Finn is used to having his mind prodded these days. They shipped him over to Coruscant to give him final medical sign off, and there were all these forms for him to sign, that the smiling researcher in charge of his debrief took him through with utmost patience.
“They don’t mean we don’t trust you” xe said, xir mandibles bending towards him at a conspiratorial angle. “It’s actually a sign that we do, we think you’re trustworthy. I want to write up how we debriefed you for publication, so when others come to us from the Stormtrooper corps, we can be best prepared to help them.”
So with the flourish of a pen and the click of a camera, Finn becomes a full fledged citizen of the New Republic, complete with identity card that proclaims his legal name to be Finn, just Finn, no numbers at all, a bank account that holds his backdated pay since he defected, a medical card, a weapons licence and a set of forms to join the Republic military, handed to him by a very hopeful looking recruiter.
“We could use someone with your charisma” the recruiter said. “Ever since we lost Dameron, well, let’s just say we won’t see those recruitment numbers again. I think you could be a good thing for us.”
Finn nods, as the recruiter continues. “I mean, we were always tasteful, but there’s just something about the way he photographs, its recruitment magic. Look -” he digs around his desk before unearthing a dogeared half-page poster.
It’s definitely Poe, although ten years younger. He’s wearing the fighter pilot dress uniform, saluting someone just off camera. There’s a look in his eyes that...the recruiter is right. Finn wants to help this man achieve his goals however possible. It’s inspiring, stirring something within Finn he can’t quite put a name to.
“Do you mind if I take this?” Finn says, fingering the worn edges idly.
The recruiter laughs, “Yeah, they all say that. Normally I say no, those are rare as hell these days, but I’ll let you have it if you promise to consider joining up, okay?”
“Okay” Finn agrees. He’s not ready to join another military force just yet. General Organa said he can hang around as long as he likes, that he will be at the heart of the war effort if he wants to be. She’s been very nice to him, very understanding.
He walks out in the balmy night. Coruscant is unlike anywhere he’s ever been before, so many people enjoying the warmth and the way the neon lights glimmer on the artificial lake outside the government buildings. He feels that tug deep in his gut, that urge to run away. He’s got his documents now, there are a thousand systems he can move to with impunity, where he can work and have the kind of life he never dared to dream about, the kind he could never even comprehend just six weeks ago.
Instead, he thinks about the folded piece of paper in his breast pocket, and heads back to the transport.
The heating up of the war between the Order and the Republic has made life on the Resistance base a lot easier. The Republic now supplies them with most-everything they need, but they’re still chronically understaffed, even if they now eat a lot better. Finn has his own room waiting for him when he gets back from getting citizenship. It’s small, but it’s got its own fresher and a double bed and a lock on the door. The first thing he does is hang up his clothes in the small wardrobe, but the second thing he does is tack the recruitment poster up on the inside of the door.
Finn jumps into life on base with enthusiasm. The higher-ups are keen to capitalise on his fame, but he wants to get involved at the ground level, doesn’t want to go on the speaking tour of areas close to Order space, within radio-reach of the training worlds.
He lets them take his picture, and they give him a copy of the propaganda they produce.
It’s a portrait, and although the quality is slightly dodgy, its undoubtedly his face. He looks angry and defiant, like he’s coming to get them, and they’d better surrender before big bad Finn the ex Stormtrooper comes for them. There’s even a skull superimposed on his face, for extra emphasis. It’s disappointing, in that Finn had hoped they’d go with something more realistic, showing how happy he is on the other side. That maybe he could represent peace and optimism, rather than threat.
He puts it in the wardrobe, next to Poe’s picture, all the same. It’s nice for it to have a friend.
Speaking of friends, Finn is astounded by how quickly he is absorbed into the social life of the base. That’s an understatement. The only thing stopping Finn from being friends with everyone on base is that he has to work and sleep. He tries to spend as much time with Poe as he can, lunches, evenings alone in Poe’s quarters, all the good things. He’s so easy to be around. They can talk for hours and not even notice them.
Finn might have a crush. No, he’s a grown man. He doesn’t have a crush. He knows he wants Poe. He thinks there’s a good chance it might happen, but he knows it’s not something that can be rushed.
He gets a message out of the blue from that original recruiter, asking for his address. Finn sends it, assuming that he’s sending updated recruitment forms or something. Instead, what comes is a new set of recruitment posters. There’s his one, in much better quality than the one that was produced as a proof on base. He looks less menacing, at least. The skull turns out to actually be an abstract stormtrooper helmet, and there’s a beautiful nebula reflected in his eyes and across the backdrop. It’s still menacing, he still looks far too serious, but it’s better.
There’s one of General Organa directing troops, one cheesy one of the whole starfighter corps lined up in formation, and one even for recruiting droids to the cause.
The last one is of Poe, and when Finn sees it he can’t help but gasp, because sweet mercy the recruiter was right, the man photographs magically.
It’s a full body picture, three times as big as the ones of the rest of the resistance. Poe and BB-8 stand next to a beaten up Black One. There’s a wind, somehow, blowing his hair dramatically away from the camera into a perfect curl like a cresting wave, and as a final touch, an artist’s impression of the Starkiller is exploding in the background, instead of the sun. The foreground says ‘Poe Dameron WAS an ordinary man but NOW he is a HERO. Be a hero - join the Resistance TODAY’.
It takes Finn’s breath away. The detail is really great. Those printers are worth every credit.
Finn sends a reply to the recruiter to thank him, and hangs the new posters up inside his wardrobe. While he’s admiring them, his holopad - a new acquisition, one he’s still getting used to - chirps at him that he is late for his evening appointment. Finn curses, throws his shoes on and the holopad in his bag, and runs out.
He comes back late and moderately tipsy. It's a nice feeling, the world soft and all tension gone from his muscles. There’s a nice breeze coming in through the window, and so he starts to strip off, the feel of fresh, non-recycled air still novel and enticing. When he turns round to start putting away his clothes, he realises that the door to his wardrobe is still open and the new poster of Poe is staring right at him. It makes him feel warm, warm and aroused and maybe the booze was far stronger than he thought but he undresses right down to nothing, until his clothes are a pool on the floor, and touches himself the way he hasn’t since the barracks, too turned on to do anything but pull his cock hard, thumb riding the ridge, biting his lip until he comes all over his fist in record time, staring at Poe’s face.
It happens without fanfare or mistake, not by chance but by probability. Poe doesn't see the posters, they don't have an embarrassing run in that causes them to declare their love for each other. It is refreshing in its banality, its inevitability.
Poe invites him round, and the moment Finn steps through the door he can taste the difference in the air, the way things have already changed. Poe hands him a drink, makes small talk, but it's getting late and so they settle down to watch a holo.
They barely get through the opening credits.
Finn looks at Poe, and Poe is already looking at him, his eyes trained on where Finn’s lips are wet from his drink. He’s breathing shallowly, eyes half closed. They are close, and the room is warm. The holofilm has a soft soundtrack, people murmuring in a language Finn doesn’t know. There’s no distractions from this, and so he does it. He leans in to catch Poe’s mouth with his own, but Poe is already there and the kiss is half done before they even start, open mouthed and wet and clumsy and passionate from that first second.
Finn pushes Poe down, gets his hands on him. Poe is casually dressed, so it’s easy for Finn to pull the neckline of his shirt down so he can get hands on warm skin, touch a nipple, feel him up. He’s overwhelmed with the need to see the parts of Poe he’s never be able to before, the parts that aren’t sold as propaganda, that aren’t for public consumption.
Poe is gasping like he can’t get enough air and they haven’t even got undressed. The kiss is endless, messy, badly placed. Finn takes that kiss down the whole of his body, pushing his shirt up to get at his chest, his belly, each rib revealed by gravity, the cut of his pelvis rising up and then down. His chest is pressed against Poe’s rock hard erection as he kisses the skin between his hipbones, writes his name on it with his tongue, does all the crazy things he wanted to do in his most midnight of fantasies.
Poe’s begging, and his hands are trying to get underneath Finn’s body so he can open his fly, and Finn takes pity on him, lets him get his dick out, and takes that moment to watch his face, his closed eyes fluttering with pleasure, his swollen, red mouth, the flush that stretches down his cheeks and chest to the rosy head of his cock. It is a beautiful sight, and Finn wants to get a camera, get a video droid, take this picture and commit it to memory forever.
Instead, he just remembers the old fashioned way, swallows Poe’s dick down over and over and over, feels the way it inhabits the inside of his mouth, how he doesn't even need to think to keep his teeth away, it just happens, like he was made for this, or as if he'd done it a thousand times already. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the textures, the smells, the way that Poe’s dick helplessly leaks precum into his mouth, that soapy taste, the way his balls feel, high and tight in his hand, the crinkle of his pubic hair and the softness of the skin underneath. He hears the way his throat catches, how he pushes down and groans, how Poe babbles his name over and over and grabs his shoulders and squeezes hard as warning, but not enough warning before he comes extravagantly into Finn's mouth. The way it is just so much, so much volume, how it feels as it drips down his chin, the split second when he thinks he won’t be able to swallow, there’s so much, it tastes disgusting, but that he does and then Poe is all over him, kissing the spunk and spit from around his mouth, chasing that taste, groaning all the while guttural and monosyllabic, Finn, Finn, Finn, so overwhelmed by it all.
Finn sits back on his heels, and breathes deep, holds onto all of it in his mind until it is printed indelibly upon his grey cells.
He comes out of it when Poe touches his knee, as if afraid. “What’s wrong, Finn? You okay?”
“Just committing to memory, that’s all.” Finn replies.
Poe smiles. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Not the way I remember it,” Finn says, nonsensically, and pushes him back down into the bed. His dick pulses with need, and then Poe’s hand is there, and he’s whispering in Finn’s ear filth, just filth, ‘I want you to record us, I want to watch us, we are so hot together, I can’t wait until you get your dick in me and you see the way I go wild for it-’ and Finn comes, utterly undone.
They manage to watch the end of the film. Poe’s seen it before, it’s a classic from back home, and he tries to fill in the gaps between kisses and slow, methodical clean up under Finn’s tongue.
When they burrow down to sleep, Poe whispers “I meant it. Let’s film this next time”.
When Finn wakes up, he grabs his holopad, and Poe opens his eyes the moment he hears the little ‘unplugged from power’ jingle and they throw themselves into it as if they had never slept. Finn gets Poe to hold the camera up to his face while Finn repeats his pattern of worship from the night before, then jerks him off almost to the edge before bending down and sucking just the head, hard. Finn watches it later, the jittery angles and the bad framing barely matter because that’s his mouth wrapped tight round Poe’s cock at the edge of the frame, and Poe gasping so Finn doesn’t miss a single moment of his pleasure. Then there’s the way Poe lets go, how he looks so shocked when he comes, like he never realised it would be like this, and over his life Finn probably comes to that image hundreds and hundreds of times.
They set the holopad up, propped against the wall, and Finn can barely look later, can’t watch the sheer enthusiasm he puts into eating Poe’s ass, how those grunts are as much his as Poe’s, just how unashamedly into it he is. He grabs it and puts it back in Poe’s hands to capture that first moment Finn slides inside, and oh, he really hopes he never loses this ‘pad, because this is the kind of hot that could burn down planets all by itself, but that doesn’t stop him keeping them, all of them, through the years hundreds and hundreds of shots and clips of them fucking and sucking and making an event of it, triple encrypted so no one else sees that side of Poe but him, and him of Poe.