flightforfreedom | A stupid post for stupid threads

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.

Fuck the plan. Fuck every other plan he'd ever had in his life.

Finn missed the stunned expression, Poe twisting around so fast he stumbled in the pant legs of his flight suit. Of course he hadn't forgotten the bite. It had ached with a low dull throb every time he moved that shoulder. But he'd been in his flight suit the whole time - hadn't actually seen it.

Now?

It was like a firebrand to his skin.

He was delayed only by the fact that he was trapped in the tangled mess of his flight suit around his ankles. Once he was free, he made a brisk beeline to Finn, the sound of the shower dimly coming to his ears.

Fuck the plan.

He always thoughts better on his toes, anyway.

He didn't even say anything when he stepped into the washroom. Just walked straight to Finn, grabbed him, and pushed him up against the nearest wall to kiss him as hard as he possibly could. The fact that the wall was in the shower, and that Finn was still clothed, did not play into it at all.

He hadn't had time to get the water temperature right, the too hot stream a shock to the system that still ranked well below the one Poe had just dealt him. It didn't matter. Screw it. One hand went to the back of Poe's neck to attempt the impossible task of pressing the man's mouth harder against his, while the other skimmed up along one arm, then the shoulder, only settling once he felt that familiar patch of healing skin. His. Four days later, and there was still something his on the man.

They could die here. Never have to deal with the implications of this in the real world, of the dangers this posed. The base could just blow up and that would be fine.

He didn't even notice how hot the stream was, because that could very well have been the blood rushing through him, for all he could notice or care. What he could feel were Finn's fingers on his skin where the mark still lay - palm settling against it.

Well at least he had one pretty good idea for what Finn liked.

It made the blood rush straight to his groin with the memory. His hands fumbled with Finn's clothes - already sopping wet and getting wetter by the second - working with a desperate urgency.

He broke off only to breathe - the action actually made rather difficult, between the water and the kiss, but only so he could look into Finn's eyes for a thudding heart beat. Only so that he could catch his gaze before he turned his head to press a hot kiss to his throat, to run his tongue over his skin before parting his lips and letting his teeth bite down.

"Damn."

Both hands were instantly in Poe's hair, fighting to get a grip in the soaking wet strands. That was- he was never apologizing for biting too hard again. It was perfect, and it was more a whine of pleasure than moan that actually choked its way out of his throat. All he wanted was to encourage the man, like that, just like that- but not again.

It was a force of will he hadn't been entirely sure he was capable of, but Finn pulled at Poe's hair, trying to get the man to take a step back.

"Poe."

His hair was exactly where he wanted Finn's hands, he decided. Yes, they could stay right there, that was completely fine by hi--

The pulling wasn't as expected. Not bad, in truth, save for the direction. Finn tugged and Poe was forced to step back, his chest heaving, the water spraying directly between them, hot enough that the steam was starting to rise from his skin.

"Sorry," He said, breathless, though it was obvious that he wasn't - the smile that was flickering across his lips and pulling them into a grin could not be kept at bay, despite the sudden halt. That hadn't been all him. Finn had kissed him back just as hard.

"Liar."

The hard kissing wasn't going away anytime soon. He had Something To Say, but that would wait. In the face of that grin, that obviously unapologetic smile, Finn pulled him back again by the hair for another hard kiss, tongue occupied with a much more important task than talking. Just for a second. Or ten.

After an unknown number of seconds, possibly minutes, he did tug Poe's face away again. Just an inch, panting the words almost directly against his lips.

"I still owe you one."

All former concerns and worries flew completely out the window - his entire universe sinking down to Finn's lips, his tongue, his hard body under his hands. How much he just wanted to stay right there, how the planets seemed to align, just for this.

And then Finn spoke, and any blood he had left rushed straight to his groin.

"I'm happy to share," He replied, just as rough, the water running down his face and between his lips until he pushed forward and occupied them once more.

Not again. That was the mental chant. This wasn't going to turn into Poe distracting him to the point he ran the risk of ruining the mood again. Of watching an unfinished Poe sprint away while Finn was left to shower off his own mess alone.

It takes a minute for that chant to be put into action. Good intentions were nothing compared to feeling Poe against him, skin on skin, and he was so damn hard. But he does it. He deserves a medal for it, but he does it. He pulls Poe away again and flips their positions. His hands slide down to rest on Poe's shoulders, pressing so they are against the wall, keeping the man a little less than an arm's length away.

"Stay there."

He puts his hands up for the universal side of surrender, one entire side of his body bright red from where the too-hot shower had been hitting him, and was now spraying the other side.

"No promises," He says, wetting his lips, his eyes squinting slightly from the spray of the shower. He was on complete, full display, now, and a display it was. His stubble was darker than usual - four days without a shave - and his arousal was obvious enough that they probably could have set up a tent with it.

And he was decidedly Not Thinking.

He almost reached out a hand to run along Poe's side, from shoulder to hip- but no. If he did that, he wasn't certain he'd stop again. It was time to keep the mission objectives in mind. First he kicked his sopped wet clothing out of the shower, leaving them on the floor to deal with later. Then the water was finally adjusted, down to a nice, manageable heat instead of the relentless inferno.

There, good. Well done, soldier.

Then he finally gave in, tracing with both thumbs the lines of Poe's neck, down along his collar bones, then curling his fingers around the man's ribs and running his palms down until his hands come to rest on his hips.

"Still perfect."

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