Poe came back to himself slowly, by degrees. First his vision—blurry, faint—returned, the amorphous blob next to his side resolving itself into the shape of a stormtrooper. Then the sharp, cacophonous sounds and noxious smells of his prison cell assaulted him and Poe tried his level best not to retch. If he threw up he would probably just end up covered in it, and he did not want to be snuffed out of existence with puke on his clothing, thank you very much.
He tugged halfheartedly at the shackles around his wrists and ankles, but they didn’t so much as give. He hadn’t been expecting them to, but it was a nice thought.
Poe sighed and let his eyes shut. The light was too bright, anyway. And it wasn't like he was going anywhere.
The Resistance would not be coming for him. He was a dead man. They’d put his name on a plaque somewhere on D’Qar. Maybe they’d inscribe his name next to his mother’s. Poe smiled to himself; he would like that.
The door to his cell opened and Poe cracked one eye open, half-expecting Kylo Ren. Maybe he’d come to finish him off.
A stormtrooper marched in and turned to the one who’d been instructed to guard Poe.
“Ren wants the prisoner.”
The ’trooper that had been guarding him just shrugged and released the shackles around Poe’s wrists and ankles. Poe glanced up at the other ’trooper and tried–so hard—not to hope. It sat there in his chest, though, like a glowing ember.
After Poe was certain he could walk without assistance, the stormtrooper jabbed a blaster barrel into his chest, grabbed him, and bound his arms. Poe’s stomach sunk again.
Then they were off.
Kylo Ren had gotten the information he wanted. The only reason he’d want him now was either to show off his torture techniques to others or to execute him. Poe honestly wasn’t sure which option he preferred at this point. He didn’t want to die, but death might be merciful.
If it was a quick one.
They rounded a corner and suddenly Poe found himself being shoved into another cell.
“Turn here.”
Poe jumped back, holding up his bound hands in defense, as if that would protect him from a stormtrooper with a blaster intent to do him harm.
“Listen carefully. You do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.”
Poe shook his head and just stared, uncomprehending. His brain was still foggy, still aching and sore. Out of where?
“What?”
The ’trooper reached up and lifted off his white helmet. His eyes were as wide as the moons of Yavin Prime and his face shone with sweat. Poe realized this young stormtrooper—this young man was as terrified as Poe was.
(He was also beautiful, the most beautiful sight Poe had ever seen, but he shoved those thoughts into a lockbox at the back of his mind, the one place in his mind Kylo Ren hadn’t managed to violate.)
“This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape—”
There was a strange electric sensation—both light and heavy at the same time—that ran through Poe, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
A tattered memory fluttered to the forefront of his tender, aching mind: Poe and Mama curled up in bed together. Mama stroking his hair. The two of them laughing and chanting the lines of an old fairytale together. Mama lacing their fingers together.
“This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.”
Poe’s entire world tilted on its axis.
He was the captive prince. This stormtrooper was—
This stormtrooper was still talking. “Can you fly a TIE Fighter?”
[FILL] Finn/Poe, Yavin 4 sexy warrior traditions 4/?
_________
Poe came back to himself slowly, by degrees. First his vision—blurry, faint—returned, the amorphous blob next to his side resolving itself into the shape of a stormtrooper. Then the sharp, cacophonous sounds and noxious smells of his prison cell assaulted him and Poe tried his level best not to retch. If he threw up he would probably just end up covered in it, and he did not want to be snuffed out of existence with puke on his clothing, thank you very much.
He tugged halfheartedly at the shackles around his wrists and ankles, but they didn’t so much as give. He hadn’t been expecting them to, but it was a nice thought.
Poe sighed and let his eyes shut. The light was too bright, anyway. And it wasn't like he was going anywhere.
The Resistance would not be coming for him. He was a dead man. They’d put his name on a plaque somewhere on D’Qar. Maybe they’d inscribe his name next to his mother’s. Poe smiled to himself; he would like that.
The door to his cell opened and Poe cracked one eye open, half-expecting Kylo Ren. Maybe he’d come to finish him off.
A stormtrooper marched in and turned to the one who’d been instructed to guard Poe.
“Ren wants the prisoner.”
The ’trooper that had been guarding him just shrugged and released the shackles around Poe’s wrists and ankles. Poe glanced up at the other ’trooper and tried–so hard—not to hope. It sat there in his chest, though, like a glowing ember.
After Poe was certain he could walk without assistance, the stormtrooper jabbed a blaster barrel into his chest, grabbed him, and bound his arms. Poe’s stomach sunk again.
Then they were off.
Kylo Ren had gotten the information he wanted. The only reason he’d want him now was either to show off his torture techniques to others or to execute him. Poe honestly wasn’t sure which option he preferred at this point. He didn’t want to die, but death might be merciful.
If it was a quick one.
They rounded a corner and suddenly Poe found himself being shoved into another cell.
“Turn here.”
Poe jumped back, holding up his bound hands in defense, as if that would protect him from a stormtrooper with a blaster intent to do him harm.
“Listen carefully. You do exactly as I say, I can get you out of here.”
Poe shook his head and just stared, uncomprehending. His brain was still foggy, still aching and sore. Out of where?
“What?”
The ’trooper reached up and lifted off his white helmet. His eyes were as wide as the moons of Yavin Prime and his face shone with sweat. Poe realized this young stormtrooper—this young man was as terrified as Poe was.
(He was also beautiful, the most beautiful sight Poe had ever seen, but he shoved those thoughts into a lockbox at the back of his mind, the one place in his mind Kylo Ren hadn’t managed to violate.)
“This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape—”
There was a strange electric sensation—both light and heavy at the same time—that ran through Poe, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
A tattered memory fluttered to the forefront of his tender, aching mind: Poe and Mama curled up in bed together. Mama stroking his hair. The two of them laughing and chanting the lines of an old fairytale together. Mama lacing their fingers together.
“This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.”
Poe’s entire world tilted on its axis.
He was the captive prince. This stormtrooper was—
This stormtrooper was still talking. “Can you fly a TIE Fighter?”