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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

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Move Over

Poe Dameron X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: You let Poe share your bed when he's too drunk to go back to his own room. He, however, can't seem to stop himself from taking up all the space humanly possible.

A/N: A little something for @campingwiththecharmings, I hope you're feeling better 💚

Warnings: sharing a bed, Feelings TM, fingering, oral (f receiving), sleepy sex, p in v sex, typos, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1980

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You shift in your small bed, trying to find a position that is vaguely comfortable. Though it seems more likely that the First Order will just give up and surrender tomorrow, with the way Poe is taking up all the space possible.

You shove him a little and grumble, too tired to be polite about it. It wasn’t even his bed anyway, or his room. And it was his own fault for getting so drunk on cheap Rorian rum.

One of the most exciting things about The Resistance using this moon as a new base was the preexisting structures that included personal rooms. Even though they were small, and you didn’t really mind sharing with others, it was nice to have your own space. Was nice.

Emphasis on the was.

Poe had basically collapsed in your room, far too out of it to make it back to his own after the celebration night at the cantina. You had kindly given up half of your tiny bed, the act of altruism aided by your soft spot for the pilot. (More than a soft spot if you were being honest.)

But that was hours ago, when you were more awake and the unspoken deal had been for half of your space. Not the current 95% Poe was laying all over.

You shove him again, wriggling quickly to take up the free area you managed to push him out of so you could lay comfortably.

Poe let’s out a soft moan of confusion, but doesn’t open his eyes.

You settle, satisfied with your well earned extra room. But it’s less than a minute before he’s shifting closer again, trying to encroach on your side.

That’s it.

“Poe.” You say harshly, pushing back on him.

You expect him to wake up groggily, or at least turn over onto his other side facing away from you.

Instead he mumbles something intelligible and flops his arm over your stomach and snuggles close. He presses his face to your neck, his soft breath hitting your skin.

Heat rises to your face. This definitely wasn’t what you’d intended.

“Poe.” You whisper, your previous annoyance burned up with embarrassment. You try to push on his arm, move it back over. But your movements only cause him to grumble and hold you tighter, curling his body into yours.

You breathe in deeply. At least you had some space, right?

Eventually you drift off to sleep again. And even though you didn’t want to admit it, there was something comforting about Poe’s warmth and tight hug.

But of course his close proximity made you dream of him.

It was hazy, and not quite tangible. Part of you was vaguely aware that you were dreaming, the edges were too soft, too liquid and not quite in focus.

Except it felt real.

There was an ache between your legs that was being teased by a constant pressure. You squirmed against it, trying to find some semblance of relief.

A faint sigh pulled you further from sleep. A quiet muffled whisper of your name murmured into your neck sent a sharp thrill of sensation down your spine.

“Poe?” Your voice was heavy, saturated with sleep as you shifted slightly, moving and- oh.

He moans softly against your skin as your hip brushes against his hard cock, his fingers digging into your ribs as he holds you close, silently begging you to repeat the motion.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled, obviously just fully waking himself. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to,” this time he shifts slightly, raising his legs and you gasp, unable to stop the sound from spilling out of your mouth. His thigh rubs against your centre, pressing your soaked through pyjama bottoms against you.

You grip hold of his shoulder, your other hand fisting the curls at the nape of his neck as you pull him against you, needing him closer.

His breath hitches. “Is that good?” He murmured, pressing his thigh against you again and rocking it back and forward slightly.

You bite your lip and nod desperately, your eyes screwed shut.

He watches you, enraptured for a second, before he slowly leans back to your neck and places a light kiss against your skin.

You whine at the caress, rubbing your aching clit back and forth against the strong muscle of his thigh.

Poe briefly mistakes the small sound as distress, all his senses on high alert. “I can stop, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, your voice breaking, sounding needy and pathetic and so, so wrecked. “Feels good, please, Poe, please, I-” you moan loudly, giving up any pretence of trying to hide your feelings as he latches back onto your neck, sucking hard, and grabs hold of your hips, fucking you against his leg.

“Poe,” you whine, dragging out his name. Not sure for a moment if this is real or if you’re still dreaming.

“Fuck baby, yes,” he growls, biting at your skin before licking a stripe up your neck. “Keep moaning my name like that, keep doing it.”

He kissed you sloppily, biting at your bottom lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth, as he moved. Before climbing on top of you and hooking his hands under your knees so that he could move your legs apart and settle between him.

He moaned as he pressed his cock against your clothed heat, echoing your cry of pleasure.

“Poe,” you whimpered between kisses, so desperate for every touch and caress.

“Wanted you for so long,” he kissed you hard, trailing his lips down your jaw and neck while he ran his hands over your breasts and waist. “Always imagined what you’d sound like, feel like, taste like.”

He kisses down your chest, biting softly at your breast through the material of your top and moaning when you gasp and buck up against him.

“Always want you to make that noise,” he groans as he keeps trailing his lips downwards, dragging his fingertips lower until he can slip them under the waistband of your trousers.

You yelp in surprise as he pulls them off in one fluid motion, partially lifting you off the mattress in the process. The cool night air hits your feverish skin, but you barely have a moment to shiver before he’s pulling your legs back open. His fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises in his hast, not that you care.

When his tongue touches your clit it feels like heaven. You gasp and moan loudly, crying out his name as he sucks. His own groan of pleasure vibrating through you.

He presses his left forearm against the inside of your thigh, spreading his hand out across your stomach and pinning you down as he devours you.

Instinctively you grind up against him as your claw at the bedsheets. He sucks at your nub, alternating between kitten licks and rolling circles, driving you completely mad as he purposefully ignores your aching centre. Poe growls low in his throat happily as you moan and writhe under him.

“Poe, please!” You never imagined it would be like this, never dared to hope that he would want to touch you like this, and now he had pushed all rational thinking completely out of your mind, filled you utterly to the brim with only thoughts of him.

He moans again, bucking against the mattress to give himself some slight relief. “You’re so wet,” he runs his nose through your folds, following it with broad licks of his tongue. He teases your entrance, just slipping inside for a smallest moment, and chuckling when you whine and try to thrust up against him.

“How long have you been this wet, hmm?” He nips at your thigh, bringing his right hand up to trace the outline of your pussy while he keeps you pressed against the bed with his left.

“You been walking around the base just desperate for me? Just needing me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, your skin burning with embarrassment as you admitted it.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, the dark seductive tone faltering at your confession. He buried his face into your thigh, sucking a love bite into your skin.

Poe presses two fingers into you easily, slowly sliding them in and out and moaning as he feels your walls contract around him.

Your back arches, toes curling as he gently readjusts the angle, searching for the spot to make you see stars.

“Poe,” you breathe, so overcome with the sensation of his thick fingers.

He reaches up with his left hand and grabs yours, squeezing tightly. “That’s it baby, that’s it, fuck,” he bites his lip, watching your face intently.

The ache in his dick is maddening, all consuming, he’s so hard he’s sure he could cum just from watching you.

“Always need you,” he mutters, unable to stop himself as he continues to fuck you deep with his fingers. “Always so desperate for you, just want you all the time, I-” He stops himself, stumbling over the words he wants to say, that every fibre of his being demands he says.

He can’t speak those words, can’t admit them when every day is just another chance for the universe to tear you apart.

“Poe,” you grab hold of him, pulling his lips to yours and kissing him deeply before you yank off your top and tug at his trousers. “I need you too.”

He groans and kisses you back, almost completely swallowing your words. But thankfully he gets the message and helps you to tug down his trousers to his knees before he leans forward and thrusts into you.

You both cry out, moaning loud enough to wake the whole base, still just for a moment to truly feel each other before Poe starts to move.

He rocks his hips against you, thrusting in and out with long lazy strokes as he bites his lip hard enough to bleed. His features pinched together in deep concentration as he tries so hard not to cum.

“I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna last long,” he moans as you clench around him, at how tightly you grip him and how your muscles tense as you arch up to meet his every movement.

“Me neither.” You pant, every nerve feels like it’s on fire, ignited by every touch.

He presses his forefinger against your clit, rubbing soft circles around the nerve and gasping when you twitch and clamp down on him.

“Poe,” you barely get the word out, pleasure twisting in your stomach and chest and drowning your lungs.

The slow rock is driving you insane, a gentle push and pull, give and take. It would be so much easier, so much simpler if it was hard and fast and meaningless and wasn’t… wasn’t…

“Baby,” he gasps, so close and needing more, needing you to overwhelm him, to-

You cry out as you cum, throwing your head back and squeezing him hard. He sobs as he follows, thrusting once more and stays deep as he cums inside.

The sound of both of your breathing fills the room as your heartbeats return to normal.

There’s the smallest fraction of a second where insecurity raises its ugly head, starts to whisper in your ear.

But it’s almost as if Poe can hear it too. He pushes himself up to look into your eyes before kissing you softly and holding you tight.

You chuckle as he nuzzles your cheek.

“I’ve still got my shirt on.” He mutters and you laugh.

He grins and snuggles into your neck for a moment before he fumbles with the blanket, mostly managing to pull it over you both. “I’ll clean us up in a second, I just wanna…�� He yawns and you smile.

“Me too.” You kiss his cheek and hug him close. He sighs happily and holds you tight.

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Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @thefamilybloodstone

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#poe dameron #star wars sequels #poe dameron x reader #x reader #poe dameron x you #x you #poe dameron x female reader #x female reader #poe dameron x f!reader #x f!reader #poe dameron x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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osaevsky · 3 months

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⠀ like you're god ! ⠀⠀⚝ drabbles on how some characters from bungo stray dogs would fuck you or let you fuck them. included: dazai osamu, edogawa ranpo, chuuya nakahara, ryunosuke akutagawa, gin akutawaga, edgar allan poe, nikolai gogol.⠀; ♡

🥮⠀⠀·⠀⠀⚝⠀⠀⠀; word count: 2.6k + warnings: not proof read. porn without plot, afab reader, slight praise & degradation, dacryphilia, size kink, dubcon in nikolai's, very mild dirty talk, thigh riding in dazai's, use pet names, public sex + fingering, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, begging, coming inside, smoking, oral (m. recieving) + throat fucking, cockwarming.

🥮⠀⠀·⠀⠀⚝⠀⠀⠀; author's note: literally did this just to get some stuff i wrote a long time ago out and write pure filth for my favorite characters. if i forgot any warning pls let me know !!

as lazy as he can be, ranpo makes sure every need is met and that you both cum. the days he’s the one taking the lead, his movements are slow, dragging every inch out and pushing it back inside with a proud look on his face, as it makes him feel accomplished to see you fucked stupid and stuffed with his cock.

but now he is indifferent, not even bothering to wait to get to the bedroom, or caring to remove all clothing off before you get to fuck. there’s something about seeing you so eager to make the first move, he would not be the one to let you down on it. why if he can get to lay back and just enjoy it?

one of his hands wraps around your throat, careful to not push his fingers too much into your flesh as to not choke you. there is a half smile playing on his lips, his back against the surface of the couch as his other arm rests right behind his head to have some support. ranpo was being nice, letting you have your way with him like this, looking so pretty and full.

green eyes, now wide open as he tilts his head, looking at you while you fuck yourself on his cock, his hand trailing down from your throat towards one of your breasts to carefully pinch one of your nipples over the fabric of your shirt, as they pebble up below. that alone elicits a moan from you, your eyes trying to close as your walls clamp down around his length.

‘’you'll cum again? is that easy to make you fall apart with just my dick? you’re such a slut.’’ ranpo asks, his eyes widening a bit as you nod, so impatient that he has to avoid a low chuckle from coming out. his arm finally moves from under his head to get it placed on one of your thighs, keeping up with your movements. ‘’look at me, yeah? don’t close your eyes, i want to see how well you’re taking it. just for me, ‘kay?’’’

by that time, he can tell from how slowly you’re moving now that it’s making your body ache. his hips move up just as lazily as yours, trying to search for your body, a harsh slap of skin against skin making your walls flutter around his cock as you cum. ‘’there you go… that’s it, sweetheart.’’

ranpo spills inside you with a final thrust of his own, his arms wrapping themselves around you to bring you down towards his chest as you both pant, trying to catch your breath while his lips place a kiss atop of your head. ‘’hm… want me to fuck you now, hm? Gonna make it it up for you after working so hard, yes?’’

definitely experienced but he is laid back. he enjoys the show sometimes, instead of doing the work for you. It’s not out of laziness like ranpo, dazai just finds it more entertaining to see you get off on his thigh without any help. Your little complaints get him hard, what can he do about it?

his hand rests on the small of your back, your clothed cunt dragging along the expanse of his thigh while he pays no attention to your pout, his eyes now following your movements as he can already tell -and feel- how damp the fabric has got.

as you stop your movements to catch a breath, a small tremble on your thighs while you’re straddling his own, he makes the hand at your back push against your body, urging you forward to keep you moving, wanting you to keep going till you actually cum.

dazai’s gaze moves from between your legs to your face, chuckling at the sight of your pout, and his eyebrows arch as you sigh. You are sure looking like a dumb brat to him, as he only seems to find your grim amusing. ‘’can’t expect me to do all the work now, can you? Is that what you want?’’

the peck he leaves on your lips is enough to shush you before you can complain again. even if you want to say how hard it actually is, he already knows.

dazai’s hand moves towards your hips, his index finger playing with the band of your underwear, making the elastic snap against your skin after he lets it go and you hiss at the pain. ‘’keep them on, you’re not getting off without them.’’

thought he didn’t have a preference for giving or receiving till he found out how beautiful you looked between his thighs while he took a break to smoke one of his cigarettes. chuuya is surprised, to say the least, as he shuffles with a packet between his hands before he finds one, picking it up and looking around for his lighter, before the touch from your hands on his thighs takes his attention back to you.

one thing he can’t avoid is having at least one hand tangled between your locks, or petting your head lovingly as you bob your head up and down. Even if one is occupied -as it is now, picking up the cigarette from between his lips to blow off some smoke- he has to find a way to touch you, to feel you besides the warmth from your mouth, the spit getting almost everywhere now as it looks like you can fit it all from one go.

‘’relax a bit more, baby, ‘s not that hard. you’re the one who started this, don’t be mean now. Relax your throat- like that, yeah. that’s good, dollface.’’

all of that talk as he pushes your head a bit more each time. That's how he does it till your nose brushes against his abdomen and you’re gagging. He thinks you’re a pretty thing, he feels pity for ruining you, but getting your mouth full and hearing your whines muffled around his cock- he can’t get enough of it.

follows a more simple way of showing he loves you after having any sexual encounter by staying inside, even after finishing. or even if you’re both just keeping it to cuddling: the moment akutagawa feels your hips brushing against his body, pushing back, or he gets to hold you close, being able to wrap his arms around your waist, and nuzzle his nose into your neck, he gets hard. He is sorry, but it’s just prone to happening -too many times.-

akutagawa slides one of his hands down your shirt, his fingers tracing every knob on your spine before it settles on your hip, already grasping your underwear and pushing it down, lower and lower. Once it reaches your ankles, you’re the one to finish the job, kicking it with a swift movement.

his lips find your shoulder, leaving some short kisses as he goes right below your ear, whispering a -fuck, thank you- or -can’t get enough of you when you’re like this- when his arm wraps around your waist to pull you back against his chest like before.

akutagawa’s cock is already settled at your entrance, pushing the head slowly inside, feeding into your little hisses and whines when he finally bottoms out. ‘’Does it hurt?’’ He mutters, the tinge of insecurity is clear as he uses one of his hands to grip your chin, turning your head to make you look at him.

he soothes any pain that might be left with a soft kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek and caressing the skin with his thumb tenderly. The insecurity from before is no longer there as his eyes catch a glimpse of a smile tugging at your lips, reassuring him that you feel good, that he’s making you feel good, and that’s the only thing that he needs.

so scared of ever getting caught but she can be greedy, wanting to get fucked by you in any place that you want it to happen. it’s the mere thought of someone walking in while you’re between her legs, knuckles deep inside her cunt, that makes gin's face hit up. but it’s undeniable how her body feels about it, as she feels her own arousal threatening to stain the skin on her inner thighs.

‘’please, just let me cum, just-’’ Your lips wrap around her clit, the bundle of nerves already sensitive and swollen from making her come undone on your tongue for a few times now. her hands are knuckle-white, gripping the wall behind her with so much strength it makes you hum against her, the vibrations going straight into her.

you look up at her through your eyelashes, sucking on the bud slowly, too slowly that it turns out painful. A cry comes out of Gin’s lips, which you’re quick to soothe with a few kisses plastered over her thighs and inner thighs, making her bite her lower lip to let some broken sobs die down her throat.

‘’you think you can cum again? you’re too sensitive.’’ your tone is full of mockery, seeing the desperation in her face and hands, as she moves one of them from the wall to the nape of your neck, trying to pull you back to her cunt.

you lick a broad strip over her folds, finishing right under her clit. It feels like torture for her as you ignore what Gin needs most right now, noticing how you’re dragging it out for her and not letting her finish.

‘’should I leave you here and let people see how I used you? Let someone see your swollen cunt and hearing your stupid sobs, precious?’’ Gin shakes her head, her chest heaving as her breathing remains irregular. There’s the softest look of a quiet plea behind her blown out pupils, as her lip trembles trying to stifle a new cry.

‘’give me one more.’’ two of your fingers are pushing past her folds, stuffing her up with them and curling them upwards, touching that rough patch over and over again till Gin can’t keep up anymore, your free arm having to hold her by the waist as best as you can while she gushes around your fingers, muttering a few ‘’stop, i can’t.’’ Behind the wall of tears that are formed on her eyes, she can see the shadow of a prideful smile on your lips at that whole sight.

the most desperate one. his desperation is out of a lack of experience. he is not a virgin by anymeans but he hasn’t fucked as many people as other men, and it plays out… differently, on his side. poe is too eager to learn how to please you specifically, after he kisses and marks you all nicely, he doesn’t wait much to get inside. the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock makes him dizzy and already begging for more.

the way he ruts his hips into yours so fervently, a thin layer of sweat keeps his hair stuck to his forehead is all too surprising. To finally see Poe lose himself just at the fact that he was trying to fuck you sensless is surpsing.

you catch a few words slipping past his lips as he dips his head down, a sound so unintelligible that if he hadn’t whispered close to your ear, it wouldn’t have made any sense. ‘’Please, please, that’s so.... gods, you’re so tight.’’ Your legs move to his waist, his hips no longer keeping up as you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

‘’let me come in you, please. I want to fill you up, I need to-’’ He quiets down for a split second, his arms trembling besides your head as the only support he has to keep himself up and not crush you down with his weight. ‘’Please, please… Let me fill you up, i’m too close-’’

there’s only a nod coming from you, your legs tightening around his body to ensure he knows you’re giving him the go. He fills you up to the brim as his orgasm makes him shake even more than before, some of his load being so much that it starts to slip out around his cock and goes down to your body. He is already feeling embarrassed, a wave of guilt washing over him as what he said comes back to mind. ‘’Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- no, fuck, didn’t wanna say that-’’

a chuckle of yours makes his guilt slightly wash off, noticing how you’re not trying to blame him or making him pull away, even after spilling inside you or slowly starting to feel his length soften inside of your body. ‘’It’s okay, really… begging does look good on you after all.’’

would swear he does it just to tease you, getting to be unfair with you for a little while, hold back your orgasms and hear your begging… but in reality, nikolai justs enjoys seeing you teary-eyed, looking up at him from below as he pounds into you, stretching you out while you babble nonsense and your hands push at his abdomen, trying to get him to go softer on you.

‘’what’s that?’’ He mutters, his hips sharply pushing against yours with all of his might, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in a way that makes your eyes get glossy, while your lips part to let out a whine. ‘’Thought so. There’s no need to complain.’’

‘’Kolya, Kolya, too much-’’ He tuts upon hearing that. The sight of your cunt swallowing his cock is too amusing to not keep going, and hearing your little whines only fuels him to click his tongue in disapproval.

His lips crash onto yours, so suddenly that the air in your lungs transforms into a moan, going straight into his mouth. His fingers get a grip on your hair, as it doesn’t last much, when he uses the same fingers to tug your head back and look at you, a glint of disappointment in his good eye.

‘’you know you can take it, have some trust in yourself.’’ Another sharp thrust, the head of his cock bullying your cervix once more, while some tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes. He kisses your cheek so tenderly that it’s vile, even for him. ‘’You’ll let me fill you up, pretty? You always look so good with your little cunt filled with my cum.’’

Nikolai’s words are even more filthy than what he is doing to you, his own hands now taking care to push your thighs up to your chest, keeping you pressed with the weight of his body as his cock continues to ram inside of you.

A faint crimson color appears on your cheeks, a stupid hiccup leaving your throat after all your sobs had come out already. ‘’Nikolai-’’ You call out his name, wanting to warn him that you’re close, too close, actually. but he knows, just from the way your walls are tightening, that it’s difficult even for him to push back. It doesn’t take long before you let go, your body trembling while he doesn’t stop his thrusts as you ride your high.

‘’we’re not done here, I still need to fill you up.’’

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd drabbles #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x fem! reader #bsd x female reader #bsd x fem! reader #bungou stray dogs smut #gin akutagawa #akutagawa bsd #nikolai bsd #chuuya bsd #ranpo bsd #dazai bsd #edgar allan poe bsd #bsd edgar allan poe

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orangewsunglasses · 4 months

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doodles because i got bored of hearing metaphors explained repeatedly also traditional art scares me

#bsd #fem poe #doodles #fem fyodor

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basiljelly · 11 months

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Fem Ranpoe ❤︎︎

#ranpoe #bsd #bsd fanart #bungou stray dogs #ranpo edogawa #edgar allen poe bsd #bsd poe #ranpo #fem ranpoe #fem ranpo #fem poe #lesbian #wlw #fanart #art #pride #ranpoe fanart

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sinisterexaggerator · 4 months

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Got it Bad

Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a medic aboard the Anodyne, a Resistance frigate frequented by one Poe Dameron. He often comes to see you when he is injured; you assume this time to be no different, as he is reckless in the line of duty and could do with your healing touch. But you have underestimated him; he has to show you something. Will you entertain his request?

Warnings: Explicit / NSFW 18+ for: Heavy petting, cunnilingus, PiV sex, kissing, blood and injury, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, medical scenarios, and mention of death in wartime. Contains: fluff, a liiittle bit of angst, smut, humor, and “love” confessions.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe Dameron! Dedicated to @allsystemsblue, because she was the one who told me to! Poe is all over the place in this, but always about consent!

Word Count: 8.1K

Divider and banner by me.

“How many times has it been, then?”

Doe brown eyes blinked once, twice, spidery lashes that may as well have been made of gossamer, or silk, gracing tawny skin with a kiss. Poe Dameron stared blankly at you as you dressed his wound, this being one of the numerous occasions that you were tasked to do so.

You were one of the many medics aboard this particular Resistance vessel that patrolled the Outer Rim. Stationed not too far from D’Qar and the principal base of General Organa herself, this reckless, daredevil pilot had a tendency to bless you with his presence after what you would call less than routine missions.

Not desiring to arrive to his superior a bloodied mess more than necessary, Poe frequently docked his T-70 star fighter in your frigate’s docking bay for safekeeping, allowing his droid companion free rein of the halls. Moments earlier, BB-8 had been offered a recharging station, Dameron left in your expert care as his ball droid rolled off and out of sight, following closely behind a member of the maintenance crew. The conversation between the two had been amusing to witness.

“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll be right here waiting for you. Maybe. Possibly.”

BB had issued a series of complaints and reprimands in Droidspeak, causing the pilot to wince as if being scolded by his mother, or the general herself.

“All right, fine! I’ll come and find you then. No sweat.”

Satisfied, the orange and white orb had swirled on its axis, wheeling fluidly across a duralloy floor, leaving its master alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Though Dameron did not seem to care, remaining somewhat unbothered by the gash across his forehead from where a piece of shrapnel had sent Black One into a spin. Before he could regain control, Poe’s head had crashed into the yolk of his X-wing, leaving a two-inch rent in his flesh.

No, he had not been wearing his helmet.

Despite his foolhardy nature, you thought it curious. With such a varied assortment of medical personnel living and working on the Anodyne - a modified Nebulon-C escort employed by the Resistance for the express purpose of being a mobile hospital - it was a wonder of yours why Poe always chose to search you out.

Not considering yourself to be anything in the way of special, at least the skills you possessed were adequate to put him on the mend. But, somehow, this visit seemed different, even if sticky crimson coated his handsome features.

You had come to notice that Poe was spending less time talking and more time staring, a thing you were not accustomed to as his gaze was unrelenting, the commander scrutinizing every facet of your appearance. He had seemed to limit himself to the surface area of your face, wandering, probing, exploring the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, and finally the warmth in your eyes.

“Y-you didn’t answer me,” you commented, applying bacta to the injured man with a dabble of your fingers, your voice having lost its normal confidence as Dameron uttered a single, muted question.

“Huh?” he asked, as if only now realizing he was indeed a person, and that he could be perceived by others. He sat up marginally in his chair, those unyielding, heavy-lidded eyes almost vacantly looking through you, or so you thought.

You were beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he might be mildly concussed. You were also becoming self-conscious, trying to keep the conversation on track despite Poe being so close to you with his blood staining your hands. “How many times has it been that you have come to see me these last few months? Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”

“No,” he answered without thought, leaning forward once more in the chair serving him for his examination. That sole syllable had been expressed in a dilatory fashion, soft and airy, only inches from your mouth.

You let out a breathy exhalation, surprised by this turn of events, yet nothing had happened. The cocky pilot dared to bite down on a rather pouty bottom lip; he watched you intently, gauging your reaction as he dallied there, finally adding more in the way of a response. “That’s why I’m here. Again.”

“Yes, right, obviously,” you managed, trying to restore some semblance of equanimity over yourself after having been caught off guard.

“Obviously,” he echoed, the word a whisper in the all too quiet room. However, this would not last as more wounded boarded the ship at intervals, soon the medical bay filled with a bustle of activity.

Unwanted activity.

Poe glanced around, assessing the situation. You had just finished bandaging him up when his hand reached out for yours, gently clasping your wrist.

“Doc, I’ve gotta show you something. I’ve got it-- bad.”

“It?” you inquired incredulously, your own glance taking an appraisal of the room. His voice had lowered again, as if this topic of conversation was not meant to be overheard. His expression appeared serious, deep-set brows knitting together in a visual show of his concern. You mimicked him, a rather human way to show empathy in this case, though not entirely sure what for.

“It,” he confirmed, gently pulling you forward toward himself, as if you weren’t already close enough. Your breathing picked up as you posed a follow-up question, a simple one, and straight to the point.

“What?”

He did that thing again, the staring, as if you were a sheet of transparisteel and he was looking beyond it to the other side. You scanned his face, those ruggedly attractive bits of him that you had tended to time and time again.

“Um—” he paused, as if not knowing what to say, like his words had failed him, which was not out of the realm of possibility as you could confirm this uncommon pilot flew by the seat of his pants. You canted your head, expecting some sort of answer, your gaze trailing to Dameron’s fingers latched gingerly around your forearm.

You took note of their thickness, their length, his nails surprisingly trim and immaculate for being a fighter pilot, though you doubted he spent that much time on solid earth when he craved the sky; realspace; to soar among the stars. Catching yourself quickly, it had not gone unnoticed, Poe matching your tilt of the head with one of his own as he peered up at you with those unwavering, expressive eyes.

“Rash … Inya Prime … Think it might be serious,” he informed you, causing you to retract and sit up straight. You tugged yourself loose from his grasp and frowned, turning to wipe your hands off the best you could on an otherwise clean towel, wishing he would have told you this before you had gone and touched him.

“Well, let’s see it then,” you offered, swiveling back around to face him. The pilot pursed his lips before biting down again, his foot beginning to tap against the floor; the motion was almost sultry, like this whole charade was planned.

For some reason, you doubted that assumption.

“It’s … I can’t show you here,” he confessed, lowering his head as he turned it to the left and right, giving the medical bay another sweep with his eyes; it was as if he was suddenly your conspirator, Poe carrying and guarding an important secret.

“Where then?” You compelled an eyebrow to stay level, it wanting to raise of its own volition. It was your turn to stare, Poe taking up each of your hands again, regardless of the fact you had just tried to halfheartedly clean them. He placed them gently atop his knees; he held you there, and you dare not move. Then, the man bore directly into you with his hardened gaze, nudging his head toward the exit door.

“Exam room, down the hall. It’s, um – it’s private.”

You gave him a reproving look. “Why were you on Inya Prime in the first place?” you asked, your fingers twitching beneath his. You were caught between wanting to relax and to allow this to happen, or to jerk yourself away for fear of someone getting the wrong idea.

“Reconnaissance,” he replied without missing a beat. You supposed that seemed logical enough, though Inya Prime was a small, boring, terrestrial planet of little to no interest to most.

That explained the civilian clothing, whereas most of the time Poe arrived to you in his bright orange flight suit, standing out like a ray of sunshine among the dark, depressing backdrop of space.

“And how did you get this rash?” you inquired curiously, wondering why it was he could not show you here instead, or just how bad it might be.

“You don’t wanna know,” he stated with a sense of finality, eyes searching yours, as if he was trying to penetrate your thoughts with a Jedi mind trick. You held his gaze a moment longer than expected before quickly standing to your feet; you felt the need to break physical contact, Dameron’s hands warm, rough, and—

“Fine, let’s hurry. There are others who need tending to.” It was the truth, yet you could feel your heartbeat betraying you by thumping loudly in your chest; you were sure that Poe could hear it.

“Right, let’s,” he said, standing. He walked a pace ahead of you then turned back around. He lingered, making sure you were going to follow him before he started out the door.

The man seemed nervous, slicking back a ringlet of dark hair that refused to stay in place. He ambulated somewhat awkwardly around the corner, then waited for you to unlock the examination room with a clearing of his throat. It then occurred to him he was standing in your way; he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, moving to one side as you gave him an inquisitive side-eye, using your badge to unlock the facilities.

He nodded, just a small movement of his head, eyes darting forward as if thinking hard on something before he entered the small space. It was fitted with a table for patients to lie on - equipped with a step stool and stirrups - a cabinet filled with various medical supplies, a curtain for dressing and undressing, a scale for taking a patient’s weight, and blood pressure detection equipment, among other things. It had all those items necessary and then some, though depending on your diagnosis, you imagined you might need to prescribe him an antifungal ointment of some kind.

“All right, we’re here,” you offered with a gesture. “Now, show me this rash.”

Poe gave a jittery laugh, answering you with a nervy “heh” as he ran his forefinger along the clean sheets of the table laid out before him as if he was checking it for dust.

“Yeah, about that,” he finally spoke up, walking full circle around the bed-like object before he arrived behind you.

“You see, doc—” he began; you craned your neck, looking over your shoulder at him, wanting to know why you now felt trapped, barred to the only way out as he had sandwiched himself between you and the door. “It’s right here,” he said, placing his open palm against his chest and giving it a tap.

This time you were the one to clear your throat, tossing back your hair as you straightened up to appear more professional, or perhaps dignified, forcing yourself to not think about how you were about to come into contact with, or at least see, Poe Dameron’s bare breast.

All things considered, he was an attractive man. You had thought that the moment you laid eyes on him; the time he had come to you battered and beaten with a black eye and a sprained ankle – he had taken a tumble down the side of a rather steep hill on some backwater, jungle-planet and only made it back to his X-wing thanks to members of Black Squadron. His foot was so badly swollen by the time he reached you, it was a miracle he could walk - or hobble – at all.

A thought occurred to you. “I should wash my hands before we begin,” you declared, moving toward the small sink stationed with a cleaning solution that was meant for disinfection as much as it was for washing away dirt and grim.

Poe looked taken aback momentarily, words caught in his throat as he gave another nod, this one more exaggerated. “Yeah, right, OK,” he shot back, as if for some reason this had been a surprise to him.

You began your task, one hand over the other as you lathered yourself, peeking back at him. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?” you suggested, not able to help the way saying that made you feel, like this was anything more than a clinical procedure.

You could hear the rustle of fabric as Poe began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting the feeling that he was watching you, studying you, bent slightly over the basin in which you were cleansing yourself of his blood. It swirled around the drainage, leading to a reserve tank that purified and recycled what little water was aboard this frigate; you knew that every drop was precious.

Finishing quickly, you refaced him, Dameron’s broad, naked chest staring you straight in the face, though he had not bothered to remove his button up all the way; its two panels were parted and pushed off to opposing sides.

Firm pectorals were spattered with a thin sheen of dark curls, matching the scruff of a beard that had just recently begun to form on his perfectly sculpted cheeks, running its course down to a chiseled jawline. Beneath wisps of black was smooth, golden skin - as if kissed by a main sequence star that orbited some planetary paradise - the happiest of trails leading down and beyond the waistline of his trousers.

You watched, entranced, the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took, in and out, slow, and almost deliberately so. You swallowed to remedy the dry sensation in your mouth with what saliva you had available, wondering if your face appeared as red as you felt it must be.

“Right, OK. Rash,” you announced out loud, purposely making an effort to look up and back into his eyes.

Again, he put his hand up, over his heart. “Here,” he repeated, “Right here. You see—”

Poe stepped forward, and you stepped back, each move he made a calculated risk, but one worth taking. “— my … heart,” he said, voice lowering an octave, then promptly continuing, “it… burns, itches, when I can’t … see you,” he emphasized. “And. You. You’re the cure, you’re the—”

He walked another pace forward, looming above you as you found yourself pressing back against the wall of the exam room. “—the only one who can make it better,” he breathily muttered, so close now you could smell the scent of the shampoo he used; it was reminiscent of citrus, but not overpowering.

“W-what—?” You felt you couldn’t believe your ears, your neck lifting back and up as you analyzed his intense facial expression. “Poe, I—”

“Shhh,” he sibilated with a press of his index to your lips. Then, he changed the subject, however momentary. “I lied to you, by the way. There is no rash, I—”

“—Yes, I’ve figured that out,” you interrupted, though your words came out weak, quavering.

“Sometimes, I pretend to be sick or hurt just to come see you. That headache last week?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “More like … heartache,” he finished, encapsulating your chin between two fingers as his lips met yours.

Your body froze; you were immobile, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Granted, you may have imagined this moment once or twice – every guy, or girl aboard this vessel you assumed had done so at one point or another. There was more than one reason Dameron was referred to so aptly as “Flyboy,” though you tried not to let that tarnish the present moment.

The only thing you could articulate was a soft moan of acceptance, melting despite yourself against the durasteel partition behind you. Ruddy fingers traveled upward, this time tangling themselves in your hair, palm cupping the back of your head as he gently drew you into a deeper kiss.

“Poe,” you gasped against him, your own hand rising to lightly push against his rock-hard pecs; it was a mistake on your part, this simple act of touching his unclothed chest the catalyst from which your loins stirred. “What—”

“—It,” he murmured, bringing the conversation back around from when he had coaxed you to this place. “—the thing I’ve got it bad for. It’s you,” he conceded, Dameron’s tongue slithering past full lips to gently prod at yours that stood partially agape, ready to accept another kiss.

You easily allowed him entry, that warm, wet muscle dancing in a figure eight, the pattern slow and rhythmic as he lapped at your suddenly hungry mouth. But you would not let lust overtake you, you were a woman of scruples, principles, and a practitioner of medicine; there was a time and place for this sort of thing and now was not it.

“Dameron,” you began again, this time managing to put just enough space between you so that you might think straight, Poe’s eyes immediately overtaking yours with a primal, excitable energy that penetrated you to the depths of your soul. He was so eager, you thought, so attentive, the man hanging, waiting, willing, to hear anything you might have to say.

“I believe you’re concussed, I think it’s best that—”

“I’m fine. Better than fine. Everything’s perfect,” he interjected, pressing his mouth against yours once more.

“—Why?” you blurted out, the question having clawed its way out of your chest. It was common knowledge that the man before you got around, not able to imagine that this meant anything more than an attempt at a quick hook-up.

“Because. I can’t. Stop. Thinking. About you. You.” He spoke your name, a tickle in your ear that sent a tingle of excitement prickling down your spine, leaving goose pimples that were undeniable to the naked eye.

“I can’t explain it. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense; you, me…” he trailed off, the butt of his thumb running over the curvilinear shape of your ear. “I watch you. Sometimes. Not to… sound creepy,” he added quickly, giving a somewhat apologetic look. “… You’re incredible. Calm in the face of danger, in the face of uncertainty. And. You’re not afraid,” he emphasized.

“Besides—” Poe bent down low, brushing his lips across yours, featherlight, causing a feeble mewl to escape before you had the time or the wherewithal to rein it in. “— what if we die. What if this is the only chance I ever get to tell you?”

He was right. What was the use of pondering the future, what could or could not be, based on the assumption that you were going to live another day, or two, or three. With the First Order threatening to undo all the hard work of the New Republic, your lot was on the run, your fierce and beloved leader the only thing keeping this small resistance group together, albeit haphazardly organized.

You feared for the general every waking moment, taking your orders come what may, keeping your head down, the only thing breaking the monotony of your day besides the constant fear of attack or death being this charming, handsome man who now held your attention, and had done so on more than one occasion.

“Kiss me again, then,” you begged, any objection you may have dared to make fleeing irrevocably to leave you open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his affection sans your better judgement.

“Mn, yeah?” he coyly asked, the fingers of his hand, dormant for your short discussion, reactivating to knead the base of your skull as he gently pulled you forward, Dameron once more inserting his crafty tongue into your waiting mouth.

His movements were thoughtful, tongue writhing and contracting in a measured orchestration that seemed rehearsed, yet special to this instant. Each loop was intricate, never so much as to be distracting, Poe’s delicious kiss spurring you to action.

You lifted your hand, allowing your fingers to clutch tufts of his hair. You moaned against him, his arms instinctively tightening around you before he pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Can I touch you?” he bashfully asked, hands smoothing over your back to descend in a downward sweep across your waist and hips. “Please, baby, please say yes. Please, please,” he whined, ardent pecks of his velvet lips only a bonus; you had not planned to turn him away regardless.

“Yes,” you sighed out lasciviously, thinking this entire situation was too good to be true. But why not embrace it for what it was? You deserved admiration, affection, love.

“Thank you,” he expressed with gratitude, as if you had given him his greatest wish, Poe adjusting himself accordingly as he gifted you with another lush, sensual kiss; it was tender and languid, feeling the movement of Dameron’s hand shift from the edge of your hip to the drawstring of your pants.

You were adorned in scrubs, a stark reminder of your station and position, yet you could not help that you were human with needs and urges to be fulfilled. Hell, you hadn’t even known you wanted this until it was happening, though life was anything but predictable - it was sporadic. And if Poe was anything, it was that.

You admired that about him. He had an almost childlike whimsy, taking all things in stride, even his injuries when he acquired them. He cared about others so often and so much he frequently forgot about this own ails. It was a good quality to have in a leader, and although he was often rebuked by his superiors, Dameron was an honorable commander and an even better pilot.

“Keep going,” you implored as you felt your desire building upon itself, pooling in the seat of your belly. Desperately, you wanted him to touch you, Poe inclining his head to one side as he broke apart from your pleading lips.

He made heady eye contact, the way he looked at you both dizzying and intoxicating, the man licking his teeth as he quipped a hushed “Yeah?” alongside the act of his fingers trailing to just below the hem of your waistband. They slipped down, down, two braver than the others as Poe’s index and middle finger disappeared beneath the front of your pants and past the soft, cotton layer of your panties.

Dameron groaned a sound, as if performing a task that was somewhat arduous, yet it was meant to evince appreciation for the soft bed of fluff that greeted him, all prim and trim. His breathing picked up, his probing appendages creeping further inside your undergarments; he whimpered against your throat, feeling welcomed by the warm slick that saturated his thick digits as he parted those soft, pillowy lips that lived between your hips, aligning the underside of his forefinger against the protuberance of your clit.

“Mn, you want this just as much as I do,” he teased, his words husky and sensuous, yet not at all meant to be disrespectful. He was the playful sort; you were glad it translated into other areas of his life, namely intimate moments like these, as it eased the tension you were feeling; the thought you were doing something you should not be doing; something wrong.

“Mhm,” you muttered, the interjection a dulcet susurration upon your partway puckered lips. It quickly devolved into an immodest moan as his thumb joined in, aiding in spreading your folds to allow him ease of access to your shrouded pearl.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you, his tone coated in sugar sweetness as Poe continued to cheer you on, “you’re so soft, and warm, and— ohhh,” he cut himself short, feeling embarrassed for not only the sizeable boner he was jabbing into your leg, but the fact that if he did not control himself he might very well cum in his pants.

“I—mmn. Admiral Ackbar naked. Admiral Ackbar naked," he intoned at low volume; you proceeded to laugh, though Poe did not, a look of stern determination on his face. Still, that did not stop him from pleasuring you as he gingerly thumbed that little nub betwixt your thighs, concentric circles close-knit and diligently applied as you trembled enticingly in his arms.

“Is this OK?” he rumbled in your ear, his voice a throaty purr that made you pitch ever so slightly forward with the goal of kissing him again.

“Y-yes,” you managed, your body mildly spasming as you sought after his tongue, Dameron ever so subtly picking up speed in the way he massaged your swollen clit. It thrummed beneath his finger; he tested uncharted territory, gradually inserting his index inside you to the top of his second knuckle. You were already so wet there was barely any friction to speak of, Poe once more moaning aloud to impart his satisfaction to whoever was there to listen – you.

“Oh, you feel- you feel, so, so good,” he rattled off, priming that digit to curl just inside and against the anterior wall of your sex; you gasped, though you had known what was coming, you just didn’t know how amazing the sensation would feel until he was already pushing you toward an orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you entreated anxiously, the pliant underside of his thumb continuing its mission as it stimulated your glandular bundle of nerves; they twitched faintly, pulsating under his proficient hands.

“OK, yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby,” he affirmed. You were quick to answer.

“Another kiss,” you adjured, Poe indulging you before the words could die on your lips. The passion he brought to your embrace, the delicate way in which he held you, the rhythmic pattern of his tongue inside your mouth – it drove you to a quick release, Dameron sucking the heavy breaths from your lungs as he attempted to engulf you, so zealous was his appetite for your quiet, though rapturous praise.

You briefly closed your eyes to regain your composure, breathing ragged, then gazed upon his face as you struggled to recover. He pulled away to stare at you, the feeling of his forefinger sliding out of your soaked cunt something not to be ignored.

You gasped again, a tiny sound. Poe admired you with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he gravitated forward, bending so close to your ear. “I can do better.”

“What?” you questioned, confused, trying to curtail your panting breaths. The twinkle in his eye was infectious, spreading to his mouth, Poe’s pretty lips outstretching into a broad, mischievous grin.

“Wait,” he stated.

You observed as he bent forward into a crouch, sneaking along the wall toward the automated entry. Staying to its right, he was careful not to trigger its motion sensor, using the nearby keypad to lock it from the inside. This time, you did quirk a brow, Poe lowering the lights manually to off, but not before making sure the shades were closed to the rectangular window that gave you a mundane view into the hall. However, you may as well be seven feet tall in order to see out of it, and there were species that tall aboard this ship.

Overall, you felt stupid for not having done this before, yet everything had occurred so quickly. What if you had been caught by a co-worker, or your boss? You had no idea how to explain being fingered by Poe Dameron in a room that could otherwise be utilized to someone else’s benefit.

Then, the man came forward, standing to his full stature as he joined you where he had left you, haggard and still somewhat discombobulated from what just happened – that’s when he picked you up, bending at the knees to wrap both arms around your waist as he carried you aloft, your entire body remaining upright and vertical.

“Poe! What are you—”

“Shh, shh,” he endeavored to keep you silent, walking around the corner of the examination table to place you gently upon it in a somewhat forced, seated position. He immediately got to work, as he had started with your footwear, taking it upon himself to remove one shoe at a time.

“Are you a screamer, or are you a whiner?” he asked with another cheesy smile etched across his face, “because I don’t mind either, but the screaming may draw attention, and I assume that’s something you don’t want.”

“I-I don’t—”

“-know?” He shook his head as if in disbelief, though somehow not surprised. “Ooh, we’ve gotta set you straight, doc!”

You meant to argue, but with your shoes gone, Poe began to roll down your socks; it was one of the most intimate things you had experienced, watching with rapt attention as he pushed the fabric down bit by bit, replacing it with moist kisses along the top of your foot and up toward your now bare ankle.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked offhand, Poe repeating the process on the other side; this time he enveloped your big toe, intaking it into his mouth as he teasingly sucked, mimicking a poi fish who wanted to dine on what it perhaps thought was a worm.

You involuntarily squirmed, pushing against the tops of his shoulders. “That tickles!” you declared, Poe gazing up into your eyes as a “pop” resounded upon release.

Then, with that same unapologetically severe, impassioned stare, Dameron rose to half-stand on his knees as his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the loose band at your waist. He pulled, softly but with enthusiasm, hypnotizing, chestnut-colored eyes once more drilling a hole straight down into your core as he tugged one pant leg off, then the other, followed by a move that would rid you of your underwear.

Partially naked, and on top of your own examination table no less, you instead tried to forget what repercussions might follow suit of your actions and leaned down to kiss the man again. He rose higher, forcing you to straighten your neck and back, Poe’s broad hands encasing the breadth of your face within them to hold you so, so carefully as he returned your gesture as naturally as if he was drinking water.

Come to find this was a tactic, the man releasing you after stealing your breath away a second or third time, hands sliding to lightly shove you back by the shoulders as he lay you down. At once he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you faced with a view of the ceiling directly above your head; you idly wondered if you were both getting too far ahead of yourselves.

“Poe, I don’t think we should be—” You exhaled noisily, words caught as you choked on a breath, your overactive imagination unable to be controlled as you envisioned the intense kiss you had experienced earlier being reenacted between your legs. The man had pinned you by your hips, kissing once, twice, - feverishly - the inguinal groove that connected your abdominal wall to your thigh, not wasting a moment’s time in making your briefly held fantasy come true.

“Hm? Mmmn,” Dameron hummed, his response muffled by your flesh. Your body stiffened before relaxing as he licked your already soaked slit with the flat of his tongue; it effortlessly slipped between the folds of your labia, Poe toying with your clit, running circles until the whole thing delved inside your opening.

The man pulled you forward by your thighs, closer to the edge of the table; you could feel the paper bedsheet sliding beneath you as he lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth. He moaned into you, his breath hot on your skin, the scruff of his chin chaffing your legs, but you did not once complain.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he whispered, the tip of that furled muscle retracting to glide upward along your delightfully slick vulva before it once more found the nub that was begging to be touched; it was already so sensitive.

Your chest heaved as a ripple of pleasure quaked through you, Poe beginning to suck the hard bit that was the recurrent object of his focus. At that moment, you felt blessed, belting out a sound that was a cross between elation and ecstasy, the final product being nothing more than a subdued pule from downy lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you crooned, your thighs progressively closing around either side of Poe’s head as you instinctively tried to brace yourself against your coming climax.

“That’s what I thought—ooh, hey,” the pilot protested, not liking one bit the sudden fettering of his movements. He dislodged himself, then pushed down with both his hands, parting your legs again to make sure he had unrestricted access to your cunt.

Then, he had an idea. “That’s not happening again,” he informed you with an impish smirk, Dameron lifting you up by the underside of your ass as he dragged you even closer, this time making use of the equipment made available to him, though this wasn’t exactly a gynecological exam. The scoundrel picked up both your feet, one after the other, making sure each one was secured in turn, having positioned you spread eagle with your shamelessly wet pussy put on full display.

“Ohh, this is beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.” The man had stopped to stare at the exquisite view before him, a hungry look overtaking his winsome visage; you had barely lifted your neck, perhaps meaning to address him, before you were forced to expel a mousy squeak following a show of near desperation on his part.

Poe had darted forward. Now hands-free and having situated you in stirrups, Dameron plunged his tongue back inside of you while clasping his fingers behind his back as he liked to imagine himself in binders. He tongue fucked you as your chest expanded and contracted with each euphoric breath, deep and slow, before he redirected all his energy back to your eager bud.

Then, his head joined in, bobbing back and forth as he enthusiastically ate you out like a man starved, consuming his first meal in weeks, months.

Wet sounds invaded your ears, Poe miming a hound lapping water; it only caused your clit to pulse, your right arm lowering for impatient fingers to latch onto his raven locks; you were careful not to disturb the dressings on his forehead even so, not wanting to let your hard work go to waste.

You held him steady; you pulled him closer, thighs trembling, though your legs still remained forced apart with knees jutting out to either side. It was the dirtiest, nastiest you had ever felt, yet at the same time Poe had made you feel alive. Alive, and not just waiting around to die.

You moaned lewdly as you gently bucked your hips, your body convulsing in rapture as his focus was laser sharp, the full expanse of his thick, skillful tongue caressing you softly from the cusp of your vagina to the vertex of your throbbing clit – over, and over, and over again.

The pattern he applied was slow and methodical, Poe’s cock beyond hard as he gently humped thin air. The man himself was groaning, speaking breathlessly against the soft flesh of your mound, even as he continued to dine.

“Baby, you taste so, so sweet. So, so, good. Mm, be a good girl, yeah? Nice and easy for me. Nice and easy…” The pilot’s words trailed off, that gentle lapping turning toward a precise, calculated stroke with just the tip, this being the very thing that drove to you the point of no return; you came again, one hand still buried in Poe’s hair as the other clasped at your breast.

“Mmmn, oh shit, oh fuck, Poe,” you cursed again, your entire being writhing in unbridled bliss as you rode out one of the most intense orgasms in recent history, this only encouraging the pilot to keep at it until you physically had to push his head away, albeit with caution.

Poe looked up at you with those emotive, gorgeous brown eyes, lips glossy with your excess; you panted heavily, looking down on what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. You took a few more moments to recuperate, then made a demand of him that even surprised yourself. “Fuck me, right now, please.”

That cocky smile faded, Dameron staring fixedly at your face. He searched each part of it, as if measuring the seriousness of your words, then sat up fully on his legs before standing completely to gaze down at you, chin glistening and damp, not noticing the red welts spattering the inside of your thighs from where his stubble had left its mark.

“Since you said please, and so, so nicely might I add,” he joked, undoing the holster at his waist with lightning speed as he let his Glie-44 blaster pistol fall to the floor at his feet. You sat up on your elbows, enjoying the show, Poe unzipping and unbuckling his pants and belt with such wild, feral vigor, it was as if they were presently on fire.

“Mn, sweetheart, would you hate me if I said I’ve been dreaming of this?” Poe questioned, though you were unable to get a read on if he was being sincere or just full of hot air. You did not answer him, instead reveling in the desperate way the pilot kicked his boots off, witnessing his undressing between your parted legs.

They felt like jelly, still held up by the stirrups. You smiled salaciously, feeling oddly playful as you began to sway your knees back and forth to emulate the fluttering of butterfly wings; you amused yourself by fondling your overstimulated clit for his pleasure and your own, waiting ever so patiently for him to finish.

It only slowed him down; you almost laughed again, this man proving to be predictable as far as men go, spellbound by the fact you were touching yourself, and in front of him, no less.

Poe let out a laborious, rasping breath, as if his throat might be closing in on itself, pearly whites once more finding rose-colored lips as he chewed timidly on a plump bottom rung. At that same moment his pants fell down to his knees, leaving Dameron in his tight white underwear, his package so hard and compact it looked ready to burst free of its cotton prison.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he professed mostly to himself, yet loud enough for you to hear him. He stumbled forward, releasing himself of the pants that still clung to him with every step, wide, warm hands placing themselves upon your knees, one for one.

“Mn, baby, for me?” he asked in a diffident tone, Poe’s cheeks burning hot as he was drawn in by the sexy spectacle before him. After a moment or two of getting lost in his own thoughts, he scrambled for his aching prick; it felt like it was going to erupt any moment now. Already it had leaked droplets of precum, the tip wet and sticky as it sprang loose.

The pilot began to pump himself as he was glued to the rhythmic stroking of your fingers; you teased him by inserting one within yourself, Poe moaning almost instantly as he came up to you all the way by the edge of the bed, gently batting your hand away. He aligned his dick against your slit, eyes laser focused, then he abruptly stopped what he was doing to lift his head and stare at you.

“You sure? What if-” he hesitated, wanting reassurance.

“I’m protected,” you whispered, at once your feet lifting so that you could wind your legs around Poe’s waist like a serpent coiling about its prey. You squeezed lightly, drawing him in, Poe helping on his end by gently nudging the head of his cock against the lubricious entrance to your vagina.

Dameron shook this time, his body tremulous against you as he sank deeper and deeper into your warm center, guiding it slowly, his girth spreading you open as you gasped, arms overtaking him in addition to your legs; you wanted his chest pressed against yours, beckoning the man to lower himself to the proper height so that you might kiss him, fingers once more gathering in his shaggy mane.

“You f-feel, ohhhh… Like, like. Like clouds,” Dameron stammered, commenting on your plush, tepid walls as he finally bottomed out. He was slow to retract his hips, then slow to press them forward again, “It’s like breaking atmo; that euphoric feeling you get when—”

Poe cut himself off, lips compressing against one another to form a concentrated line. He closed his eyes, his pace deathly drawn-out, tortuously so, each stroke of him inside you sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout your nerve-endings, both from without and within.

It was endearing. Not knowing of all the nuances comprising this pilot’s personality, this one surprised you. Poe had always seemed so high-strung, so exuberant; it was a change of pace to see him take his time on something - you.

With a tilt of your neck, your mouth found his, your tongue slithering between his teeth to taste yourself on him. You sighed fervently, pulling him closer by the meat of your thighs, in turn interring him deeper within yourself.

“I won’t break,” you informed him softly, having pulled away to encourage Dameron to rise above his stupor and fuck you like he meant it. Poe gave a slow, deliberate nod of his head in return, as if trying to find his center and a place of calm before he would be able to continue.

“Right,” he finally said, intaking a sharp inhalation of oxygen as he rocked forward, pitching his hips so that they were flush against yours. He dipped back again, repeating these motions in a syncopated rhythm, and you finding it impossible to keep your mouth from hanging open as he hit his stride.

“Just like that,” you cooed silkily, your breath warm and wispy against his ear. This alone sent Poe to a higher plane, somewhere you were sure you could not reach him, causing Dameron to make a helpless, needy sound.

You felt a warm gush; a spurt of something that was unexpected this early in the game. Poe’s face contorted pleasantly into a look of ecstasy. You watched, fascinated, the pilot coming inside you after only a few pumps. Hell, you didn’t even mind; he had given you yours twice over. You felt a kind of privilege bestowed upon you; the knowledge that your pussy must be made of solid gold. That, or he really did like you.

“Oh fuck, ohh no, shit, I-I’m sorry,” Poe stuttered, his tone indicative of embarrassment. You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, dotting tiny kisses along the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quell his mounting anxiety.

“What was that about setting me straight?” you teased, Poe forced to laugh despite himself as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head, brawny biceps propping him up just above you, jet-black strands dangling down to brush against your nose as he sighed a dejected sigh.

“You’re just so pretty, and I was excited, you know? I- It’s- It’s been a while,” he clumsily explained, “haven’t had the time to actually masturbate, being in the middle of a war and all—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a forceful press of your lips to his. It was your way of shutting him up, aiming to put a stopper in all of his excuses; it did not matter to you.

“Poe, it’s fine,” you affirmed, cradling the antsy man’s refined jaw in the crook of your palm, “these things happen. I’m not upset. You already got me off twice; that’s more than most men for the entirety of a relationship.”

You had exaggerated that last part for a bit of dramatic flair, this particular white lie having no purpose other than to bolster Poe’s self-esteem and to make him feel better. He smiled at you, a genuine, honest-to-God smile, as if coming to terms with the fact he had no need to worry, and that he might just get a second chance one day, contrary to what he had at first believed.

“So, uh—” he started, lifting gently up and off of you; his cock incrementally eased its way out of you, the remnants of his seed thick and sticky as it flowed freely out and onto the exam table.

He scrunched an eye, as if still ashamed, Poe sucking on his bottom lip to alleviate the mental anguish he was suffering before he sheepishly asked you a question, “Now that we’ve gotten to third base, would you care to visit first?”

You propped yourself up on your forearms, quirking a brow as you rose to sit. He assumed correctly, thinking that you did not take his meaning, Poe following up to explain more succinctly. “Dinner, maybe? Or—”

Sirens began to blare, a red alert sounding all throughout the Anodyne. A voice rang out over the internal comm; Dameron and you were quickly put on edge.

“Attention, all personnel: report to stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your face fell, as did Poe’s. He gazed at you a moment, ignoring the awful clamor in the background as people began to race throughout the halls just beyond the door. It was as if time stood still, and you were unable to break away from Dameron’s dark gaze. The man, who was so amiable and easygoing, now looked browbeaten and worn, knowing that any minute now he would have to find BB-8 and return to his X-wing when he had wanted nothing more than to relax in your company. Wishful thinking, he mused.

You were the first to move, rushing to get up. You found a towel and cleaned yourself up, collecting your clothes from off the floor; somehow, your tunic had remained intact, though you would hold out for a future time when Poe might touch those parts of you, too. It was hard not to want to imagine him with his soft lips puckered about your nipple as his stocky fingers massaged and revered your breasts.

“Attention: all pilots, return to hangar. Repeat: all capable pilots return to your ships.”

“It was just as well, huh?” he asked solemnly, referring to the abrupt end of your impromptu rendezvous.

“Go,” you commanded, Poe’s stare lingering, amber eyes piercing you with a look that was ironically impenetrable; resolute, yet somehow somber, wistful.

He broke away, finally, and with difficulty, scrambling to adjust his briefs before throwing back on his pants and buttoning his shirt. He hitched his holster around his hips, the boots made to go on last. You observed as he hopped around on one foot, once more finding him to be endearing as you turned to rush toward the refresher, steadfast in your desire to use the sonic, if only for a moment; you needed to rinse off before returning to the med bay, as was your duty.

Poe called out to you by name; you whirled to face him. The man’s fluffy eyebrows were stitched together as he could only stare at you again. Then, he seemed to finally come-to, stepping the few paces forward that separated you.

“I’ll comm you later?” he asked more than stated, the backs of his knuckles running the length of your cheek. You could only nod, leaning up to kiss him one last time.

“Come back in one piece, OK? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again; be careful,” you urged him. He smiled that charming, boyish smile that made your heart race, as radiant as ever; his mood could change so suddenly.

“No promises,” he replied, meaning it in jest, yet you knew there was some truth to it.

You parted ways with the best damn pilot in the galaxy, hope being the only thing left to you both now. Hope that he would never have to step foot back aboard this frigate, but that if he did, it would be for some better reason, and not because he had failed to heed your warning.

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Masterlist

Ao3

#Poe Dameron #Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #x reader #Star Wars #Star Wars Smut #sequel trilogy #Resistance #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #star wars fanfiction #angst #fluff #love confessions #female reader #fem reader

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