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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no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.