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drinking from the flood

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Rey and Finn are inseparable from the moment Rey returns to D’Qar.

Poe sees them holding hands in the hallways. He sees Rey blush and duck her head when Finn kisses her cheek after dinner. He sees them sitting side by side on one of the hills the base is built into, watching the setting sun. Finn is wearing Poe’s jacket, and Rey’s head is resting against his shoulder.

They’re close to each other in age. They’re both simultaneously older and younger than their years, in different yet similar ways, for different yet similar reasons. They’re both smart and impatient, spirited and kind.

Everyone who sees them together can tell they’re perfect for each other.

Unfortunately, the first time Poe saw Rey and Finn together, he was already in love with Finn.

 

Poe falls for Rey sometime between the moment when she shows up with Luke Skywalker in tow, pausing to press her palm to the Millennium Falcon before running down the ramp and launching herself into Finn’s arms, and the moment when he lets her take Black One for a spin, listening to her laugh breathlessly via the comlink as she pulls off one spectacular maneuver after another.

Poe bites down on a smile. From beside him, Jess is watching him with an unreadable look on her face.

“What?” Poe says.

Jess shakes her head and says, “Nothing.”

 

It’s fine, really.

Poe isn’t a jealous person. And besides, he hasn’t been in a relationship—hasn’t felt the need to be in a relationship—since before joining the Resistance. There have been drunken nights, of course, hurried jerk-off sessions in far-off corners and unambiguous stress relief or victory fucks, but nothing more serious than that.

He’s fine with it. He doesn’t mind going to bed alone, and waking up alone, and absently jerking himself off in the fresher every morning. If he wanted sex, he could have sex. He knows that he could approach just about anyone he’s attracted to on this base with a question or a look, and most of them would shrug and say yes.

He doesn’t want sex.

(What he wants is to make Rey blush and duck her head, and to rest his head against Finn’s other shoulder as they watch the setting sun.)

 

 


 

 

He’s in the hangar, working on a ship that recently came into the possession of the Resistance—more rust than X-wing, and the oldest model Poe has ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t even known where to get started—when Finn approaches him.

“Hey, buddy,” Poe says. He straightens up, wipes his sweaty face on his sleeve. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Finn says. “You’ve got dirt all over your face now.”

Smooth. “I did that on purpose,” Poe says. “Need to look like I’m actually making some progress over here.”

Finn laughs. “Is it salvageable?” he asks, nodding at the ship.

“I don’t know yet,” Poe says. “We’ll see. What brings you here?” Finn is fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, he notices.

“I’ve got a question,” Finn says.

“Sure, bud. Shoot.” He crouches down to return the wrench he’s holding to its rightful slot in the toolbox.

“It’s sort of a personal question,” Finn says.

“Oh,” Poe says, getting up again. “Okay, yeah, of course, I don’t think anyone else is around, but we could—”

“Would you like to have sex?” Finn says.

go somewhere more private, is what Poe was going to say. It’s a good thing he’s not holding the wrench anymore; dropping it on his foot would’ve hurt like a bitch.

“With us,” Finn adds. “With me and Rey.”

Poe can tell from his steady delivery and the serious set of his face that Finn isn’t joking. This also doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Finn would joke about. Come to think of it, Poe isn’t even sure if he’s heard Finn mention sex before at all. He’s seen him trail after Rey, their eyes hungry and their hands intertwined, and he’s seen Finn show up for breakfast looking laid-back and pleased, but he can’t recall him ever weighing in on the crass conversations some of the others are so fond of.

“Of course it’s fine if you don’t want to,” Finn says in the same steady, serious way. “I know many people don’t. With more than two people, I mean, or with friends. We understand if you don’t want to.”

It is the kind of thing Jess would joke about, though. Maybe she’s put Finn up to this, Poe thinks as Finn continues talking. Then again, Jess wouldn’t—Poe has never told her how he feels about Rey and Finn, but he’s pretty sure she knows. She wouldn’t do that to him. Would she?

“…talking about it, and we both like you a lot, obviously, and we trust you, and we think it would be…”

Poe’s heart is beating hard against his rib cage. He reminds himself to breathe.

“…probably more experienced,” Finn is saying. “As in, a lot more experienced. Right?”

“Right,” Poe says. He clears his throat. “Sure. Yeah, definitely.”

Finn’s words register with him, and he realizes he’s just implied to Finn he’s a bit of a slut. Very smooth, Dameron.

“Oh, good,” Finn says, with a sigh of relief. “That’s what we thought.”

Rey and Finn have been discussing Poe’s sex life.

“I mean, I still wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with it, but Jess said—”

Rey and Finn have been discussing Poe’s sex life with Jess.

“Buddy,” Poe says. His voice sounds reasonably even, which, thank fuck for that. “What exactly are you saying here?”

Finn shrugs one shoulder. “I’m saying,” he says, looking up at Poe with those dark, earnest eyes of his, “that Rey and I would like you to show us what sex can be like.”

 

 


 

 

Poe should’ve said no.

He knows he should’ve said no.

His hands are sweaty. He can’t even remember the last time he felt nervous before sex. This is ridiculous.

Before knocking on the door, he wipes his palms on his pants. They’re soft and loose, and touching them reminds him again how absolutely ridiculous this is. He’s standing here with sweaty hands in clothes carefully selected for their removability, about to have sex with two of his friends, who are over a decade younger than him, in a loving relationship with each other, and completely unaware of the fact that Poe has been quietly pining for them both.

Ridiculous.

He should’ve said no.

(He never would’ve said no.)

He knocks. Finn’s voice calls out, “Come in.”

The room is a pleasant mess, with clothes and knickknacks strewn everywhere and a row of small potted plants in the windowsill. Finn and Rey are on the large bed against the far wall. Rey is sitting cross-legged in a comically wide shirt, her hair down and her legs bare, and Finn is shirtless beside her. Rey glances up at Poe and turns off the holopad that’s lying between them.

“Hi,” Finn says, leaning back on his hands and grinning at Poe while Rey cautiously places the holopad on the floor under the bed.

“Hi,” Poe says. He’s a little taken aback by the sight of them—more specifically, by the fact that he’s seen them this way countless times before (usually but not always with more clothes on) and it’d never quite taken his breath away like this. The knowledge of what they’re about to do here is reframing everything, morphing this previously innocent scene into something completely different.

“Where do you guys want me?” Poe asks dumbly.

Rey huffs out a laugh. “Well, a little closer to the bed would be a good start,” she says, shifting onto her knees. Her eyes are bright. She doesn’t avert them as Poe walks up to the bed, and when he gets there it feels like a natural progression to have her hands come up around his neck, her head tipping back as she strains up to meet him.

Rey’s mouth is small and dry and soft, just like her hands. Poe brushes the side of her chin with his thumb, and she makes a quiet noise and opens up for him.

Poe can feel Finn’s fingers curl around the back of his knee, warm and secure. This is all familiar territory, he realizes as he allows his eyes to drift shut and relaxes into the kiss. He lets his hand slide into Rey’s hair, feeling her fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders on either side of his spine.

Rey breaks away from the kiss, and Poe barely gets a moment to catch his breath before Finn is gently tugging him down by the collar of his shirt. Finn is a little more graceless and insistent about it than Rey, his tongue pulsing up against Poe’s almost immediately. His skin feels rough against the area of Poe’s mouth, which is wet and tingling from kissing Rey. For some reason this sends a surge of arousal through him.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Finn mumbles as Poe braces one knee on the bed. He leans back, taking Poe with him. His body is a solid line of heat under Poe’s. Poe trails a hand down his side and then up his shirt, and Finn arches up into the touch.

“Poe,” he says in a low voice, the vowel sound dissolving into a breathy exhale as Poe starts kissing up his jawline. Before he can make it to the spot under Finn’s earlobe, though, Rey is already threading her hand into his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

Poe feels flushed and a little light-headed. His dick is straining against the fabric of his briefs. Finn must be able to feel him pressing against the curve of his hipbone. Rey lets go of Poe’s hair, and he looks down at Finn, who is grinning.

“Okay,” Rey says. She sits back on her heels. “Anything you’d like to do?”

“You’re going to make me set the agenda here?” Poe says, moving off Finn and pushing up into a seated position as well. “I thought you two had things you wanted to try.”

“Oh, we definitely have a few ideas,” Finn says. His palm is warm against the center of Poe’s lower back. The touch feels achingly intimate. “But we’d also like to know what you want.”

You, Poe finds himself thinking. This.

He swallows. “I don’t know,” he says. He hadn’t really thought about it—not concretely, at least. It’s only been a couple hours since Finn looked him in the eye and said Show us what sex can be like. The reality of the situation is yet to dawn on him. “What did you have in mind?”

 

They mostly stick to making out, touching and exploring a little, eventually rubbing off against each other. “We can move on to other things later,” Finn says. It sounds like he has a list. (Poe wonders if they have a list.)

Both Rey and Finn act with an odd mix of confidence and uncertainty. Although they’re obviously comfortable with each other, and Poe, it’s also clear that much of this is new to them. They’ve got the basic mechanics down, but not the details, all those little things you learn with time and practice.

It would make Poe feel old and dirty if it wasn’t so mind-blowingly hot, the way they respond to him. Finn seems to have some sort of epiphany when Poe clenches his thighs together and encourages Finn to thrust between them. When Rey is on the verge of coming, Poe works his hand down between their aligned bodies and lightly presses two fingers to her clit before rolling his hips again, and she shudders against him and gasps sharply into his mouth as though no one has ever touched her like that before.

Afterward, they lie on their backs, chests heaving.

“That was awesome,” Finn says.

Rey hums a noise of agreement.

“That thing with your thighs,” Finn says, propping himself up on one arm. “Wow.”

Poe flashes him a wide smile.

“And the way you—”

“Finn,” Rey says lazily. “Stop talking.”

Finn leans down and presses his lips to her shoulder. She shifts toward him, angling her head up for a quick kiss. Her eyes are closed; she looks half asleep already. Poe’s stomach twists. He lifts a hand to stroke her hair, almost awkwardly. She hums again, sighing and nuzzling closer to Finn.

“I should,” Poe says in a quiet voice. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the door.

“Yeah,” Finn says, “okay, sure,” and he reaches over Rey to draw Poe in for one more slow, open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t say anything else as Poe gets off the bed and starts putting on his clothes again, just smiles at him when he leaves.

It’s only when Poe shuts the door to his own quarters behind him and rests his back against it and lets out a shaky, relieved breath that he realizes he was afraid Finn was going to say Thank you.

 

In the mess hall the next morning, everything is still the same between them. Finn still takes Poe into a headlock by way of greeting, and Rey still steals bread rolls off Poe’s plate, and Poe still pretends to be annoyed and want them back even though he could not conceivably eat seven bread rolls on his own.

It’s—surprising. Poe has done the friends with benefits thing before, and it always worked fine for him, but for obvious reasons he’d thought it would be different with Rey and Finn. Nothing about their dynamic appears to have changed, though. The only thing that’s different is that they’re having sex now.

Finn follows Poe to the hangar after breakfast. He leans against the wall and watches Poe mix up a heavy-duty rust removal solution. “Would you like to do it again?” he asks. “Not necessarily tonight, but. Sometime soon,” and Poe says, stirring, putting his weight into it, “Yeah,” and when he looks up Finn is smiling down at him.

 

 


 

 

The next time, Rey lets him in after he knocks. She’s naked, and Poe’s mouth instantly goes dry when he sees her, delicate and beautiful and utterly unselfconscious in the way she’s holding herself.

She tilts her head to the side. “What?” she says.

“Nothing,” Poe says. He starts stripping out of his shirt to give himself a second to clear his mind. She waits, watching. Her nipples are a little hard.

Poe almost doesn’t dare to touch her.

Her body feels warm and smooth under his palms. When he slides them down her sides, her skin breaks out in goosebumps, and she shivers against him before catching one of his wrists and pulling him along to the bed.

Finn is there, sitting with his back against the wall and observing them with dark eyes. “Hi,” he says. He’s only wearing underwear. Poe is beginning to feel a little overdressed.

“Hi,” Poe says.

“What would you like to do?” Finn asks.

Poe lets out a short laugh. Anything, he thinks. “Please stop asking me that,” he says. “I don’t care. I’m fine with everything.”

“All right.” Rey puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed, straddling his lap. “In that case, shut up and kiss me.”

“See, now that’s something I can work with,” he tells them both before taking her face between his hands and kissing her, deep and filthy. Her breath hitches in her throat and she presses closer to him, the curls of her pubic hair brushing tantalizingly against his stomach as she does so. Heat pulses through him.

Poe is half expecting Rey to push him flat against the mattress. She doesn’t, though—she sighs into the kiss and squirms a little under his hands and mouth, but doesn’t take any more initiative. After a moment’s hesitation, he cups her jaw and coaxes her down into a horizontal position with him. She continues moving against him with small, barely-there jerks of her hips, her fingers clenching around his shoulders and her mouth going slack against his as she gets a rhythm going.

A hand settles in Poe’s hair. He tilts his head back to glance up at Finn. “Hey,” he says. “You wanna—”

Finn shakes his head. “I wanna watch,” he says in a low voice.

He looks sleepy, Poe notices, his eyes hooded. Rey shifts and grinds down against Poe again, and when he feels it he says, startled, “Oh.”

A smile starts spreading across Finn’s face.

Poe tries and fails to suppress a groan. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he says.

“Already?” Rey says, pushing up on her hands. She seems genuinely surprised. “We’ve only just got started.”

“Clearly not,” Poe says. He’s got one hand on the small of her back; he holds her eye as he slowly, deliberately, slides it over the jut of her hipbone and down between her thighs. She doesn’t look or move away, and he briefly brushes her wet folds with the pad of his thumb, to make a point.

Rey rolls her eyes. “We’ve only just got started,” she says, gesturing between them.

“I wanna watch you get her off,” Finn says in the same low, sated voice.

“I want Finn to watch you get me off,” Rey says. She’s still moving restlessly against him.

“Fuck,” Poe says weakly. It’s a good thing he’s lying down already. “Okay.” Get it together, Dameron.

“Okay?” Rey says, sitting up. She grabs his hand. Her fingers entwine with his, and she moves their linked hands down, rubs herself with his fingertips. Her eyes flutter shut.

Poe can’t remember the last time he was this hard. He feels dizzy with it.

Get your shit together, he tells himself. You’re supposed to be the fucking expert here. Act like it.

“Yeah, okay,” Poe says, reclaiming his hand and pushing up to kiss her. He curves his hand around her neck and wraps his other arm around her waist. She makes a pleased noise when he flips them, her hair fanning out across the mattress.

“Hey, you,” Finn says, reaching for her.

“Hey you,” Rey says, smiling up at him and taking his hand.

Poe’s chest throbs.

He distracts himself by settling between Rey’s legs and supporting his weight on his forearm, leaning down to press his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat, then the space between her small breasts. He’s tempted to mouth at her nipples, suck them until they’re fully hard, but he hasn’t touched her there yet, and he doesn’t know how she would feel about it. Instead, he moves back up to kiss the side of her neck and reaches between her thighs again.

She’s so wet that his finger easily slips into her.

“Oh, fuck,” Rey whispers, thighs twitching and then spreading for him. Finn’s fingers are combing through her hair, and when Poe pushes two fingers into her—a slightly tighter fit, but still a smooth slide—she gasps, turning her face toward Finn’s hand. He strokes her cheek, and she laughs at him, breathlessly.

“Feel good?” Finn asks.

“Yeah,” Rey says. “Feels really good.”

Poe presses his thumb to her clit, and she moans, her lower body arching up against him. She clenches around his fingers. “Oh my—” she says, breathing hard, “do that, do that again.”

He does, rubs his thumb in a slow circle, and this time her entire body jerks with it.

“Fucking hell,” she says.

She’s watching Poe with an awed look on her face, and when Poe glances up at Finn, he realizes that Finn is doing the same thing.

“Uh,” he says. “You guys are staring.”

“Well, you are very good looking,” Finn says reasonably. “It’d be a shame not to stare.”

“And you’re very,” Rey says, voice dipping low, “good at this.”

Poe can’t help it—he smirks at her and kisses the corner of her lips, says, “Oh, but I’ve only just gotten started.”

Like last time she’s breathtakingly responsive, countless micro-expressions flashing across her face as Poe gently fucks his fingers into her. And she’s so wet, too. He’s glad he’s still half dressed, because if he was naked all he’d be able to think about was getting his dick inside her tight wet heat. Fuck, he probably wouldn’t even get a few thrusts in before coming.

But they haven’t discussed any of that yet, and this, tonight, is about her. Not about him, or even about Finn, who’s still combing his fingers through her hair and contently watching the two of them like there’s no place he’d rather be. Which should be unnerving, probably, but it isn’t.

Poe has had threesomes, foursomes, the kind of sex where you lose track of which limbs belong to who. None of it had ever felt quite like this.

Rey is growing louder, more fidgety. “Hey, is it okay if I,” Poe starts saying, and she says, “Yes, yes, fuck, yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Poe says, amused.

She narrows her eyes at him and says, “Just fucking get on with it, Dameron.”

Poe, recognizing an order when he hears one, makes his way down her body and flattens his tongue against her clit.

From there, it’s over quickly. She buries both hands in his hair, holding him down, and thrusts her hips up against him. When she’s about to come he finishes her off with just his mouth, using his slicked-up hand to bring himself off with a few fast strokes. Her smell and taste and the way her body is pulsing with aftershocks under him are making his head spin.

Rey shifts just enough to place her head in Finn’s lap, with a heavy sigh that says ‘I’m not moving again anytime soon’. Poe throws himself down onto his stomach next to her, facing the two of them. “You’ve got—your nose,” Finn says.

Poe shrugs, lazy and uncaring with orgasm. “That’s how you know you’ve done well,” he says.

“Write that down somewhere, Finn,” Rey says. She’s thrown her arm over her face; her voice is muffled. Poe can’t see her expression. It’s difficult to tell whether or not she’s joking. Finn nudges her shoulder, and she stomps him in the arm, and then they both laugh.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Poe’s bed seems empty to him.

 

 


 

 

“You know,” Poe says when he arrives the next time to find their roles reversed (now Finn is the one who’s turned on, and Rey the one who’s clearly satiated already), “this really makes me feel like you guys are talking about me behind my back.”

Finn grins at him. “Only good things.”

“Very good things,” Rey says.

“It’s just that there are a few things we really want to cross off our list,” Finn says.

So there is a list. Of course there’s a list. Poe says, “Any chance you’re gonna show me that list anytime soon?”

“Isn’t it much more fun not knowing what to expect?” Finn asks, straightening up from the drawer he’d been rummaging around in and rendering Poe momentarily speechless by pushing a tub of lube, a plastic glove and a condom into his hands.

“Are you sure?” Poe says once he regains control of his tongue. “This can be pretty intense. Wouldn’t you like to try it the other way around first?”

Finn shrugs. “I’ve fucked people,” he says. “I want to know what this is like.”

“People,” Rey says with a loud snort from where she’s perched on the windowsill.

He cuts her a glance. “Fine, okay, I’ve fucked Rey,” he tells Poe, rolling his eyes, and then, over his shoulder at her, “Well, excuse me for not wanting to sound disrespectful, all right?”

“Apology accepted,” Rey says magnanimously. “Just out of curiosity, what time’s the show getting started?”

“You’re so impatient,” Finn says in a warm voice.

“Only you could make that sound like a compliment.”

“And only you could make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Finn says. He moves over to her to kiss her, leaving Poe standing there with his hands full of sex paraphernalia and, fleetingly, a feeling like someone’s trying to carve out his heart with a blunt knife.

“Ready when you are,” Finn says, crawling onto the bed, and Poe snaps out of it, says, “Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way.”

 

Last time Rey had been more than ready, urging Poe on. Now, with Finn, even just the first finger takes time and a lot of lube. It’s been a while since Poe did this with someone else, and the intensity of it takes him by surprise. If it feels like this for him, he can’t imagine how Finn must be feeling right about now.

“You all right?” he says.

“Yeah,” Finn says from where he’s got his head pillowed on his hands.

“How does it feel?” Rey asks him, touching the back of his neck.

“Weird,” Finn says breathlessly. “Different from when I do it.” He adds, “In a nice way.” He shifts a little, and Poe almost moans when Finn clenches down around his finger. He bites down on the inside of his cheek. “Another one,” Finn says. “Poe.”

“One?” Rey says, faintly unimpressed, and this time Poe has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. She widens her eyes at him. “I’m just saying, this looks like such a hassle.”

Finn lifts his head to tell Poe, “She’s very proud of her self-lubricating vagina.”

“It’s a lot more practical,” Rey says smugly.

“Ha,” Poe says, a beat too late, because he’s besieged by yet another flood of emotions about these two miraculous beings, with their witty jokes and their radiant smiles and the infinite, terrifying amount of trust they have in him.

Instead of working another finger into Finn, he rubs his thumb along Finn’s rim to loosen it up a little more. Finn chokes out a shuddering gasp, and Poe automatically moves to put a hand on his neck, only to realize that Rey’s hand is still there, gently squeezing.

When they’re up to two fingers, Finn starts moving back against Poe’s hand. He’s being unusually quiet, swallowing his noises instead of letting moans and words flow freely from his tongue.

“You doing all right there, buddy?” Poe asks again, stroking his free hand down Finn’s sweat-damp back.

“Yeah,” Finn breathes, “yeah, it’s, fuck—”

Poe remembers the first time someone fingered him open like this, the sheer overwhelmingness of feeling awkward and exposed and impossibly, unbearably turned on all at the same time. “You wanna take a break?” he asks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Finn says in the same breathy voice. “Don’t stop.”

His back is a hard line of tension under Poe’s palm, though. “I’ve got an idea,” Poe says. “Turn over for me?”

“I’m all for this as long as it doesn’t involve you stopping,” Finn says petulantly as he rolls onto his back, and Rey snorts out a laugh at the same time as Poe does.

“The opposite, actually,” Poe says. Finn is half hard, his dick curving away from his stomach. The sight of it makes Poe’s mouth water in anticipation. He leans in and wraps his lips around the tip, continues massaging Finn’s rim with his thumb.

Finn almost keens, feet scrabbling against the mattress, but he doesn’t say anything. When Poe glances up at him through his eyelashes he sees that Rey is kissing Finn. One of Finn’s hands is cupping her breast and thumbing at her nipple. Rey arches into the touch, and Finn’s hand glides lower, down her stomach and disappearing between her legs.

It’s such a hot view that Poe needs to rut against the mattress for a bit before he can get back to his goal: loosening Finn up for his dick while sucking him to the brink of orgasm.

When Finn starts going, “Please, please, I’m ready, Poe, please—” Poe has him turn over again. There’s no petulant remark this time. Finn rolls onto his stomach, wordlessly allowing Poe to arrange his limbs and work a pillow between his hips and the bed. He’s breathing hard even as Poe disposes of the glove and puts on the condom, and he gasps when Poe pushes into him. His fingers curl into the mattress. “Oh fuck,” he says, “oh fuck, fuck—”

That sounds more like you, Poe thinks, pleased. He’s sinking into Finn agonizingly slowly; the muscles in his arms are bunched tight with the effort of holding himself back. Rey is watching them with the same captivated expression she gets when she’s watching a holovid she’s never seen before. She’s touching herself almost casually, like an afterthought.

“Poe,” Finn says again, ever so lightly grinding back against him. “Poe, please—”

He’s reaching behind his back for one of Poe’s hands. Getting the hint, Poe shifts his weight onto his other arm and wraps his hand around Finn. Finn is rock hard, pulsing in Poe’s grip. He shudders when Poe palms the head, and it only takes a few delicate movements of Poe’s hips for Finn to come all over his hand, gasping his name.

Poe has to call on every single fiber of his self-constraint to hold still as Finn rides out his orgasm. Finn feels so fucking tight around him that Poe is about ninety percent sure he’d only need to get in a couple of good thrusts to reach his peak. But Finn is already going boneless under him, and this probably isn’t the best moment to find out whether Finn—like Poe—gets hypersensitive after coming. He pulls out and, trying not to hiss at how hard he still is, rolls off the condom and flings it over the side of the bed.

Then, suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders and he’s being pushed flat onto his back next to Finn. Poe doesn’t even have a second to say, “Holy fuck,” before Rey is sliding down onto him, wet and smooth, her lips still swollen from her previous orgasm. She moves, and Poe was wrong—he doesn’t even need a couple of good thrusts, he’s already there, already gone, already stilling and spilling into her, conscious of how having Finn’s eyes on him makes his orgasm even more intense.

He doesn’t mean to, but he nods off for a while. When he comes back to himself, with a little jerk, the back of his neck feels cool with dried sweat. Rey is definitely asleep between him and Finn. She’s lying on her stomach, breathing deeply. Her forehead is pressed against Poe’s biceps and one of her arms is slung around Finn’s waist.

When Poe shifts, Finn’s eyes blink open. He gives Poe a languid smile.

“You good?” Poe asks, voice sleep-rough.

Finn nods. Poe smiles back at him. Finn yawns, his eyes slipping shut again.

Poe could stay. Fall asleep like this, right here, wake up enveloped by their body heat. Listen to them argue over who gets dibs on the fresher, and then rile them up by getting in there before they can settle the matter.

He leaves after kissing them both on the cheek and pulling a blanket over them, tucking it in around their naked shoulders.

 

 


 

 

Poe has slowly been cobbling together an idea of the kind of sex Rey and Finn were having before they invited him along for the ride. He could’ve just asked them, of course, but he couldn’t figure out a way to phrase the question without sounding like he was criticizing them. And besides, Finn was right when he said it’s much more fun not knowing what to expect—Poe finds it thrilling to watch their reactions when he tries something new.

It’s common knowledge that you simply can’t stick handfuls of teenage boys into barracks and expect nothing to happen when the lights go out, and Poe knows from Rey’s flippant, off-hand remarks that she’s had some casual encounters with other scavs her age. But from the way Finn goes slack-jawed and babbly when Poe takes his time with him, and the awed look Rey gives him when he touches her just right, he has been able to deduce that that’s all either of them had done before they met, and what they mostly continued doing together after they met: quick, straightforward fumbling until both parties got off. Satisfying enough, but not very remarkable or diverse.

“From behind?” Rey says, for example, when Poe mentions the possibility of trying a different position to her. Finn is frowning, too. “What do you mean, like when you fucked Finn?”

“Okay, so you’ve never,” Poe says. “The other way around.”

Rey shakes her head.

Maybe he shouldn’t be three fingers deep inside her while they’re having this conversation. He pulls back, sits up. “Would you like to try?”

“Why would I? I like seeing your face,” Rey says. “It’s a good face.”

“Thanks,” Poe says. “But some”—girls, women, he never really knows how to refer to Rey. When she’s looking at him the way she is right now, her eyes big and trusting and her mouth slack with concentration, he’s inclined toward girl, but when he thinks about that word too hard it starts messing with his thirty-plus-year-old head, and he’s established a firm personal policy of not thinking about the age difference when he’s in bed with them, stop thinking about it, Dameron, damnit—“people with female parts like it better that way.”

“Why?” Rey asks again.

Poe’s cheek twitches. They’re both looking at him like this is a fascinating concept they’re dying to know more about and he’s the only person in the galaxy who can tell them about it. It makes him feel almost shy, which is ridiculous. He says, “Because I can get deeper inside you that way, and thrust harder. Some people can come just from that.”

“Just from that?” Rey echoes. “No touching?”

Poe nods. “Because you’re more sensiti—”

She’s moving onto all fours in front of him, already convinced. “All right,” she says. “Cool. I’m in.” She’s facing Finn now, and he hooks a finger under her chin, tilts it up to peck her on the lips. Poe watches her hand curve around Finn’s neck. Her fingertips dig into Finn’s short hair when Poe puts one hand on her hip to steady her and feels her up with his other hand.

Her knees slide further apart. “Come on, Poe,” she says. “Finn already went down on me and you’ve been fingering me forever. I’m not gonna get any wetter than this.”

“Is that a challenge?” Poe asks, but he obediently lines himself up with her after giving his dick a few quick tugs.

“Oh wow,” she says when he’s only just worked the tip in. “Fuck.”

“Yeah?” Poe says.

Yeah,” she says, shivering as he fills her up.

Finn is sitting back, slowly stroking himself. He’s starting to get hard again, dick still shining from Poe’s spit.

“You could, um,” Poe says, “maybe, if Rey—”

“You’re not putting that thing anywhere near my face right now,” Rey tells Finn. “There isn’t going more than one dick in my body at any given time, thank you very much. I can’t imagine that being pleasant.”

“I love it,” Poe says, without really thinking about it. Finn looks at him, and Rey strains her neck to look at him as well, and Poe can feel heat bloom up from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears. He remembers, with sudden clarity, the last time he’d admitted this to anyone—at a seedy cantina, a couple of years ago, feeling drunk and lonely and restlessly horny. Needless to say he hadn’t left alone that night.

“You do?” Rey says. “What do you like about it?”

It’s a genuine question, not a sleazy come-on accompanied by another drink and twin looks of ill-contained lust and a catastrophically uncomfortable morning after. Poe clears his throat. “It’s, uh. Really overwhelming,” he says.

Finn says, voice a little rough, stroking himself faster, “Yeah, I bet.”

“I like how full it makes you feel,” Poe says. His dick actually twitches at the thought; he wonders if Rey can feel it. “So full you can barely breathe, let alone feel anything else, or think about anything else.”

“Huh,” Rey says thoughtfully. “Fair enough.” Then, “Still not gonna happen.”

Poe laughs and strokes her side.

(The first time Finn fucks him, Poe is on his back, ass propped up on a pillow. When Finn is close to coming, Rey carefully straddles Poe’s face, and he ends up coming before Finn does, gasping against her, too far gone to even worry about whether or not he’s leaving bruises where his hands are helplessly clasped around Finn’s wrists.)

 

 


 

 

The D’Qar base contains several hallways that wind deep into the hills. They lead nowhere of note, and are deserted most of the time. Because of this, people like to sneak off to them for some quick release. Poe’s given and received his fair share of blowjobs and handjobs there. There’s always something thrilling about the idea of getting caught, even though that rarely actually happens.

He’s on his way to the mess hall from a briefing on an upcoming mission—checking out a nearby ice planet because of some unusual signals their scanners had picked up on; most likely a false alarm, General Organa had said, but better safe than sorry—when someone bumps into him. A familiar hand curls around his wrist and drags him along with surprising strength and determination, a familiar laugh sounding from behind them.

“Is this an ambush?” Poe asks when they come to a halt, allowing Rey to push him back against the wall and pin his arms above his head.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Finn says as he goes to his knees and starts unbuttoning Poe’s fly.

Poe opens his mouth to say something, but Rey licks the words right off his tongue. When he instinctively tries to reach for her face, her hands tighten around his wrists. “No,” she says, eyes glistening.

She does allow him to kiss her again, which he does, enthusiastically. By now Finn has worked Poe’s pants halfway down his thighs and is wrapping a warm hand around him. Poe jerks against Rey’s hands as the head of his dick is swallowed by wet heat. Their teeth clack together.

“Sorry,” Poe mumbles against Rey’s lips. She breathes out an amused noise. Finn takes him deeper, moaning around him, and this time Poe’s head clacks back against the wall. He swears under his breath.

When he half-opens his eyes, which must have fallen shut of their own accord, Rey is watching him intently. He can feel Finn’s knees keeping his feet apart, Finn’s hands keeping his hips in place. His arms, still pinned above his head by Rey, are starting to tingle with numbness. He can’t move, can’t do anything but take what they want to give him.

He’s moaning, he realizes, a low desperate sound, his breath catching in his throat. Rey hasn’t taken her eyes off him. He jerks again when she unexpectedly touches his mouth with her thumb. That must mean she’s now keeping his arms above his head with only one hand. He’s not tempted to test her hold, though. The pad of her thumb is rubbing along his bottom lip, and when it reaches the corner of his mouth he unthinkingly lets his jaw go slack for it.

“Oh,” Rey says, surprised. Poe can feel her hand flex around his wrists. Her thumb presses down, briefly sinking into his mouth, and then she slides her hand into his hair and pulls him in.

Poe tries to kiss her back, but his body refuses to respond. Rey’s lips against his mouth and Finn’s lips around his dick and their hands trapping him, keeping him in place—it’s all he can focus on, all he can think about. All he wants is to take whatever they want to give him.

He’s aware of the sound of his own breathing, loud and ragged. It echoes in the empty hallway. Rey is murmuring words to him, but his brain can’t seem to make sense of them.

When he comes his back arches with the intensity of it, sparks shooting from the pit of his stomach to his knees and his chest, to every single cell in his body. If it weren’t for Rey, he probably would’ve sagged to the floor.

Painful heat spreads down his arms, which is how he knows they’ve been lowered. Rey is peppering little kisses to his jaw, her hand still threaded into his hair. Finn is tucking him back into his pants with gentle movements, and Poe wonders if he can feel his thigh muscles tremble.

Rey steps back. Poe watches Finn get to his feet and dust off his knees. He’s grinning, his eyes reflecting the mischievous glint in Rey’s. Poe’s chest is still moving up and down rapidly. He can feel sweat prickling on his forehead. An uneasy feeling is starting to creep up on him—almost like his orgasm was too intense and in coming down from it he’d inadvertently plummeted too fast and too far. He rubs a hand down his face, breathes in deeply.

“That good, huh?” Finn says, with a lopsided smile.

Poe huffs out a laugh, nods. He’s not sure he can talk. He’s sure his voice would be embarrassingly hoarse if he tried.

“You need a moment?” Rey says. She pulls at the hem of Poe’s shirt and combs her fingers through his hair. Making him look presentable, Poe realizes belatedly.

Poe shakes his head. “I’m good,” he says, voice embarrassingly hoarse.

“Okay,” Finn says. “Let’s have dinner, then.”

He swallows away the uneasy feeling and nods.

 

 


 

 

The General was right—the unusual signals were a false alarm. The ice planet is clean. Poe is about to turn his ship around and head on home when he crashes.

He doesn’t know why it happens. Maybe a flock of low-flying birds hit one of his engines. Maybe it was a simple internal malfunction. Whatever the reason, there’s a loud bang, and everything shakes, and then his stomach wavers sickeningly as he plunges downward.

“Great,” he says when Black One has shuddered to a halt in a pile of snow. His pulse is thundering in his ears. He punches in a few random commands, but the cons are dead. “BB-8, have you sent out a distress call?”

BB-8 doesn’t respond.

Poe strains to look over his shoulder. “BB-8,” he says. “Do you copy?”

BB-8 stays quiet. His lights are off.

“Fuck.” Poe twists around in his seat. His back and his sides protest. A surge of panic overtakes him. He tries to open the cracked canopy—first by pushing the button, then by pushing against the hatch, then by wildly pounding his fists against it. It doesn’t budge.

“Okay,” Poe says, “okay.” He takes a breath. “Okay.”

He takes stock of the situation. He feels a little banged up, but he didn’t hit his head, nothing seems broken and he isn’t bleeding from anywhere. BB-8 is unresponsive, but not visibly damaged, as far as Poe can see—there’s no reason to assume he’s broken beyond repair. Black One is equipped with a tracking device that can be activated long range, even when the ship itself is down.

He can’t smell gas, or fire. The cockpit is filling with cold air, though, making the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck stand up. He’d spotted zero signs of civilization out there; he’s much more likely to die from exposure if he forces his way out of the relative shelter of the cockpit to look for cover than if he stays put and waits for a rescue team.

But then, it might take hours for anyone at the base to realize he’s been gone too long.

Still. Could’ve been worse. He could’ve crashed in the ocean. His ship could’ve exploded. He could’ve been impaled on a hydraulic line. There are countless ways he could have died. Instead, he’s going to be stuck in here for a couple of hours until they come for him.

It could’ve been a lot worse.

 

He’s very cold, and he has a lot of time to think. Neither of these are good things. The cold is a bad thing because—ridiculously enough—it makes him miss Rey and Finn, and the time to think is a bad thing because it means he can’t stop thinking about the fact that he shouldn’t be missing Rey and Finn.

He tries to ignore the thoughts, but they keep buzzing back to him like insects drawn in by the light. The longer he’s in here, and the more often the thoughts return to him, and the more forcefully he tries to swat them away, the clearer it becomes:

He needs to put a stop to this.

He should’ve put a stop to this a long time ago. He never should’ve gotten into this in the first place. He’s been weak. He’s been selfish. He couldn’t say no, and now he’s in too deep, and it’s only going to get worse.

He needs to put a stop to this.

 

The ship that comes for him is the Millennium Falcon.

By that time, he’s been shivering for so long that all his muscles are aching with it.

“My heroes,” he says when the canopy is broken open.

“Shut up,” Rey says, peering inside. “This isn’t funny.” Then, over her shoulder at Finn, as Poe mutters that he wasn’t trying to be funny: “His lips are blue.”

“No, that’s just the light,” Finn’s voice comes from somewhere. “It’s filtered weird, the atmosphere here—hey, is he all right? You all right, buddy?”

Poe nods.

“He’s fine,” Rey yells over her shoulder.

“How’s BB-8?” Poe asks. “You got eyes on him?”

“Finn’s getting him out,” Rey says. “He’ll be fine. We’ll fix him. Together.” She says it solemnly. It’s a promise, and Rey doesn’t make promises lightly.

“How about my ship?” Poe says. Rey is tugging at his flight vest with both hands, and he starts climbing up onto the seat. His body aches with every move he makes.

“Doesn’t look too bad. I’ll ask the General to send in a salvage team,” Rey says. “Retrieving you was our prime objective.”

“Heroes,” Poe says again.

“Shut up,” Rey says again, but she’s smiling.

 

 


 

 

Even after half an hour in the fresher, Poe’s toes still feel frozen.

His room is painfully quiet without BB-8 in it. His bed seems even emptier than usual, despite the number of blankets he’s heaped onto it. He’s not cold anymore but he’s still trembling anyway. He feels tired to the bone.

There’s a knock on the door.

His stomach sinks and his heart jumps. He feels momentarily paralyzed by the contradictory sensations. When he can breathe again, Rey and Finn are already tiptoeing into his room.

He needs to tell them. He’s been putting this off far too long.

“I can’t have sex with you,” Poe says from under his pile of blankets.

“That’s—” Rey stops in her tracks and frowns, glances at Finn.

“Not exactly the reason why we’re here, buddy,” Finn says, moving closer to the bed.

“You had hypothermia,” Rey says. She adds, after a beat, “Moron.”

Poe loves them so much he thinks his chest is going to burst with it.

“I can’t have sex with you anymore,” he says, forcing out the words, “because I’m in love with you.”

He’s been in love with them for so long now that it feels like a relief to finally say it.

Neither of them speak.

Maybe Poe should speak. Maybe he should apologize.

“Okay,” Rey says. She moves closer as well, perches on the edge of Poe’s bed. “So we’re talking about this.” She looks at Finn, who nods at her, then back at Poe. “In that case,” she says, in a slow and deliberate voice, “I can’t have sex with you anymore either.”

“Nor with me,” Finn says.

“Nor with Finn,” Rey adds. “And you and Finn wouldn’t be able to have sex anymore either. We’d all be doomed to live sad, sexless lives.”

“It’d be tragic,” Finn says.

Poe closes his eyes. He’s not sure if they’re saying what he thinks they are saying. He’s also not sure if he wants them to be saying what he thinks they are saying. He thinks they are, and he thinks he does, even though he shouldn’t, but.

His head hurts.

“Don’t,” he says. “I’m too tired for this.”

He almost says, Please.

There’s a small hand in his hair. The weight of another, bigger hand touching down on his ankle.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Finn asks quietly.

Poe keeps his eyes closed. It’s easier that way.

Because everyone can see the two of you are perfect for each other, he doesn’t say.

Because I’m over a decade older than you, he almost says.

“Because you invited me into your bed,” he says. He can feel his heart beating unsteadily in his throat. “Not into your relationship. I didn’t want to—”

Overstep. Be presumptuous. Hope against hope, against reason.

Rey breathes something that sounds a lot like, “Are you serious.”

“Okay,” Finn says. His hand squeezes Poe’s ankle through the layers of blankets. Poe cracks one eye open. Finn says, “We do really need to start working on you telling us what you want.”

Poe huffs out a tired laugh.

“I mean it, Poe Dameron,” Finn says.

“I know,” Poe says. And then, because he’s weak, and selfish, and because he knew right from the moment when Finn looked at him and asked him to show them what sex can be like that he wouldn’t be able to say no, wouldn’t be able to let them go, even though he knows he should, because they’re better off without him, whether or not they can see that for themselves, “I want you to sleep with me tonight.”

“You had hypothermia,” Rey says, “you moron.”

“Mild hypothermia,” Poe corrects her. “And I meant sleep as in sleep. Sleep here with me tonight.”

Rey says, “Oh.”

“And stop calling me a moron.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault you keep leaving key words out of sentences.”

“I had hypothermia,” Poe says. “My head hurts. Cut me some slack.”

“Mild hypothermia,” she corrects him, bending down to kiss his forehead.

Her lips are warm. He shivers.

“Cold?” she asks, and he’s about to shrug and shake his head when she moves to slip under the covers with him. Finn does, too; Poe can feel him settle against his back. He shivers again as they mold themselves around him from both sides.

“Would you like to be invited into our relationship?” Rey asks softly.

The word sticks in Poe’s throat like a shard of glass. It hurts, getting it out, but he can’t lie to them. By omission, sure, but not outright.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” Finn says against his ear, “because you are.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Guys—”

“If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say,” Rey says, “I’m going to call you a moron again.”

Fuck, he loves them so much.

“We’ll need to talk about this, though,” he says.

“Oh really? Now you wanna talk?” Finn says, but there’s no heat behind his words. “We’ll talk, all right. But for now, let’s sleep. Okay?” He kisses the curve of Poe’s shoulder. His thumb is rubbing back and forth above the waistband of Poe’s sleep pants, over the ridge of his hipbone.

Finn feels warm and comforting against his back. Rey has nestled herself against his chest, her hair brushing against the underside of his chin, her arm slung around him and Finn.

Poe closes his eyes. “Okay,” he says.

He falls asleep cocooned in their body heat, but not before touching his cold toes to their ankles to make them both shriek.