The door closed firmly behind them, Poe allowed himself to be lead over to their bed (it didn't matter, really, who else shared it at any given time, there was always going to be a small part of Poe that laid claim; they wore the rings to prove it). He crawled onto the mattress, invaded Armitage's space until there was really none between them, his knees tucked between Armitage's legs, fingers seeking out the smooth skin underneath his shirt and his mouth close enough that when he talked, their lips would brush together. "We defeated Palpatine," he said after a moment.
It should have been a joyous thing; it was the end of tyranny, the First Order basically dissolved and an evil apparently not dead Sith was taken care of. He'd celebrated it at the time -- there hadn't been enough time for the truth of their (his) new reality to sink in properly. Leia, his boss, mentor and practically mother was dead. Ben was dead. And -- Armitage was dead too. He'd saved them (albeit a bit spitefully) and then gotten nothing for his trouble but shot. None of that felt like a celebration to Poe.