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Technically, they didn’t live together, because they didn’t live anywhere. There were all still living on ships and in tents even though a town sprang up next to them. But Finn followed wherever Poe led. He always had, and they made each other better.
Turns out, coming home from war is a harder than you’d think. One enemy clarifies things. Gives you something to fight for, something to live for. Peace lessens the likelihood of immanent death. Also, peace gives you the space for things to arise that were tucked far away on all those adrenaline days.
Finn had been trained to force a galaxy into submission. What else was he good for?
What else am I good for?
What else?
What else am I?
Am I good for anything?
What am I?
Finn was crashing, crashing hard, and he was losing sight of where he was. His mind was in a fog. The past and the present were blending and mixing, violence connected them, and he was losing a fixed point.
Until Poe’s forehead rested on his, steady.
Panicking. I’m panicking. My mantra, Finn tried to remind himself. “Poe. Poe Dameron. My – “
And the revulsion rose again. They destroyed me.
“- Pilot. My – “
Maybe there was nothing to destroy. Maybe the rage was always in me.
“- Partner. My – “
I don’t deserve this love.
“Buddy,” Poe cradled his face, peering deep into Finn’s unfocused eyes. Finn wasn’t finishing his mantra. Love. It was supposed to end with love. It was supposed to ground him, but it wasn’t enough. Poe wasn’t enough. Poe pushed the thought away. He couldn’t slide into his own fears. He had to be here for Finn. Finn was silent as space.
“Love,” Poe stressed finishing the mantra. “Love, amor, you’re the man I love.”
Finn’s brow furrowed.
As if hearing his thoughts, Poe groaned, “Baby, you deserve to be loved.”
Poe pressed his lips against Finn’s, firm, tender, present without being insistent. Finn’s body collapsed into Poe’s. Poe held him at the waist with one hand, around his neck with the other. “You deserve happiness.”
Poe feathered kisses over his face, in the center of his forehead, over each closed eye. He lifted Finn’s hands kissing the knuckles, each kiss a promise.
“I’m not – “ Finn started.
“You are good,” interrupted Poe. Poe rubbed Finn’s neck and back. His thick lashes fluttered against Finn’s skin.
“Only if you anchor me in yours,” Finn insisted.
“With or without me, cariño. You are good, with or without me.”
Finn shivered like someone had walked over his grave.
“Are you cold?”
“No, nowhere near,” Finn’s voice was feverish.
A fever spiked in him whenever Poe’s lips, Poe’s hands, Poe’s body graced his, even just the timbre of Poe’s musical voice erupted a deep longing. Poe felt the fever, the hunger, the pain, and the need.
“I’m here,” he assured Finn. Poe stroked his tight braids, his febrile face, his tense arms.
Finn’s lip trembled pleading, “I need you.”
Poe’s soul shook with it, and he lost words, for a moment. He took Finn’s lip into his mouth. Finn opened for him, for his tongue, and his tending. Somehow, never losing a millimeter of touch, Poe undressed him, caressing,
Poe glided Finn to the bed, and enfolded him, murmuring in his ear, “so beautiful, so good, eres perfecto querido…”
Finn’s focus held nothing but Poe, filling him as he watched Poe expose his chest. Poe reached over to the bedside table and took out some oil. Returning to Finn’s lips with tender tongue and gentle nips, nuzzling and nipping his vulnerable neck, murmuring, “voy a cuidarte, sweetheart, déjame cuidarte…”
Finn reached for the band of Poe’s waist. Poe smiled, but stilled him. In one fluid motion, Poe rolled him so Finn’s back was exposed as Poe straddled him. The smell of millaflower drifted over them as Poe massaged Finn’s shoulders, his neck. Poe’s muscles strained as he kneaded away a lifetime of tension in Finn’s upper back, his lower back, delicate and sure around the long scar slicing him in two.
Gradually Poe smoothed the skin, manipulating the muscles of Finn’s perfect cheeks, resisting the urge to bite, working the muscles of the back of Finn’s thighs, his calves. The nerves in the bottom of Finn’s feet traveled the sensation of Poe’s circling thumbs, up and out throughout his entire body.
Poe poured more millaflower oil on Finn without breaking his contact. Returning painstakingly to his shoulders, following along his triceps to his wrists, the nerves in the hands telegraphing again throughout Finn. Poe’s strong fingers entwined between Finn’s braids massaging his scalp, rubbing circles on his temples.
Poe paused, his curly hair brushing Finn as he came closer. His voice shook, suddenly uncertain, asking, “Can I kiss you?”
Finn’s mind is floating, and he has to tether it back. Poe waits, however long.
“…yes…”
escapes so soft Poe might have missed it were he not so close, always so close, waiting.
Poe kisses him at the base of his neck and the sensation travels down Finn’s spine. He kisses across Finn’s shoulders, and then the long length of Finn’s scar. Then he trails it with his tongue, and Finn’s mind is receding. Poe licks the sensitive skin, small, fast, long, slow, his mouth on the edge, his tongue in the center, each thrust a prayer.
Finn’s ass curves up, his touch all the words necessary. Poe rubs his fingers with oil and lingers his tongue at the base of Finn’s scar as he enters him with just one finger. Finn presses back, moaning. Poe nips the scar and presses in his second finger. Finn is rutting biq between the bed Poe’s finger. Stretching Finn more, Poe flips Finn onto his back causing Finn to cry out. Finn is dripping with precum, and Poe tastes him as he withdraws his fingers. Finn strangles between the pleasure and the loss.
Still wet from Finn, Poe kisses Finn’s lips, twisting his tongue, the sharp taste between them, in them. Poe grinds against him, his painfully trapped cock still covered by cloth. Finn scrabbles at Poe’s waist again. Finn feels Poe’s grin on his lips, yet again Poe stills him.
Poe lifts up and Finn is almost verbal with his crying plea. Then his already expanded pupils expand further as Poe unzips and strips. Poe traces Finn’s track of tears with his fingertips. Finn rises to meet Poe’s lips, and Finn smiles.
Finn wraps his arms and legs around Poe’s strong back. Holding him stable, Poe enters him, this time with his cock, this time fully, and they both moan with it. Finn is squeezing tight around him, until Poe pulls him down, pushing up, breaching his prostate, in a rolling motion that looses Finn’s last coherent thought.
Undulating and rippling, body in body, and Poe’s lost his Basic, with each rise he's cooing in his mother tongue, “mi cielo, mi vida, ven por mí bebé, mi todo, todo para mi…”
And Finn’s whole being is shuddering tremors higher and stronger, and he’s coming, the wetness coating them, his soul expanding in waves of rhapsody, and the music carries Poe over the edge, a tsunami inside Finn that sends another shuddering organism through him, and they are both coasting out with the tide as it becomes slower, gentler, carrying them, carrying them to shore,
carrying them home.