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In retrospect, Finn never paid much attention to lips until he met Poe Dameron.
Lips were just...lips. Part of your mouth. Part of your face. An essential part, sure, and...okay fine, some people had nicer ones than others, there was no getting around that, and maybe he made an observation or two because he did still find other human beings attractive as a stormtrooper, they didn't beat that out of them in the First Order, but he wasn't really fixated on lips, was the point. He didn't sit and compare the different shapes and sizes and plushness (send help) and kissability (send more help) and how the bottom lip would look caught between some teeth (send in an entire squadron of fighter pilots).
Poe Dameron had problematic lips.
Poe Dameron had problematic lips, set in his very problematic face, attached to his problematic head, on his problematic body. His entire self was problematic.
Of course, Finn was caught in his cross-hairs. Finn had a terrible habit of getting himself into trouble. (At least, it seemed that way; all evidence continued to point to the affirmative.) Poe Dameron might be the biggest trouble yet.
"Just watch yourself with him," Jess had warned with a completely straight face, a while back. "He's the most dangerous man on D'Qar." She'd punctuated the sentence with a pointed look at Finn's groin. When their eyes met again, she clapped him on the shoulder and he felt his face heat up. Not that it mattered; it was already too late at that point.
"Y'know, Jess says you're the most dangerous man on D'Qar," Finn whispered in his ear while they rocked against each other, chasing release that was so close, Finn could almost touch it. He dug his nails into Poe's shoulders. "I think I believe her."
"Fuck - yeah? I'll be anything." Poe bit his lip, and Finn's breath hitched. "I'll be anything you want." He cupped his hands around the back of Finn's neck, brought his face in close so their foreheads were touching, grinned that rackish grin he was known for. "I'll be dangerous for you, baby."
He was dangerous, and Finn had kissed him so hard and so long their lips were numb and red, and then he'd thought about that mouth for ages afterward, whenever he had a moment of downtime between physical therapy sessions and melee weapons training (with him as the teacher) and piloting lessons (with him as the student) and life in general as a member of the Resistance.
"Lips, though," he said, to Jess, again. "I mean. Lips. They're kind of interesting, aren't they?" (In his heart of hearts, he wished he was having this conversation with Rey, but Rey was off on her mission to find Luke Skywalker, and likely wouldn't return for a while yet.)
"Should I pucker up?" Ello appeared out of nowhere, slinging an arm around Finn's shoulders. He made a circular gesture at his mouth. "Look at these smackers right here. Beautiful."
"Oh sod off," Jess said, laughing, while Finn groaned. Ello carried on as if she hadn't spoken.
"But if you want really great lips," he said, leaning in conspiratorially close to Finn, "we need to get Nien Nunb, pronto-"
Ello rattled off a long list that also included Admiral Ackbar - and Poe.
"Dameron's got the best lips on the base, obviously."
"Wait, you actually thought about this?" said Jess.
"I have to look at his blinding prettiness every day."
Somehow, Finn felt redeemed, but he still thought he spent too much time preoccupied with Poe's mouth- or, specifically, his bottom lip. Because it all came down to his bottom lip at the end of the day. His bottom lip, caught between his teeth, telling him his jacket suited Finn, so keep it. That's when all of this really started. That's when the danger crept in, slowly, before Finn thought to put his defenses up, before he knew to put them up. Hey buddy, I'm alive, you're alive, we're alive, life is wonderful.
_
They were on a supply run; they'd flown in on a shuttle just big enough for a pilot, copilot and cargo. It was Finn's first time in the copilot's seat, and he'd done pretty well, for the most part- he'd always been a quick study, and while he was nowhere near ready to pilot a ship on his own, he could handle this.
Poe was humming a song- an old lullaby his mother used to sing him -while they loaded the shuttle with crates (not nearly as many as they truly needed, but the Resistance took whatever they could get), and Finn was content to do nothing but listen until he reached the end. Among his many other talents, Poe had a beautiful voice, and the song was lovely.
They didn't have lullabies in the First Order.
Once he did finish, they worked in companionable silence for a while, though eventually, Finn felt he absolutely had to break it.
"Your mouth," he said, "is the most dangerous mouth in the galaxy." He paused a moment. "In any galaxy."
Poe blinked. "Um."
"I'm serious."
Poe blinked again. The corners of his lips twitched. He leaned against the crate he'd been in the process of guiding up into the bowels of the shuttle. "Is this a hypothesis you've been working on lately?" he drawled.
Finn narrowed his eyes. Leaving his own crate behind, he stalked up the ramp, fully intending to give Poe a piece of his mind for not taking him seriously (hadn't he just said he was serious?), but he wound up shoving him against the wall of the shuttle and kissing the daylights out of him instead, an act neither objected to in the slightest.
"Just don't get an attitude about it."
Poe bit his bottom lip.