They’d had the conversation many times, and Poe had never been able to explain why it wasn’t the same.

How could it have been? Finn has loved him, and then he didn’t. Even right at his side, he never stopped longing for what they’d lost. What he assumed he’d never get back.

But now Finn was kissing him with a real, deep hunger, and Poe moaned against him as Finn ground their hips together. He’d been so careful, so extremely careful, not to think about Finn like this, but now his mind was racing with every touch and kiss and hint of teeth—

“Finn,” he breathed in a moan as he rolled his hips to meet him, all restraint utterly lost. He’d barely had any at all, in the first place. He ducked his head, mouthing at Finn’s throat, teeth catching at skin. “Finn—“