For better or for worse, Poe was not really aware enough to be able to measure grip intensity, or stroke length, speed, or really any other scientific measurement.

He didn't even try to hold back the moan as it slipped out against Finn's lips, into his mouth, Poe completely unwilling to pull away. He wouldn't need a whole lot - he could be as efficient about his orgasms as the next man - and he didn't want to make Finn feel too awkward about it. This whole scenario had been far above and beyond what he had expected from the night. Drinks, he'd told himself. Just drinks. Drinks, maybe drop a few more hints, even though Finn seemed terrible about picking up on them. The kiss had been impulsive, but he was putting it down in his record book of 'proof that Poe makes better decisions if he doesn't think about them', and running with this as far as he could take it.

His hips rolled - thrusting himself a little faster, a little harder, into Finn's hand, before he caught Finn's bottom lip in his teeth, smiling against him.