and pushes until Poe takes him. He breathes hard through his nose and looks back up to meet Poe's eyes, butterfly kissing him right on the tip of his nose before leaning away and kneeling upright.
All that pre that mixed between them was enough to let him slide into Poe easily enough, but it's sticky and leaves resistance and the tightness and the heat makes him sweat against his animal instincts to just-- fuck, to fuck and to cum and to claim. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks down over Poe's body, and all his fucking radiance, that star that's illuminating him from within, it hits Owain right in the heart and brings him back down. This is-- real, what they have. This is special. He's going to treat it like that - in a real way, not in the way he thought was real back at the clocktower.
The head of his cock slips further into Poe, the underside scraping over flesh and making him stop and start in staggered motions. This is about-- connecting, about feeling Poe take over him, feeling Poe around him. The smile slips from him as he's lost in a mix of lust and affection, but he enters Poe about half way before he has to stop and breathe.
"I-- love," Owain says, struggling to keep his voice steady. "All of this-- and I'll--"
He pushes further, grunting around the tight, tight slowness of the way he enters, and he bucks his torso forward and leans over Poe, hands by his sides.
"I'll-- be--"
He thinks of what Tristan said, he thinks of what Poe said when they first met.
"I'll be-- the only person you ever need-- from now on."
His heart skips two beats, and it's almost painful when it restarts, his pulse picking up. All because of a single four letter word.
Mine.
"I am yours," he whispers, against Owain's lips when he kisses him, and his heart refuses to resume a regular beat, falling and staggering over itself helplessly. That, at least, is something he can say - something that will be true, regardless of what happens. The fresh tattoo on his shoulder physical proof of that. The healing cut on his hand. He's done nothing but brand himself with Owain since almost the day that he met him.
And he'd do it a thousand more times.
It was all he could do to relax, to let out a long, shaky breath as Owain entered him - sore, still, from earlier, but his cock is heavy where it lies against him, precum sliding down to cause a small wet spot on his skin. His body adjusts far too quickly, like it knows exactly how much he needs this. Like he's designed specifically for this.
He reaches out as Owain speaks, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him down even as Poe arches upward, wanting to connect everywhere.
"Don't tell me." It's barely above a breath, a whispered breath. Half a plea, half a confession. "Show me."
The fingers in his hair are what anchor him. He feels safe and loved and wanted and bright the way he did when he was just a little kid, back when Poe was this unknowable figure, only eighteen but so grown up in Owain's eyes. Poe had roughed his hair up and called him his little buddy before leaving him alone to grow up and be forgotten, and-- Owain allows Poe to pull him down to meet him, and when he does, he understands for the first time in nine years why every time he's been nervous, every time he felt like he was sinking in his Pledge training, every time he was worried about what his parents thought of him, every dark evening after the sun had set when he was alone with nothing but his memories and his lessons, he'd ran his hand through his hair.
Huh.
The plea runs through him like a rocket and it feels like Poe is begging him to just stop thinking and talking and fucking do this, and maybe he can tell, on some level, what Poe's feelings for him are, because he doesn't get locked in his thoughts wondering what this is or stuck in the fear that's been building that he won't be enough. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip with an achingly slow intensity before he kisses Poe again, heart heavy with need and fear and want, body a sweaty mess of limbs and jumping nerves.
He'll make Poe whole, in the way he has for Owain.
He's slow, unbearably slow, especially for him, and it's so obvious he's holding back the instinct to speed up because he wants to make this perfect. Owain's ears are trained on every gasp and uncomfortable shift Poe might make, so that when he senses this isn't completely, completely wonderful, he can stop everything he's doing and adjust so that when he fucks back into Poe a little harder Poe'll have to do everything he can not to moan.
There's weight with each thrust. It's not just about the movement, the way he stretches Poe open and rubs against every ridge of muscle and struggles not to gasp and writhe when the heat of his insides clamps down on the sensitive head of his cock - when he pushes forward and presses in he leans hard into it, putting so much pressure on Poe, tight and hard shoves against his prostate that last for so, so long. When he pulls back it feels like he's winding up to something, because every time he fucks inwards it comes harder and more sudden than when he'd left.
Owain is a sweaty red mess already. He's practically laying on Poe at this point, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, feeling Poe's cock grind against his tight abs. He tries a few times to keep kissing Poe, but he can't handle it, not on top of everything he's feeling - he's resting his forehead on his shoulder and breathing wavering breaths, less moaning with rolling sounds and more with vocal ahs and fucks and Poes that come out of him far too often and far too easily.
The fingers stay there, curled tight into Owain's hair, nails just barely brushing against his scalp. He took the kiss like a lifeline, the muscles in his neck taut as he kept pressing up into it. The rest of his muscles tighten in instinct to it, his body squeezing tightly around Owain's cock, muscles contracting - the feeling caught between pushing him out and pulling him deeper.
He doesn't mind the speed, even though it may very well drive him mad. But it's slow enough that he can feel everything and there's literally nothing in the world he wants more, right now. For a while he's fairly quiet - panting heavily, his breath hitching with every perfect thrust. And he can't really stop moving, every time Owain sinks deep he squirms to meet it, to get it perfect, to get it just right--
But he stops being able to pay attention to things, every thrust sending him further into a buzzing, heady bliss, barely aware of anything save how fucking perfect it felt. He craved to feel Owain's lips on his, but could only press them against the man's hair, moaning against him. As every moment passed he was getting less and less quiet - completely incoherent, still, there were no words rolling off his lips - but he moaned and panted and grunted and groaned and he felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire and held so tight it was almost painful.
It would take so little, to send him over the edge - he felt like he was there, constantly, ever perfect thrust against his prostate taking him right to the edge of orgasm and leaving him there. But there was no desperate urgency. It felt far, far more important to stay in the bliss of a trance that was forever on the edge of being too much, panting and writhing, fingers caught tight in Owain's hair and keeping him hard down against him. He rolled his hips into every thrust, grinding his cock between them, but it was far, far to slick for any real friction - a stream of precum leaking from him that wouldn't stop.
"--Owain--" The first coherent word to leave his lips.
It lasts-- a minute, maybe, or an hour, maybe even ten. Destroyed by this heat, all conscious thought slips away from him as he becomes a machine designed for this, designed for the precision of pressing against every nerve that makes Poe buck his hips upward and every light touch of the tip of his cock to Poe's prostate. He can't focus on anything but the warm red light of his eyes shut so tightly, and the feeling of Poe's cock covering his abs and stomach with precum, and-- fuck, the way all that tight, soft pressure closes in on him and makes him flex and pulse and flood jet after jet of precum into Poe's hole-- and he's not sure how long it lasts, he's not sure, but when he cums--
There's no warning, not really. He's slow and he's careful, grazing his cock over flesh with an almost stillness as he listens to Poe's gasps and moans and marvels at the way they both just fit together, hitting each other where it hurts the most. But then Poe says his name and Owain fucking yells and keens forward all at once, sinking to the hilt as he shoots deep, lifting Poe's hips off the bed and angling him down so he can feel Owain's cum trail as deep inside of him as both of their bodies will allow.
It's not nearly as big a load as his have been in the past, Owain too dry and drained from all the sex they've had in the past twenty four hours alone. He bucks forward and his muscles tighten and spasm and then he's done, completely fucking done, laying on Poe like everything inside of him just stopped. He's still throbbing weakly, lodged deep inside Poe's ass, but he can't move, crushing Poe under his weight.
He doesn't let Poe talk. Doesn't let him cum, either. It takes a few seconds for him to find his strength, but he does, pushing himself off the cot with his elbows and gently slipping out of Poe's ass. He locks their lips together if Poe tries to talk, keeping him silent, and when he's satisfied he's gotten the message, he'll let go.
He slinks down between them and takes Poe's cock, so fucking close to cumming, and he wraps his lips around the head. He coils his tongue over it and sucks hard, all the energy he has left going into this, and then he--
He can't quite deep throat him, not yet. Doesn't know how, hasn't had enough practice. But he gets far, and he hums around Poe's cock, swallowing his head at the back of his throat to draw him into so much god damn pressure. He hollows his cheeks, keeping Poe sealed tight in the vaccuum of his mouth, and he presses his tongue hard against his underside as he works hard to be fed the load he deserves.
He's so close, when Owain comes, that he writhes out of need and frustration, vainly trying to get any sort of fulfilling friction between them. But Owain's weight keeps him pinned to the cot, and he can't bring himself to complain anyway - even now, Owain felt so good inside him, over him, around him, that he never wanted to leave. He was about to say something - to ask Owain to stay where he was, that he just wanted to keep feeling like this for a while, when he was cut off and silenced with a kiss.
He understood.
He didn't try to speak again, when Owain pulled away.
He watched his lover move down between his legs and his cock twitched, visibly, swollen and red. He was almost sore with how close he had been for so long, his balls aching with it. He slipped both hands into Owain's hair but didn't put any pressure against his head - just wanted to feel him as he drew his cock into his mouth.
He was so close already that as soon as Owain swallowed around him he was right back in the edge, again, bucking shallowly into Owain's mouth and unable to stop himself. He tried to offer a warning but no words came out - just a broken sob of a moan as everything in him exploded into light, and he was coming impossibly hard, hips bucking sharply as his cock coated Owain's throat with shot after shot of his cum.
The first blast of cum to the back of his throat makes him gag a little, but he's fucking excited, and it's there in his eyes - a spark of life as he swallows more and more of Poe's cock until he can feel each pulsating jet coat his tongue and stain his throat. He just keeps swallowing each shot as it comes, making that vaccuum around Poe's cock even tighter, milking him of every last drop as he softly squeezes and tugs on Poe's balls to coax him into completely draining himself bare.
It takes longer than he thought it would and his eyes are watering by the time Poe's done, red faced and raw as a tear of effort glides down his cheek, but when Poe's starting to soften, he leans back and nurses the tip of Poe's dick, lapping at the slit until every last part of his climax is completely gone. He wipes his nose and his lips and his cheek when he pulls back and looks up at Poe with an unrelenting grin, because fuck, he's proud of himself for that -
And then he's collapsing on his side next to Poe, breathing out hard and staring up at the ceiling. It's still too tight here in this cot, and they should move to the bed, but his legs are jelly and all he cares about is the taste of cum on his tongue.
He turns to look at Poe, eyes wide.
He won't speak first, because he knows if he does, he's just going to say even if I had been born human, instead of becoming after a lifetime as a Pledge, I never would have thought I could feel a love like this one. He finds Poe's hand and locks it in his own, breathing soft and steady and deep and just-- watching.
For a few minutes, Poe may as well be dead, for all the ability he has to move. Utterly and completely drained he only hazily recognizes Owain's tongue lapping up any remains of his orgasm. He lets out a soft grunt as he feels the bed jolt when Owain flips down net to him, and he can't quite focus on anything in particular when he first turns his head to meet Owain's gaze.
But he's slowly coming back to himself and he smiled - slow and warm and nothing but love a turning into his side to be able to take in Owain's face. He didn't say anything. He just watched him, eyes flitting from Owain's eyes to his lips to the bridge of his nose to his cheekbone and back to his eyes again. Utterly and completely captivated and not even trying to hide it.
He raised a hand after a few long moments, to brush the sides of his fingers against Owain's cheek, a slow, loving caress. He didn't speak. He just left his finger trail against Owain's jaw, ending with a gentle brush past the edge of his lips before starting the caress all over again.
The desire to speak drains with the last vestiges of his energy, and he lets himself just get lost in Poe's eyes. Soft and filled entirely with Owain. It's-- hard, the longer he watches Poe, because the more he does the bigger his heart feels, and the bigger his heart feels the more he just wants to-- close a distance. A distance that can only be closed in time.
He doesn't dare move, trying to keep this moment going for as long as he can. The love in that touch, the love in this moment, the love in everything he is. He watches Poe and tears prick at his eyes - happy tears, joyful little surges of emotion that pry themselves from his tear ducts and roll down the bridge of his nose every so often - but he's smiling and he's warm and he's in love.
The smile slips from his face as time drags on. He struggles against sleep, forcing his eyes open whenever they start to shut, leaning back against Poe's hand every time it slows just to keep this going. Eventually, though - the comfort he feels in this tight, cramped cot, the pathetic thing set aside for him as a Pledge that he and Poe have completely claimed as something different, catches up to him.
And when he sleeps,
Owain dreams of the wars they'll be fighting. The ways they might lose each other.
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He feels his breath hitch as Owain's fingers rest against him, the thin fabric doing absolutely nothing to hide the way his cock automatically responded to it.
"There are... a lot of ways, in particular," He admitted, unable to completely smother his grin, despite Owain's nervous look. "But it's your birthday, Owain. Still." He leaned forward, just enough to press their foreheads together, his hand resting on Owain's hip.
"... I would just lie here and kiss you forever, if that's what you told me you wanted."
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In all this sweeping, stars-under-the-skin emotion he's been caught up in after Poe's choice to get branded for him, he forgot. A wave of heat rolls from where Poe touches him, and he shuts his eyes, letting himself feel pinned under the gentle brush of that hand on his hip. Idiot, he tells himself. You're eighteen now.
Kissing Poe is only one thing he wants. He wants-- all of him, every part of him-- forever. It's timid and exploratory, every touch to Poe's cock like he's never done it before, hand shaking with nerves as his palm slides over his bulge, and he punctuates each movement by leaning forward to snag a blind, chaste kiss. Touching him like this feels momentous in a way that doesn't really make sense after everything they've done, like this is the moment where touching Poe really fucking matters, and he doesn't wanna mess up.
He carefully, carefully pulls Poe's underwear down, exposing his cock to the air and gently taking hold of it. It's featherlight, in the way a pledge's touches are supposed to be when shaking someone's hand or doing something for their master, stealthy and unnoticable. He steadily firms up his grip until Poe can really fucking feel the heat of his fist, the tightness of his soft skin, as he gently starts to stroke, rolling foreskin back from his head and kissing him once more to make it an even thousand.
"I want... you to fall apart in my hands," he confesses, slowly. "I want to just-- overload you. Make you writhe and cum and feel as intensely as I always do with you."
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"I already-- fuck, Owain, but I already do... You just- everything you do, I just--"
Shut up, Dameron! He scolds himself, cutting off with a low, helpless moan as he presses forward into another kiss - hot and heavy and open mouthed, the hand on Owain's hip curling with need but he doesn't move it yet.
"... Can I touch you?" He whispers, despite everything, he still can't help but ask. Feels the need to ask.
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Everything you do. His heart hammers against his chest even though he doesn't fully understand why. These aren't feelings so easily identifiable for a man who grew up being told he had to shut everything about himself down; he watches his parents and knew in the short time they had together that the two of them were in love, and it's why he wants to tell Poe he loves him, because he wants to have with Poe what he knew Lissa and Lon'qu had with each other, but. Actually experiencing all of this? He has no idea what infatuation is, on an emotional level. Couldn't differentiate a crush with a storybook, fairy tale romance he hid away with at night to read under the covers as if it was something filthy.
All he knows is everything you do is how he feels about Poe. Every part of Poe makes his heart hurt.
So he stumbles and nods, feeling small and big all at the same time.
"I'd be mad if you didn't?" He laughs, shifting his elbow back so he can stroke Poe with a touch more access. "I want us to do-- everything. Anything. So... yeah. Don't-- ask. Just-- do?"
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Don't ask, just do.
Don't say it, Poe, just show it.
His hands slipped down to Owain's belt buckle, pulling it open with a practised ease even though he's distracted - grinding himself a little into Owain's hand as he strokes. His touch is almost feather light as he pulls Owain's trousers down his thighs, pushing all the fabric as far out of the way as he can manage until it's pooling at Owain's ankles and he can force the rest off with a kick of his foot. He presses a hot kiss to Owain's neck, but he doesn't mark him, just lingers there against his skin and breathing in all of him. He doesn't go for his cock, first, and instead goes for the edge of his sweater, pulling it up and forcing Owain to let go of him for a half second so he could get it off and on the ground. Only once every scrap of fabric was off of Owain was he satisfied, leaning in to take a long, deep kiss as he slid his palm down the length of the man's cock and then curled his fingers warmly around it. Not stroking. Not yet. Just holding.
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As Poe takes a hold of his cock, he shudders and bucks hard into it, too desperate to feel in his youth. He sucks in air and fills his lungs and wills himself to calm down, shutting his eyes with a flutter and resting his head against Poe's chest. He has no self-restraint at the best of times, but here and now with everything crashing over him with the force of a tidal wave - fuck, he just wants to cum already.
He realizes Poe's still a little dressed, so he buys time by easing him out of all of his clothes, leaving him naked and just fucking admiring the way Poe looks in the late afternoon sun. It's finally starting to set, leaving Poe in warm orange glows and making Owain's heart lodge in his throat every time he looks at him, and this, he thinks, is the way he'll remember Poe when they're older. Relaxed and smiling at him and everything you do still ringing in his head.
If what he feels isn't love, Owain doesn't know what possibly could be.
He guides Poe's hand back to his cock and finds his again once they're pressed together, Owain stroking Poe maybe a little faster than he should be with how careful this moment is.
"Fuck," he whispers again. He'd call Poe Captain or a good boy any other night, but he can't think of him as anything other than who he is. Poe, first and foremost. The man who saved him.
"Fuck, Poe, you don't--"
You don't know what you are, what you mean. He can feel his throat burn with a heavy, swollen emotion and he tries to swallow the lump down but it stays.
"I wish I knew how to tell you what you are to me," he finally says, voice thick. "You got my fucking brand--"
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It's another thing altogether, when Owain is speaking and the words are sliding right into his heart and lodging there, heavier and heavier as they accumulate. It's hard enough, when it isn't so painfully obvious that Owain feels exactly the same way he does.
And that's okay. Owain can feel whatever he wants. Poe gave him that, specifically. Intentionally. The fact that he freely gives those feelings to Poe is enough to make him giddy, but doesn't break the overlying truth. There's still a power imbalance, there. Implicit. In time? In time, maybe they'll be just fine, and Owain will find himself and yet his heart will somehow still be here. With Poe. In time, Poe would even be able to accept that. Gladly. Warmly.
But it's too early.
It's too early and Owain is too young, and Poe is too fucking aware, now, of his own feelings. But he's had a decade to make sense of them. Had a decade to tell the difference between the first heady flutters of a crush, to something deeper.
Just because he's fallen so fast doesn't mean he hasn't realised how fucking hard he's fallen, too.
But he knows he can't expect that, from Owain. Knows he shouldn't.
Knows he can't deny him anything, despite that.
Once he has hold of Owain again he finally does begin to stroke - far slower than Owain is stroking him. His touch is almost too light - fingers barely brushing the underside. His eyes are locked on Owain's face, hair fucking glowing in the low afternoon sun, and he's pretty damn sure he's never seen anything more beautiful, than this. Locks the sight away, deep inside himself. Tells himself: even if this doesn't last - even if I'm only Owain's introduction to life, and not the entirety of it - it's worth it.
He doesn't reply. Not with words, at least. He presses closer, stealing the word 'brand' from Owain's lips with a searching kiss, tongue sliding deep to taste the entirety of him. His grip on Owain's cock firms, tighter, and he begins to stroke a little faster, slowly gaining on the pace that the other man is setting on his own cock. He presses closer, free hand reaching between them to pull Owain's hand back - but he doesn't leave any room for the other man to doubt his intentions. The hand that he'd been using to stroke him he now wraps around them both, letting a shuddering breath out against Owain's lips as he holds their cocks together and gives them both the same achingly slow stroke.
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But things progress in the instant that thought hazily connects, and soon Poe is chasing his hand away and moving everything forward, grinding their cocks against one another and making Owain shudder and moan as he curls forward. With Poe taking over, Owain has both of his hands free, and he slides them across Poe's neck just for the sake of touching him.
"Poe--"
He's shut his eyes again, helpless and vulnerable to all of this. Poe's moving too slowly and he's starting to get impatient - until now, just looking at Poe set a fire in him that made him too giddy and anxious to move, but that fire is beginning to burn in a slightly different colour. Now he just-- he wants more, he wants everything. He fucks into Poe's hand, a river of pre flooding down between them and making everything sound so much more wetter and lewder than beautiful like it feels.
His fingernails carve lines in Poe's neck as he curls them in, and Owain forces his eyes open to get a better look at him. He could say it. He could still say it.
"I..."
It wouldn't be like him to hold back, if he hadn't had years of being held back beaten into him. He could say it, if he had been raised as nobility, as he should have been. He looks at Poe, and it's there, it's so obviously there. Seconds from saying it. Seconds from telling Poe. He swallows, and it's hard to focus, hard to breathe, with the way Poe keeps stroking. Slowly. Too fucking slowly.
Another breath.
Eyes wide. Locked on Poe's.
Vulnerable, young. Barely experienced in the world, let alone in love.
Lips parted.
About to say it.
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Owain is far from the only one leaking precum between them, and his hand is slick as it strokes them both, gripping a little tighter to make up for the loss of friction, still slow but the pace was picking up. Not consciously, just his body giving in to his need while his mind and heart were completely elsewhere. Locked into Owain's lips and words unsaid.
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But again - he's young and he's naive. It's so, so easy for Poe to captivate him, to change him. The kiss is a firework, all of Poe's intentions and all of his love warming Owain from the inside, and he slowly glides his cock harder against Poe's with a rut of his hips. He can already feel his climax building and he doesn't want this to end yet, so when he breaks the kiss to grunt and lower his head, he puts his hands on Poe's shoulders and squeezes down to warn him to take it easy for a second.
"Fuck, Poe--"
It feels unnatural at this point not to say it, but he looks up and he sees Poe's eyes and he doesn't have it in him anymore. The courage is gone, buried under waves of what if and the fear that everything could end. He swallows hard and slides his leg between Poe's, hooking behind his knee just to tangle them both together even tighter.
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He can feel it too - not his climax, he'd been too focused on Owain's pleasure and on keeping himself from saying anything - but the burning need to speak, to put it into words. It's almost painful, keeping it locked in his chest, even as it seeps out of him in almost every other way. He knows this is going to hurt him, in the long run, and he can't care.
Knows perfectly well that if he's never felt like this before, he's never going to feel like this again.
But that's okay. He'll have the brand, always. He'll have their vows. Even if he isn't the one to have Owain's heart.
The thought makes something tight and sour burn in the back of his throat, and he leans in to press his lips to Owain's cheek, then again, to his jaw, and again, against his ear.
You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, he almost says, the sounds right there in the back of his throat, his chest tightening, the sour taste spreading. He's doing this to himself, and he knows it: knows he could break it and hear exactly what he wants to hear and pretend that meant that everything would be fine for the rest of time, but -
He can't.
He owes this to Owain. So he can't.
Instead, he swallows, and whispers something between a question and a plea:
"Make love to me?"
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This might be the closest Owain'll ever get to hearing the word in the context he wants to hear it. That thought hits him without warning and he's shocked by how much it hurts, given how new and clumsy his recognition for his own feelings are, and how much - at the same time - it fucking heals him. Poe wants Owain to show him how much he loves him, and that's-- that's... His mouth goes dry, and the uh that slowly ekes out of him is quiet and distant, almost as if he were resistant to the idea. It's rattling around in his head that he won't be enough, that he'll put everything he has into this and Poe will just - hate it - and he suddenly has no idea what to do with his hands.
But he nods, nervous and unable to find the words, fast and eager despite the fear in his eyes that he can't tear away from Poe's. It takes him a moment before he moves, because he's scared - when he kisses Poe again it comes fast and quick without build up, even though it's slow and questioning and searching for reassurance. He doesn't break the kiss as he rolls Poe onto his back and shifts to be a little more on top of him, waist to waist, but he does feel his heart thump harder against his ribs as he brushes fingertips over Poe's cheekbone as if he were made of marble.
He shifts down the cot and it's still such a tight fit for two people. He has to hold Poe's legs up a little so his ass is right up against Owain's thighs, and he shoots him a quick glance to make sure he's comfortable before he looks back down between them. With his thumb at the base of his cock, he breathes out and slowly lines himself up with Poe, gently pressing his tip against his entrance.
"I'll--" he swallows. "I'll-- go slow. Okay? If-- if I'm going to make love to you, then-- I want you to really feel it. Everything."
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But as soon as Owain's lips meet his, the regret disappears, even as he does everything he can to reassure him. Pour ever last drop of everything he feeling into every touch, letting go of his cock to cup his face instead, then shifting as he was guided.
His skin is flushed, lips parted and expression expectant and... glowing. As if he had a star burning inside him that no matter how hard he tried to extinguish it, it kept flaring brighter.
He can't reach Owain, once their in position, his hands falling back to his side and curling in the sheets, instead. It's fitting, a part of his brain thinks, that they are on the cot. He's not sure why. It just gives him such a deep feeling of fondness that it's impossible to not feel warm about it. He runs his tongue over his lips, far too slowly, as he nods.
"... Yeah. I want to feel it. I want you to feel it. Everything."
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"Are you kidding? I haven't stopped feeling everything since you first became mine."
There's possessiveness there, but a clear distinction - he didn't become Poe's pledge when they met, they became each other's. He doesn't think through his wording, though, not when he just wants to bend down over Poe and pull him into another kiss before he can respond. It's still light, still soft, but he's starting to pick up what he thinks Poe might like in a kiss and he's obviously trying so, so hard to give it to him.
He stays close to Poe's lips as he looks down between them, and the atmosphere in the room feels too full again. He angles his cock down with his hand and grunts as he pushes against Poe's hole a little harder, closing one eye in concentration as he pushes and pushes and pushes until Poe takes him. He breathes hard through his nose and looks back up to meet Poe's eyes, butterfly kissing him right on the tip of his nose before leaning away and kneeling upright.
All that pre that mixed between them was enough to let him slide into Poe easily enough, but it's sticky and leaves resistance and the tightness and the heat makes him sweat against his animal instincts to just-- fuck, to fuck and to cum and to claim. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks down over Poe's body, and all his fucking radiance, that star that's illuminating him from within, it hits Owain right in the heart and brings him back down. This is-- real, what they have. This is special. He's going to treat it like that - in a real way, not in the way he thought was real back at the clocktower.
The head of his cock slips further into Poe, the underside scraping over flesh and making him stop and start in staggered motions. This is about-- connecting, about feeling Poe take over him, feeling Poe around him. The smile slips from him as he's lost in a mix of lust and affection, but he enters Poe about half way before he has to stop and breathe.
"I-- love," Owain says, struggling to keep his voice steady. "All of this-- and I'll--"
He pushes further, grunting around the tight, tight slowness of the way he enters, and he bucks his torso forward and leans over Poe, hands by his sides.
"I'll-- be--"
He thinks of what Tristan said, he thinks of what Poe said when they first met.
"I'll be-- the only person you ever need-- from now on."
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Mine.
"I am yours," he whispers, against Owain's lips when he kisses him, and his heart refuses to resume a regular beat, falling and staggering over itself helplessly. That, at least, is something he can say - something that will be true, regardless of what happens. The fresh tattoo on his shoulder physical proof of that. The healing cut on his hand. He's done nothing but brand himself with Owain since almost the day that he met him.
And he'd do it a thousand more times.
It was all he could do to relax, to let out a long, shaky breath as Owain entered him - sore, still, from earlier, but his cock is heavy where it lies against him, precum sliding down to cause a small wet spot on his skin. His body adjusts far too quickly, like it knows exactly how much he needs this. Like he's designed specifically for this.
He reaches out as Owain speaks, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him down even as Poe arches upward, wanting to connect everywhere.
"Don't tell me." It's barely above a breath, a whispered breath. Half a plea, half a confession. "Show me."
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Huh.
The plea runs through him like a rocket and it feels like Poe is begging him to just stop thinking and talking and fucking do this, and maybe he can tell, on some level, what Poe's feelings for him are, because he doesn't get locked in his thoughts wondering what this is or stuck in the fear that's been building that he won't be enough. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip with an achingly slow intensity before he kisses Poe again, heart heavy with need and fear and want, body a sweaty mess of limbs and jumping nerves.
He'll make Poe whole, in the way he has for Owain.
He's slow, unbearably slow, especially for him, and it's so obvious he's holding back the instinct to speed up because he wants to make this perfect. Owain's ears are trained on every gasp and uncomfortable shift Poe might make, so that when he senses this isn't completely, completely wonderful, he can stop everything he's doing and adjust so that when he fucks back into Poe a little harder Poe'll have to do everything he can not to moan.
There's weight with each thrust. It's not just about the movement, the way he stretches Poe open and rubs against every ridge of muscle and struggles not to gasp and writhe when the heat of his insides clamps down on the sensitive head of his cock - when he pushes forward and presses in he leans hard into it, putting so much pressure on Poe, tight and hard shoves against his prostate that last for so, so long. When he pulls back it feels like he's winding up to something, because every time he fucks inwards it comes harder and more sudden than when he'd left.
Owain is a sweaty red mess already. He's practically laying on Poe at this point, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, feeling Poe's cock grind against his tight abs. He tries a few times to keep kissing Poe, but he can't handle it, not on top of everything he's feeling - he's resting his forehead on his shoulder and breathing wavering breaths, less moaning with rolling sounds and more with vocal ahs and fucks and Poes that come out of him far too often and far too easily.
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He doesn't mind the speed, even though it may very well drive him mad. But it's slow enough that he can feel everything and there's literally nothing in the world he wants more, right now. For a while he's fairly quiet - panting heavily, his breath hitching with every perfect thrust. And he can't really stop moving, every time Owain sinks deep he squirms to meet it, to get it perfect, to get it just right--
But he stops being able to pay attention to things, every thrust sending him further into a buzzing, heady bliss, barely aware of anything save how fucking perfect it felt. He craved to feel Owain's lips on his, but could only press them against the man's hair, moaning against him. As every moment passed he was getting less and less quiet - completely incoherent, still, there were no words rolling off his lips - but he moaned and panted and grunted and groaned and he felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire and held so tight it was almost painful.
It would take so little, to send him over the edge - he felt like he was there, constantly, ever perfect thrust against his prostate taking him right to the edge of orgasm and leaving him there. But there was no desperate urgency. It felt far, far more important to stay in the bliss of a trance that was forever on the edge of being too much, panting and writhing, fingers caught tight in Owain's hair and keeping him hard down against him. He rolled his hips into every thrust, grinding his cock between them, but it was far, far to slick for any real friction - a stream of precum leaking from him that wouldn't stop.
"--Owain--" The first coherent word to leave his lips.
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It lasts-- a minute, maybe, or an hour, maybe even ten. Destroyed by this heat, all conscious thought slips away from him as he becomes a machine designed for this, designed for the precision of pressing against every nerve that makes Poe buck his hips upward and every light touch of the tip of his cock to Poe's prostate. He can't focus on anything but the warm red light of his eyes shut so tightly, and the feeling of Poe's cock covering his abs and stomach with precum, and-- fuck, the way all that tight, soft pressure closes in on him and makes him flex and pulse and flood jet after jet of precum into Poe's hole-- and he's not sure how long it lasts, he's not sure, but when he cums--
There's no warning, not really. He's slow and he's careful, grazing his cock over flesh with an almost stillness as he listens to Poe's gasps and moans and marvels at the way they both just fit together, hitting each other where it hurts the most. But then Poe says his name and Owain fucking yells and keens forward all at once, sinking to the hilt as he shoots deep, lifting Poe's hips off the bed and angling him down so he can feel Owain's cum trail as deep inside of him as both of their bodies will allow.
It's not nearly as big a load as his have been in the past, Owain too dry and drained from all the sex they've had in the past twenty four hours alone. He bucks forward and his muscles tighten and spasm and then he's done, completely fucking done, laying on Poe like everything inside of him just stopped. He's still throbbing weakly, lodged deep inside Poe's ass, but he can't move, crushing Poe under his weight.
He doesn't let Poe talk. Doesn't let him cum, either. It takes a few seconds for him to find his strength, but he does, pushing himself off the cot with his elbows and gently slipping out of Poe's ass. He locks their lips together if Poe tries to talk, keeping him silent, and when he's satisfied he's gotten the message, he'll let go.
He slinks down between them and takes Poe's cock, so fucking close to cumming, and he wraps his lips around the head. He coils his tongue over it and sucks hard, all the energy he has left going into this, and then he--
He can't quite deep throat him, not yet. Doesn't know how, hasn't had enough practice. But he gets far, and he hums around Poe's cock, swallowing his head at the back of his throat to draw him into so much god damn pressure. He hollows his cheeks, keeping Poe sealed tight in the vaccuum of his mouth, and he presses his tongue hard against his underside as he works hard to be fed the load he deserves.
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He understood.
He didn't try to speak again, when Owain pulled away.
He watched his lover move down between his legs and his cock twitched, visibly, swollen and red. He was almost sore with how close he had been for so long, his balls aching with it. He slipped both hands into Owain's hair but didn't put any pressure against his head - just wanted to feel him as he drew his cock into his mouth.
He was so close already that as soon as Owain swallowed around him he was right back in the edge, again, bucking shallowly into Owain's mouth and unable to stop himself. He tried to offer a warning but no words came out - just a broken sob of a moan as everything in him exploded into light, and he was coming impossibly hard, hips bucking sharply as his cock coated Owain's throat with shot after shot of his cum.
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It takes longer than he thought it would and his eyes are watering by the time Poe's done, red faced and raw as a tear of effort glides down his cheek, but when Poe's starting to soften, he leans back and nurses the tip of Poe's dick, lapping at the slit until every last part of his climax is completely gone. He wipes his nose and his lips and his cheek when he pulls back and looks up at Poe with an unrelenting grin, because fuck, he's proud of himself for that -
And then he's collapsing on his side next to Poe, breathing out hard and staring up at the ceiling. It's still too tight here in this cot, and they should move to the bed, but his legs are jelly and all he cares about is the taste of cum on his tongue.
He turns to look at Poe, eyes wide.
He won't speak first, because he knows if he does, he's just going to say even if I had been born human, instead of becoming after a lifetime as a Pledge, I never would have thought I could feel a love like this one. He finds Poe's hand and locks it in his own, breathing soft and steady and deep and just-- watching.
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But he's slowly coming back to himself and he smiled - slow and warm and nothing but love a turning into his side to be able to take in Owain's face. He didn't say anything. He just watched him, eyes flitting from Owain's eyes to his lips to the bridge of his nose to his cheekbone and back to his eyes again. Utterly and completely captivated and not even trying to hide it.
He raised a hand after a few long moments, to brush the sides of his fingers against Owain's cheek, a slow, loving caress. He didn't speak. He just left his finger trail against Owain's jaw, ending with a gentle brush past the edge of his lips before starting the caress all over again.
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The desire to speak drains with the last vestiges of his energy, and he lets himself just get lost in Poe's eyes. Soft and filled entirely with Owain. It's-- hard, the longer he watches Poe, because the more he does the bigger his heart feels, and the bigger his heart feels the more he just wants to-- close a distance. A distance that can only be closed in time.
He doesn't dare move, trying to keep this moment going for as long as he can. The love in that touch, the love in this moment, the love in everything he is. He watches Poe and tears prick at his eyes - happy tears, joyful little surges of emotion that pry themselves from his tear ducts and roll down the bridge of his nose every so often - but he's smiling and he's warm and he's in love.
The smile slips from his face as time drags on. He struggles against sleep, forcing his eyes open whenever they start to shut, leaning back against Poe's hand every time it slows just to keep this going. Eventually, though - the comfort he feels in this tight, cramped cot, the pathetic thing set aside for him as a Pledge that he and Poe have completely claimed as something different, catches up to him.
And when he sleeps,
Owain dreams of the wars they'll be fighting. The ways they might lose each other.
The fires they'll forge themselves in.