Finn’s just got back from a mission and he’s fucking tired, sprawled out naked on Poe’s bed, hands tucked under his chin, still damp from the ‘fresher. He’d only stumbled into Poe’s room just ten minutes ago, but his eyes are already closed and his breath is even.
Poe pushes himself up on one arm, cataloging the strong, beautiful lines of the man stretched out beside him. It isn’t the first time Finn’s fallen into Poe’s bed; they’ve been doing this for the past two weeks. Finn will slip into Poe’s room, silent, when the base is quiet, and they’ll come together, messy and quick, and without a word spoken between them.
Poe doesn’t know what this is, if there is even a this, but he doesn’t say a word, in case it stops.
There’s still daylight out and Poe wonders what it means, that Finn’s come to his room, instead of going back to his own. Poe’s day was quiet; he’d finished up all his routine jobs and headed back to his room to catch up on reading. Jess had teased him about being domesticated, and Poe’d flipped her off, but it was maybe a little true. He hadn't felt up to his usual -- adventuring, with Finn gone.
Poe’s one of the lucky few with a small window, and the sun is just at the right spot in the sky that it spills over Finn’s skin. He reaches out to settle one hand on the curve of Finn’s ass, thumb swiping over his warm skin.
“What are you doing,” Finn mumbles, half into the pillow.
Poe rubs his thumb just below Finn’s scar, between the two dimples that dip around his spine. “Hey. Can I try something?”
“As long as you don't wake me up,” Finn says, tired, and Poe sits up, swinging himself over Finn’s legs and coming down harder than he means to. Finn grunts in protest but doesn’t move, just spreads his legs to give Poe room.
“Can’t promise that, buddy,” says Poe, distracted, working his hands back up Finn’s back and carefully not touching his scar -- Finn hates when his scar is touched. His fingers are dry, this really would be much better with lotion or oil, but Finn relaxes further into the mattress with a long groan that mainlines straight to Poe’s dick.
“Good,” Finn hums, sliding his arms under the pillow, hips rolling lazily into the sheets. Poe swipes his fingers across the back of Finn’s neck, affectionate, before sliding his hands back down.
Poe lays his hands on Finn’s ass, digging his fingers into the firm muscle -- and Finn tenses, pushing himself up to look at Poe, over his shoulder. They haven’t done this before; their midnight fumblings have yet to involve any butt stuff, which is a shame because Finn has got an incredible ass, one that Poe could eat out for hours. And that -- that is the best idea he’s ever had. Ever.
“This okay? You tell me if it’s not, alright?” Poe says, quiet, and he hopes it’s okay, fuck. Because Finn’s legs are spread, and if Poe opens Finn up like this, he can --
“Yeah,” Finn hisses, through his teeth, reaching up to grab the grab the top of the mattress with both his hands. “It’s good,” and Poe has to close his eyes.
“You’re fucking killing me,” Poe growls, which makes Finn snort in disbelief, and Poe leans down and bites the curve of Finn’s ass, his teeth just scraping along the crease, and Finn’s hips jerk forward, into the mattress.
“Fuck, Poe,” Finn says, on a small, embarrassed laugh, and then his voice cracks and falls apart when Poe laves his tongue over the bite, the tip of his tongue slipping just slightly in. Finn is so hot there, and his muscles are tense again, and Poe slides his hands up his sides, gently, reassuring, then back down to press him open.
“You’re --” Finn gasps, almost disbelieving, and he shivers hard when Poe presses the flat of his tongue against his hole, licking in broad swipes until Finn’s muscles start to relax. Finn is so tight, and Poe works his tongue in, slow, even though he wants to go fast, to fuck Finn with his tongue until he’s coming messy onto the sheets.
“Your mouth,” Finn says, loudly, like the dirtiest benediction, his hips rolling up to get closer.
Poe pushes his tongue in as deep as he can go, slow, leisurely thrusts into Finn’s hole. And then Finn’s drawing his knee up, lifting his ass up and spreading himself open for Poe and -- and fuck, Poe grinds his own hips down on the bed. He’s so hard it hurts, the fast thump of his heart pulsing in his dick, and he needs to adjust, but there’s no way he’s going to remove his hands from Finn’s hot skin.
Poe pulls back just a little, watching, eyes half-lidded, as Finn lets go of the mattress with one hand to stroke himself, his balls and dick slick with Poe’s saliva. Finn’s hole is dark, and wet and -- fucking hell, Poe ducks back down, shoving his tongue back in, too hard, he should be gentler --
“Yeah,” Finn’s saying, voice slurred, like he’s drunk. “Yeah, Poe -- I need you to -- like that, with your tongue,” he gasps. “Harder.”
Poe groans and fucks his tongue in, quick and hard, and Finn fucks into his own hand, his muscles clenching. Finn’s rocking back into him and Poe’s face is a mess, wet, and sore, and he presses one finger against the ring of Finn’s muscles, by his tongue.
Finn’s groaning, loud and wrecked. Poe’s never seen him like this before, writhing, desperate for it, for Poe’s mouth, and it makes Poe fucking wild, and then Poe has to shove his tongue in as deep as he can, and press his face hard into Finn’s skin, gasping and shaking, dick pulsing hot and wet in his own fucking pants.
“Did you -- did you just --” Finn demands, breathless, and when Poe breathes a hot, “Yes,” into his skin, Finn jerks himself off harder, frantic, until he’s coming in messy streaks onto the sheets.
**
That evening, Poe leaves Finn in his bed, sated and still a little sticky, but too boneless to go back to the ‘fresher. Poe tosses his own messy pants into the laundry and hops into the ‘fresher for a quick shower.
He’s still buzzing slightly at dinner, cheeks warm and probably fucking radiating the ‘just-got-laid’ vibe, but that is just fine. Everything is great. He’s great.
He does jump a little when a tray smacks down on the table, and Jess drops down across from him. “Look, Poe,” Jess says, face slightly pink. “I love you. Like a brother. And since you are like my brother, I would love if I didn’t get a play-by-play of what you can do with your tongue.”
“Wh-what?”
Jess just stares at him.
“You heard?” Poe asks, weakly.
“Everyone heard,” Jess says, gravely.
“Oh, shit.
“Excuse you, I’m the one who’s scarred here,” Jess snaps, then steals his dinner, even though she has her own.
FILL: roll off the tongue (1/1)
Poe pushes himself up on one arm, cataloging the strong, beautiful lines of the man stretched out beside him. It isn’t the first time Finn’s fallen into Poe’s bed; they’ve been doing this for the past two weeks. Finn will slip into Poe’s room, silent, when the base is quiet, and they’ll come together, messy and quick, and without a word spoken between them.
Poe doesn’t know what this is, if there is even a this, but he doesn’t say a word, in case it stops.
There’s still daylight out and Poe wonders what it means, that Finn’s come to his room, instead of going back to his own. Poe’s day was quiet; he’d finished up all his routine jobs and headed back to his room to catch up on reading. Jess had teased him about being domesticated, and Poe’d flipped her off, but it was maybe a little true. He hadn't felt up to his usual -- adventuring, with Finn gone.
Poe’s one of the lucky few with a small window, and the sun is just at the right spot in the sky that it spills over Finn’s skin. He reaches out to settle one hand on the curve of Finn’s ass, thumb swiping over his warm skin.
“What are you doing,” Finn mumbles, half into the pillow.
Poe rubs his thumb just below Finn’s scar, between the two dimples that dip around his spine. “Hey. Can I try something?”
“As long as you don't wake me up,” Finn says, tired, and Poe sits up, swinging himself over Finn’s legs and coming down harder than he means to. Finn grunts in protest but doesn’t move, just spreads his legs to give Poe room.
“Can’t promise that, buddy,” says Poe, distracted, working his hands back up Finn’s back and carefully not touching his scar -- Finn hates when his scar is touched. His fingers are dry, this really would be much better with lotion or oil, but Finn relaxes further into the mattress with a long groan that mainlines straight to Poe’s dick.
“Good,” Finn hums, sliding his arms under the pillow, hips rolling lazily into the sheets. Poe swipes his fingers across the back of Finn’s neck, affectionate, before sliding his hands back down.
Poe lays his hands on Finn’s ass, digging his fingers into the firm muscle -- and Finn tenses, pushing himself up to look at Poe, over his shoulder. They haven’t done this before; their midnight fumblings have yet to involve any butt stuff, which is a shame because Finn has got an incredible ass, one that Poe could eat out for hours. And that -- that is the best idea he’s ever had. Ever.
“This okay? You tell me if it’s not, alright?” Poe says, quiet, and he hopes it’s okay, fuck. Because Finn’s legs are spread, and if Poe opens Finn up like this, he can --
“Yeah,” Finn hisses, through his teeth, reaching up to grab the grab the top of the mattress with both his hands. “It’s good,” and Poe has to close his eyes.
“You’re fucking killing me,” Poe growls, which makes Finn snort in disbelief, and Poe leans down and bites the curve of Finn’s ass, his teeth just scraping along the crease, and Finn’s hips jerk forward, into the mattress.
“Fuck, Poe,” Finn says, on a small, embarrassed laugh, and then his voice cracks and falls apart when Poe laves his tongue over the bite, the tip of his tongue slipping just slightly in. Finn is so hot there, and his muscles are tense again, and Poe slides his hands up his sides, gently, reassuring, then back down to press him open.
“You’re --” Finn gasps, almost disbelieving, and he shivers hard when Poe presses the flat of his tongue against his hole, licking in broad swipes until Finn’s muscles start to relax. Finn is so tight, and Poe works his tongue in, slow, even though he wants to go fast, to fuck Finn with his tongue until he’s coming messy onto the sheets.
“Your mouth,” Finn says, loudly, like the dirtiest benediction, his hips rolling up to get closer.
Poe pushes his tongue in as deep as he can go, slow, leisurely thrusts into Finn’s hole. And then Finn’s drawing his knee up, lifting his ass up and spreading himself open for Poe and -- and fuck, Poe grinds his own hips down on the bed. He’s so hard it hurts, the fast thump of his heart pulsing in his dick, and he needs to adjust, but there’s no way he’s going to remove his hands from Finn’s hot skin.
Poe pulls back just a little, watching, eyes half-lidded, as Finn lets go of the mattress with one hand to stroke himself, his balls and dick slick with Poe’s saliva. Finn’s hole is dark, and wet and -- fucking hell, Poe ducks back down, shoving his tongue back in, too hard, he should be gentler --
“Yeah,” Finn’s saying, voice slurred, like he’s drunk. “Yeah, Poe -- I need you to -- like that, with your tongue,” he gasps. “Harder.”
Poe groans and fucks his tongue in, quick and hard, and Finn fucks into his own hand, his muscles clenching. Finn’s rocking back into him and Poe’s face is a mess, wet, and sore, and he presses one finger against the ring of Finn’s muscles, by his tongue.
Finn’s groaning, loud and wrecked. Poe’s never seen him like this before, writhing, desperate for it, for Poe’s mouth, and it makes Poe fucking wild, and then Poe has to shove his tongue in as deep as he can, and press his face hard into Finn’s skin, gasping and shaking, dick pulsing hot and wet in his own fucking pants.
“Did you -- did you just --” Finn demands, breathless, and when Poe breathes a hot, “Yes,” into his skin, Finn jerks himself off harder, frantic, until he’s coming in messy streaks onto the sheets.
That evening, Poe leaves Finn in his bed, sated and still a little sticky, but too boneless to go back to the ‘fresher. Poe tosses his own messy pants into the laundry and hops into the ‘fresher for a quick shower.
He’s still buzzing slightly at dinner, cheeks warm and probably fucking radiating the ‘just-got-laid’ vibe, but that is just fine. Everything is great. He’s great.
He does jump a little when a tray smacks down on the table, and Jess drops down across from him. “Look, Poe,” Jess says, face slightly pink. “I love you. Like a brother. And since you are like my brother, I would love if I didn’t get a play-by-play of what you can do with your tongue.”
“Wh-what?”
Jess just stares at him.
“You heard?” Poe asks, weakly.
“Everyone heard,” Jess says, gravely.
“Oh, shit.
“Excuse you, I’m the one who’s scarred here,” Jess snaps, then steals his dinner, even though she has her own.
Poe drops his head into his arms, face burning.