He's sore, is the first thing he notices, but that thought flees even more quickly than it came, because as soon as he opened his eyes, he met Owain's peaceful sleeping face. There's a slight furrow in Owain's brow, as if he's thinking a little too hard, deeps in dreams, and it's all Poe can do to lie there and watch him sleep for several minutes.
But early morning rays of sun are creeping into the room and pulling Poe awake, and no matter how much he would rather stay in this moment, time still passes. With a quiet breath, he leans in and presses his lips to Owain's forehead. He lingers, stretching time as long as he is able, before he finally pulls away and carefully untangles himself from the cot.
He is a quiet as he possibly can be as he cleans up and gets dressed, but he keeps glancing over to see how the morning light catches Owain's hair, a bittersweet love gripping his heart.
He's not going to be able to do this again, for a long time. Not like this. And he knows it.
When the knock comes, he silently curses them in his mind, the noise far too loud to let Owain continue sleeping. He pads over to the door and exchanges some short, cursory words, and then recieves the packages that the man came to deliver. Shutting the door again, he brought them to the table and began to unwrap the brown paper. Owain's uniform - complete with cape - lay inside, branch new and spotless.
Owain wakes with a start, his eyes jerking open. There's no peace in him, after the dreams he's had, and it takes a moment to feel the warmth of the bed and the scratchiness of the Pledge-assigned sheets as something real. More real than the pain he feared for in his sleep. That knock was just a knock, nothing more.
He sits up, slowly, his bones in an aching kind of pain. His hair is all flat from where it's been pressed into the pillow, sticking up in weird strands on the other side, but he still blearily looks at Poe's back and smiles as he only half listens to the whitenoise of conversation. A far cry from how he should act, as a Pledge. Anyone else would be ashamed their masters woke up before them. More so, that they then let them sleep when a delivery was expected.
Owain yawns and flops back onto the cot as Poe unravels his uniform, stretching his legs, his knee popping with a satisfying click. He lets himself stretch out a bit, unable to do so last night, and watches the ceiling until his mind kicks into gear. He rolls out of bed soon enough, still just super god damn naked as he slides up to Poe and wraps his arms around his waist. There's a quick kiss to his neck, and then an excited shout as he pulls back and slams his hands on the able, all his sleepiness just-- dead and gone.
"Uniform! Uniform! Shit!!!" He goes straight for the cape, sort of laugh-screaming despite the scratchiness of his morning voice. He fastens it around his neck and does a bit of a spin, then goes straight for the boots, hopping on one leg as he tries to put one on. Still naked.
There he stands, one-booted and caped the fuck up, beaming at Poe. Doesn't even think that this is kind of disrespectful.
"Good? Good so far?" He does a twirl, stumbling a bit. "Oh man. I'm going to be the best. You're going to love fighting with me."
He pretends not to pay attention as Owain stretches in bed like a cat, making it extremely tempting to give up what he was doing and crawl back onto the tiny cot - but his decision is made for him as Owain gets up and wraps around him.
He was not expecting the shout, and starts a bit, getting out of the way as Owain joyously began to grab at the uniform and the boots, and can't help but stand and watch, a smile plastered on his face and a laugh caught in the back of his throat.
It is utterly disrespectful, and... therefore kind of hot. Woops.
"Yeah, not bad. Though you may want something to protect your softer bits," he teased, fighting the smile and losing, as he stepped over to slide his hands onto Owain's hips.
Pfft, whatever. He's about to pull away for another stupid twirl when Poe has a hold of him and he roots himself there instead. He pulls his arms around Poe's back and tugs him into a hug, something tight and warm that Owain squeezes into with all of his god damn strength, still naked and half-hard with morning wood. He yawns onto the back of his hand though and checks out the rest of his uniform, blitzed with excitement.
He tries to keep the cape on while he dresses, at first, because of course he does. It doesn't work and he quickly realizes he'll have to strip bare to do it, but he complains the whole time because he has a cape and people who wear capes don't take off their capes. His fingers are nimble and quick on every catch and every button, and it doesn't take long before he's dressed.
He's not sure if it looks right on him or not.
There's a small mirror by the window and it's what Owain checks himself out in when he's done, and the outfit makes him look broad and strong and taller than he already was. He feels his heart catch in his throat because he looks like a person and a hero, and he's overwhelmed with the thought that this doesn't suit him. He's been training for this, but he's gonna fuck it up. His face goes a little pale when he turns back to Poe, smoothing out a crease in his arm when looking into his eyes gets to be too much again. Feelings.
"Do I, uh." He tugs at his sleeve, putting it down a little over his hand. "Do I look okay?"
It looks, frankly, incredibly attractive on him - and Poe can feel his heart stutter a little as Owain turns around, a brilliant fresh new set of fantasies blooming somewhere in the back of his mind.
But they weren't sexual ones. Just flashes and images of a life that he hadn't thought about until that moment - at least not clearly - with Owain's hand in his and a sword in the other, back to back and taking on anything that came for them--
Pride bloomed across his face, and he nodded.
"... Yeah. More than okay. It- yeah. It suits you."
That's all he fucking wants. All he's ever fucking wanted. To stand at Poe's back, sword in hand.
It happens all too quickly. One minute he's standing there, beaming and sheepish all at the same time, prouder than he's ever been. The next he's closing the gap between them, itchy fabric clinging too tight to his arms, still unbroken in. He raises his hands to Poe's jaw and holds him, and the charge between them feels like there's going to be a kiss, but Owain just rests their foreheads together and closes his eyes, laughing under his breath, fully at fucking peace.
"This is gonna be so great," Owain says, with all the excitement in the world. "I'm gonna keep you safe. I promise. You're going to keep me safe. We're going to just-- fight, and I'll just be a man with a weapon before I'm a pledge. I'll be your man and you'll be mine and we'll just-- just-- be us."
It's optimistic. Too optimistic, maybe, to hope he'll be able to carve individuality out for himself amongst the rest of Poe's fleet, but he feels like it's possible. Their noses touch and he pulls back, grinning, too bright and too young for war.
He moves as if to take a kiss, heart stuttering when he doesn't get it. Not even twelve hours since he had one last and yet he was one with the same burning intensity of a drowning man needing air. He doesn't take it, though. Let's Owain dictate the moment until the man pulls back and Poe nearly just steps into the gap to keep it closed.
Gods, but he needed to relax. This giddiness was turning this into an obsession.
His smile was nothing but pride, though. Even the horrors of war couldn't slip into the moment for him. So when he replied, it was with complete honesty.
"Not at all. Think it might take a lot for me to be nervous about anything, anymore."
The pride and the coherency in Poe's voice makes him beam ever brighter, and Owain doesn't know what to do with all the electricity in his veins. All the love, all the hope, all the joy and fulfilment he gets from just fucking being here, being the man lucky enough to stumble into Poe's life. What he says makes his heart hurt, and he gets such an urge to touch or to move or to something that he laughs as loud as he can and shoves Poe gently by the shoulders.
"Because of me," he says. Just to hear the words. "You're brave 'cause of me."
He takes that kiss, after all.
He grabs Poe by the lapel as he's stumbling back from the shove and drags him forward to crash hard against his lips. He deepens it right away, and there's that balance where he honestly wouldn't be able to tell if this kiss was more based in lust or love - it's hard and it's demanding and it comes alongside heavy, staggred breaths, but it's simultaneously careful and easy and affectionate, paired with gentle fingers through hair and smiles that won't stop.
Owain pulls back and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling down the crooked smile he makes.
He doesn't even have time to get in his usual 'Yeah' before Owain is kissing him, and Poe returns it immediately - far too much need and far too much longing to be in a kiss that came so soon after the night before. As if there were months of yearning and longing behind it instead of days. It's heady and intoxicating and when Owain pulls away, Poe's heart is pounding and his eyes are a little glazed over and he has to shake his head to clear the haze and actually hear the question.
"... ... Ugh..."
It's not a graceful reply. He doesn't want to say 'yes', in any form or measure, but knows they have to. Knows that if he lets his cock decide for him they would be hours late. Knows that if he let his heart decide, they would never leave the room at all.
"Ugh," He says again, just to make it clear that he doesn't approve of this line of questioning. "... Yeah. We need to go."
Owain laughs, a kiss to Poe's nose after that first ugh, another to his lips after the second. He finds Poe's hand and kisses the side of it, tangling and untangling their fingers together, and he's surprised, how for the first time, he really, really wants to leave this room.
"It's going to be fucking awesome," he promises, pulling Poe forward again by his hand to slip into another kiss. He's too giddy this morning, all touchy and affectionate, and it's the kind of thing that's going to get him in trouble if he does it too much, especially in public - but he can't help it, not really, not when Poe's looking at him like that.
"Wanna make me a promise?" Another kiss, another kiss, another, and then he's finally drawing back to look at himself in the mirror. He's singsong, slightly too happy for what he's about to ask.
"We're totally gonna fuck in uniform one day." He laughs. "Tonight?"
Well they aren't going to be able to leave immediately - not with the obscene way his trousers are tenting - still half leaning after Owain even as he pulls away to the mirror again.
"I can make exactly half that promise," He said, taking a breath to steady himself and watching Owain like he wanted to push him up against the wall and swallow him whole. Which, while true, was neither the point, nor helpful.
"Chances are we aren't going to get even five minutes to ourselves, tonight."
The ugh that comes out of him puts both of Poe's to shame. It's less of an ugh and more of an uuuuUUAUUAUAUAUAUAAUGH that leads into him slumping down a little against the mirror. Fuck. Right. Okay. Fuck. Right. That's fair.
He walks, still slumped, head down and back bent over and arms hanging limply in front of him as he stumbles over to Poe and melodramatically headbutts him in the chest. Just lightly. Seekin' hugs. He gets a choice fucking scope of Poe's hard on, from this angle, and it revitalizes him, making him stand up straight with a bit of a cocky grin on his face.
"I bet I could get you to cum in, like, five minutes. We got five minutes?"
"What, just me?" He'd brought an arm up to wrap around Owain's head when he head butted him, and it fell away to let his fingers linger on The buttons of Owain's jacket when he stood back up.
Poe tried to smother an answering grin, chuckling lowly.
"... Yeah," he said, hands slipping lower as his voice dropped deeper. Fingers caught at Owain's belt and dragged him closer. "... We got five minutes."
He likes this new dynamic they've found in each other this morning; tugging at each other and dragging them close, manhandling each other with a little more ease than they had the past few days. It's proof that they're comfortable with each other physically, which - of course they are - and it's nice, Owain feels safe.
There's no time for foreplay, really, not with the strict schedule they're on, and they can't waste time getting undressed. He tugs on Poe's belt and pulls it open, messing up the captain's shirt as he undoes the rest of it. He finds Poe's underwear and slips his fingers beneath the band, rubbing his open palm over his length, all friction with no finesse.
He kisses Poe once and leans forward, cock already hard in his uniform.
"Doesn't have to be just you, if we've got time," he says, low. He squeezes Poe's cock a little and hisses the words fuck, i love your cock through his teeth, then swallows, dry. "How d'you wanna do this?"
"You're the one who said you could get me to cum," Poe reminded him, his voice several decibels lower than it had been, huskier at the edges. He couldn't help but fuck shallowly into Owain's hand, even as his fingers were already tugging open the the other man's belt and fly. (He didn't need to be told twice.)
"Can't have you soiling your uniform, though, so as far as it goes for you, I'm going to have to swallow every last fucking drop of your cum."
Owain starts a thought, but it's hard to focus on words after Poe says something that ridiculously fucking hot. He can already feel precum easing from his tip as he swallows again and puts his one free hand on Poe's shoulders for balance. Fuck.
"You can't say something that hot without warning me beforehand," he mumbles, slapping his shoulder hard and pushing him back towards the bed.
He angles Poe down and lays in bed with him, their lips by each other's cocks. If time's of the essence, fine, they'll just-- do this at the same time. But he's gonna fucking race Poe, gonna make him cum first for sure. The second he puts his lips over Poe's cock he pulls him in tight like a vacuum, sandwiching the warm flesh between the roof of his mouth and his tongue. He wraps both hands around Poe's cock, keeping every part of him enclosed, and jerks in time with each hard, wet suck. Gonna win.
Poe just grins at him, smug and cocky as all fuck, and takes to the position easily. It was, of course, exactly what he'd had in mind.
The smugness disappears approximately a half second later as before he can even really get his lips around Owain, the man has taken his cock and is already working to suck him dry. Owain was trying to kill him. Owain was trying to kill him? Could someone have a heart attack based on discovering just how hot and tight their lover's mouth could be? Because he's pretty sure he's dying.
"Fuck," he gasps, and it's half a complaint and half a plea because damn it he needs at least a few brain cells right now, but thinking was incredibly hard. (Almost as hard as his cock felt, trying not to just thrust it down Owain's throat.)
Focus, Dameron. Fucking focus, will you?
He gripped the base of Owain's cock and wasted no more time in taking as much of the monster into his mouth as possible, swallowing around it to take it deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, hard. It was not very focused - he tried to move to Owain's rythym but he kept stuttering and getting distracted by Owain's perfect fucking mouth.
He's not stroking Poe's cock as fast as he wants to. He's still pretty tired - he's only been up for ten minutes, if that - and again, the tightness of his uniform makes it difficult to move, tailored so perfectly to his body yet still in need of a day to shift and sit right. It's-- filthy, in a way, how clean and new and fresh and noble his uniform is, when his lips are pressed so tightly around Poe's cock. It fits him so well, makes him look like a god damn hero, yet here he is, lapping at the slit of Poe's cock for precum like the thirsty slut he is for this guy, this guy alone, squeezing his length, flexing and unflexing.
He pulls off of Poe's head with a pop, and he tries to say something, but he's too overloaded and his voice is gone. He kisses the underside of Poe's cock and flicks his tongue over it, using the new position to look back up and just watch what's happening to him. The stuttering, the distractions, the fact that he's still totally, totally winning.
The hard hollowed suck makes him buck forward, grinding hard against the back of Poe' throat with a gasp that he quickly stifles and pulls back down with a mumbled apology. He drags one long, wet lick over Poe's cock and takes it in again, letting his hands move so he can try to deepthroat him, just as he tried last night.
Owain relenting a little - focusing on watching him instead of killing him - gave Poe enough of a moment to focus that he could actually do this properly. He knew how much time they had so he wasn't going to go about in nicely - swallowing as he bobbed his head to take Owain as deep as he could --
And then Owain thrust forward and Poe nearly choked.
The apology was more than enough, though, and Poe hummed around Owain's cock to reassure him that he was fine, pulling back a little to run his tongue right along the underside of his cock, flicking at the head before thrusting his lips down the entire length, throat bulging obscenely as he managed it.
He tried to say 'oh, fuck' when Owain reciprocated in kind, but as his throat was stuff full of cock it mostly just came out as a rumbling groan.
The hum around his cock makes his toes curl, a wet, warm vibration that leaves him panting and competitive. He doubles his efforts to try and deepthroat Poe, pressing his fingers into Poe's thighs to encourage him deeper and further into him. He breathes hard through his nose and wills so much of Poe into his throat that his eyes water and his jaw aches, and right, right as he's about to sink balls deep--
Poe takes him, instead.
Owain can't handle it. He tries to thrust again but his whole body feels like thrashing thanks to the grind of Poe's throat and that impossible suction. He moans like a bitch in heat, pinned down to the cock on his tongue, alreafy seconds from cumming thanks alone to how tight and warm this is--
But he needs fortitude ti get through this. He doubles down on his tongue, lapping at Poe from every angle, bobbing hard wet sucks down Poe's length. Theres saliva dripping down his throat and onto the sheets, loud dirty noises in the air, but mostly just-- Owains need to make this guy cum first.
In all honesty, it really doesn't take much. Poe doesn't even try to hold back - very aware of the time they have - and once Owain starts on him with his tongue he loses the ability to think straight or concentrate on what he's doing, and instead just sort of moans uselessly around the cock in his throat.
He has to pull back, the pressure building, and though he manages to keep himself from fucking into Owain's mouth, it means he really can't focus on much of anything else. So he pulls back, his lips still around the head of Owain's cock, lapping at it erratically and panting heavily.
With his mouth at least (somewhat) free, however, he has started a litany of curses, each one punctuated by a moment where he wants to thrust into Owain's mouth, which, as one can imagine, is basically once a second at firm, regular intervals.
"Fuck-- Owain-- Shit-- Fuck--" Is all the warning that the other man actually gets, before Poe makes a sound that's half a cry and half a groan, choking on it in his throat, his whole body seizing with a blinding pleasure as he came.
The moan has Owain fucking straining not to blow, his thigh actually quivering from the sheer tension he feels in holding back. He doubles his effort with each curse that comes out of Poe's mouth, because ever since he first became his Pledge, hearing him swear has sent a thrill down him he doesn't know how to explain - it's forbidden, just like so much of what they're doing is. If he doesn't make Poe shoot soon, he's gonna lose.
Poe cums and Owain almost chokes, breathing through it as he makes this ecstatic, shameless noise of desperate fucking relief from the back of his throat. He swallows every drop of it like he needs it to live, humming through it and pressing his tongue hard to Poe's head, and he doesn't notice he's doing it, but he's twisting his hips and pushing his own cock further and further against Poe's lips, right on the edge as he drains each shot that splatters warmth inside of him -
He rolls his hips further until he's almost on top of Poe, fucking his cock onto his tongue and pushing his head back into the mattress. It takes about two seconds before he's unloading, pulling all the way back until just his head is between Poe's lips so he can really taste the load Poe worked out of him. He's off of Poe's cock and crying out as he cums, uniform dishevelled and hair a mess, and when he's done he falls back onto the mattress and just sorta stares at the ceiling above him.
He breathes out.
He breathes out again.
He laughs, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
"Fuck." There's a bit of Poe's cum on the corner of his lip and he swipes it with his thumb, tasting it, his cock twitching with appreciation. "Fuck."
Poe basically whimpered as Owain milked every last drop of cum from his cock. He was shakey and suddenly absolutely spent, but then Owain shifted to fuck down on his tongue and he remembered where he was and what he was doing and what he needed to do - and he sucked hard on the head of Owain's cock as he came.
Fuck, but that should not taste that good.
He groaned when Owain pulled back, throwing an arm over his eyes and breathing hard, his shrinking cock still thrust out of his uniform all on its own in an obscene sort of spectacle but he really couldn't be bothered to put it away.
"Fuck," he agreed, somewhat breathlessly. He stayed silent for a moment more, before groaning and reiterating: "Fuck."
Owain ughs and refuses to move until he hears people shifting around in the room one over, and he realizes if they don't get up soon, they'll end up stuck in crowds of people heading out to their assignments and he won't be able to hold Poe's hand quite so easily. He lays there until he has the strength to move, then rolls over toward Poe and kisses the tip of his softening cock, tucking it away and getting him dressed again, mostly just for the excuse to touch him one last time.
He rolls out of bed and fixes himself up, straightening his sleeves and checking himself out in the mirror, and when he pulls Poe out of bed it's just to kiss him and share the lingering taste of his own cum. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip, fussing over Poe's uniform and making sure it fits just right, and then he slumps with another ugh. Ugh. Ughhhh.
It's scary, knowing he'll have to hide what they are. He finds Poe's hand, the one with the scar, and places his lips over the healing wound. They'll always have moments like these, little pockets of refuge away from everyone else. Even if that's all they are. Moments.
He lingers for just a little too long, stealing a couple more kisses, but eventually they have to go, and after quickly packing up the small amount of gear they had (both journals shoved carefully and lovingly into Poe's rucksack), they left the room. The military wing was abuzz with far more activity than usual - everyone who was shipping out was up bright and early and the excitement and anticipation was thick in the air.
Debriefing was held in a large hall, absolutely packed with uniformed soldiers. It was there that they learned where they were going, and when General Holdo named the planet, Poe let out a low groan that only Owain could hear. But there was no opportunity or time to explain the reaction before they were all marched out to the courtyard.
The Path Mages were already waiting, four of them standing on a large platform as the legion filed into formation in front of them. The ritual wasn't a long one, but it was sombre, and a very old speech was read, again, for what felt like the 800th time, for Poe. For now we pass into the dark, every step a star, committing our souls to the passage.
It was rare, these days, that the Path wasn't successful. But historically, entire legions had gone missing, before. Presumed dead.
It wasn't a simple magic. The four mages had to work together, and by the end of it they had opened what could only be described as a rift in the fabric of space. Past it, and endless tunnel of darkness, permeated only by brilliant shifting streaks of white light - literally walking over stars.
Poe had taken the path many, many times.
The march took nearly three hours, from the start of the Path to the end - the opposite side of the rift shining bright sunlight for the last hour of their trip. The sun was setting, however, as they walked, the light going from bright white to a deeper orange as they approached the second gate. When they stepped out into the light, the world was utterly different. The sky was almost a deep purple, and the air felt thinner - like it didn't quite fill your lungs with every breath. Also it was cold. Not cold enough to freeze your fingers but cold enough to make your spine shudder and your breath frost in the air.
"Captain Dameron." Someone had found them very quickly, a runner from their regiment. "Good to see you, sir. Follow me."
Ten minutes later, they were led to a little encampment of tents - the Rapier Squadron - and Poe let out a sigh that sounded the way someone does when they finally come home.
"Any reinforcements?" He asked the runner, who shook his head.
"No sir. Lieutenant Starling is waiting for you in the command tent."
"Thanks, Lewis." He gave the private a pat on his shoulder and then stepped past him towards the largest of the tents. 'Largest' meant that it was big enough for four bunks (though it only had one), as well as a desk and a small fire pit, compared to most of the tents that only had room for two bunks. Two men were waiting for them, when they entered - Lieutenant Reeve Starling, and his Pledge, Kiron.
Poe broke into a grin as soon as he saw them, and immediately stepped forward to pull Reeve into a tight hug, bypassing any and all formality.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Day 5.
He's sore, is the first thing he notices, but that thought flees even more quickly than it came, because as soon as he opened his eyes, he met Owain's peaceful sleeping face. There's a slight furrow in Owain's brow, as if he's thinking a little too hard, deeps in dreams, and it's all Poe can do to lie there and watch him sleep for several minutes.
But early morning rays of sun are creeping into the room and pulling Poe awake, and no matter how much he would rather stay in this moment, time still passes. With a quiet breath, he leans in and presses his lips to Owain's forehead. He lingers, stretching time as long as he is able, before he finally pulls away and carefully untangles himself from the cot.
He is a quiet as he possibly can be as he cleans up and gets dressed, but he keeps glancing over to see how the morning light catches Owain's hair, a bittersweet love gripping his heart.
He's not going to be able to do this again, for a long time. Not like this. And he knows it.
When the knock comes, he silently curses them in his mind, the noise far too loud to let Owain continue sleeping. He pads over to the door and exchanges some short, cursory words, and then recieves the packages that the man came to deliver. Shutting the door again, he brought them to the table and began to unwrap the brown paper. Owain's uniform - complete with cape - lay inside, branch new and spotless.
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He sits up, slowly, his bones in an aching kind of pain. His hair is all flat from where it's been pressed into the pillow, sticking up in weird strands on the other side, but he still blearily looks at Poe's back and smiles as he only half listens to the whitenoise of conversation. A far cry from how he should act, as a Pledge. Anyone else would be ashamed their masters woke up before them. More so, that they then let them sleep when a delivery was expected.
Owain yawns and flops back onto the cot as Poe unravels his uniform, stretching his legs, his knee popping with a satisfying click. He lets himself stretch out a bit, unable to do so last night, and watches the ceiling until his mind kicks into gear. He rolls out of bed soon enough, still just super god damn naked as he slides up to Poe and wraps his arms around his waist. There's a quick kiss to his neck, and then an excited shout as he pulls back and slams his hands on the able, all his sleepiness just-- dead and gone.
"Uniform! Uniform! Shit!!!" He goes straight for the cape, sort of laugh-screaming despite the scratchiness of his morning voice. He fastens it around his neck and does a bit of a spin, then goes straight for the boots, hopping on one leg as he tries to put one on. Still naked.
There he stands, one-booted and caped the fuck up, beaming at Poe. Doesn't even think that this is kind of disrespectful.
"Good? Good so far?" He does a twirl, stumbling a bit. "Oh man. I'm going to be the best. You're going to love fighting with me."
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He was not expecting the shout, and starts a bit, getting out of the way as Owain joyously began to grab at the uniform and the boots, and can't help but stand and watch, a smile plastered on his face and a laugh caught in the back of his throat.
It is utterly disrespectful, and... therefore kind of hot. Woops.
"Yeah, not bad. Though you may want something to protect your softer bits," he teased, fighting the smile and losing, as he stepped over to slide his hands onto Owain's hips.
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He tries to keep the cape on while he dresses, at first, because of course he does. It doesn't work and he quickly realizes he'll have to strip bare to do it, but he complains the whole time because he has a cape and people who wear capes don't take off their capes. His fingers are nimble and quick on every catch and every button, and it doesn't take long before he's dressed.
He's not sure if it looks right on him or not.
There's a small mirror by the window and it's what Owain checks himself out in when he's done, and the outfit makes him look broad and strong and taller than he already was. He feels his heart catch in his throat because he looks like a person and a hero, and he's overwhelmed with the thought that this doesn't suit him. He's been training for this, but he's gonna fuck it up. His face goes a little pale when he turns back to Poe, smoothing out a crease in his arm when looking into his eyes gets to be too much again. Feelings.
"Do I, uh." He tugs at his sleeve, putting it down a little over his hand. "Do I look okay?"
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But they weren't sexual ones. Just flashes and images of a life that he hadn't thought about until that moment - at least not clearly - with Owain's hand in his and a sword in the other, back to back and taking on anything that came for them--
Pride bloomed across his face, and he nodded.
"... Yeah. More than okay. It- yeah. It suits you."
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It happens all too quickly. One minute he's standing there, beaming and sheepish all at the same time, prouder than he's ever been. The next he's closing the gap between them, itchy fabric clinging too tight to his arms, still unbroken in. He raises his hands to Poe's jaw and holds him, and the charge between them feels like there's going to be a kiss, but Owain just rests their foreheads together and closes his eyes, laughing under his breath, fully at fucking peace.
"This is gonna be so great," Owain says, with all the excitement in the world. "I'm gonna keep you safe. I promise. You're going to keep me safe. We're going to just-- fight, and I'll just be a man with a weapon before I'm a pledge. I'll be your man and you'll be mine and we'll just-- just-- be us."
It's optimistic. Too optimistic, maybe, to hope he'll be able to carve individuality out for himself amongst the rest of Poe's fleet, but he feels like it's possible. Their noses touch and he pulls back, grinning, too bright and too young for war.
"You nervous?"
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He moves as if to take a kiss, heart stuttering when he doesn't get it. Not even twelve hours since he had one last and yet he was one with the same burning intensity of a drowning man needing air. He doesn't take it, though. Let's Owain dictate the moment until the man pulls back and Poe nearly just steps into the gap to keep it closed.
Gods, but he needed to relax. This giddiness was turning this into an obsession.
His smile was nothing but pride, though. Even the horrors of war couldn't slip into the moment for him. So when he replied, it was with complete honesty.
"Not at all. Think it might take a lot for me to be nervous about anything, anymore."
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"Because of me," he says. Just to hear the words. "You're brave 'cause of me."
He takes that kiss, after all.
He grabs Poe by the lapel as he's stumbling back from the shove and drags him forward to crash hard against his lips. He deepens it right away, and there's that balance where he honestly wouldn't be able to tell if this kiss was more based in lust or love - it's hard and it's demanding and it comes alongside heavy, staggred breaths, but it's simultaneously careful and easy and affectionate, paired with gentle fingers through hair and smiles that won't stop.
Owain pulls back and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling down the crooked smile he makes.
"... We should go, huh?"
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"... ... Ugh..."
It's not a graceful reply. He doesn't want to say 'yes', in any form or measure, but knows they have to. Knows that if he lets his cock decide for him they would be hours late. Knows that if he let his heart decide, they would never leave the room at all.
"Ugh," He says again, just to make it clear that he doesn't approve of this line of questioning. "... Yeah. We need to go."
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"It's going to be fucking awesome," he promises, pulling Poe forward again by his hand to slip into another kiss. He's too giddy this morning, all touchy and affectionate, and it's the kind of thing that's going to get him in trouble if he does it too much, especially in public - but he can't help it, not really, not when Poe's looking at him like that.
"Wanna make me a promise?" Another kiss, another kiss, another, and then he's finally drawing back to look at himself in the mirror. He's singsong, slightly too happy for what he's about to ask.
"We're totally gonna fuck in uniform one day." He laughs. "Tonight?"
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"I can make exactly half that promise," He said, taking a breath to steady himself and watching Owain like he wanted to push him up against the wall and swallow him whole. Which, while true, was neither the point, nor helpful.
"Chances are we aren't going to get even five minutes to ourselves, tonight."
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He walks, still slumped, head down and back bent over and arms hanging limply in front of him as he stumbles over to Poe and melodramatically headbutts him in the chest. Just lightly. Seekin' hugs. He gets a choice fucking scope of Poe's hard on, from this angle, and it revitalizes him, making him stand up straight with a bit of a cocky grin on his face.
"I bet I could get you to cum in, like, five minutes. We got five minutes?"
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"What, just me?" He'd brought an arm up to wrap around Owain's head when he head butted him, and it fell away to let his fingers linger on The buttons of Owain's jacket when he stood back up.
Poe tried to smother an answering grin, chuckling lowly.
"... Yeah," he said, hands slipping lower as his voice dropped deeper. Fingers caught at Owain's belt and dragged him closer. "... We got five minutes."
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There's no time for foreplay, really, not with the strict schedule they're on, and they can't waste time getting undressed. He tugs on Poe's belt and pulls it open, messing up the captain's shirt as he undoes the rest of it. He finds Poe's underwear and slips his fingers beneath the band, rubbing his open palm over his length, all friction with no finesse.
He kisses Poe once and leans forward, cock already hard in his uniform.
"Doesn't have to be just you, if we've got time," he says, low. He squeezes Poe's cock a little and hisses the words fuck, i love your cock through his teeth, then swallows, dry. "How d'you wanna do this?"
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"Can't have you soiling your uniform, though, so as far as it goes for you, I'm going to have to swallow every last fucking drop of your cum."
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Owain starts a thought, but it's hard to focus on words after Poe says something that ridiculously fucking hot. He can already feel precum easing from his tip as he swallows again and puts his one free hand on Poe's shoulders for balance. Fuck.
"You can't say something that hot without warning me beforehand," he mumbles, slapping his shoulder hard and pushing him back towards the bed.
He angles Poe down and lays in bed with him, their lips by each other's cocks. If time's of the essence, fine, they'll just-- do this at the same time. But he's gonna fucking race Poe, gonna make him cum first for sure. The second he puts his lips over Poe's cock he pulls him in tight like a vacuum, sandwiching the warm flesh between the roof of his mouth and his tongue. He wraps both hands around Poe's cock, keeping every part of him enclosed, and jerks in time with each hard, wet suck. Gonna win.
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The smugness disappears approximately a half second later as before he can even really get his lips around Owain, the man has taken his cock and is already working to suck him dry. Owain was trying to kill him. Owain was trying to kill him? Could someone have a heart attack based on discovering just how hot and tight their lover's mouth could be? Because he's pretty sure he's dying.
"Fuck," he gasps, and it's half a complaint and half a plea because damn it he needs at least a few brain cells right now, but thinking was incredibly hard. (Almost as hard as his cock felt, trying not to just thrust it down Owain's throat.)
Focus, Dameron. Fucking focus, will you?
He gripped the base of Owain's cock and wasted no more time in taking as much of the monster into his mouth as possible, swallowing around it to take it deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, hard. It was not very focused - he tried to move to Owain's rythym but he kept stuttering and getting distracted by Owain's perfect fucking mouth.
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He pulls off of Poe's head with a pop, and he tries to say something, but he's too overloaded and his voice is gone. He kisses the underside of Poe's cock and flicks his tongue over it, using the new position to look back up and just watch what's happening to him. The stuttering, the distractions, the fact that he's still totally, totally winning.
The hard hollowed suck makes him buck forward, grinding hard against the back of Poe' throat with a gasp that he quickly stifles and pulls back down with a mumbled apology. He drags one long, wet lick over Poe's cock and takes it in again, letting his hands move so he can try to deepthroat him, just as he tried last night.
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And then Owain thrust forward and Poe nearly choked.
The apology was more than enough, though, and Poe hummed around Owain's cock to reassure him that he was fine, pulling back a little to run his tongue right along the underside of his cock, flicking at the head before thrusting his lips down the entire length, throat bulging obscenely as he managed it.
He tried to say 'oh, fuck' when Owain reciprocated in kind, but as his throat was stuff full of cock it mostly just came out as a rumbling groan.
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Poe takes him, instead.
Owain can't handle it. He tries to thrust again but his whole body feels like thrashing thanks to the grind of Poe's throat and that impossible suction. He moans like a bitch in heat, pinned down to the cock on his tongue, alreafy seconds from cumming thanks alone to how tight and warm this is--
But he needs fortitude ti get through this. He doubles down on his tongue, lapping at Poe from every angle, bobbing hard wet sucks down Poe's length. Theres saliva dripping down his throat and onto the sheets, loud dirty noises in the air, but mostly just-- Owains need to make this guy cum first.
500 :D :D :D :D
He has to pull back, the pressure building, and though he manages to keep himself from fucking into Owain's mouth, it means he really can't focus on much of anything else. So he pulls back, his lips still around the head of Owain's cock, lapping at it erratically and panting heavily.
With his mouth at least (somewhat) free, however, he has started a litany of curses, each one punctuated by a moment where he wants to thrust into Owain's mouth, which, as one can imagine, is basically once a second at firm, regular intervals.
"Fuck-- Owain-- Shit-- Fuck--" Is all the warning that the other man actually gets, before Poe makes a sound that's half a cry and half a groan, choking on it in his throat, his whole body seizing with a blinding pleasure as he came.
wE'RE 1/10TH OF THE WAY TO MY FIRST GOAL
Poe cums and Owain almost chokes, breathing through it as he makes this ecstatic, shameless noise of desperate fucking relief from the back of his throat. He swallows every drop of it like he needs it to live, humming through it and pressing his tongue hard to Poe's head, and he doesn't notice he's doing it, but he's twisting his hips and pushing his own cock further and further against Poe's lips, right on the edge as he drains each shot that splatters warmth inside of him -
He rolls his hips further until he's almost on top of Poe, fucking his cock onto his tongue and pushing his head back into the mattress. It takes about two seconds before he's unloading, pulling all the way back until just his head is between Poe's lips so he can really taste the load Poe worked out of him. He's off of Poe's cock and crying out as he cums, uniform dishevelled and hair a mess, and when he's done he falls back onto the mattress and just sorta stares at the ceiling above him.
He breathes out.
He breathes out again.
He laughs, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
"Fuck." There's a bit of Poe's cum on the corner of his lip and he swipes it with his thumb, tasting it, his cock twitching with appreciation. "Fuck."
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Fuck, but that should not taste that good.
He groaned when Owain pulled back, throwing an arm over his eyes and breathing hard, his shrinking cock still thrust out of his uniform all on its own in an obscene sort of spectacle but he really couldn't be bothered to put it away.
"Fuck," he agreed, somewhat breathlessly. He stayed silent for a moment more, before groaning and reiterating: "Fuck."
"... Okay now we... Actually need to go."
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Owain ughs and refuses to move until he hears people shifting around in the room one over, and he realizes if they don't get up soon, they'll end up stuck in crowds of people heading out to their assignments and he won't be able to hold Poe's hand quite so easily. He lays there until he has the strength to move, then rolls over toward Poe and kisses the tip of his softening cock, tucking it away and getting him dressed again, mostly just for the excuse to touch him one last time.
He rolls out of bed and fixes himself up, straightening his sleeves and checking himself out in the mirror, and when he pulls Poe out of bed it's just to kiss him and share the lingering taste of his own cum. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip, fussing over Poe's uniform and making sure it fits just right, and then he slumps with another ugh. Ugh. Ughhhh.
It's scary, knowing he'll have to hide what they are. He finds Poe's hand, the one with the scar, and places his lips over the healing wound. They'll always have moments like these, little pockets of refuge away from everyone else. Even if that's all they are. Moments.
"Okay," he relents. "Okay."
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Debriefing was held in a large hall, absolutely packed with uniformed soldiers. It was there that they learned where they were going, and when General Holdo named the planet, Poe let out a low groan that only Owain could hear. But there was no opportunity or time to explain the reaction before they were all marched out to the courtyard.
The Path Mages were already waiting, four of them standing on a large platform as the legion filed into formation in front of them. The ritual wasn't a long one, but it was sombre, and a very old speech was read, again, for what felt like the 800th time, for Poe. For now we pass into the dark, every step a star, committing our souls to the passage.
It was rare, these days, that the Path wasn't successful. But historically, entire legions had gone missing, before. Presumed dead.
It wasn't a simple magic. The four mages had to work together, and by the end of it they had opened what could only be described as a rift in the fabric of space. Past it, and endless tunnel of darkness, permeated only by brilliant shifting streaks of white light - literally walking over stars.
Poe had taken the path many, many times.
The march took nearly three hours, from the start of the Path to the end - the opposite side of the rift shining bright sunlight for the last hour of their trip. The sun was setting, however, as they walked, the light going from bright white to a deeper orange as they approached the second gate. When they stepped out into the light, the world was utterly different. The sky was almost a deep purple, and the air felt thinner - like it didn't quite fill your lungs with every breath. Also it was cold. Not cold enough to freeze your fingers but cold enough to make your spine shudder and your breath frost in the air.
"Captain Dameron." Someone had found them very quickly, a runner from their regiment. "Good to see you, sir. Follow me."
Ten minutes later, they were led to a little encampment of tents - the Rapier Squadron - and Poe let out a sigh that sounded the way someone does when they finally come home.
"Any reinforcements?" He asked the runner, who shook his head.
"No sir. Lieutenant Starling is waiting for you in the command tent."
"Thanks, Lewis." He gave the private a pat on his shoulder and then stepped past him towards the largest of the tents. 'Largest' meant that it was big enough for four bunks (though it only had one), as well as a desk and a small fire pit, compared to most of the tents that only had room for two bunks. Two men were waiting for them, when they entered - Lieutenant Reeve Starling, and his Pledge, Kiron.
Poe broke into a grin as soon as he saw them, and immediately stepped forward to pull Reeve into a tight hug, bypassing any and all formality.
"Good to see you, buddy."
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