Work Text:
In retrospect-
"Keep it, it suits you." -Is one of Poe's favorite lines, because Finn looks amazing in the jacket. Finn looks like the jacket was made for him, and he only lets Poe borrow it sometimes (though Finn tells him, you look good in anything, you maniac). Maybe it's ridiculous or maybe it's pathetic or maybe it's both, but there's just something about seeing the person you carry a massive torch for wearing your clothes. And not just wearing them, but breaking them in, letting other people get used to looking at you in them, so that they start to think hey, those were always yours to begin with.
Poe really likes the thought, almost as much as he likes the sight of the jacket (not his jacket anymore, even less so now that it's been patched and stitched and tailored), currently the only piece of clothing Finn has on, rucked up Finn's torso about midway. The right sleeve is bunched about Finn's elbow and the left is on its way there, though it keeps snagging on the mattress and the sheets and Poe. Up or down, the sleeve isn't the important thing.
Not entirely.
"Stars, you're beautiful," Poe says in Finn's ear, his voice about as wrecked as he feels, already, and they've barely even begun. That's how it always is, with Finn. He drags his hands up Finn's sides, bringing the jacket up just a bit further with them.
Finn huffs, makes a grab for Poe's face with both hands. "Quit it, that tickles-" He pulls Poe in for a kiss, deep, searing. It leaves Poe completely breathless when they break away. "You know I'm ticklish there," he murmurs, lips still close enough to brush against Poe's.
And really, Poe just can't help himself, there's so little space between them as it is. May as well close the scant distance again. Finn must feel the same way because he kisses back with aplomb, the jacket crinkling audibly every time he moves, every time they jostle it. Poe's hands have come to rest somewhere in the vicinity of Finn's hips, thumbs stroking idle circles in the skin.
"Not ticklish here," he says with a wicked grin when they pause to breathe. He catches Finn's eyes. "Or here." He traces a line down to Finn's inner thigh and is rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. Score one for Poe Dameron, he thinks happily. From here, he can be a tease, he can draw things out, he can take his time, but...
But.
The anticipation in Finn's eyes, the hunger, the way he wants (the way he wants Poe) makes Poe weak. He'd do anything and everything Finn asked him to do, even the unspoken things. And this unspoken thing is now.
"Or here," Poe whispers, husky, and scoots back on his heels, lowers his head, takes Finn into his mouth. Almost immediately, he feels Finn's hands in his hair, gripping tight, but not so tight that it hurts.
"Oh fuck-"
Finn doesn't curse very often, and it's absolutely delightful when he does. Poe grins, determined to elicit more of the same. He closes his fingers around the base of Finn's cock, massages his balls with his free hand, uses teeth and tongue- everything at his disposal. Finn writhes beneath him, head thrown back, chest heaving, hands yanking Poe's head closer (Poe has to take pains so he doesn't gag, but they're good pains, he doesn't care about the way his throat burns, this is the best burn of his life).
The jacket makes Finn look wanton, it makes him look dirty and innocent at once, and Poe thinks he has never seen anything quite so erotic in his entire life. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to look at that jacket the same way again.
And then Poe is on his back.
And then Finn is tying his forearms together above his head-
-With the sleeves of the jacket.
And then Finn is growling in his ear, "I'm gonna plow you into this mattress, Dameron."
And then Finn scoops up Poe's legs at the knees and turns his body so that his back is still mostly on the bed but his ass is at an angle- the perfect angle for Finn to line up his slick fingers (when had he done that?) and slowly push two of them in. Poe all but howls, unable to stop himself, unable to hold back any longer, utterly out of control.
"Yeah? Then hurry up and do it," he says, aware that this is likely the least dignified he's ever sounded. "Please, I need you in me now, baby, I need you to fuck me."
Another finger. "How bad do you need it?" Finn's tone is all silk, and it goes straight to Poe's groin.
"Bad. So bad. Look at me, you can see how-" Poe cut off with a moan when Finn's fingers curled just right. "-how bad."
Thankfully, Finn doesn't waste any time. Instead of slow and sensual, this is rough and animal, and Finn does exactly what he said he was going to do. Poe is desperate to touch him, claw at him, make some marks of ownership, but with his hands tied out of the way he can't do much of anything with them except grip uselessly at his own arms and the jacket.
(Keep it, it suits you. Would Finn say that to him, now? Does he see the jacket on Poe and think, Damn, my clothes look good on you?)
"It suits you," Finn says, his heart in his eyes.
"I'm gonna-" Poe says, his heart in everything he does. "Finn, I have to- make me come, Finn-"
The jacket suits them both. Maybe that's the secret, maybe that's the elusive truth humanity strives to find in the stars.
Whatever it is, it's good enough for Poe.