Kiron watches him warily for another moment, before turning his head and looking somewhere else. Considering.
In the end, getting along with Owain was more important that any arguments or qualms about his values. So after another half a minute he slowly nodded.
"I already... Sort of have. Written songs before. Only in my head, of course, but..."
~ ~~~~**** I don't know how to do fancy things ****~~~~ -
Poe deflates, a little, because almost by accident Reeve managed to step right on the thing that was worrying him most. He scrubs his thumbs over Reeve's rough cheeks for a moment - almost thoughtlessly - then drops his hands to rest on the man's shoulders as he sighs.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." His brows furrow and his eyes drop, looking at Reeve's feet instead of his face. "I'm trying to do good by him, Starstuff." He didn't bring that pet name out often - especially lately. But it was almost habit, when he had his hands on him, like this. "But I'm not sure there's anything I could do that wouldn't mess with his life in some measure. So I'm just... Trying to do what's right."
Edited (Wearily and warily have different meanings) 2018-02-15 14:08 (UTC)
Owain gets swept up in his excitement, caught too easily by the winds of this. He lunges forward and grabs Kiron's hands, holding both of them far too tightly. There's far too much intimacy in this, far too much closeness for two Pledges acting without orders - before Poe, Owain had let himself be starved of touch, becoming his slave while desperate for any kind of contact with another human being that wasn't disciplinary or guiding; it comes so easily now, seeing the opportunity to comfort or to admire or to just respond purely physically and affectionately, and to then just-- take the chance.
He doesn't even mind that Kiron isn't looking at him. The grin and the intensity as he watches Kiron are both more than bright enough for the two of them.
"We'll play together," he rushes. "Or-- no, wait, I should just let you perform. Would you do that? Perform for me? One of your own pieces? We, ah - don't have to let anyone else know about it."
~*~ sparkle sparkle thats right we're doing that not my lazy dashes
Starstuff.
Reeve stops, and whatever he was about to say next dies on his lips. Ah, unfair. It shows in the way he eyes Poe that he doesn't have any defenses in the light of Starstuff and he's damn sure Poe knows it. He pulls back, breaking contact, and he runs runs his fingers through his hair a few times, combing it up into even waves. He looks at Poe, and his shoulders droop. God damn it.
"Good luck changing the world, I guess. Just - you can't make promises like that to a kid and not follow through," he says, one last protest before letting this die.
But, well.
It always comes back to this. It was always gonna come back to this. He grins, and it's lecherous and disrespectful, but-- that's how he's always been with Poe. It's an easy mood to slip into, when they're not arguing or talking shit. He folds his arms over his chest and says so, letting the word hang for a minute.
The flush that filled Kiron's pale skin was only partially intentional - after all, even Reeve didn't touch him like this, and the driving need for physical affection was something that he felt deeply, as well. But while normally he would try to recover from it quickly, push the feeling away... He didn't this time. He let it happen, his the blush spreading down his throat and under his collar, before he forced his eyes away. He didn't try to pull his hands back, though he swallowed.
"... I... that's...."
~ * ~
"I don't promise him anything lightly. Don't worry." The tenseness in his own shoulders relaxed as Reeve's drooped, and he let the rest out with a long breath. Fight over. Okay. Now they could just talk about normal thi--
It was probably for the best, that he wasn't in the middle of drinking or eating anything, but even without that, Poe still looked like he got caught in the middle of a spit take. Fuck. He should have known, with Reeve of all people, that the first fucking question--
"I'm not answering that." He said, rubbing his face roughly as he turned away to find something to busy himself with. Where was his backpack? He needed to unpack it. The last thing he wanted was for Reeve to witness the heat that was rising up his throat.
Owain takes this as a victory - he knows that blush. It's self-consciousness, it's warmth; it's what he felt when Poe bought him clothes, when he bought him a journal, when he gave him a chance to be himself and be alive.
"C'mon." He wants more of this, wants to pull Kiron into a hug or something, but he settles on just lacing their fingers together a little tighter and squeezing reassuringly with his uninjured hand. He can feel the scar break open on his other, and he quietly pulls it back, hiding that hand away in his pocket - it stings, but he doesn't stop smiling, doesn't let go.
"What if we consider it - practice? If Reeve lets you sing, that means he must like it, right? So." He tugs Kiron forward, just a little, lowering his voice to keep them from being overheard. "Be at your best for him."
~ * ~
Poe's not really one to be shy, and it stirs something in Reeve. An assumption, maybe, that Poe's taking this as seriously as he says he is. An assumption that he's already crossed a line, and that's why he can't pull back.
A good friend might back down from this, give Poe his space and his privacy, but that's never really how things have been between them. The only thing off limits between them is... how they've spoken about Kiron - how Poe's reacted to Reeve's offers, some of the things he's said - and that's something they can navigate. This, though? Uncharted waters.
"Huh."
He seeks out that heat staining Poe red and he finds it. He's quiet, looking out towards the entrance of the tent - he could go and get Kiron and the other kid, if he wanted to, cut this short and blow away all the tension he's suddenly feeling. Again - that'd be what a good friend might do.
"How far have you gone?" Reeve's closing in on Poe, leaning over him, pretending to look for his backpack to help even as he slides one arm around Poe's waist to keep him there. His tone's - unreadable, light but dark, and he's breathing silently, like he's barely there.
"He sucked your dick?" He squeezes his arm around Poe a little tighter. It doesn't sound like he's judging Poe, but it sounds like something close.
"You make him swallow your cum or do you like it more when you shoot on his face?"
Kiron turned his eyes away, still flushed, his freckles almost disappearing into the red of his cheeks.
"... You want me to practice singing for my Master by singing for you. Is that what you're asking?" He turned his eyes back to Owain's, then, though they didn't stay long, instead falling sheepishly to the floor.
"... Perhaps. But I... I am not sure why you wish this of me. The songs I write... They're nothing more than silly turns of phrase to pass the time. It is no art."
~ * ~
He doesn't need to sound like he's judging Poe for Poe to hear it - the guilt a hot lance right into his chest, twisting at the base of his throat and making a sour taste rise to the back of his mouth.
He shoves Reeve off him - not a strong, violent push, but the sort of almost aimless brotherly rough housing that highlights most of their relationship. And when he speaks, he sounds mostly exasperated, though there is a hint of honest frustration in it.
"Will you fucking stop? It's not like that."
He almost wanted to kick himself, for saying it. It's not like that implied a hell of a lot more than he meant to. He grabbed his backpack and started pulling it open.
"Right. Right. Right right right." He swings his hand in Kiron's, leaning forward, eyes bright. "We don't have to call it art, yet. Art's kind of intimidating, because it's - above us. Yeah? So."
There's no hiding the excitement in Owain - even the ice cold touch of his skin is starting to warm like this, palm against palm - and it only gets worse when Kiron looks up at him. Fuck, this is going to be great.
"We should do it now. Before your nerve runs out. Poe and Reeve'll probably be at it for a while, so. We can slip away." He pauses. "I don't wanna go too far away, but, like - I'm sure there's somewhere quiet nearby where we can be alone."
~ * ~
Reeve laughs, stumbling back, holding his arms out in surrender. It doesn't reach his eyes, which are still hitting Poe pretty hard, but he goes quiet for a second or two as he... considers. Almost asks tell me what it's like, then but opts not to.
He sits on the edge of his bed and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and watching Poe unpack. It's the lack of a hard refusal that really gets to him and keeps him asking - he takes a different tactic, but his tone is still there. Something just below judgmental.
"Last I saw you," he starts, drawling. "Would've been - man - a few weeks ago. Not too long."
He lets the words hang there, the silent assertion clear. He can't have been your Pledge for very long, and already you're acting like he's the center of the world.
"He's either a fucking exceptional human being," Reeve says, putting all the respect he can into the words human being, so Poe knows he means it, "or-- you've found the perfect Pledge. Someone who validates you, drinks up your values like a sponge. Fits you the way a Pledge is supposed to."
"Right now?" That definitely makes the flush drain from Kiron's face, and he immediately looks back to the tent.
"I... I shouldn't be that far from Master Starling. I don't want to be out of calling distance. I don't - I'm not sure this is a good idea. Perhaps I should go back--"
~ * ~
Reeve has always known exactly how to get under Poe's defences. And while usually that was a good thing - getting him to open up about his Father, for example, or making him actually address his grief when a mutual friend died - this time, all it does is impound the guilt already in him. His grip on a shirt tightens, his knuckles going white, staring down at the clothes rather than turning his head, because the implication alone is enough to stain the last few days, turning the pure and honest joy into something darker and tainted.
He'd known, somewhere in the back of his head, that it would end up that way. Drinks up your values like a sponge--
He felt very queasy, suddenly.
"He is a fucking exceptional human being," he replies, his voice a little tight as he tossed the shirt down onto the cot. "Don't fucking do this, man, I don't need it. Anything you could possibly give me shit about, I guarantee, I'm already giving myself shit for it."
Owain deflates, visibly disappointed. Had he ever made Poe feel like this? You could be so happy if you would just trust me. There's a moment or two where he looks at Kiron with an almost unrelenting sadness, seeing so much of himself in the way he pulls back. He thinks of Kes, about how quickly he was willing to ruin things he'd been building at the ball, and even now, when he's actively set on helping someone the way Poe helped him, there's a stab of guilt when he thinks he's disappointing the man who raised him. A cut of fear reminding him he's getting carried away, putting Poe at risk.
He breathes out.
"Okay." He nods. "Okay. Okay, we don't have to go anywhere. What if you just - hum a little something for me here? Quietly? Or-- or tell me some of your lyrics, or-- or anything. Anything at all."
~ * ~
Reeve almost laughs, full of bitter disbelief, but he doesn't. He stays quiet, chewing over his words before he says them.
"It's just--" Reeve puts his forehead in his hand. "You've never gone this far before. I'm scared. For him, yeah, but for you, too. Do you know how easy it would be for this to go wrong? Either of you could fucking die for this and it's--"
One slip up, one wrong word, one enemy made, and an attempt will be taken on Owain's life and barely investigated. Reeve scratches at his forearm and says nothing, but Poe's rebellion... this is too much, he should have tried to stop it all when they were younger. Fuck.
"Sorry."
His lips twist into a sour smile and he looks at Poe, relenting. He'll stop.
Well, sort of.
"... You like him." It's slow and careful, like he's scared Poe might run. "Right?"
Kiron glances back nervously at the tent again, before wringing his hands, nervously. There's a long pause while he obviously considers, but when he finally looks back to Owain, there's a sadness in his gaze that wasn't there before.
"Why is this... Why is this important to you? Why does my singing something mean anything to you?
~ * ~
"Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to go through me, first. And there's a lot worse things out there than dying for something I believe in, Reeve." He knew it wasn't something the man would want to hear, but that didn't make it less true. Poe had never considered his own life to be of primary importance.
At the last question, however, he pauses. His shoulders droop, heading bowing with a small sigh, before he finally turned to meet Reeve's gaze. He'd never been good at lying to the man.
Why start now.
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if I only liked him, Reeve."
A week ago, he wouldn't know how to answer that question. Fuck, a week ago, he wouldn't have even gotten to this point - he would have stared at the floor, anxious and dead eyed, as Poe introduced him as Owain of the House of Dameron to Reeve, who he would only watch long enough to remember everything about his appearance and then immediately look away. Now, though -
He grins, tilting his head to the side like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"You're an important person." He nudges Kiron on the shoulder, just lightly. "I want to know what you love, what makes you happy. I want to know the kind of man you are."
~ * ~
"If you die, he's going to die, too." Reeve isn't looking at Poe anymore. "Sacrificing yourself for his safety sounds all well and good, if you're willing to leave him alone in a world where he's seen as an error. A mistake in an otherwise perfect system."
He watches the ground and he thinks of something. Of home, of his sister. An otherwise perfect system.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Okay." He looks back up, away from the shoes he'd been staring at. "Okay. You're in love with him?" There's a moment or two where the question hangs there, and it looks like Reeve's about to dive into something again - something darker, angrier, it flashes behind his eyes and it's there - but then it's gone, and he cracks a grin.
"Uncool, Dameron. To think I was gonna ask you to dress up like a woman and become my wife tonight." He rolls his shoulders and stands to his feet, coming over to bring Poe into a hug. He's not gonna fight about this. "Don't let him hurt you either, yeah? Kinda weird to imagine you in love."
The uncertainty doesn't leave Kiron's expression as he watches him quietly. But after a long moment it fades, a soft smile rising in its place.
"You are a... Very strange man," he murmured, thoughtfully. "But I... Will hum you a short song, as long as you never repeat it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and then began to hum a somber, quiet melody, barely loud enough for even Owain to make out.
~ * ~
He rubbed his face. Reeve was right. Owain would be fucked if he died-- "Fuck. Yeah. I'll- I'll think of something. I'll make sure that something is set up, in case anything happens to me. I don't-- I'm not going to fail him."
Then Reeve asks something that Poe had been so carefully avoiding saying aloud or putting into words, and it felt like something suddenly solidified in his chest, making it far harder to ignore. His mouth went a little dry and he turned his head. Fuck. Fuck, yeah, he was.
He doesn't smile, as the joke, barely reacts to the hug for the first few seconds, before sighing and slumping into it. "... Not something I feel I can... Really put on him. Everyrhing is already... Too much."
Strange is good. He likes strange. Deviating from the way he's been raised, being acknowledged for that - it sets off a warmth in his stomach that wouldn't have been there, if Poe hadn't taught him how to be proud of himself.
He nods as hard and as fast as he can, drawing a line over his lips with his fingertips and throwing away the imaginary key. Kiron's secret is safe with him.
The song hits hard. The tone, the melody, every part of it rings hard in Owain's ear and he shuts his eyes to drown out the noise of the encampment, straining to catch as much of that quiet song as clearly as he can. When it's done, Owain slowly opens his eyes, looking at Kiron in-- shock, more than anything. That was fucking beautiful, and Kiron is doing the world a disservice by not being known for his voice, the songs he writes.
"Woah." He pushes Kiron's shoulder, light and affectionate. "Woah."
~ * ~
"Or," Reeve says, voice dripping with sarcasm, as this is he most obvious thing in the world. "You could just - you know - not let anything happen to you? I've been telling you to take care of yourself better for years. Maybe now you'll actually listen."
He's still hugging Poe, tight enough to offset any of the negativity his sarcastic bullshit might cause, but he lets go soon enough. Kid's in love. Hard to wrap his head around.
"... but yeah, I get that."
He shifts away from Poe to sit down against the bed, leaning back. He props himself up on one hand and scratches at his chest, uncomfortable in his uniform as he's always been.
Kiron smiles, and for a few seconds it is too honest, too genuine. Then he seems to realise what he's doing and the smile is tempered back into something small, something careful. Something almost worried.
He rolls with the push, eyes falling to the ground.
"... That is Master Starling's favourite," he admits lowly. He looks back up, and the smile is softer, fonder. "I should probably - return to his side. He does not like me being gone for long, even when he requests it."
~ * ~
Poe gave a low snort. Take care of himself. Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen. 'Take care of yourself' tended to be code for 'stop taking risks'. And that wasn't something he was prepared to do.
Risks were where Victory lay.
Poe doesn't sit down when Reeve does. Instead he stands there, casting his eyes down to the floor, putting his hands on his hips. He can't meet Reeve's gaze while he talks. He feels a bit like an idiot - like he's the one who's eighteen and just finding his feet.
"... From less than a day after I met him," Poe mumbles to the floor. "I don't know. Fuck. Less than a week? Don't - I'm well aware how insane it sounds, alright, but it was like- like suddenly every other moment made sense, and it was all leading to that one. Like I've actually been there for half my life, just... waiting."
It's enough, for now. He's sure he must have been the same when Poe first started dealing with him - honest smiles that broke through a facade, only for Owain to remember where he was and what he is and pull back. He'll drown this kid with affection until he's ready to embrace the kind of life he's been steadily climbing towards, and... and he'll see where they go from there.
"... Okay." He pats Kiron on the shoulder again, grinning. Proud of himself. Doing good in the world, making a difference. It hits him how easy it is to make a Pledge smile like that, and how fucking sad it is that it's such a rarity. "Lead the way, then."
~ * ~
Reeve doesn't respond to the snort, but his shoulders tense and he looks away. There's a difference, he feels, in avoiding risks and procuring your own safety, especially now that someone else is in Poe's charge, but. He's given his warning and it's the most he can do - he's not sure why he expected Poe to reign himself in now when he's been a thorn in Holdo's side for years.
Besides, he's a hypocrite. There's a reason Reeve and Poe get along so well, and it's because they both set the same kind of fires.
He bites his tongue again. Less than a day. That isn't love, not to Reeve. It's sweet, everything Poe is saying, but it sounds so fucking naive, words too familiar to things he believed in growing up. He runs his hand over his cheek and feels his mood starting to break, and when Owain busts through the door with Kiron at his heels, his expression darkens.
"You were out there for a while," Reeve says, and it's not a threat, it's not even an admonishment, but it's aimlessly stern as he pats the bed beside him to call Kiron over.
"I am very sorry, Master," Kiron murmurs, and he doesn't even have to raise his eyes to feel the dark energy ebbing from the other man as he immediately darts from Owain's side to return to Reeve's. He can feel the edges of Reeve's mood like an oncoming storm - the clouds beginning to roll in from over the water. His pulse picks up just a little faster. He knows to be prepared.
He doesn't look at Poe even though he wants to - the old animosity slowly turning personal. He hates when Poe puts Reeve in a bad mood. But he knows better to speak on it. Instead, he says, very quietly: "Should I prepare you a bath, master? They found a hot spring, yesterday."
Poe, on the other hand, like the lovesick idiot he was, lost all sense of anyone else even being in the room when Owain stepped back into it. He could see the pleased expression on Owian's face, so as he stepped over to him he grinned, wide and warm.
Owain's the same - he sees Poe and practically glows, bouncing on his tip toes and grinning from ear to ear, relying on every shred of self control he has to stop himself from just leaning down and kissing the fuck out of him. The only physical contact he lets himself have is a hand placed carefully on Poe's chest, which curls into his shirt and pulls him closer, but he stops there and lets go. Anything more belongs to him, and he doesn't want an audience for it.
Reeve doesn't address Kiron, watching Poe and Owain, the way they interact. He clenches his teeth and looks up at his Pledge from the bed, and he lets the question hang there - not to consider it, like it must seem to Poe and Owain, should they snap out of their own heads and remember other people are here - but to let Kiron hover in the uncertainty of not knowing if he's done something wrong by asking that.
Eventually-- he shrugs. Smiles. Good natured.
"Let's take a bath," Reeve says, leaning up to gently play with one of Kiron's braids. "Go set it up. I'll be out in a minute."
He clears his throat, letting go of Kiron, looking up to Poe.
The question pulls Poe from his reverie- however reluctantly- and it takes far too long for the words to trickle through enough for him to understand what he was actually asked.
"Oh, uh- yeah. In a bit. A warm soak would put me the fuck to sleep, right now, and I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on." He glances back at Owain, clearly wanting to steal a kiss - but that, at least, he had the self awareness not to engage in. He turned to Reeve just as Kiron slipped out of the tent quickly and silently behind him.
"You got the last couple weeks of reports? They'll expect me to be caught up before the morning shift tomorrow."
Owain watches Kiron go, so much of the warmth that had settled in behind his ribs starting to fade. That guy's still too reserved, still too quiet. Too quiet, for a voice that beautiful. He looks to Poe and watches him talk as Reeve stands to his feet, gait tilted and charming. He nods towards the satchel he keeps in the corner of the room, military standard and issued to most soldiers, where any papers Poe might need will be messily shoved away in the front pocket, completely out of order.
He hits Poe on the back as he starts heading towards the door, then stops and turns to look at Owain, getting one last glimpse of the man-- fuck that, the boy-- who's screwing with Poe's heart, intentionally or otherwise. Owain would flinch under the intensity of his eyes, if he hadn't been forcing himself to grow a backbone over the past few days. He watches Reeve almost defiantly, and then the older man is gone.
It's quiet without Reeve and his pledge taking up too much room in the tent, and as soon as Owain is sure they're out of sight, he tugs on Poe's sleeve.
"Hey." He's determined, here. Glowing cheeks and pinched brows. "Hey."
He tugs on Poe's sleeve again. Harder, this time. They're alone, so he wants a kiss, but he doesn't want to just take one. He wants to get one, something he very seriously demonstrates by pointing to his lips and waiting impatiently. Get on your shit, Dameron.
He doesn't catch the men staring at each other, because the instant the satchel was pointed out, he was already walking over to it and pulling it open. He didn't even look back over his shoulder as Reeve left, though he did call out: "Catch up with you in a bit," before he heard the flap of the tent close.
Owain tugs on his sleeve and Poe turns, the grin coming unbeckoned to his lips despite the conversation he'd just had, the giddy rush too strong to be undermined by reality.
"Hey," he replies, helpfully, and Owain does not need to put voice to the request. Even if he wasn't pointing to his lips, Poe would be moving in closer, sliding a hand around the back of Owain's neck, and pulling him down it a kiss that was far too longing for being mere hours after the last one.
He feels like he hasn't done this for weeks despite having only been kissing Poe like this for a few god damn days. He's just as longing, as if kissing Poe like this fills a void in him; gives him a reason to get through everything, a reason to feel complete and capable and fully realized. His fingers climb the back of Poe's neck and settle in his hair, soft breaths through his nose between each heady swipe of his tongue and press of his lips, and he doesn't take the time to break away as he stumbles backwards towards the bed Reeve had been sitting on.
Owain doesn't ask if Poe wants this. He doesn't even know what this is, just that they've got a few minutes alone and he wants to take advantage of it. He pushes Poe down onto the edge of the bed and settles on his lap, straddling Poe's hips and resting his thighs at his sides, his breath coming in faster shudders as he trails his lips down to Poe's throat.
"Reports can come later," he whispers, harsh and throaty, when he finally breaks far enough away to talk. He's at Poe's collarbone, fingers still curling in his skin, and he pulls the top few buttons of his shirt open to leave another soft wet mark against bare skin. "Can we-- do you want-- I mean, they'll probably be gone for a while? So."
It happens very quickly, and Poe barely registers the fact that he's sitting before Owain is climbing into his lap. Then he registers everything - his body instantly becoming hyper aware of Owain's weight against him. He let out a low groan without even realising it, dropping his hands to grip Owain's hips, his own rolling upward just a little to grind against him. He'd honestly just wanted to kiss him, but it was like his body had a completely different idea of what to do with itself whenever Owain touched him.
His breath came faster, almost matching Owain's, and he wet his lips, suddenly parched.
It was, of course, a terrible idea. It wasn't a private space - people came in and out to make reports all the time. But fuck if every single cell in his body wasn't keening for it - lit on fire purely by magnetism and the prospect of having Owain in his arms again--
"... Yeah," he breathed, his voice a deep, husky rumble - the reports already completely forgotten. He could feel his heart beating out a sharp rhythm against his ribs. He swallowed, his hands already going for Owain's belt, entirely of their own volition. He had absolutely no ability to resist Owain, even if he chose to.
Time will calm them down, eventually, but as Owain is right now, even a few hours away from touching Poe is enough to kill him. He can feel Poe's heart beating when he rests a hand over his chest and it makes his own surge into overdrive, looking down at Poe with that same awe, that same stunned disbelief that he has it in him to make someone feel like that. Anyone. Not just the person he was raised to see as inherently better than him. Just-- anyone.
There's a thrill in him, an energy that comes from heading outside of the tent with Kiron. He hasn't gone somewhere on his own like that for years, and those few seconds away from Poe's side - he'd hardly ever left his sight these past few days, and doing that here, in the cold, snow-covered grounds of a foreign planet, a warzone--
This is what being independent is about, isn't it? Making choices, however small, being able to see them through without asking if taking a step outside is okay. When Owain shifts and kisses Poe three times, then four, then five, all in quick succession, he breaks each one wit a laugh he wouldn't really be able to explain if he tried. The laughter dies and slips into something headier, darker, and his fingers draw lines further down Poe's clothes, unbuttoning halfway and then stopping.
"Sorry," he says, an urgent gasp. He needs to remember where they are - his back is to the entrance of the tent, but if someone comes in, it won't be hard to see what they're doing. He keeps Poe half dressed and shifts back just enough for his fingers to claw at Poe's belt, hands freezing in place when he hears footsteps just outside the tent but then scrambling to fish out his cock even faster once they're gone.
"I gotta-- just," His eyes are wide as he tears them away from Poe's belt and back up again. "Just wanna fucking touch you, I wanna make you say my name, I want-- what do you want me to do? Tell me."
Poe doesn't laugh with him - though he does grin hard enough that it hurts - every single thing that Reeve had said to him mere minutes ago utterly gone from his mind. Every shadow banished in Owain's bright sunlight. He leans up into every kiss, trying to take each a little harder and a little deeper than they are given. He's already got Owain's belt free and is tossing it to the floor when he feels Owain freeze. That's when he hears the footsteps and he freezes too - his body going utterly still even while his heart decides to race faster.
He raises his hips in an effort to help, groaning lowly as Owain pulls his cock out into the chilled air, his blood running thick and hot enough to more than make up for it.
He's having a hard time thinking straight, but the sound of someone outside his tent did at least bring him a little bit back to reality. "... Desk," he breathes, and for a few seconds that's all he can get out, because he's sliding his hand into Owain's trousers, palm rubbing hard against the length of his trapped cock. "... then I -- fuck, I want way too much than either of us can do right now, but at least -- might not be painfully fucking obvious that I am going to fill your mouth with cum and then drink every drop of yours down, if someone accidentally walks in--"
The grin is enough - Owain is just so overwhelmingly, stupidly, childishly happy, so incredibly ruined by the joy that controls every part of him, and to know that Poe might feel even a fraction of that warmth just by being here is enough to make him want to cry. Owain holds Poe's cock with both hands, elvet-soft strokes going upwards, always replacing one fist with the other at each careful twist over his head. He's hypnotizing himself as he watches, and it takes a while for what Poe is saying to sink in, but eventually it does with a hard, needy pulse through his dick, and he comes to a stop. Desk. Desk. Desk. Okay.
He slides off, obscenely tenting his dishevelled and now half-open uniform, and for a second he looks like he's going to hesitate or go slowly with all of this, but instead he straight up grabs Poe by the dick and leads him to the desk without letting go. He pushes Poe down into the hard, wooden chair that faces the open tent, and with a grin he sinks to his knees, out of sight behind so expensively carved mahogany.
His gag reflex still isn't great, and his lips are cold from being outside for so long, but they warm when he presses forwad and tries his best, sucking in half of Poe's cock and humming hard. He's noisy, too noisy, with the sloppy sound of spit sliding over flesh filling the otherwise empty tent, but he digs his nails into Poe's thighs and keeps going. His head bumps the desk every so often, so he angles himself down a little further, back arched so when he swallows Poe's cock before coming off of it with a pop, he'll be more comfortable.
His heart skips a couple beats when Owain stands - his figure cutting a perfect, if disheveled, silhouette, and in that split second Poe wishes he could stop time just to frame it. To keep that image of Owain forever. But then he is suddenly being pulled forward by his cock, barely having enough thought to grab the reports as they go, tossing them haphazardly onto the desk when Owain pushes him down into the chair.
It's not the greatest blow job in the world, objectively, but the way Poe reacts to it makes it very clear that he is over the moon with it. (Doesn't really matter, what those chilled lips are actually doing, as long as they belong to Owain.)
He laces his fingers into Owain's hair, finger nails scraping against his scalp, every obscene slurp making Poe's cock throb hotly.
"Fuck, Owain," he moans lowly, "You feel so--"
But he's cut off by the sound of heavy boots outside the tent, and only just managed to grab one of the reports and pretend to be reading it as the Runner opens the flap of the tent and steps in. Poe's hand in Owain's hair pushes down hard against his head to keep him under the table.
"Captain Dameron? I have the new shipping manifest from the last supply drop."
"Good, good." He set down the report and then held out his hand for the new one.
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In the end, getting along with Owain was more important that any arguments or qualms about his values. So after another half a minute he slowly nodded.
"I already... Sort of have. Written songs before. Only in my head, of course, but..."
~ ~~~~**** I don't know how to do fancy things ****~~~~ -
Poe deflates, a little, because almost by accident Reeve managed to step right on the thing that was worrying him most. He scrubs his thumbs over Reeve's rough cheeks for a moment - almost thoughtlessly - then drops his hands to rest on the man's shoulders as he sighs.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." His brows furrow and his eyes drop, looking at Reeve's feet instead of his face. "I'm trying to do good by him, Starstuff." He didn't bring that pet name out often - especially lately. But it was almost habit, when he had his hands on him, like this. "But I'm not sure there's anything I could do that wouldn't mess with his life in some measure. So I'm just... Trying to do what's right."
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Owain gets swept up in his excitement, caught too easily by the winds of this. He lunges forward and grabs Kiron's hands, holding both of them far too tightly. There's far too much intimacy in this, far too much closeness for two Pledges acting without orders - before Poe, Owain had let himself be starved of touch, becoming his slave while desperate for any kind of contact with another human being that wasn't disciplinary or guiding; it comes so easily now, seeing the opportunity to comfort or to admire or to just respond purely physically and affectionately, and to then just-- take the chance.
He doesn't even mind that Kiron isn't looking at him. The grin and the intensity as he watches Kiron are both more than bright enough for the two of them.
"We'll play together," he rushes. "Or-- no, wait, I should just let you perform. Would you do that? Perform for me? One of your own pieces? We, ah - don't have to let anyone else know about it."
~*~ sparkle sparkle thats right we're doing that not my lazy dashes
Starstuff.
Reeve stops, and whatever he was about to say next dies on his lips. Ah, unfair. It shows in the way he eyes Poe that he doesn't have any defenses in the light of Starstuff and he's damn sure Poe knows it. He pulls back, breaking contact, and he runs runs his fingers through his hair a few times, combing it up into even waves. He looks at Poe, and his shoulders droop. God damn it.
"Good luck changing the world, I guess. Just - you can't make promises like that to a kid and not follow through," he says, one last protest before letting this die.
But, well.
It always comes back to this. It was always gonna come back to this. He grins, and it's lecherous and disrespectful, but-- that's how he's always been with Poe. It's an easy mood to slip into, when they're not arguing or talking shit. He folds his arms over his chest and says so, letting the word hang for a minute.
"You fuck him yet?"
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"... I... that's...."
~ * ~
"I don't promise him anything lightly. Don't worry." The tenseness in his own shoulders relaxed as Reeve's drooped, and he let the rest out with a long breath. Fight over. Okay. Now they could just talk about normal thi--
It was probably for the best, that he wasn't in the middle of drinking or eating anything, but even without that, Poe still looked like he got caught in the middle of a spit take. Fuck. He should have known, with Reeve of all people, that the first fucking question--
"I'm not answering that." He said, rubbing his face roughly as he turned away to find something to busy himself with. Where was his backpack? He needed to unpack it. The last thing he wanted was for Reeve to witness the heat that was rising up his throat.
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"C'mon." He wants more of this, wants to pull Kiron into a hug or something, but he settles on just lacing their fingers together a little tighter and squeezing reassuringly with his uninjured hand. He can feel the scar break open on his other, and he quietly pulls it back, hiding that hand away in his pocket - it stings, but he doesn't stop smiling, doesn't let go.
"What if we consider it - practice? If Reeve lets you sing, that means he must like it, right? So." He tugs Kiron forward, just a little, lowering his voice to keep them from being overheard. "Be at your best for him."
~ * ~
Poe's not really one to be shy, and it stirs something in Reeve. An assumption, maybe, that Poe's taking this as seriously as he says he is. An assumption that he's already crossed a line, and that's why he can't pull back.
A good friend might back down from this, give Poe his space and his privacy, but that's never really how things have been between them. The only thing off limits between them is... how they've spoken about Kiron - how Poe's reacted to Reeve's offers, some of the things he's said - and that's something they can navigate. This, though? Uncharted waters.
"Huh."
He seeks out that heat staining Poe red and he finds it. He's quiet, looking out towards the entrance of the tent - he could go and get Kiron and the other kid, if he wanted to, cut this short and blow away all the tension he's suddenly feeling. Again - that'd be what a good friend might do.
"How far have you gone?" Reeve's closing in on Poe, leaning over him, pretending to look for his backpack to help even as he slides one arm around Poe's waist to keep him there. His tone's - unreadable, light but dark, and he's breathing silently, like he's barely there.
"He sucked your dick?" He squeezes his arm around Poe a little tighter. It doesn't sound like he's judging Poe, but it sounds like something close.
"You make him swallow your cum or do you like it more when you shoot on his face?"
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"... You want me to practice singing for my Master by singing for you. Is that what you're asking?" He turned his eyes back to Owain's, then, though they didn't stay long, instead falling sheepishly to the floor.
"... Perhaps. But I... I am not sure why you wish this of me. The songs I write... They're nothing more than silly turns of phrase to pass the time. It is no art."
~ * ~
He doesn't need to sound like he's judging Poe for Poe to hear it - the guilt a hot lance right into his chest, twisting at the base of his throat and making a sour taste rise to the back of his mouth.
He shoves Reeve off him - not a strong, violent push, but the sort of almost aimless brotherly rough housing that highlights most of their relationship. And when he speaks, he sounds mostly exasperated, though there is a hint of honest frustration in it.
"Will you fucking stop? It's not like that."
He almost wanted to kick himself, for saying it. It's not like that implied a hell of a lot more than he meant to. He grabbed his backpack and started pulling it open.
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There's no hiding the excitement in Owain - even the ice cold touch of his skin is starting to warm like this, palm against palm - and it only gets worse when Kiron looks up at him. Fuck, this is going to be great.
"We should do it now. Before your nerve runs out. Poe and Reeve'll probably be at it for a while, so. We can slip away." He pauses. "I don't wanna go too far away, but, like - I'm sure there's somewhere quiet nearby where we can be alone."
~ * ~
Reeve laughs, stumbling back, holding his arms out in surrender. It doesn't reach his eyes, which are still hitting Poe pretty hard, but he goes quiet for a second or two as he... considers. Almost asks tell me what it's like, then but opts not to.
He sits on the edge of his bed and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and watching Poe unpack. It's the lack of a hard refusal that really gets to him and keeps him asking - he takes a different tactic, but his tone is still there. Something just below judgmental.
"Last I saw you," he starts, drawling. "Would've been - man - a few weeks ago. Not too long."
He lets the words hang there, the silent assertion clear. He can't have been your Pledge for very long, and already you're acting like he's the center of the world.
"He's either a fucking exceptional human being," Reeve says, putting all the respect he can into the words human being, so Poe knows he means it, "or-- you've found the perfect Pledge. Someone who validates you, drinks up your values like a sponge. Fits you the way a Pledge is supposed to."
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"I... I shouldn't be that far from Master Starling. I don't want to be out of calling distance. I don't - I'm not sure this is a good idea. Perhaps I should go back--"
~ * ~
Reeve has always known exactly how to get under Poe's defences. And while usually that was a good thing - getting him to open up about his Father, for example, or making him actually address his grief when a mutual friend died - this time, all it does is impound the guilt already in him. His grip on a shirt tightens, his knuckles going white, staring down at the clothes rather than turning his head, because the implication alone is enough to stain the last few days, turning the pure and honest joy into something darker and tainted.
He'd known, somewhere in the back of his head, that it would end up that way. Drinks up your values like a sponge--
He felt very queasy, suddenly.
"He is a fucking exceptional human being," he replies, his voice a little tight as he tossed the shirt down onto the cot. "Don't fucking do this, man, I don't need it. Anything you could possibly give me shit about, I guarantee, I'm already giving myself shit for it."
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Owain deflates, visibly disappointed. Had he ever made Poe feel like this? You could be so happy if you would just trust me. There's a moment or two where he looks at Kiron with an almost unrelenting sadness, seeing so much of himself in the way he pulls back. He thinks of Kes, about how quickly he was willing to ruin things he'd been building at the ball, and even now, when he's actively set on helping someone the way Poe helped him, there's a stab of guilt when he thinks he's disappointing the man who raised him. A cut of fear reminding him he's getting carried away, putting Poe at risk.
He breathes out.
"Okay." He nods. "Okay. Okay, we don't have to go anywhere. What if you just - hum a little something for me here? Quietly? Or-- or tell me some of your lyrics, or-- or anything. Anything at all."
~ * ~
Reeve almost laughs, full of bitter disbelief, but he doesn't. He stays quiet, chewing over his words before he says them.
"It's just--" Reeve puts his forehead in his hand. "You've never gone this far before. I'm scared. For him, yeah, but for you, too. Do you know how easy it would be for this to go wrong? Either of you could fucking die for this and it's--"
One slip up, one wrong word, one enemy made, and an attempt will be taken on Owain's life and barely investigated. Reeve scratches at his forearm and says nothing, but Poe's rebellion... this is too much, he should have tried to stop it all when they were younger. Fuck.
"Sorry."
His lips twist into a sour smile and he looks at Poe, relenting. He'll stop.
Well, sort of.
"... You like him." It's slow and careful, like he's scared Poe might run. "Right?"
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"Why is this... Why is this important to you? Why does my singing something mean anything to you?
~ * ~
"Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to go through me, first. And there's a lot worse things out there than dying for something I believe in, Reeve." He knew it wasn't something the man would want to hear, but that didn't make it less true. Poe had never considered his own life to be of primary importance.
At the last question, however, he pauses. His shoulders droop, heading bowing with a small sigh, before he finally turned to meet Reeve's gaze. He'd never been good at lying to the man.
Why start now.
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if I only liked him, Reeve."
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He grins, tilting his head to the side like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"You're an important person." He nudges Kiron on the shoulder, just lightly. "I want to know what you love, what makes you happy. I want to know the kind of man you are."
~ * ~
"If you die, he's going to die, too." Reeve isn't looking at Poe anymore. "Sacrificing yourself for his safety sounds all well and good, if you're willing to leave him alone in a world where he's seen as an error. A mistake in an otherwise perfect system."
He watches the ground and he thinks of something. Of home, of his sister. An otherwise perfect system.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Okay." He looks back up, away from the shoes he'd been staring at. "Okay. You're in love with him?" There's a moment or two where the question hangs there, and it looks like Reeve's about to dive into something again - something darker, angrier, it flashes behind his eyes and it's there - but then it's gone, and he cracks a grin.
"Uncool, Dameron. To think I was gonna ask you to dress up like a woman and become my wife tonight." He rolls his shoulders and stands to his feet, coming over to bring Poe into a hug. He's not gonna fight about this. "Don't let him hurt you either, yeah? Kinda weird to imagine you in love."
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"You are a... Very strange man," he murmured, thoughtfully. "But I... Will hum you a short song, as long as you never repeat it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and then began to hum a somber, quiet melody, barely loud enough for even Owain to make out.
~ * ~
He rubbed his face. Reeve was right. Owain would be fucked if he died-- "Fuck. Yeah. I'll- I'll think of something. I'll make sure that something is set up, in case anything happens to me. I don't-- I'm not going to fail him."
Then Reeve asks something that Poe had been so carefully avoiding saying aloud or putting into words, and it felt like something suddenly solidified in his chest, making it far harder to ignore. His mouth went a little dry and he turned his head. Fuck. Fuck, yeah, he was.
He doesn't smile, as the joke, barely reacts to the hug for the first few seconds, before sighing and slumping into it. "... Not something I feel I can... Really put on him. Everyrhing is already... Too much."
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He nods as hard and as fast as he can, drawing a line over his lips with his fingertips and throwing away the imaginary key. Kiron's secret is safe with him.
The song hits hard. The tone, the melody, every part of it rings hard in Owain's ear and he shuts his eyes to drown out the noise of the encampment, straining to catch as much of that quiet song as clearly as he can. When it's done, Owain slowly opens his eyes, looking at Kiron in-- shock, more than anything. That was fucking beautiful, and Kiron is doing the world a disservice by not being known for his voice, the songs he writes.
"Woah." He pushes Kiron's shoulder, light and affectionate. "Woah."
~ * ~
"Or," Reeve says, voice dripping with sarcasm, as this is he most obvious thing in the world. "You could just - you know - not let anything happen to you? I've been telling you to take care of yourself better for years. Maybe now you'll actually listen."
He's still hugging Poe, tight enough to offset any of the negativity his sarcastic bullshit might cause, but he lets go soon enough. Kid's in love. Hard to wrap his head around.
"... but yeah, I get that."
He shifts away from Poe to sit down against the bed, leaning back. He props himself up on one hand and scratches at his chest, uncomfortable in his uniform as he's always been.
"How long've you known?"
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He rolls with the push, eyes falling to the ground.
"... That is Master Starling's favourite," he admits lowly. He looks back up, and the smile is softer, fonder. "I should probably - return to his side. He does not like me being gone for long, even when he requests it."
~ * ~
Poe gave a low snort. Take care of himself. Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen. 'Take care of yourself' tended to be code for 'stop taking risks'. And that wasn't something he was prepared to do.
Risks were where Victory lay.
Poe doesn't sit down when Reeve does. Instead he stands there, casting his eyes down to the floor, putting his hands on his hips. He can't meet Reeve's gaze while he talks. He feels a bit like an idiot - like he's the one who's eighteen and just finding his feet.
"... From less than a day after I met him," Poe mumbles to the floor. "I don't know. Fuck. Less than a week? Don't - I'm well aware how insane it sounds, alright, but it was like- like suddenly every other moment made sense, and it was all leading to that one. Like I've actually been there for half my life, just... waiting."
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"... Okay." He pats Kiron on the shoulder again, grinning. Proud of himself. Doing good in the world, making a difference. It hits him how easy it is to make a Pledge smile like that, and how fucking sad it is that it's such a rarity. "Lead the way, then."
~ * ~
Reeve doesn't respond to the snort, but his shoulders tense and he looks away. There's a difference, he feels, in avoiding risks and procuring your own safety, especially now that someone else is in Poe's charge, but. He's given his warning and it's the most he can do - he's not sure why he expected Poe to reign himself in now when he's been a thorn in Holdo's side for years.
Besides, he's a hypocrite. There's a reason Reeve and Poe get along so well, and it's because they both set the same kind of fires.
He bites his tongue again. Less than a day. That isn't love, not to Reeve. It's sweet, everything Poe is saying, but it sounds so fucking naive, words too familiar to things he believed in growing up. He runs his hand over his cheek and feels his mood starting to break, and when Owain busts through the door with Kiron at his heels, his expression darkens.
"You were out there for a while," Reeve says, and it's not a threat, it's not even an admonishment, but it's aimlessly stern as he pats the bed beside him to call Kiron over.
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He doesn't look at Poe even though he wants to - the old animosity slowly turning personal. He hates when Poe puts Reeve in a bad mood. But he knows better to speak on it. Instead, he says, very quietly: "Should I prepare you a bath, master? They found a hot spring, yesterday."
Poe, on the other hand, like the lovesick idiot he was, lost all sense of anyone else even being in the room when Owain stepped back into it. He could see the pleased expression on Owian's face, so as he stepped over to him he grinned, wide and warm.
"Have fun?"
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Reeve doesn't address Kiron, watching Poe and Owain, the way they interact. He clenches his teeth and looks up at his Pledge from the bed, and he lets the question hang there - not to consider it, like it must seem to Poe and Owain, should they snap out of their own heads and remember other people are here - but to let Kiron hover in the uncertainty of not knowing if he's done something wrong by asking that.
Eventually-- he shrugs. Smiles. Good natured.
"Let's take a bath," Reeve says, leaning up to gently play with one of Kiron's braids. "Go set it up. I'll be out in a minute."
He clears his throat, letting go of Kiron, looking up to Poe.
"You gonna come with, kid?"
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"Oh, uh- yeah. In a bit. A warm soak would put me the fuck to sleep, right now, and I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on." He glances back at Owain, clearly wanting to steal a kiss - but that, at least, he had the self awareness not to engage in. He turned to Reeve just as Kiron slipped out of the tent quickly and silently behind him.
"You got the last couple weeks of reports? They'll expect me to be caught up before the morning shift tomorrow."
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He hits Poe on the back as he starts heading towards the door, then stops and turns to look at Owain, getting one last glimpse of the man-- fuck that, the boy-- who's screwing with Poe's heart, intentionally or otherwise. Owain would flinch under the intensity of his eyes, if he hadn't been forcing himself to grow a backbone over the past few days. He watches Reeve almost defiantly, and then the older man is gone.
It's quiet without Reeve and his pledge taking up too much room in the tent, and as soon as Owain is sure they're out of sight, he tugs on Poe's sleeve.
"Hey." He's determined, here. Glowing cheeks and pinched brows. "Hey."
He tugs on Poe's sleeve again. Harder, this time. They're alone, so he wants a kiss, but he doesn't want to just take one. He wants to get one, something he very seriously demonstrates by pointing to his lips and waiting impatiently. Get on your shit, Dameron.
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Owain tugs on his sleeve and Poe turns, the grin coming unbeckoned to his lips despite the conversation he'd just had, the giddy rush too strong to be undermined by reality.
"Hey," he replies, helpfully, and Owain does not need to put voice to the request. Even if he wasn't pointing to his lips, Poe would be moving in closer, sliding a hand around the back of Owain's neck, and pulling him down it a kiss that was far too longing for being mere hours after the last one.
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Owain doesn't ask if Poe wants this. He doesn't even know what this is, just that they've got a few minutes alone and he wants to take advantage of it. He pushes Poe down onto the edge of the bed and settles on his lap, straddling Poe's hips and resting his thighs at his sides, his breath coming in faster shudders as he trails his lips down to Poe's throat.
"Reports can come later," he whispers, harsh and throaty, when he finally breaks far enough away to talk. He's at Poe's collarbone, fingers still curling in his skin, and he pulls the top few buttons of his shirt open to leave another soft wet mark against bare skin. "Can we-- do you want-- I mean, they'll probably be gone for a while? So."
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His breath came faster, almost matching Owain's, and he wet his lips, suddenly parched.
It was, of course, a terrible idea. It wasn't a private space - people came in and out to make reports all the time. But fuck if every single cell in his body wasn't keening for it - lit on fire purely by magnetism and the prospect of having Owain in his arms again--
"... Yeah," he breathed, his voice a deep, husky rumble - the reports already completely forgotten. He could feel his heart beating out a sharp rhythm against his ribs. He swallowed, his hands already going for Owain's belt, entirely of their own volition. He had absolutely no ability to resist Owain, even if he chose to.
"... Yeah, I want... Damn, but I want you."
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There's a thrill in him, an energy that comes from heading outside of the tent with Kiron. He hasn't gone somewhere on his own like that for years, and those few seconds away from Poe's side - he'd hardly ever left his sight these past few days, and doing that here, in the cold, snow-covered grounds of a foreign planet, a warzone--
This is what being independent is about, isn't it? Making choices, however small, being able to see them through without asking if taking a step outside is okay. When Owain shifts and kisses Poe three times, then four, then five, all in quick succession, he breaks each one wit a laugh he wouldn't really be able to explain if he tried. The laughter dies and slips into something headier, darker, and his fingers draw lines further down Poe's clothes, unbuttoning halfway and then stopping.
"Sorry," he says, an urgent gasp. He needs to remember where they are - his back is to the entrance of the tent, but if someone comes in, it won't be hard to see what they're doing. He keeps Poe half dressed and shifts back just enough for his fingers to claw at Poe's belt, hands freezing in place when he hears footsteps just outside the tent but then scrambling to fish out his cock even faster once they're gone.
"I gotta-- just," His eyes are wide as he tears them away from Poe's belt and back up again. "Just wanna fucking touch you, I wanna make you say my name, I want-- what do you want me to do? Tell me."
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He raises his hips in an effort to help, groaning lowly as Owain pulls his cock out into the chilled air, his blood running thick and hot enough to more than make up for it.
He's having a hard time thinking straight, but the sound of someone outside his tent did at least bring him a little bit back to reality. "... Desk," he breathes, and for a few seconds that's all he can get out, because he's sliding his hand into Owain's trousers, palm rubbing hard against the length of his trapped cock. "... then I -- fuck, I want way too much than either of us can do right now, but at least -- might not be painfully fucking obvious that I am going to fill your mouth with cum and then drink every drop of yours down, if someone accidentally walks in--"
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He slides off, obscenely tenting his dishevelled and now half-open uniform, and for a second he looks like he's going to hesitate or go slowly with all of this, but instead he straight up grabs Poe by the dick and leads him to the desk without letting go. He pushes Poe down into the hard, wooden chair that faces the open tent, and with a grin he sinks to his knees, out of sight behind so expensively carved mahogany.
His gag reflex still isn't great, and his lips are cold from being outside for so long, but they warm when he presses forwad and tries his best, sucking in half of Poe's cock and humming hard. He's noisy, too noisy, with the sloppy sound of spit sliding over flesh filling the otherwise empty tent, but he digs his nails into Poe's thighs and keeps going. His head bumps the desk every so often, so he angles himself down a little further, back arched so when he swallows Poe's cock before coming off of it with a pop, he'll be more comfortable.
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It's not the greatest blow job in the world, objectively, but the way Poe reacts to it makes it very clear that he is over the moon with it. (Doesn't really matter, what those chilled lips are actually doing, as long as they belong to Owain.)
He laces his fingers into Owain's hair, finger nails scraping against his scalp, every obscene slurp making Poe's cock throb hotly.
"Fuck, Owain," he moans lowly, "You feel so--"
But he's cut off by the sound of heavy boots outside the tent, and only just managed to grab one of the reports and pretend to be reading it as the Runner opens the flap of the tent and steps in. Poe's hand in Owain's hair pushes down hard against his head to keep him under the table.
"Captain Dameron? I have the new shipping manifest from the last supply drop."
"Good, good." He set down the report and then held out his hand for the new one.
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