Finn's muffled moan might as well have been a purr while Poe lavished attention on his neck. His hips found Poe's rhythm - what he could gather of it like this - and tried to rock into him. But his fingers were getting more curious, one moving shallowly inside.

Every touch was trying to be slow and gentle, hardly a ghost of a feeling with the hand rubbing against Poe's ribs. They were both worn out, and Finn didn't want to hurt him. Even if they were both incorrigible. He was hard again after all. Maybe not as much as he could be but enough to give Poe what he wanted. But Finn made no moves to get started. He was enjoying going slow too much.

"You feel so good," he couldn't help but say in a low, hoarse voice. "So tight and warm, Poe. You feel so good."