Chapter Text
In Finn’s experience, early morning phone calls usually mean there’s an emergency, someone is dead, or someone’s winning something like a lottery (except he doesn't remember buying a ticket). At least, that’s until he'd met Rey, at which point early morning phone calls expanded to include anything she wants to talk about before the sun’s reached a decent height because she can't possibly wait.
This morning, it’s not insanely early, but Poe is already out of bed feeding BB-8 breakfast before getting into his workout routine and Finn is trying to sleep in because he doesn’t have to work until noon.
The abrasive sound of Rey’s voice wakes him up. “Why did I let that girl near my phone?” he bemoans, ignoring Poe’s traitor laugh from the next room as Rey’s ringtone (her voice sharply barking his name) repeats again and again. He fumbles for it sleepily, draping an arm over his eyes before picking it up. “What?”
“I cannot believe you made a sex tape! I can’t believe you made a sex tape and didn’t tell me about it! I thought I was your best friend…”
If Finn thought he’d been tired, he’d been sorely mistaken because this is like a splash of icy water over his head that yanks him straight to alertness. Rey’s practically screeching at him and Finn doesn’t blame her, because first of all, what the hell? And second of all, what the hell? Instinctively, he searches the room for cameras, but Poe wouldn’t do that. Not just because he values their privacy, but they have a lot of kinks that Finn is sure Poe doesn’t want the wider world to know about.
And yet…
“Rey,” he interrupts her rant (she’s moved onto something about public decency, morals, and his flexibility). “Hey, whoa, Rey, hold on. I’ve never made a sex tape.”
“Knowingly.”
“He wouldn’t,” Finn argues heatedly. “Look, I’ll call you back later. Okay?”
“Fine,” Rey grumbles. “If it is your sex tape, you’re getting a bit doughy in the middle.”
He is absolutely not because he’s never worked out so much in his goddamn life thanks to Poe’s training for his movies, which means that it can’t be him. Can it? He hangs up his phone and grabs his laptop, eyes widening when his google alert is nearly three pages long and article after article is more of the same.
Poe Dameron and his lover let loose.
Poe D’s Sexy Adventure
We’d Have Thought He’s The Bottom
“Poe!” Finn shouts frantically. “You made a goddamn sex tape of us?”
He hears one of the weights drop from the home gym and then the sound of pounding feet before Poe ducks his head into the bedroom, gaping unattractively at Finn (oh, who the fuck is he kidding? Finn hasn’t managed to see him when he’s unattractive, not even when he’s just waking up first thing in the morning). Finn’s scrolled through the clip but hasn’t had the stones to hit play, getting it to the midpoint before Poe makes it to the room.
“Finn, babe, I didn’t.”
Finn turns the screen around and gives Poe a pointed look. “It’s on every website.”
Poe squints as he gets closer, letting out a bark of a laugh. “Finn.”
“No, this isn’t funny! I don’t want endless sex puns about my name online!”
“Really?” Poe deadpans. “Because I wouldn’t know anything about that, having heard every last ‘he’s got the D’ jokes in the history of the world.” He leans forward and rubs his fingers in circles along the mouse, softening. “Finn,” he scolds gently. “Did you even watch this?”
“I don’t need to watch our sexploits.”
Poe turns the laptop around and presses play. At first, it’s all Finn can do not to wince at the heavy breathless moans, the way Poe’s voice keeps going up and up, like he’s trying to audition for porn with this tape. He tries not to look, but his attention is drawn to the sweaty, glistening sheen of Poe's bare ass and the undulation of his hips as he rocks forward, his back muscles arching in a slow, fluid motion. Then, he notices it.
“I don’t have a mole on the back of my neck.” And the guy is sort of doughy. Actually, come to think of it, now that he’s looking closer, Poe looks a whole lot younger in this film and has hair about twice as long as he currently wears it not to mention the fact that he’s slicked up like he’s ready for greek god wrestling. Finn closes the laptop, but the noises still carry over for a few seconds, including Poe’s frantic moan that’s doing a lot of unpleasantly timed things to Finn’s cock right about now. “I’m guessing not a real sex tape?”
“Student art house film when I was eighteen.”
“Okay, well, you have a type if you had any say in the casting,” Finn accuses, “and I didn’t know you could do that. Are your legs still that flexible?”
Poe licks his lips and bears in on Finn. “Do you want to call Rey and explain the situation to her? Or do you want to find out?”
Finn bites his lip hard, reminding himself that Rey is his best friend and he really shouldn’t ignore her. Only, Poe is staring at him and he’s already half-naked and glistening with sweat from his workout and, well, Rey’s his best friend. She’ll understand.
“Get down here.”
Thirty minutes later, with an ice pack between Poe’s legs, a recalcitrant look on Finn’s face, and several text messages sent to Rey, they know a few things. First, Poe really isn’t that flexible anymore. Second, the internet is now clamoring for an actual sex tape, and third, Finn is actually starting to consider a private version.
“Want me to kiss it all better?” Finn teases, prying the ice pack away.
“Just don’t break me anymore,” Poe replies warily, gently lying back on the bed and grinning up at Finn as he presents himself at his mercy.
“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Finn teases. “Just be good or I’ll tell the whole internet about what you really do like."
”It’s not hard to shut Poe up, really. It just takes the right mouth, the right pressure, and a pair of talented hands and Finn’s in possession of every last one of those things. He’ll call Rey back later and explain. Then he’ll probably have to live down the internet’s wrath, but right now? He’s got a much more important task at hand (and mouth).