[ The truth is it had almost been exactly like this with Rey, except with her they'd been hovering on the precipice of exploring something new, of taking things to that next step of physical intimacy, and he'd felt the need then to say it, to make sure it was clear to her that he wasn't just doing it out of some kind of obligation or an attempt to fulfill her quota or even just to take care of her. To an extent, it was some of all of those things, but also amplified by the fact that he does love her and it was always going to mean more to him than a mere physical tangling to relieve certain urges.
And she'd given him the same in response — well, the same in her own way of saying it, which is really all he can hope for given that so much of this is still new to her, not just in terms of the sex but love too, as a concept, having a word to give to feelings that are maybe a little newer than his considering how much more time he's had to really think about it, how much more time he's had to think about both of them and realize that what he has in his heart is more than just platonic affection. ]
Soon, okay. [ He's chuckling softly, leaning in for more of those softer kisses — or preparing to, now that Poe's sort of half-pinned against the doorframe, and then he realizes the other man is looking at him with a different kind of fondness, a softness to the upward lilt of his mouth, reaching up to wipe a wayward smudge of oil or dirt or something off the edge of his face — and Finn turns his face into the touch, smiling helplessly, his own hands dropping to sweep underneath the hem of Poe's shirt a little, stroking that stripe of skin above the waistband of his pants. ]
I know. [ Which is more of a mutual understanding that he's never felt like this before too, not necessarily that he's been paying attention to Poe's love life before now; he just gets it, and he doesn't think he needs to put it into words for Poe to glean that there's so much about this that's new for him as well. His hand slips a little higher beneath Poe's shirt, palm and fingers splayed across the ridges of his abdomen as he leans in to kiss him again, slow and deep. ]
Whatever happens next, I don't — I don't need anything else. I don't even want anything else. Just you. Just her. Us, together.
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And she'd given him the same in response — well, the same in her own way of saying it, which is really all he can hope for given that so much of this is still new to her, not just in terms of the sex but love too, as a concept, having a word to give to feelings that are maybe a little newer than his considering how much more time he's had to really think about it, how much more time he's had to think about both of them and realize that what he has in his heart is more than just platonic affection. ]
Soon, okay. [ He's chuckling softly, leaning in for more of those softer kisses — or preparing to, now that Poe's sort of half-pinned against the doorframe, and then he realizes the other man is looking at him with a different kind of fondness, a softness to the upward lilt of his mouth, reaching up to wipe a wayward smudge of oil or dirt or something off the edge of his face — and Finn turns his face into the touch, smiling helplessly, his own hands dropping to sweep underneath the hem of Poe's shirt a little, stroking that stripe of skin above the waistband of his pants. ]
I know. [ Which is more of a mutual understanding that he's never felt like this before too, not necessarily that he's been paying attention to Poe's love life before now; he just gets it, and he doesn't think he needs to put it into words for Poe to glean that there's so much about this that's new for him as well. His hand slips a little higher beneath Poe's shirt, palm and fingers splayed across the ridges of his abdomen as he leans in to kiss him again, slow and deep. ]
Whatever happens next, I don't — I don't need anything else. I don't even want anything else. Just you. Just her. Us, together.