“You mean to tell me you’ve never touched yourself.” Rey knows that there’s a great deal she doesn’t understand about the universe, but sometimes, compared to Finn, she feels utterly worldly. This is one of those times.
“Well, no. Yes. Maybe?” Finn is blushing so hard she can actually see the tone of his skin change. “Like, I’ve done it, but it was always…” He falls silent, trying to figure out how to say what he means. Precision is one of those traits he’s kept, from before, and sometimes it takes a moment for the words to come. “Mechanical. A thing you had to do. Like going to the fresher. Why are you looking at me like that?” She must be making a face. Finn and Poe both say she has a hard time hiding what she’s thinking, so it must be true.
“I just feel sad that the First Order didn’t even let you feel good by yourself.” Rey has not had many things in her life: enough food to eat, a family, people who cared whether she lived or died. But she has always had herself, and the things she has been able to do with her body. Not even in a sexual sense (although that too); she can’t think of what it would be like if she were prevented from rappelling into the wreck of an old ship, not allowed to tinker and fix and rebuild. She feels cold fury when she thinks about how Finn never had a chance to figure out if he would like to do any of those things.
“Can you miss something you’ve never had?” He’s so nonchalant about it, like he is so many of the things that any normal sentient being (or Rey) would find appalling. It makes her even angrier at the things he was forced to endure.
“I could teach you.” The words tumble out of her mouth, half-unbidden.
“Yeah? Where do we start?” He has that look in his eyes, the one from Jakku when he said I am absolutely, totally with the Resistance. Which is to say, the look he gets when he knows he’s in over his head, but he’s going to roll with whatever happens and hope it turns out for the best. (She ignores the way it makes a small curl of heat spark in her belly. This isn’t about her, not yet.)
“Show me. How you touch yourself.” Her voice is steady, for which she is thankful. He reaches into his pants and palms his cock, his eyes fluttering closed. Her breath catches, involuntarily. She doesn’t think he notices, which she is also thankful for.
“You can take your pants off, you know.” She’s more nervous than she expected and doesn’t mean it to come out as sharp as it does, and Finn’s eyes open, wondering if he’s done something wrong. She unbuckles his belt, tugging it out of the loops, and he relaxes, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s hard already, and she pushes aside how the sight makes heat pulse between her legs.
He’s got himself in hand, moving up and down his length, and if he didn’t look like he was enjoying himself, she’d swear it hurt. It’s a way to do it, she supposes, but there must be a better technique. She presses her fingers against his, loosening them.
“Easy, easy,” she says softly, relishing the way his breath hitches as he adjusts to the new grip. “How’s that?”
“It’s good, really good.” He looks up at her, eyes dark. “You’re not a bad teacher, all things considered.” She smirks and puts her hand around his wrist, tugging it away gently. He whines at the loss of sensation, and Rey stops, her vision hazing over with lust for a moment. It’s long enough that Finn reaches out with his other hand, touching her hip. His thumb grazes the ridge, a silent gesture of inquiry.
“I’m fine.” She places a kiss in the center of his palm as a reassurance before taking his fingers into her mouth. They taste of salt and something faintly bitter, but not unpleasant. She’s not even trying to be neat, coating his fingers so they’re wet. He touches himself cautiously, hips jerking forward involuntarily as he fucks into the slick warmth of his hand.
“Rey,” he murmurs, his voice rough and halfway to broken just from this, and she wants to rock against the mattress, anything to relieve the throb in her cunt. “I’ve never felt this good in my life.” Something in her chest unknots at that and she presses her forehead to his, closing her eyes. She wants to show him everything she knows about pleasure in its infinite variations. It’s not as much as other people, she realizes, but it’s what she has to offer. She hopes it’s enough.
She wraps her fingers around his, letting him control the pace, increasingly quickening. He comes with a gasp, muffled into her shoulder, spilling over both of their hands. She strokes the back of his neck, waiting for him to piece himself back together. He raises his head and looks at her with a pleased, blissed-out smile on his face, and she feels a deep sense of satisfaction.
“Not bad?” She quirks an eyebrow at him. He presses a kiss to her forehead, soft and serious, and she feels a bit guilty for being so arch.
“Absolutely not bad.” He says, voice fond. He lays down on the bed, and tugs her down with him.
“Would you believe it gets better?” He turns to look at her, mind apparently not blown entirely yet. “Things get more interesting when you use your mouth, and then there’s putting parts in--in places. I hope they taught you about that at least?” She’s blushing now, watching Finn turn the possibilities over in his head.
“I have a vague idea. I think I’d like to try that sometime.” Rey finds that she’d like that too.
He runs a finger down her arm, and she shivers, not unpleasantly. “But for now, I think I want to watch you.” He looks away, suddenly shy again. “I don’t know much about this, or you, like this, but I want to learn. So I can make it good for you, like you did for me.”
She reaches over and kisses him, long and slow, before pulling off her clothes. His eyes widen, and she smiles, pleased.
“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s get started.”