flightforfreedom | A stupid post for stupid threads

Thank the Force he had his face pressed into Poe's neck, he didn't think he needed to hear anymore giggling in reaction to his expression that that first laugh. He was learning. No man was a dead shot on the first run with a blaster. But the fondness in the man's voice kept any real humiliation at bay, just earning the man a quick bite to the ear.

"Whatever you want."

"Well that's a dangerous question," Poe replied, the nip on his ear reminding him of the mark in his shoulder, which was very helpful of getting his mind back on track. Mostly.

The problem was, everything that kept coming to mind had since slid from 'too hot to stop' to incredibly sappy. Without him really realizing. So as he shifted, pressing the side of his face against Finn's, breath hot on his ear, he spoke without actually thinking about it.

"You're what I want, Finn." His voice had gone a lot quieter, pulling Finn tight against him with an arm. "Everything else -- it's just extra."

Finn freezing entirely, from mouth to hand to every other part, was probably not the outcome Poe was looking for. It was just talk, he knew. Hot bedroom talk that people out in life and not trapped in the Order took for granted. That was it. And the thought he was ruining the entire mood (after Poe had already gotten him off) by reacting to what must be a normal exchange was enough to get him moving again.

First the stroking, even if it wasn't really in a good rhythm for the first few motions. Followed by him letting out a soft, forced laugh at his own awkwardness against Poe's neck.

"Fine. I'll do the work."

He'd regretted it almost the instant he'd heard himself say it. Not because it wasn't true - it was - but because it wasn't what this was. It wasn't what Finn had signed up for. And the way that Finn instantly froze was more than enough to hammer that home. It was stupid, the way he fell his heart fall in his chest, that strange aching hollowness biting through everything else. He knew it was stupid - because he had no right, on any level, to feel rejected - not with Finn's hand on his cock - but that was the problem.

It would be so much easier if he was just here for the sex, like Finn was.

His own chuckle was just as forced even if it didn't sound it, and his hand caught at Finn's wrist to still it.

"Actually I do have an idea," He said, trying to backtrack. "Though it requires a change of venue."

He relaxed fully as Poe moved back into stable, familiar ground. Mainly trying to talk Finn into doing something potentially crazy. He knew the progression of this battle like the back of his hand, and he fell in line without a second thought. Argue, sigh, give in, have amazing time. Easy. The smile as real, if a little exasperated, as he lifted his head to look Poe in the eye.

"We're a little under-dressed for the rest of the base."

"Well that is easily fixed, if a bit of a shame," Poe said, smiling at him, not at all as honestly as Finn is, but it's a practiced smile. It's the smile he learned as an eight year old, and has been tried and true ever since.

Cheer up, nothing is wrong, we're all fine and no one needs to be sad.

It had always been a lie but the lie was more important than anything else. It was the only way to keep his father moving - to keep himself moving - and it worked as well then as it did now.

He peeled out from under Finn with an easy stride, grabbing Finn's pants and tossing them at him. "As much as I think the entire base would be all too happy to get a good glimpse of our backsides."

Finn caught the article of clothing one handed, carefully keep it from landing on the mess that was his stomach. Which, still keeping in line with his known role in this conversation, he looked down at before looking back up at Poe with a raised eyebrow. He seriously wanted to leave the room before they were done? Like this?

"Or we could finish your shower."

He'd already grabbed for his pants on the chair, his comm in the pocket, but he pause mid stride, looking back at Finn.

Or we could stay inside and then no one would have to know, Finn's voice seemed to say in the back of his mind, and any interest he had left in sex faded utterly. He still smiled, though, and bit his lip while glancing at him for effect, but then made a show of pausing and fishing out his comm.

He cursed, lowly, and hurriedly started getting dressed, pulling his pants on and grabbing a shirt before hurrying over to press a kiss to the top of Finn's forehead, and then to his lips.

"Sorry, I gotta go. Make yourself comfortable, okay? I'll be back later."

"You can't-"

Even dressed (and Finn can't imagine that's comfortable) Poe was still a lovely wreck. The hair, the bruises, the mouth. But apparently that ranked far below the urgency of the call, because Poe was out the door before Finn could even figure out how he wanted to end that sentence. He understood, duty called above all else. But no sirens were sounding, no all call had gone out. He probably could have take twenty seconds to wet his hair back down, at least.

But gone he was. Finn stared at the door for a long moment before he let his arm go out from under him, flopping back down on the bed. A bed that still smelled very strongly of sex and Poe, which just made him roll onto his back with a groan.

"Hell."

Four days.

It was the first time that Poe had ever actively felt like a coward despite the fact that he had run off on a mission into enemy territory, alone. Again. He was the best scout they had and the only one who consistently came back and he needed the work to take his mind off of himself.

It didn't work quite as he hoped, considering how many long hours he had to spend in his fighter, racing across the galaxy by hyper drive. Hours spent only with BB-8's company, who was furious with him. He was furious with himself (for the cowardice).

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he was saying to BB-8 as they were approaching the planet. "What do you know, anyway? You're a droid. Unless you guys have affairs that I don't know about."

A series of beeps and whistles and Poe laughed, despite himself. "I really do not want to think about that in depth." He turned his head, clicking communications on. "HQ this is Black Leader, reporting in and coming home."

"You're cleared to land, Black leader."

Twenty minutes later, he touched ground again, pulled off his helmet and opened up the cockpit, to breath in fresh, unrecycled air. He swung himself out of the X-wing, feet landing with a thump as BB-8 was lowered back to the ground. He was fighting with himself, but in the end the stupid half won out, and he went to go find Finn.

When Poe hadn't come back that night, Finn put a note in the system to have him notified when the man's X-wing was back in orbit. He'd done it without thought at the time, then thought of almost nothing else since. He should have canceled it. The whole way that afternoon had gone already had him on edge, an itch under his skin that would have been there even if they'd just taken the damn shower and properly parted ways. This little admission of how close he wanted to watch the man wasn't helping.

I'm going to keep this.

It hadn't been an entirely new feeling. In fact, it was close to the one that had nearly sent him running to the outer rim. He had a life now, one that was his and no one else. Something he'd do anything to keep. But then he'd had to pick the kind of person he wanted to be and ended up chasing after some crazy girl from Jakku. He'd just started coming to terms about that. Having that possessiveness focused on an entirely different person...what the hell was wrong with him. This wasn't how it worked.

He should have canceled the damn request. But that would have drawn more attention to it than just letting it be. So after this mission, he'd cancel it. Make it clear it was just this once. Not a long term thing.

Still, in the here and now he had to live with knowledge Poe had touched down. He'd nearly gone straight to the hanger, but shot the idea down. He was too on edge to go running to him. Instead he focused on the training program in front of him, a historical Clone Wars battle where he, for once, was fighting against the clone arm. A weird feeling, considering he knew the ins and outs of every stormtrooper movement from the hours upon hours he'd spent fighting with them in the Order. But knowing just how out numbered his imaginary unit was only helped him focus totally on this, pushing the fact Poe was somewhere on the base again straight into the back of his mind.

It wasn't too hard to find him. A couple questions and he was pointed to the training rooms, which really should have been where he looked first. He was grinning to himself, despite the anxiety, because he wanted to see Finn - wanted to see him so badly that it was like a hook was sunk in his chest and pulling him forward. He'd spent days thinking about the rest, and had come to conclusions about it.

It was fine. Finn was obviously in for something casual, and that's what Poe had only ever been interested in, for his entire life, until - well - now. So that meant that he'd be able to get over it pretty quickly. He'd just... enjoy it for what it was, and keep himself from saying anything stupid, and somehow it would work out.

He'd considered just breaking things back down to being just friends - had really considered it, had convinced himself to do it - but had changed his mind on his way home. He just couldn't actually picture himself trying to say something like that to Finn, out of the blue. So, for now, this was fine.

"Finn!" He called happily as he stepped into the training room, still wearing his flight suit, hair still mussed from his helmet. He had also been wearing the same flight suit for days, so....

He really should have waited to go see Finn.

He almost shot him.

It was a classic killbox, his smaller squad having finally taken the high ground, a few feinted charges pulling two units of stormtroopers into the bottle neck created by crashed fighters below. A few more shots to increase panic, then'd he'd toss a grenade at the most obvious exit-

Poe's sudden arrival had instantly drawn his attention, his rifle aimed at the man's chest before his mind caught up with his body. Luckily (relatively. it wasn't like it was a real blaster) he was a better soldier than to fire without thinking, the barrel of the gun dropping the moment he realized who he was.

"End simulation."

It was reflexive, no thought to it, that he grinned at the sight of the man as he jogged over to grab his shoulder. This was normal, too. No need to bring the rest of it into this. Not yet, anyway, in these few seconds where he could help it.

"Welcome back, man."

Pfff, grabbing shoulders. Poe immediately pulled him into a tight, fierce, probably back-breaking hug, and then pulled back to grin at him. He'd looked so good when Poe had come in, so focused, all his attention ahead of him, wielding around with the blaster--

He'd thought he'd shoot him (not like it mattered) but then the blaster dropped and Poe dropped all pretenses he had.

"So glad to be back," He said, in an earnest rush, squeezing Finn's shoulders. "Been a long few days."

The hug forced a laugh out of Finn. Not as loud as it could have been if he'd been able to get all the needed air in, but it was there. And it was impossible not to reciprocate the hug, even as being pressed against the man (and what may well be a near visible cloud of 'pilot fumes' coming of him) brought him jarringly back four days.

"You still-"

need a shower. He bit it off with another sharp laugh, this one disbelieving at his own damn mouth. No. Don't open the door. Normal had come back, Poe had given it them. He wasn't go to ruin it again with his lack of social understanding.

But he literally had nothing to finish that sentence with. So he just shook his head, hoping it got overlooked.

"It has. But the good guys won the day?"

"If by won the day, you mean returned alive, then yes," he said, grinning, completely ignoring the 'you still' as if Finn hadn't said anything. "And mostly intact." The actual usefulness of the info he came back with would be determined by others - and BB-8 had already disappeared to go deliver it all.

"You look--" great, was the word he didn't finish with, and instead he cut off and finished with, "-- like you've been keeping yourself busy." Miss me? Was the next two words that he had to force not to come out of his mouth.

Hell. This was going to be hard.

Like Poe, he caught that cut off, but didn't comment on it, turning to look at the paused simulation instead. Or rather to gaze in that direction. He was too busy feeling this new awkwardness settle between them like a punch to the gut to really see anything. Stupid. Apparently he should have taken up some cantina girl on her offer and just figured out this being human between the sheets thing before jumping into bed with one of the two most important people in his life. If he ever wrote a guide for integrating defecting stromtroops into normal society, he'd be sure to make a note.

He gave Poe's arm one last pat without looking at him, then took a step away.

"You're not the only one that likes being the best. I've got a few spare training blasters laying around. Help me grab 'em and we can work on finding you real food, huh?"

Finn's eyes just rolled off him like water and the smile faltered - just a half a heart beat, just long enough to hurt - but he shoved it quickly back on his face.

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed, instantly turning to go see if he could find the blasters, a sharp twisting in his throat. Idiot. This is exactly why he'd decided not to go running straight to Finn, but of course he couldn't even listen to himself. "I could eat a Tauntaun," he admitted, grabbing one of the blasters from the ground.

Finn's content to work in silence for the next few seconds, ending the simulation once and for all and gathering the blasters from the now base ground of the simulation room. Okay. Maybe not content, far from it. But it's what ends up happening anyway.

He knows without needed the health readout of his old uniform that his heart hasn't returned to baseline as it should by now, the tension he didn't know how to put into words, or would even want to if he could, keeping him on edge. It has to show in the tightness of his back, the slightly harsh edge to his movements. But like everything else between them since BB-8 had shoved him that day, he can only hope Poe doesn't mention it.

Blasters gathered, he headed to the door and, eloquently, could only think of the obvious to say.

"You're off normal hours. We might have to get a little creative."

The truth was, Poe always kept a stash of rations in his rooms for nights like this. Just in case he came in and needed to shove something in his mouth before taking off again. He almost went to say so - but bit his tongue before he did. Yeah. Great idea, Poe. Back to the scene of the crime.

"Iola has a bit of a black market in C wing," he said instead. "Zergathon Noodles, Black Smethel steaks, you name it. I have no idea how she gets the stuff here, but if you want a good meal while the canteen is down, she's your girl."

And then, because apparently his mouth in full control rather than his brain, he said what he had promised himself not to say:

"Or if you don't mind ration packs, I've got some stashed away."

"Whatever you want. You're the one we need to fill up."

Word choices. A good soldier would simply march on without blinking, but Finn almost jerks as that same whatever you want from that night combined with filling up Poe in his room suddenly sinks in. He covers as best he can with adjusting the pile of mock-weapons in his arms, but he knows he's blushing again. He knows it and he can only hope Poe is too busy fantasizing about food to notice.

Maybe talking faster would help.

"Still getting used to all that good stuff. Your rations taste better than anything the Order served up."

It didn't help. But at least he was back into safe, honest ground. The Order's idea of a menu was an individually calibrated to fit nutritional needs goop. Which meant, even after several weeks, Finn was still taking it slow on anything more complicated than soups, building up his body's ability to actually process the extra fats and sugars that did wonders for flavor but no favors to his inexperienced stomach.

Whatever you want.

Poe isn't a man who blushes often. It just isn't something the comes to him naturally, which is how he knows just how off he is when he blushes at the same time. But he can't really help it - he'd spent the last four days thinking almost non stop about that afternoon, and then Finn goes and brings it up again.

And Poe's body is very very aware of how much he would like to go back there.

He chuckles, mostly to hide the slight redness to his cheeks more than anything else. "Yeah I can't imagine that the First Order would be big on taste. Mine it is. At least then I can get a sh-- some fresh clothes."

Poe almost mentioned the shower. An acceptance formed as they dropped off the blasters. If he stepped into that room, he was going to do...something to Poe. He shouldn't. Bad idea. Look what it had already done to them. But it was the same feeling he'd gotten when he found out he'd been assigned to his first real mission as a stormtrooper. It didn't matter what he thought about it, it was just going to happen anyway.

So the smart thing to do would be to make his excuses and bolt. But like the idiot he was he'd already promised food and if things were a little cool between them now, he couldn't imagine trying to deal with the chill that'd come if he ditched the pilot here. Which meant all there was to do now was what he'd done on that mission: march forward and pray there was something left of him after.

"We've got a plan."

"Alright then, Big Deal," he teased - it was a name that had gotten around, even before Finn had mentioned it to him, himself. "Mission engaged."

He felt it, too. It was impossible not to. Even if they didn't go back there, something was going to happen. Maybe if he had kept to the actual plan, it would be different. But even then he was fooling himself.

So on the way back to his rooms he started telling Finn about his mission - recon straight into enemy space and nearly got shot out of the sky again - while his brain ran in the background.

The risks were the same as they had been, four days ago, except that something finally clicked. It was stupid that it hadn't already. But the premise of the whole thing was suddenly so much clearer.

Yes, he was going to get himself hurt. That was a given, at this point. But running hadn't helped, hadn't lessened the hard tug in his chest. If anything, it made it worse. But Finn - that was different. Finn deserved his friendship - deserved whatever he wanted from Poe, if he was honest.

And he'd been treating him like shit. Running? What kind of asshole was he? No. He could take this. As long as he didn't get Finn hurt, then it would be fine.

Or at least that is what his body managed to convince him, as they drew up to the door.

He hit the access panel and strolled inside, immediately moving to change out of his flight suit, still talking --

"So as soon as I zipped around the asteroid, I kicked into hyper space. Made sure to take a couple jumps on my way, and headed home."

He was at least going to wait until the shower. That had been the Big Deal's real plan, even as he grinned and was properly impressed with Poe's masterful (slightly suicidal) flying skill. More than just being a continuation of the interrupted events from earlier in the week, Poe could seriously use a shower. Not so much for Finn's comfort, but he knew how unpleasant sitting in a stew of yourself for days on end could be.

So, he'd wait. Food. Shower. Things.

Except he'd forgotten the little detail that four days was not enough time for a bite mark to fully heal. He'd been in the process of kicking his boots off, making himself comfortable, when he'd glanced over at Poe and seen it. Followed by the entire expanse of the rest of his back, which was enjoyable. But secondary to that damn mark.

The plan was being adjusted.

Now free of boots, he swiftly walked up behind Poe to place one hand along the side of the pilot's ribs, applying just enough pressure to stabilize himself as he pressed a harder-than-intended (okay, so it was a constantly evolving plan) kiss to the mark.

"I'll get the shower going."

The second step of the ever shifting plan apparently involved walking to the bathroom as quickly as possible, before he could catch any kind of reaction on Poe's face. Okay.

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