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“Poe?” Finn’s voice comes through staticky over the comms. “You there?”
Poe flips a toggle to turn on his headset speaker. “Hello? Finn?” He does the math in his head. It’s late back on base, too late for Finn to still be up—unless something’s wrong.
“Everything alright?” he asks, already running the nav calculations. He’s not that far away, could be back to base within 16 hours, maybe 12 if he turns around now and cuts around the—
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Finn quickly reassures, and Poe relaxes considerably in his seat. “I’m in bed. It’s late and I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“You missing me, baby?” Poe teases, like he’s not just as happy to hear Finn’s. The mission hasn’t been that long, but it still means being away from base longer than he’d like.
Finn’s voice is soft when he says, “It’s hard to sleep without you here.”
Poe knows the feeling: the empty, overly large bed, the quiet late at night. “I know, I’m sorry.” He feels the need to apologize, though Finn wouldn’t expect that from him. Finn understands; he too is duty-bound. It’s one of the benefits of dating within the Resistance—a partner who gets it.
“When are you going to be back again?”
“Soon, I promise.” Poe bites into his bottom lip, harnessing every ounce of self-control to not just abort the mission and break a few laws of physics to race back to him. But he has a mission to see through and a duty to the Resistance, which tonight takes priority. “Just a few more days,” he says, “then you’ll be back to putting up with my snoring.”
Finn chuckles and Poe can practically hear his smile. “Honestly, I’m so used to it these days, it’s been hard sleeping in the silence. I was thinking of setting up a cot in the engine room just for the background noise—the generators aren’t nearly as loud as you, but a man’s gotta make do, you know?”
Poe laughs, full-bodied and bright, heart fond at Finn’s ability to make a tough situation a little lighter. Stars, he’s a lucky guy.
He says, “I miss you too,” because he didn’t say it before, and although it’s a given, Finn should hear him say it, should know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s not the only one who’s been hurting.
“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
“Yeah?” Poe’s heart nearly melts at the thought. “Me too. I’ve been thinking that when I get back, we should take some time off. Borrow a ship and get off-planet for a couple of days, just you and me.”
“Poe I—wait actually, that sounds really lovely.”
“What do you think of finding a beach planet to explore? I bet a few days of swimming and relaxing would do us some good.”
Finn’s answer comes fast, “I’d definitely love to see you in your swimsuit.”
Amazing—if Finn’s on board with the idea, Poe just needs to do some planning. “The Resistance has a list of all non-hostile star systems,” he says. “One of them’s bound to have a warm, sandy beach for us. We can take that old K-32 shuttle. It needs a new stabilizing core, but that won’t be too hard to replace. It should only take me a few hours to get it up and running.”
Poe soon gets distracted thinking through travel logistics and technical repairs, overlooking the clear signs that Finn was calling with a rather specific purpose in mind—the late hour, for one, the private comms channel, for two. But in Poe’s defense, he’s been running on more instant caf than sleep as of late, and that can make it hard to catch context clues.
“Poe,” Finn interrupts, after a lengthy spiel about the different ways to rewire a stabilizer. “That all sounds really great, and I’d love to finish this conversation later. But it’s late and I was calling tonight because I miss you.”
Poe’s brow furrows. “I miss you too...” he trails off, not understanding.
“No, Poe. I, uh…” Finn tries again, voice dropping lower, “It’s late…and I miss you.”
It takes a long moment for Poe to put two and two together, but eventually he gets to four. “Oh, I…uhh…Are you…Are you touching yourself?” he asks, mouth already dry at the thought.
Finn pauses for a moment. “Not yet,” he reveals, like he’s embarrassed, as if he has anything to be embarrassed about. “I haven’t even taken anything off. Didn’t know if it’d be a good idea to distract you while you’re flying.”
Poe scoffs. “You know I could fly this thing blindfolded with my hands tied and I’d still make it home safe to you,” he says (not that he’s tried).
“Blindfolded with your hands tied?” Finn almost purrs. “Now, that’s an idea.”
Poe groans, a shiver running down his spine. “Don’t tease me like that, baby.”
That could be fun to try, when he gets back to base, of course. But instead he’s stuck here, half-hard in his flight suit while Finn’s a thousand parsecs away, alone in their bed, touching himself because Poe isn’t there to do it for him.
“So…” Finn hesitates, shyly asks, “Is this okay?”
And honestly, it’s sweet how Finn is still so coy about asking for sex, like it’s an imposition every time he’s turned on, like Poe isn’t absolutely thrilled to be propositioned to, like it doesn’t make his heart beat fast and his blood run hot.
“Of course it is,” Poe reassures. He thinks back on the beginning of their call, mentally kicking himself for not realizing what Finn was getting at earlier. “I can’t believe you let me blather on about travel logistics.”
Finn lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, doesn’t have an excuse.
Poe doesn’t need one, too enthused by Finn’s desire to care that it took a few extra minutes for their frequencies to sync.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m wearing?” he asks after a moment, when it becomes clear that Finn’s waiting for him to take the lead. “That’s how this usually goes.”
It takes Finn by enough surprise that he lets out an inelegant snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Hey, you’re the one who called,” Poe replies, doesn’t try to argue, knows he’s being ridiculous, is even doing it on purpose, hoping Finn will shed the last of his hesitance. “So, aren’t you gonna ask?”
“Fine…What are you wearing?” Finn asks, putting on an overexaggerated, sensual tone and Poe can practically see Finn rolling his eyes as he does it. But Finn’s humoring him, so he’ll take it.
“Nuh-thing,” he replies, accentuating the syllables, overly flirtatious.
“Nothing?” Finn doesn’t sound convinced, sounds like he doesn’t believe Poe would sit for hours on a mission buck naked on the vinyl cockpit seat (and he’s right, but that’s not important). “Aren’t you a little cold up in space like that?”
Poe puts on his sweetest, syrupy voice to answer, “Not when I’m thinking about you, I’m not.”
“Ughhh,” Finn groans. “I changed my mind, I can take care of this myself. I’m hanging up.”
And even if Poe couldn’t hear Finn’s steady breaths in his helmet earpiece, he’d know it was a lie. “No, you’re not.”
Finn instantly drops the bluff. “No, I’m not.”
“You should undress,” Poe suggests, because the temptation thrums in his veins and with a few hours to go in hyperspace, he can afford the distraction. “What are you wearing?”
“Just my boxers and that old t-shirt you wore to bed all last week. It still smells like you.”
It shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet it warms Poe’s heart something nice, to know that Finn’s feeling the separation too. “You must really miss me. That shirt’s a little tight on me, and we both know you’ve got more muscle.”
“Yeah, I really miss you,” Finn says, sincere and wistful. But Finn didn’t call horny at nearly 0100 hours to wallow. He called to talk dirty, and even if it’s not the most proper use of Resistance communication assets, Poe is going to deliver.
“Take it off,” he tells him. “All of it.”
“Someone’s bossy,” Finn grumbles.
But Poe can see right through him, can hear the arousal under his griping. Finn likes it when he takes charge, so Poe calls him out on it. “You wouldn’t have gone through all the effort to get a private channel and call me this late if you didn’t want to be told what to do.” Finn inhales sharply then, and Poe takes it as a sign that he hit the mark. “Is that what you want?” he asks anyway, needing to hear Finn say it. “To be told what to do?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good. Now get undressed.”
Finn lets out a shuddering exhale, then the noise shifts, muffled like he put the comlink down on the bed. The vague sound of fabric rustling is the only confirmation Poe needs to know that Finn is doing as told. They’ve played this way before, but still, the easy way Finn obeys and puts himself in Poe’s hands, sets him aflame.
“What now?” Finn asks, presumably done stripping off his clothes.
“Go on,” Poe urges. “Get yourself hard for me.”
It’s quiet on the comms, Finn’s breathing the only sound coming through, and with just the audio, it’s hard to figure out what exactly Finn’s doing. But it doesn’t matter. Poe’s been responsible for enough of his orgasms to make an educated guess.
Finn always likes to start slow, probably hasn’t even touched his dick yet, is probably just working himself up, running hands over feverish skin, teasing himself until he’s hard and aching—until his patience finally runs dry.
Poe’s listening for that moment, flying blind like he is, waiting for the telltale hitch that’ll give Finn away. He catches it midway through Finn’s next breath, just the slightest wobble in rhythm that means he’s taken himself in hand.
“I know it feels good,” Poe says, encouraging, because there’s not much else he can do for him right now.
It’s enough to have Finn panting. “Ah…fuck, Poe. I’m getting there,” he groans, the last of his shyness gone.
Poe shifts in his seat, pulling at the seam of his pants. “That was fast. You must be really desperate for it, huh?” And Finn lets out a quiet moan that just spurs Poe on. “I’ve been gone for days now—how many of those nights did you spend hard and frustrated, finding the courage to just call and ask for what you need?”
“Every one of them,” Finn answers, voice hoarse and yet so endearingly honest it almost throws Poe off course.
“Figures,” Poe says, aiming for disinterest, but missing by a mile. “No matter how good I fuck you before I leave, you’ll always need more. Go ahead, I want you to touch yourself.”
The sound of skin against skin is unmistakable over the comms. “Feels so good,” Finn says between laboring breaths. “I want you so badly, I can barely fucking stand it.” He lets out a low groan that has Poe grinding the palm of his hand into his groin, trying to take the edge off.
It has the opposite effect, and Poe just ends up wanting more.
“Fuck.” All this time, Poe’s been trying to ignore his own arousal, clinging to the last thread of decorum that keeps him from rubbing one out in the seat of his X-wing. But Finn’s making that impossible, pushing him to his absolute limit.
A stronger man might’ve been able to resist the temptation, but tonight, Poe is not that man.
He pulls off his glove with his teeth, unzips his flight suit as low as it will go, and shoves his hand inside. The angle is awkward, but once he gets a firm grip around his cock, he couldn’t care less.
Finn groans. “Please keep talking, I need you.”
Poe always has something to say, can talk himself into trouble or someone’s good graces. But Finn likes best the things Poe says when they fuck. Sweet, filthy, loving, degrading things—it never seems to matter, so long as Poe keeps the steady stream of words flowing.
(Years before, Poe had a boyfriend that hated how much he talked in bed. Told him he needed the quiet to enjoy himself, that it was distracting. They made it work for a while, but it was always a challenge, holding himself back. Not Finn. Finn wants to hear Poe talk, gets off on his words as much as his touch.)
“Anything you want.” Poe lets out a slow breath, finally pulling his dick out of his flight suit, the recycled air cool against his feverish skin. “You know I’d give you whatever you ask for. I love you like this, so desperate for my touch that you’d settle for my voice and your own hand.” He strokes himself slowly, voice catching on a soft moan that Finn’s bound to notice.
“Are you touching yourself?” Finn asks, as predicted, never too immersed in his own pleasure to forget Poe’s.
“Yeah, I am,” Poe answers, no use denying how much this is doing it for him. “You’re making such sweet noises, I couldn’t help myself.”
Finn hums, pleased. “Good,” he says. “I don’t want to be the only one having fun.”
“You just wait until I get you on a beach, then we’ll have some real fun,” Poe says, groaning. “You’re going to look so fucking good in the sunshine, water dripping down your chest. I’m not going to be able to control myself.”
“What happened to swimming and relaxing?” Finn teases back.
“I changed my mind.” Poe’s voice is unsteady as he tightens his hand around his cock. “Fuck, the things I'd do to you.”
“Tell me.”
“We can go swimming alright, but afterwards, I’m going to lick every drop of saltwater off your skin. I hope we find a private beach, because I’m not going to want to wait, just drop to my knees right there and blow you.”
Finn makes some desperate sound, harsh like it’s been forced from his lungs. “Fuck, Poe.”
“How does that sound?”
“Yeah, that…yeah,” Finn manages to get out, his interest clear.
Poe continues, “It’s been way too long since I’ve had my mouth on you, your hands in my hair and my name on your lips. How long do you think you’d last before you’re coming down my throat?”
“Not…Not long,” Finn whines. “I’m almost there already.”
“Good.” Poe praises. But he isn’t done with Finn yet, isn’t going to let him off so easy. “Slow down.”
Finn’s protest is immediate. “Come on, Poe. I can’t…that’s not fair,” Finn says, stumbling over his words a little.
By now, Poe knows that Finn likes to draw it out, likes to take his time in bed—but only at the beginning. Once he’s going, once he’s nearing the edge, he gets impatient and wants to come. He never wants to wait. But by now, Poe also knows how much Finn likes it when he’s made to.
“Keep going like that,” Poe says firmly. “But slow down. You don’t want this to be over too soon.”
He can hear Finn breathing deeply, trying to get himself under control. Poe slows his own hand—it’s only fair. “That’s it, baby. Nice and slow for me. I want you to really feel it.”
“Poe, please.”
“I could get you off with just my mouth,” Poe says, returning to his fantasy. “But I think I’d rather fuck you. Lay you out and take my time opening you up until you’re squirming on my fingers. I love the desperate sounds you make when all you want is my cock deep inside you.”
Finn moans, as if on cue.
“Yeah, just like that,” Poe praises. “There’s lube in the bedside table. Why don’t you get started for me? It’s been days now and I know you’re just aching for it.”
Finn doesn’t answer but Poe can hear some commotion in the background and the clamor of something heavy falling to the floor. Just as Poe’s about to ask Finn if he’s okay, the telltale snick of their lube opening comes through, followed by a sudden gasp.
“There we go. That’s it,” Poe urges. He strokes himself off at a steady pace, toes curling in his boots he’s so turned on. “Start slow, there’s no need to rush things. I’ll get you there.”
“I wish you were here,” Finn gasps. “It’s so much better when you’re the one touching me.”
“I know it is,” Poe says. “How many fingers are you up to now?”
“Two, nice and deep,” Finn answers with a groan. “Feels so good."
“You love getting fucked, don’t you?” Poe asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I wish I was there right now. You’re so worked up, I bet you could come without a single touch. I’d just have to put you on my cock, and you’d come for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck…I…yeah…” Finn cuts himself off, breaths growing ragged. He’s close, if his harsh breathing and lack of speech are anything to go by. Poe’s brought him there enough times to pinpoint it on sound alone.
“Stop,” Poe commands, because he can, and because Finn’s going to love (hate) it.
Finn lets out a strangled cry. “You’re killing me,” he whines, in a way that can only mean he complied.
“I know,” Poe coos, voice dripping with sympathy. “But you love it when I take my time with you, bring you right to the edge just to pull away at the last second. You know how good I make it for you in the end.”
“Please, Poe. I’m so close I can taste it.”
“Did you stop?” Poe asks, already knows the answer but just wants to delay a little longer.
“Yeah, of fucking course I did,” Finn cries out, testy now that he’d been cruelly ripped back from the edge. “You masochistic piece of shit,” he adds under his breath.
Finn asked for this, so Poe quirks a smile, unbothered by the name calling. “Sadistic,” he corrects, because Finn’s wrong and correcting him is sure to get a delightful rise out of him—Finn’s not the only one who gets off on this.
“What?”
“Masochists get off on their own suffering. I’m a sadistic piece of shit.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Finn nearly shouts, breathless and amped up from being denied his release. “Either way, you’re an asshole. I swear…fuck, please, Poe. Can I touch myself?”
Finn has all the real power here, can touch himself if he really wants to, could have ignored Poe and made himself come, and there’s not a single thing Poe could’ve done about it. But Finn didn't. Instead, he put his trust in Poe and chose to still his hand. That easy trust will never not drive Poe crazy.
“Go ahead,” Poe finally allows, because he too has grown impatient, and as much as he loves hearing Finn beg, he loves hearing him come even more.
Finn ceases his begging at once, silent but for shallow breaths that have Poe leaking into his hand.
Like this, with the sound of Finn’s voice transmitted directly into his earpiece, it’s almost like Finn’s right there with him, moaning in his ear. Poe hangs on every noise he makes, each gasping breath and moan.
Finn's not going to last much longer; Poe isn’t either.
“Come for me, baby. You’ve been so good and I know you’re close.”
“Fuck…It’s really good,” Finn gets out, finding his words again after a series of broken off moans. “Oh, I’m…please Poe, I’m gonna—”
“Yeah, c’mon,” Poe urges, stroking himself off like he’s racing him to the finish. “I want to hear you.”
The line is dead quiet for a second, but then Finn lets out a full-throated groan of pleasure, and he’s coming, loud and clear.
Poe can’t help but follow him over the edge. Fuck, they should’ve done this ages ago. It feels so good—toe curling, spine melting, forgetting that he’s in the middle of a mission, good.
“...still with me?” Poe catches the end of the question as his brain slowly comes back online. He nods, belatedly remembering that Finn can’t actually see him right now.
Finn’s amused laugh cuts through the static. “Please tell me you didn’t crash.”
“Have a little faith.” Poe answers, slowly regaining the power of speech. “You're talking to the best pilot in the Resistance.”
“Sure am,” Finn boasts. He lets out a satisfied little hum. “I don’t think I need to say it. But that was pretty fucking great.”
“Yeah. It really was,” Poe says, adding, “I love you,” because it’s true, and Finn should hear it.
“I love you too,” Finn returns, “but I’m not letting you fuck me on a beach.”
“What? Come on, five minutes ago you were into it.”
Finn doesn’t give an inch. “Think of the sand, Poe.”
Right, sand getting in all kinds of places, not very sexy. “Okay, sure,” he concedes. “You’ve got a point. No beach sex.”
“Wherever else is fine by me,” Finn offers.
Poe laughs. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“Good. Looking forward to it,” Finn says, the words elongated by a sudden yawn. It is, after all, quite late to still be awake.
“You sound half-asleep already.”
“That’s what happens,” Finn replies, interrupted by another yawn, “when your boyfriend talks you through a mind-blowing orgasm.”
Poe doesn’t try to hide the proud smile that spreads across his face. “You should get some rest,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm, I’m running shooting drills with the trainees in the morning.”
“Sounds like fun,” Poe comments. He’s wide awake and will be for the next few hours, and as much as he’d like Finn’s company, to stay on the line and talk, Finn needs the sleep. “I’ll see you real soon. Sleep well.”
“G’night,” comes Finn’s voice, now heavy with fatigue. “Be safe.”
“Always,” Poe promises. “I’ve got you home waiting for me.”