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Poe has a thing about his hair. Touch it and he purrs. Pet it, he melts. Pull it… well. Yeah. That’s… yeah. His hypersensitivity has never been an issue before. People who get close enough to get their hands all up in his curls are generally doing so with pretty specific intentions, and even if they’re not, they learn fast how the tide’s rolling.
But then people aren’t Finn.
Finn who learns scary fast, but is still playing catch up when it comes to a lot of social cues, particularly those centred around touch. Poe has a feeling Finn might have been a tactile person anyway—takes one to know one—but growing up in an insulated body glove obviously hasn’t done him any favours.
These days Finn touches everything - fingers tracing the gouges in the mess hall tables as he eats, palms pressing against the bark of the megaflora that surrounds the new base like he can feel the sap pumping if he concentrates hard enough. Poe finds it both endearing as hell and teeth-grittingly motivating during those missions he gets the First Order square in his crosshairs.
Finn’s not as physical with people yet — or at least not ones he doesn’t know well. Poe’s obviously not in that category though, which brings him back to his current predicament.
Finn’s leaning back against the head of the bunk, a data pad propped on his knees as he reads something distracting enough that he hasn’t noticed what’s going on with Poe yet. Poe’s not really sure if that’s a blessing or a curse, to be honest. Because on the one hand, Poe probably looks a special kind of stupid right now, processor parts forgotten on the floor in front of him as he all but drools into his own lap. On the other, if Finn keeps this up too much longer, Poe’s libido is going to start knocking insistently on the situation and that’s… not ideal.
Because Finn’s his friend. Finn’s his friend who’s still learning what it means to have friends and Poe doesn’t want to fuck that up for him. Which means Finn’s deft fingers twisting through his hair and scratching lightly against his scalp is fast becoming A Problem.
Finn hums lightly behind him—a noise Poe’s come to associate with him reading something particularly interesting—and Poe has to bite his lip against humming for his own more inappropriate reasons as Finn’s fingers card through the closer cropped curls at the nape of his neck.
Poe clears his throat. Then has to try again when he almost whimpers instead. “Ah, buddy?”
“Hmm?”
Finn’s petting doesn’t even pause. Poe’s done nothing to deserve this sort of temptation.
“I’m ah… getting a little distracted down here.”
Understatement.
Finn’s touch halts but he doesn’t pull his hand back and Poe finds himself swallowing hard against the instinct to push back into Finn’s palm.
Finally Finn says, “In a good way or a bad way?”
And that’s… huh. Poe cranes his neck back to look up at Finn’s face and finds a soft smile waiting for him, Finn’s eyes amused and… knowing.
“Fuck,” Poe says. “Who told?”
Finn huffs a laugh, thumbing lightly behind Poe’s ear. “Jess.”
Of course it was Pava. Poe would be annoyed but the way Finn’s looking at him as he smooths his fingers back through his hair, he has a feeling he’s gonna end up buying her a cake.
Poe lets his eyes flutter shut as he feels Finn’s movements turn deliberate, fisting a grip at the back of his head and… yeah. Shit. Poe’s breath catches which is probably the only thing that saves him from flat out moaning.
“You should come up here,” Finn says, voice drawn tight and Poe would be relieved he’s not the only one affected here but he’s too busy giving himself over to Finn’s very nice, very competent hands.
“I should definitely come up there,” Poe says. He’s about to get right on that when Finn’s grip shifts and twists and Poe’s hips go rogue, bucking instinctively up and fuck, he’s hard, when did he get hard?
“Oh wow,” Finn says. “Jess wasn’t kidding.”
“I’m gonna kill her,” Poe says, strangled.
Finn laughs like he’s just so delighted and Poe would bask in the warmth of it but Finn’s also taken it upon himself to manhandle Poe up onto the standard-issue mattress, a move that makes an entirely different sort of heat suffuse Poe’s limbs.
Force, did Pava just write out an itemised list or something?
Poe finds himself flat on his back, Finn braced over him, grinning like Poe’s a new dessert he has yet to try. It puts Finn’s very nice shoulders in optimal clutching range and Poe isn’t going to shirk that opportunity, no sir.
“Hi,” Finn says softly and Poe realises he’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Fuck he hasn’t felt this stupid for someone since…ever.
“Hi back.”
Finn dips down, mouth dizzyingly close and Poe very nearly whimpers when he stops just short of his lips, because fuck.
“I ah… you should probably know I have no idea what I’m doing,” Finn says, and ah, that answers that question then.
Poe slides his hands up to scritch through the hair where it’s growing out at the nape of Finn’s neck, easing the nervous tension the best way he knows how.
“Well,” Poe says, struggling to gather his thoughts in the face of Finn humming into his touch like a spoiled loth-cat, shit. “We can slow our roll a bit. Pull back and talk a few things through…”
“Or?” Finn says, dipping toward Poe’s mouth again like a faulty grav drive. The move brushes their noses together, something that probably shouldn’t make Poe’s toes curl but here they are.
“Or,” Poe swallows harshly against the instinct to just tip his chin up, turn things wet and hot and fast, but no - this is Finn’s show. This needs to be Finn’s show. “We can wing it. Do what feels right, speak up when something doesn’t…”
Finn’s eyes snap back up to his at that and Poe very nearly chokes on the want behind the look. “You’ll show me how?”
Fuck. “Yeah,” Poe says, and he’s gonna need some sort of award for how steady his voice is here because seriously. “Yeah, I’ll show you how.”
The smile that slips across Finn’s features is like a sunrise, slow and syrup sharp. Poe wants to taste it. “We’re gonna do this.”
It’s not a question, but Poe answers it by meeting Finn’s mouth on a groan anyhow.
