FOR YOUR F A M
He didn't know how he found himself lying under another man, forehead against forehead, his tongue caught in a fight for dominance. Yet his fingers tangled in chestnut locks, cologne and TIE Fighter fuel filling his lungs, an inebriating musk distinctly TR-8R, a musk woven within the fabric of the plastic armor the trooper gave him.
Finn broke the kiss first, both in lack of oxygen and a break from the intoxicating high, the dangerous levels of adrenaline in veins, jumbling his mind and coating his mocha skin in sweat, every touch and kiss new and exciting yet a little to much, a little to foreign for the First Order traitor.
Mouth hanging, he maneuvering his head just a tad, avoiding another dizzying, bruising kiss by a mere inch, earning an annoyed husky whine from the man knelt between his legs, a noise that toyed the hardening bulge in his jumpsuit and tinted his cheeks.