[ Okay, see, that expression. That smug face, right there. Finn feels like even if he hadn't known Jim from Perimeter Guard peripherals, he'd be very suddenly aware that he's dealing with a pilot.
He's never seen that look on someone's face who isn't a pilot.
Finn's normally very good with his filtering on a day-to-day basis. With restraint. He was raised on restraint, he knows how to stay quiet. And sure, he'll have shouts to spare if he's going down a steep toboggan track, or if a friend hits a target that's all but impossible to hit, but the closer things, the more intimate moments-- he likes to keep a handle on it.
The handle doesn't seem to want to be kept tonight. Maybe it's the powder, magnifying touches just enough, the lowered inhibitions, the awareness of how easy it would be for someone to walk in. Maybe it's the simple fact that Finn doesn't do anything like this often enough to have a handle on having a handle.
At the end of the day, the fact remains that if Jim is finding Finn's reactions gratifying, he won't be disappointed. While he's idly rubbing Finn through his pants, teasing, Finn can't get anywhere near the neighborhood of silence. He tries to tamp down on the accidental vocals, but that doesn't do anything to hide the way his breath keeps hitching, a couple of steps shy of outright panting.
"Make it up to me later" settles some of the proverbial ruffled feathers that were bothering him. He's never been much for idle hands, for not feeling like he's... contributing, somehow. But he can work with making up for it.
When Jim's mouth comes into the equation, all vocal bets are suddenly off. There they go, out the window, they lasted all of a minute. Finn lets out a brief, shuddering moan, half-into the hand he puts back over his mouth when he realizes it's coming out more loudly than he'd anticipated. Sorry if his fingernails leave imprints on Jim's shoulder, that's his bad. ]
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He's never seen that look on someone's face who isn't a pilot.
Finn's normally very good with his filtering on a day-to-day basis. With restraint. He was raised on restraint, he knows how to stay quiet. And sure, he'll have shouts to spare if he's going down a steep toboggan track, or if a friend hits a target that's all but impossible to hit, but the closer things, the more intimate moments-- he likes to keep a handle on it.
The handle doesn't seem to want to be kept tonight. Maybe it's the powder, magnifying touches just enough, the lowered inhibitions, the awareness of how easy it would be for someone to walk in. Maybe it's the simple fact that Finn doesn't do anything like this often enough to have a handle on having a handle.
At the end of the day, the fact remains that if Jim is finding Finn's reactions gratifying, he won't be disappointed. While he's idly rubbing Finn through his pants, teasing, Finn can't get anywhere near the neighborhood of silence. He tries to tamp down on the accidental vocals, but that doesn't do anything to hide the way his breath keeps hitching, a couple of steps shy of outright panting.
"Make it up to me later" settles some of the proverbial ruffled feathers that were bothering him. He's never been much for idle hands, for not feeling like he's... contributing, somehow. But he can work with making up for it.
When Jim's mouth comes into the equation, all vocal bets are suddenly off. There they go, out the window, they lasted all of a minute. Finn lets out a brief, shuddering moan, half-into the hand he puts back over his mouth when he realizes it's coming out more loudly than he'd anticipated. Sorry if his fingernails leave imprints on Jim's shoulder, that's his bad. ]