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.
The ritual terrifies Owain, but he deals with it, gritted teeth set like stone. Once they're tunnelling through the bridge, his eyes light up, bright as the stars that surround them. He breaks formation to walk as close to Poe as he dares, not quite at his side, but close enough. There's wonder in the way he looks at things, tugs Poe's sleeve to get him to see sights he's already seen a thousand times before, and though actually exiting the portal by the end of it fills him with an uncertain dread, a fear of the unknown, he's a lot braver heading into The Groany Planet than he was leaving the warm comfort of home. Three hours of quietly holding Poe's hand when nobody was watching instilled something in him.
He's never felt cold like this before - never needed to, thanks to how he lived, in the warmth of the jungle and the insulated estate he'd never left. The handful of soldiers that travelled with them have already scattered to their own assignments as they're directed to the encampment they'll be serving with, and Owain grips tight to Poe's arm up until they close in on the Rapier Squadron, when he lets go and falls back behind him, nervous.
He doesn't like the Rapier Squadron.
Reeve is tall enough, strong enough despite his lithe frame, to be able to pick Poe up as he hugs him. He laughs when Poe calls him buddy, like it makes him feel home, and Owain notices, just as he noticed the little sigh Poe gave. Reeve lifts Poe's feet an inch or so off the ground, bearhugging him tight before setting him down, and Owain feels a pang of something sour that shows on his face.
Kiron says nothing, quiet, pale as the moon, hair long and smooth in two thick, flyaway braids that hang to his shoulderblades. He blends into the background, but Owain notices him, the first Pledge he's seen outside the palace. Kiron is quiet and subservient and it prickles Owain with a shame he thought he'd gotten over - it hits him all at once that he should be acting like that, stern and silent and obedient and ready, and while he can actively recognize that thought as something that isn't real, something that's just an offset of his training, it's still hard to combat.
"Been too long, kid," Reeve says once they're apart, hitting Poe hard on the shoulder. He's the same age as Poe, he must be, but he says kid like he's not, like it's a name that's his that he deserves to use. He looks behind Poe, threading his fingers through his own hair to smooth it back, and he takes in the nervous way Owain is fidgeting rather than notice the signs of ownership and pledgehood stitched into his uniform.
Poe snorts a laugh as he is lifted off his feet, hugging hard back. When he
gets set back down he wets his lips as he grins, giving Reeve a once over
and rolling his eyes at 'kid' like he always does. But, like always, he
doesn't actually complain.
"Yeah, sort of. Reeve, Owain. Owain, this is Lieutenant Reeve Starling -
second in command, and a good friend." He then gestured to Kiron. "And this
is Kiron."
Normally, when introducing a pledge, it was necessary to say 'his pledge
Kiron', but Poe had always overlooked that formality, just as he overlooked
introducing Owain as his Pledge, either.
Kiron, however, looked somewhat uncomfortable about it, though he was
careful to keep his eyes only just above the floor. He only raised them to
glance at Owain when he was sure none of the three were looking at him -
brows furrowing slightly as he noticed the signifiers in Owain's uniform
that marked him for what he was. A pledge.
He had known Poe long enough now to know his political stance - had been
taken aside by the man a few times, interrogated about his treatment
- that he knew that something very, very strange was going on. It also
meant, however, that the next time Poe and Reeve weren't looking, but Owain
was, he met the other man's eye with a hard, confused look.
The introductions go smoothly enough, Owain saying yo and tilting his head to Kiron when he's gestured to. He notices that Poe doesn't call him his Pledge, nor does he call Kiron Reeve's, but it doesn't startle him, doesn't make him feel warm as it would have a few days ago. After all - that's how things should be, right? He's just Owain. Poe's Owain, sure, but just Owain.
Reeve's eyes drift from Owain's pretty quickly after clapping him hard on the shoulder with a quick welcome aboard, new kid. The dude isn't ripped by any means, but there's too much force in the slap that Owain wasn't expecting and he staggers a bit, Reeve not noticing as he completely turns his back and focuses on Poe. He catches him in small talk and Owain pulls a face, quietly resenting this dude. He's got just enough self-awareness to know he's jealous, but simultaneously lacks just enough self-restraint to stop himself from doing anything - he catches Poe's eye over Reeve's shoulder and mimes that he's retching, totally making his feelings on this dude clear. Asshole.
When Poe looks away, Owain's nerves settle and he slips into a state that's more bored and irritated than he expected to ever be after finally getting assigned somewhere. He daydreams for a minute or two until he catches Kiron looking at him, and he starts, lacking entirely in the cat-like poise he's supposed to have as a Pledge. He raises one hand and waves, then the confusion settles in and he realizes what's happening.
He interrupts Poe's and Reeve's conversation, one thing a Pledge should never do.
"Poe," he says. Not Captain Dameron, which - given the military setting - would be just as improper if he were a regular soldier. "I'm gonna take Kiron outside for a bit. Yeah?"
It catches Reeve's attention, and he turns, finally giving Owain a proper once over. He sees the marks of ownership, the bandage on his hand, and his eyebrows raise. He turns back to Poe, smoothing his hand back through his hair as he does. Owain can't really read his tone of voice, because it's decidedly stable, but Poe, who knows him, would be able to tell that he's restraining something accusatory in the way he asks his question.
Kiron watches Owain the entire time, his own face completely impassive, save for when Owain starts to retch - and then he looks a little startled and looks away quickly.
Poe was in mid sentence about Admiral Holdo when Owain interrupted, but he did not mind even a little bit, turning immediately towards him. "Yeah, that's fine. We're bunking here, so come back when you're done."
Kiron managed not to look shocked, but the confusion was apparent as he looked at Reeve's feet, unable and unwilling to completely raise his eyes, but obviously waiting for an order to the same effect.
When Poe turned back to Reeve, he caught the look on the man's face, caught the tone, and felt himself straightening a little, the defensiveness already slipping in.
"Kay. We won't go far? It'll be weird being away from you, so I'm just gonna be right... out... here."
He trails off, because Reeve is watching him and Owain hates it. Hates this dude. He can't read him, Reeve's smile too fixed and too steady, but it slips into something a little more serious rather than strictly friendly and Owain doesn't like that, either. He holds his uninjured hand out to Kiron, slightly rebelliously, because he really should wait for Reeve to give the okay - but Reeve doesn't seem angry, at least, and actually seems to take the hint to hurry up.
"Go make friends," Reeve says with another smile, and it's easy and good-natured and it makes Owain dislike him even more, because that's still an order, despite the friendliness of it. Still permission. Reeve shrugs his shoulder at Kiron and tells him to have fun, then turns back to Poe, arms folded over his chest.
Owain doesn't wait any longer than he has to, straight up grabbing Kiron's wrist and leaving the tent with him. He still hates how cold it is and his teeth are immediately chattering, but he clenches his jaw tight so as not to make too much noise, and he leads Kiron to a point that's just far enough for Poe and Reeve to be unable to listen in. He takes a breath and looks at him, then suddenly realizes he has literally no fucking idea what to say.
Reeve, however, does.
"A little more complicated," he repeats to Poe, rolling the words over his tongue like wine. "I'm not sure if "complicated" is the word I would use. Hypocritical, maybe? After all that swearing up and down about how you'd never take a Pledge... kinda shocked, kiddo."
"You're cold," is the first thing that Kiron says, pale eyes watching Owain, his expression far looser now that they were out of sight of his master and now that he was only in the company of another Pledge.
Another Pledge who was... pretty much insane, but a pledge none the less.
"I can fetch you a cloak, if you like. They have some, specifically for the troops. You're from the Capital, correct?" It was a question, but he punctuated by pointing at the Dameron house crest emblazoned on Owain's clothes - part of which included the City's emblem, as the home of the House.
"It will get colder, as the night grows deeper."
~ * ~
Inside the tent, though, things were getting a little more heated.
"I didn't exactly have much of a choice--" Poe started, but then half way through his statement, he started pulling off his uniform jacket. He hadn't exactly planned on showing this off to literally anyone, but it was Reeve, and he'd called him a hypocrite and Poe was not a liar.
"You want to see what I did? Fine." He tossed the jacket onto a chair, then undid the first few buttons on his shirt - just enough so that he could get it open and then roughly pull it down over his shoulder, where the fresh tattoo lay. Then he held out his hand, palm up, scar across it. He said nothing else, just watched Reeve, his mouth a hard line.
It's a hospitality he knows well. Stay perceptive, watch for needs, serve them without thinking. There used to be exams back in the Dameron estate - someone would pretend to shiver, or breathe out like they were frustrated, or look at something before looking away, and it was Owain's duty to zero in on each reflex, figure out what someone needed and offer it to them before they had a chance to ask for it. He should have known Kiron would treat him like this, but it's deflating. He shouldn't have to.
"No, man. C'mon." He could say he's just a Pledge and that Kiron can relax around him, but the word doesn't sit right in his chest anymore, and he knows Kiron wouldn't take to that anyway. He runs his hand through his hair, breathing out mist before rolling his sleeves down over his wrists to keep his fingers warm.
"Capital, yeah. Dameron estate, born and raised. Or, well. Not born. Basically born? Born, like, a house away. But. Born. And raised. So." Haha. Haaah... this is harder than he thought it would be. He tucks his balled fists into his pockets and looks at Kiron, suddenly nervous.
"You're-- I mean," it's too soon to ask this, too soon, but--
"You're-- Reeve's? Are you-- ah." He swallows, flicks his eyes up and stares at the sky, so much wider, grey with oncoming snow, than home's ever was. "Are you-- happy?"
---
Reeve is tense as Poe shrugs off his jacket, steeling his fists and raising his arms, ready for a fight. They're best friends - but with Poe as he is, with Reeve as he is, they wouldn't have been able to hit this point without sharing a few blows. So to speak. If they're going to sort this out with a fight, fine - he hadn't thought he'd pushed Poe that far yet, but if that's where this is, that's where this is.
He's startled, then, by the cut on his hand.
He has too many thoughts to be able to react in any way other than flight or fight, and he picks fight. He grabs Poe's wrist, far too tightly, twisting the Captain's arm to get a better look.
"Are you--" He actually laughs, and it's designed to be spiteful. Bitter, maybe. "Are you serious? That poor fuckin' kid. Your idealism was fine when it was your own, Dameron, but you're gonna mess him up with this."
"I'm his Pledge, yes." Kiron says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. He had started frowning after No, man. C'mon, too confused by it to know how to reply to it properly, but at lest the last question he could field easily.
"I am completely content." He offered a smile, one obviously not utilised often. It wasn't that it was fake, exactly, but it was tempered. He was not used to showing his emotions. At least not when specifically requested to.
But the smile faded.
"I... was not aware that Captain Dameron was intending to take a Pledge," He admitted, quietly. "I'm glad he changed his mind."
~ * ~
"I'm not going to let someone swear away their life to me if I'm not willing to do the same." He doesn't struggle against the grip, though he tenses.
"Treating someone like a person isn't going to mess them up, Reeve."
He sees the smile for what he is, and it's not like he expected anything else, but--
If he'd asked that to the girl at the bookstore, the Pledge obviously so afraid of just being in her own skin, she would have winced and her smile would have died before it was there. This, at least, is even. Owain breathes out and stretches his arms, popping his elbows and shoulders before tucking his hands away again.
"Okay." He leaves it at that. "I'm not really--"
There's hesitation. He knows what he said - that he was going to stifle this, pretend to be something worse to Poe than what he is, but Reeve's a good friend even if Owain just doesn't like him by default of his envy. So...
"I'm not... really... his Pledge." He laughs, sheepish, kicking at the ground. "I mean - it's what I was assigned to him as - but it's not the word we use. So... yeah. He's still a disappointment. Sorry."
---
Reeve feels that tension. He has it himself, locking up his arms. He stares at the scar longer than he needs to, then pulls Poe forward to get a better look at the tattoo. He says nothing for far too long, then finally breathes out, letting go. He needs a smoke, and he heads across the tent to his pack to find one.
He lights up his pipe and leans back, breathing in, plumes of grey coiling from his nostrils as he leans over the single cot they have. Fine. Fine, he'll listen.
"What makes him so special, then?" He taps out his pipe, cotton taste on his tongue. "Got assigned to you so you think you can just - screw with his head? That's fucked up."
Kiron just watched him, brow ever so slightly furrowed, for a long moment.
"... I don't understand," he said finally, glancing down at Owain's hand, then at the crest on his uniform, then back up to his face. "You took the oath, correct?"
He unconsciously rubbed at his own hand, the scar far older and faded but still visible. "You wear his brand?"
---
"I'm not screwing with hi-- Look. He's Lon'qu's son, alright?"
He let the name sit for a moment, because Reeve would know it. Was probably one of the only people who knew what it meant, to Poe, because he had been the crux of so many arguments about it.
But last time they had argued about it, Poe had thought that the man was alive.
So as he rolled his sleeve back down his eyes cast to the floor, glaring at the rug that covered the trampled grass.
"... Lon'qu's dead. I didn't know. So my father's been raising Owain as - as my Pledge for a fucking decade. I couldn't just leave him there. He wanted to come and didn't understand why I didn't want him to. So I gave him the choice, and the rest just sort of..." He trailed off. His eyes hadn't raised, mostly because despite his words, his mind was still stuck on one of the first things he'd said.
Owain lights up at the mention of Poe's brand, and he doesn't roll his sleeve back, far too cold for that, but he holds up his hand. The cut was too deep to have scabbed over, and he still needs to change his bandage every so often - fuck, there's drops of red already leaking through, he'll need to do that when he's back in with Poe - but it's there, and he's proud.
Unlike Poe, though, he's not willing to share what happened at the ceremony. Not yet. That's still just his.
"We're-- there for each other," he says, and his excitement gets the best of him, too willing to share this, too willing to see if the first Pledge he's ever spoken to alone will be able to light up the way he has. "We're equal. To each other. He's-- everything. To me. But I'm everything to him? I don't know."
Owain laughs, shy, but still so god damn nervous. He looks at Kiron a little sideways. "It's-- new. What we're doing. He doesn't give me orders, and he lets me ask for things. Tell him things I need. That I'm allowed to need. You could be like that with Reeve, if you wanted to."
---
Reeve's eyes widen, and the grip he has on his pipe slackens. He breathes out again, smoke circling the ceiling of the tent before dissipating.
So that's what this is about.
"I'm sorry, kid." There's obvious sympathy in his tone, but he says it the way he'd say it if someone lost a pet. He taps his pipe into an ashtray and moves closer to Poe, clapping his free hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard."
That's all he says, for a moment, and it looks like it's where he'll end it. Offering a chance for Poe to talk about this, if he wants to, or else extending a sympathy he doesn't fully command. But the silence doesn't last, and though he tries to be careful, there's a dominating, chastising tone to his voice when he finds it again.
Kiron watched him with a deep level of uncertainty, almost shrinking a little under the harsh light of Owain's excitement. Something clicked, though. Oh, he thought, with little to no feeling about it, He's in love with him.
"Captain Dameron has... always attempted to extend similar privileges to me," He admits quietly, after a moment. "But I... no. Master Reeve would not appreciate such a... liberal relationship. I serve him, and that secures his happiness. He is not blind to my needs. I need not speak them."
---
Poe turns his head, rolling his eyes, again, at the 'kid', but again not complaining.
"It was either bring him with me or leave him there - probably to be assigned to someone else. I'm not - look. I owe it to Lon'qu, to look after his son." He turned his gaze back to Reeve's, looking at him from under dark brows.
It's not surprising, really. Poe needed to fucking tear apart decades of tradition for Owain to even consider what they were doing - had to ruin himself with scars and tattoos just to show Owain how serious he was about this. With a decade of conditioning, he barely managed to pull away. Kiron might be older. Might have started learning when he was younger, even. He's a fool to try to tackle this so openly, and he lowers his head.
"It's not... like that, though." He bites his teeth. "The Pledge system is-- fucked up, man. You shouldn't surrender yourself when you don't even... get it. You don't even know what you're saying."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reeve-- is sympathetic, but again, unconvinced.
It's too easy to wrap this up in a neat little package labelled Poe's Idealism Running Away With Him Again and leaving it at that. He lost someone he loved, someone whose rights he tried so hard to fight for, and his son was left in his care in a system he wanted to tear down. His arguments are only making that line of thought more believable, and he doesn't say it, but it's right their in his expression - probably to be assigned to someone else, really? So this is how you repay an obligation?
"I think," Reeve says, and it's careful, too careful to be good. He pointedly keeps his eyes trained on Poe, letting him see how serious he is about this. How concerned he is about this.
"I think you would be willing to do a lot of things if you thought it was right. You charge into things full speed, damning safety for the sake of it." He gestures to the cut, to the tattoo. "You're taking this too far."
Kiron smiles, and it's somewhat sympathetic, but it does not reach his eyes.
"I've known Captain Dameron for a while now," he points out, calmly. "I know how he views the Pledge system. And it sounds like you are... a good match for him. But I am happy, where I am. I have not surrendered. I took my post gladly."
Poe lets out a hard breath from his nose, but the way his eyes shift away and how a slight heat rises under his collar are telling enough. He knows he's going into this too fast and too hard.
But it was too late to pull back.
Even if he wanted to.
"Equality isn't 'too far', Reeve, it's basically the bare fucking minimum of what I should be trying to do." He grabbed his jacket again, shrugging it over his shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm not going to parade it around."
Sympathy isn't what he needs. Owain had thought-- for sure, for sure-- if he could just talk to a Pledge, explain what things are like for him, something would change. Something would shift. Especially a Pledge belonging to someone Poe is friends with, right? Was he wrong to try this?
"I'm not a good match for him," he mumbles, just to be contrary, even though he doesn't believe it. "Not as a Pledge, at least. Not like you're implying. That first little while kind of sucked because I kept trying to do things and kowtow and he just--"
He drags his hands down his face. Thinks of Kes, out of nowhere, and remembers the fears of disappointing him.
"Okay," he starts. "Okay. Let's try this - is there anything you like to do? Reading? Writing? Things like that?"
"This isn't equality, though," Reeve argues, chewing the inside of his cheek. "You've taken his life away. His purpose. You're a military man, and you still get to be that even with a cut on your hand and a crest in your arm. He's a Pledge - and you're stripping him of that, taking away his identity, letting him drift aimlessly in a world that doesn't give him the choice to be more than what he is."
How many times has he made an argument like this to Poe over the years? The same argument Kes used - that placement is provided to Pledges. Security. A good thing.
"This feels like the bare minimum to you, because you're not--" He trips over the word, but says it anyway.
"--livestock. They're treated like animals, kid. Not by us, but by everyone else. They can't take things for themselves. Even the freedom you think he has is a gift you've given him as his better."
"I think it makes a lot of sense for the Captain to have somehow found a pledge who isn't a Pledge. He's needed someone, for a long time, and refused to admit it."
He dipped his head, raising a hand to gently rub at the back of his neck. An action he would have never taken, in Reeve's presence.
"I sing," He said, simply, in response to the question. "And I am fortunate that my Master enjoys it, also."
*~ ^o^ ~*
"I'm not expecting it to work overnight, Reeve, but I'm not going to - Gods--"
He sighed heavily and strode over to the other man, placing a hand firmly on either side of his face and forcing him to look straight at him. "I'm not having this argument again. I gave him my vow, and I took the brand to prove it, and if takes another ten years for the reality to sink in, so be it. But things aren't always going to be this way, and when they finally change, he's going to be ready for it."
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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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He's never felt cold like this before - never needed to, thanks to how he lived, in the warmth of the jungle and the insulated estate he'd never left. The handful of soldiers that travelled with them have already scattered to their own assignments as they're directed to the encampment they'll be serving with, and Owain grips tight to Poe's arm up until they close in on the Rapier Squadron, when he lets go and falls back behind him, nervous.
He doesn't like the Rapier Squadron.
Reeve is tall enough, strong enough despite his lithe frame, to be able to pick Poe up as he hugs him. He laughs when Poe calls him buddy, like it makes him feel home, and Owain notices, just as he noticed the little sigh Poe gave. Reeve lifts Poe's feet an inch or so off the ground, bearhugging him tight before setting him down, and Owain feels a pang of something sour that shows on his face.
Kiron says nothing, quiet, pale as the moon, hair long and smooth in two thick, flyaway braids that hang to his shoulderblades. He blends into the background, but Owain notices him, the first Pledge he's seen outside the palace. Kiron is quiet and subservient and it prickles Owain with a shame he thought he'd gotten over - it hits him all at once that he should be acting like that, stern and silent and obedient and ready, and while he can actively recognize that thought as something that isn't real, something that's just an offset of his training, it's still hard to combat.
"Been too long, kid," Reeve says once they're apart, hitting Poe hard on the shoulder. He's the same age as Poe, he must be, but he says kid like he's not, like it's a name that's his that he deserves to use. He looks behind Poe, threading his fingers through his own hair to smooth it back, and he takes in the nervous way Owain is fidgeting rather than notice the signs of ownership and pledgehood stitched into his uniform.
"New recruit?"
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Poe snorts a laugh as he is lifted off his feet, hugging hard back. When he gets set back down he wets his lips as he grins, giving Reeve a once over and rolling his eyes at 'kid' like he always does. But, like always, he doesn't actually complain.
"Yeah, sort of. Reeve, Owain. Owain, this is Lieutenant Reeve Starling - second in command, and a good friend." He then gestured to Kiron. "And this is Kiron."
Normally, when introducing a pledge, it was necessary to say 'his pledge Kiron', but Poe had always overlooked that formality, just as he overlooked introducing Owain as his Pledge, either.
Kiron, however, looked somewhat uncomfortable about it, though he was careful to keep his eyes only just above the floor. He only raised them to glance at Owain when he was sure none of the three were looking at him - brows furrowing slightly as he noticed the signifiers in Owain's uniform that marked him for what he was. A pledge.
He had known Poe long enough now to know his political stance - had been taken aside by the man a few times, interrogated about his treatment - that he knew that something very, very strange was going on. It also meant, however, that the next time Poe and Reeve weren't looking, but Owain was, he met the other man's eye with a hard, confused look.
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The introductions go smoothly enough, Owain saying yo and tilting his head to Kiron when he's gestured to. He notices that Poe doesn't call him his Pledge, nor does he call Kiron Reeve's, but it doesn't startle him, doesn't make him feel warm as it would have a few days ago. After all - that's how things should be, right? He's just Owain. Poe's Owain, sure, but just Owain.
Reeve's eyes drift from Owain's pretty quickly after clapping him hard on the shoulder with a quick welcome aboard, new kid. The dude isn't ripped by any means, but there's too much force in the slap that Owain wasn't expecting and he staggers a bit, Reeve not noticing as he completely turns his back and focuses on Poe. He catches him in small talk and Owain pulls a face, quietly resenting this dude. He's got just enough self-awareness to know he's jealous, but simultaneously lacks just enough self-restraint to stop himself from doing anything - he catches Poe's eye over Reeve's shoulder and mimes that he's retching, totally making his feelings on this dude clear. Asshole.
When Poe looks away, Owain's nerves settle and he slips into a state that's more bored and irritated than he expected to ever be after finally getting assigned somewhere. He daydreams for a minute or two until he catches Kiron looking at him, and he starts, lacking entirely in the cat-like poise he's supposed to have as a Pledge. He raises one hand and waves, then the confusion settles in and he realizes what's happening.
He interrupts Poe's and Reeve's conversation, one thing a Pledge should never do.
"Poe," he says. Not Captain Dameron, which - given the military setting - would be just as improper if he were a regular soldier. "I'm gonna take Kiron outside for a bit. Yeah?"
It catches Reeve's attention, and he turns, finally giving Owain a proper once over. He sees the marks of ownership, the bandage on his hand, and his eyebrows raise. He turns back to Poe, smoothing his hand back through his hair as he does. Owain can't really read his tone of voice, because it's decidedly stable, but Poe, who knows him, would be able to tell that he's restraining something accusatory in the way he asks his question.
"You got a Pledge?"
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Poe was in mid sentence about Admiral Holdo when Owain interrupted, but he did not mind even a little bit, turning immediately towards him. "Yeah, that's fine. We're bunking here, so come back when you're done."
Kiron managed not to look shocked, but the confusion was apparent as he looked at Reeve's feet, unable and unwilling to completely raise his eyes, but obviously waiting for an order to the same effect.
When Poe turned back to Reeve, he caught the look on the man's face, caught the tone, and felt himself straightening a little, the defensiveness already slipping in.
"It's a little more complicated than that."
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He trails off, because Reeve is watching him and Owain hates it. Hates this dude. He can't read him, Reeve's smile too fixed and too steady, but it slips into something a little more serious rather than strictly friendly and Owain doesn't like that, either. He holds his uninjured hand out to Kiron, slightly rebelliously, because he really should wait for Reeve to give the okay - but Reeve doesn't seem angry, at least, and actually seems to take the hint to hurry up.
"Go make friends," Reeve says with another smile, and it's easy and good-natured and it makes Owain dislike him even more, because that's still an order, despite the friendliness of it. Still permission. Reeve shrugs his shoulder at Kiron and tells him to have fun, then turns back to Poe, arms folded over his chest.
Owain doesn't wait any longer than he has to, straight up grabbing Kiron's wrist and leaving the tent with him. He still hates how cold it is and his teeth are immediately chattering, but he clenches his jaw tight so as not to make too much noise, and he leads Kiron to a point that's just far enough for Poe and Reeve to be unable to listen in. He takes a breath and looks at him, then suddenly realizes he has literally no fucking idea what to say.
Reeve, however, does.
"A little more complicated," he repeats to Poe, rolling the words over his tongue like wine. "I'm not sure if "complicated" is the word I would use. Hypocritical, maybe? After all that swearing up and down about how you'd never take a Pledge... kinda shocked, kiddo."
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Another Pledge who was... pretty much insane, but a pledge none the less.
"I can fetch you a cloak, if you like. They have some, specifically for the troops. You're from the Capital, correct?" It was a question, but he punctuated by pointing at the Dameron house crest emblazoned on Owain's clothes - part of which included the City's emblem, as the home of the House.
"It will get colder, as the night grows deeper."
~ * ~
Inside the tent, though, things were getting a little more heated.
"I didn't exactly have much of a choice--" Poe started, but then half way through his statement, he started pulling off his uniform jacket. He hadn't exactly planned on showing this off to literally anyone, but it was Reeve, and he'd called him a hypocrite and Poe was not a liar.
"You want to see what I did? Fine." He tossed the jacket onto a chair, then undid the first few buttons on his shirt - just enough so that he could get it open and then roughly pull it down over his shoulder, where the fresh tattoo lay. Then he held out his hand, palm up, scar across it. He said nothing else, just watched Reeve, his mouth a hard line.
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It's a hospitality he knows well. Stay perceptive, watch for needs, serve them without thinking. There used to be exams back in the Dameron estate - someone would pretend to shiver, or breathe out like they were frustrated, or look at something before looking away, and it was Owain's duty to zero in on each reflex, figure out what someone needed and offer it to them before they had a chance to ask for it. He should have known Kiron would treat him like this, but it's deflating. He shouldn't have to.
"No, man. C'mon." He could say he's just a Pledge and that Kiron can relax around him, but the word doesn't sit right in his chest anymore, and he knows Kiron wouldn't take to that anyway. He runs his hand through his hair, breathing out mist before rolling his sleeves down over his wrists to keep his fingers warm.
"Capital, yeah. Dameron estate, born and raised. Or, well. Not born. Basically born? Born, like, a house away. But. Born. And raised. So." Haha. Haaah... this is harder than he thought it would be. He tucks his balled fists into his pockets and looks at Kiron, suddenly nervous.
"You're-- I mean," it's too soon to ask this, too soon, but--
"You're-- Reeve's? Are you-- ah." He swallows, flicks his eyes up and stares at the sky, so much wider, grey with oncoming snow, than home's ever was. "Are you-- happy?"
---
Reeve is tense as Poe shrugs off his jacket, steeling his fists and raising his arms, ready for a fight. They're best friends - but with Poe as he is, with Reeve as he is, they wouldn't have been able to hit this point without sharing a few blows. So to speak. If they're going to sort this out with a fight, fine - he hadn't thought he'd pushed Poe that far yet, but if that's where this is, that's where this is.
He's startled, then, by the cut on his hand.
He has too many thoughts to be able to react in any way other than flight or fight, and he picks fight. He grabs Poe's wrist, far too tightly, twisting the Captain's arm to get a better look.
"Are you--" He actually laughs, and it's designed to be spiteful. Bitter, maybe. "Are you serious? That poor fuckin' kid. Your idealism was fine when it was your own, Dameron, but you're gonna mess him up with this."
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"I am completely content." He offered a smile, one obviously not utilised often. It wasn't that it was fake, exactly, but it was tempered. He was not used to showing his emotions. At least not when specifically requested to.
But the smile faded.
"I... was not aware that Captain Dameron was intending to take a Pledge," He admitted, quietly. "I'm glad he changed his mind."
~ * ~
"I'm not going to let someone swear away their life to me if I'm not willing to do the same." He doesn't struggle against the grip, though he tenses.
"Treating someone like a person isn't going to mess them up, Reeve."
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If he'd asked that to the girl at the bookstore, the Pledge obviously so afraid of just being in her own skin, she would have winced and her smile would have died before it was there. This, at least, is even. Owain breathes out and stretches his arms, popping his elbows and shoulders before tucking his hands away again.
"Okay." He leaves it at that. "I'm not really--"
There's hesitation. He knows what he said - that he was going to stifle this, pretend to be something worse to Poe than what he is, but Reeve's a good friend even if Owain just doesn't like him by default of his envy. So...
"I'm not... really... his Pledge." He laughs, sheepish, kicking at the ground. "I mean - it's what I was assigned to him as - but it's not the word we use. So... yeah. He's still a disappointment. Sorry."
---
Reeve feels that tension. He has it himself, locking up his arms. He stares at the scar longer than he needs to, then pulls Poe forward to get a better look at the tattoo. He says nothing for far too long, then finally breathes out, letting go. He needs a smoke, and he heads across the tent to his pack to find one.
He lights up his pipe and leans back, breathing in, plumes of grey coiling from his nostrils as he leans over the single cot they have. Fine. Fine, he'll listen.
"What makes him so special, then?" He taps out his pipe, cotton taste on his tongue. "Got assigned to you so you think you can just - screw with his head? That's fucked up."
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"... I don't understand," he said finally, glancing down at Owain's hand, then at the crest on his uniform, then back up to his face. "You took the oath, correct?"
He unconsciously rubbed at his own hand, the scar far older and faded but still visible. "You wear his brand?"
---
"I'm not screwing with hi-- Look. He's Lon'qu's son, alright?"
He let the name sit for a moment, because Reeve would know it. Was probably one of the only people who knew what it meant, to Poe, because he had been the crux of so many arguments about it.
But last time they had argued about it, Poe had thought that the man was alive.
So as he rolled his sleeve back down his eyes cast to the floor, glaring at the rug that covered the trampled grass.
"... Lon'qu's dead. I didn't know. So my father's been raising Owain as - as my Pledge for a fucking decade. I couldn't just leave him there. He wanted to come and didn't understand why I didn't want him to. So I gave him the choice, and the rest just sort of..." He trailed off. His eyes hadn't raised, mostly because despite his words, his mind was still stuck on one of the first things he'd said.
Lon'qu was dead.
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Unlike Poe, though, he's not willing to share what happened at the ceremony. Not yet. That's still just his.
"We're-- there for each other," he says, and his excitement gets the best of him, too willing to share this, too willing to see if the first Pledge he's ever spoken to alone will be able to light up the way he has. "We're equal. To each other. He's-- everything. To me. But I'm everything to him? I don't know."
Owain laughs, shy, but still so god damn nervous. He looks at Kiron a little sideways. "It's-- new. What we're doing. He doesn't give me orders, and he lets me ask for things. Tell him things I need. That I'm allowed to need. You could be like that with Reeve, if you wanted to."
---
Reeve's eyes widen, and the grip he has on his pipe slackens. He breathes out again, smoke circling the ceiling of the tent before dissipating.
So that's what this is about.
"I'm sorry, kid." There's obvious sympathy in his tone, but he says it the way he'd say it if someone lost a pet. He taps his pipe into an ashtray and moves closer to Poe, clapping his free hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard."
That's all he says, for a moment, and it looks like it's where he'll end it. Offering a chance for Poe to talk about this, if he wants to, or else extending a sympathy he doesn't fully command. But the silence doesn't last, and though he tries to be careful, there's a dominating, chastising tone to his voice when he finds it again.
"... Can't use his kid to grieve, Poe."
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"Captain Dameron has... always attempted to extend similar privileges to me," He admits quietly, after a moment. "But I... no. Master Reeve would not appreciate such a... liberal relationship. I serve him, and that secures his happiness. He is not blind to my needs. I need not speak them."
---
Poe turns his head, rolling his eyes, again, at the 'kid', but again not complaining.
"It was either bring him with me or leave him there - probably to be assigned to someone else. I'm not - look. I owe it to Lon'qu, to look after his son." He turned his gaze back to Reeve's, looking at him from under dark brows.
"You think I would go into this fucking lightly?"
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It's not surprising, really. Poe needed to fucking tear apart decades of tradition for Owain to even consider what they were doing - had to ruin himself with scars and tattoos just to show Owain how serious he was about this. With a decade of conditioning, he barely managed to pull away. Kiron might be older. Might have started learning when he was younger, even. He's a fool to try to tackle this so openly, and he lowers his head.
"It's not... like that, though." He bites his teeth. "The Pledge system is-- fucked up, man. You shouldn't surrender yourself when you don't even... get it. You don't even know what you're saying."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reeve-- is sympathetic, but again, unconvinced.
It's too easy to wrap this up in a neat little package labelled Poe's Idealism Running Away With Him Again and leaving it at that. He lost someone he loved, someone whose rights he tried so hard to fight for, and his son was left in his care in a system he wanted to tear down. His arguments are only making that line of thought more believable, and he doesn't say it, but it's right their in his expression - probably to be assigned to someone else, really? So this is how you repay an obligation?
"I think," Reeve says, and it's careful, too careful to be good. He pointedly keeps his eyes trained on Poe, letting him see how serious he is about this. How concerned he is about this.
"I think you would be willing to do a lot of things if you thought it was right. You charge into things full speed, damning safety for the sake of it." He gestures to the cut, to the tattoo. "You're taking this too far."
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"I've known Captain Dameron for a while now," he points out, calmly. "I know how he views the Pledge system. And it sounds like you are... a good match for him. But I am happy, where I am. I have not surrendered. I took my post gladly."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * SPARKLES * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Poe lets out a hard breath from his nose, but the way his eyes shift away and how a slight heat rises under his collar are telling enough. He knows he's going into this too fast and too hard.
But it was too late to pull back.
Even if he wanted to.
"Equality isn't 'too far', Reeve, it's basically the bare fucking minimum of what I should be trying to do." He grabbed his jacket again, shrugging it over his shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm not going to parade it around."
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"I'm not a good match for him," he mumbles, just to be contrary, even though he doesn't believe it. "Not as a Pledge, at least. Not like you're implying. That first little while kind of sucked because I kept trying to do things and kowtow and he just--"
He drags his hands down his face. Thinks of Kes, out of nowhere, and remembers the fears of disappointing him.
"Okay," he starts. "Okay. Let's try this - is there anything you like to do? Reading? Writing? Things like that?"
"This isn't equality, though," Reeve argues, chewing the inside of his cheek. "You've taken his life away. His purpose. You're a military man, and you still get to be that even with a cut on your hand and a crest in your arm. He's a Pledge - and you're stripping him of that, taking away his identity, letting him drift aimlessly in a world that doesn't give him the choice to be more than what he is."
How many times has he made an argument like this to Poe over the years? The same argument Kes used - that placement is provided to Pledges. Security. A good thing.
"This feels like the bare minimum to you, because you're not--" He trips over the word, but says it anyway.
"--livestock. They're treated like animals, kid. Not by us, but by everyone else. They can't take things for themselves. Even the freedom you think he has is a gift you've given him as his better."
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He dipped his head, raising a hand to gently rub at the back of his neck. An action he would have never taken, in Reeve's presence.
"I sing," He said, simply, in response to the question. "And I am fortunate that my Master enjoys it, also."
*~ ^o^ ~*
"I'm not expecting it to work overnight, Reeve, but I'm not going to - Gods--"
He sighed heavily and strode over to the other man, placing a hand firmly on either side of his face and forcing him to look straight at him. "I'm not having this argument again. I gave him my vow, and I took the brand to prove it, and if takes another ten years for the reality to sink in, so be it. But things aren't always going to be this way, and when they finally change, he's going to be ready for it."
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