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Finn tries to hide his grimace as he lifts his arms over his head, the motion tugging at the still-healing scar tissue on his back, and he tosses his discarded shirt to the floor.
For a moment, there’s silence - taut, but not tense, as they met one another’s gaze. Rey’s eyes are darkened, her pupils dilated, and she takes a step closer to Finn so that when he breathes, their chests brush; there’s a spark there, not quite electric but no less thrilling or exciting or exhilarating.
Finn is struck by how different she looks here, with her hair unbound and falling around her face in a dark halo. He contemplates grabbing her hand, pulling her towards him so he can press a kiss into the translucent skin of her wrist, but he sees the question burning in the dark of her eyes.
He answers with a nod.
A jolt ricochets through his body as Rey presses her cold fingers to his shoulder where she traces circles into the flesh there with the pad of her thumb. His skin feels hot beneath the light pressure of Rey’s touch and the dichotomy of it, the sudden shift between hot and cold - it makes Finn a little dizzy. Just slightly breathless as Rey contemplates the soft, supple skin of his clavicle, trailing her fingertips over the sharp bones; her thumb dips into the deep divot momentarily before blazing onwards.
He has never been touched so gently, so warmly, so lovingly. A shiver ripples up his spine at the thought. Finn sighs, closing his eyes as Rey lays her hand flat against his sternum. Her hands are strong and well-used, knotted with calluses that raise goosebumps all along Finn’s body as she moves, fingers teasing lightly at his flesh as she does.
Rey lingers over Finn’s heart, her lips quirking in unmistakable triumphant at the frantic beating. She tries to mimic the sharp staccato with her fingertips, drumming them softly against Finn’s flesh, but there’s no rhythm to it, so she makes up her own. It’s light and playful and makes Finn smile except when her fingers slip and her thumb brushes Finn’s nipple.
Finn jumps, which makes Rey’s eyes widen momentarily. In shock, perhaps, but it’s gone too quickly and the room is too dark for Finn to discern the precise look in her eye. But he doesn’t need to see the glimmer in her eyes because Finn knows that smirk and his stomach clenches in anticipation as Rey rolls her thumb over his nipple again. Which makes Finn’s muscle tighten and then ripple as he exhales heavily.
Rey’s hand is warm on his waist, the curve of her callused fingers slotting into the spaces between his ribs. Its weight is comforting. Grounding, even, and for a moment, he’s not dizzy. For a moment, he’s not breathless. For a moment, he’s not weightless.
Then Rey slides her hand lower, settling it on Finn’s hip, the tips of her fingers teasing the flesh just above the waistband of his pants. Finn inhales sharply and holds the breath, his eyes fluttering as Rey’s fingers press circles deep into his skin, but just as soon as he thinks Rey will slip her hand past the elastic, she pulls back.
“May I?” she asks in a whisper so soft that if it weren’t for the warmth of her breath caressing his chest, Finn wouldn’t be sure if she’d spoken.
“Y-yeah,” he whispers back, the word tight in his throat.
Her fingers glide over the curve of his hip and her body mirrors the motion as she brushes her chest along his arm until she stands behind him. Her hot breath plays out across the skin of his back. It’s strange how not being able to see her changes the sensation of her touch, but suddenly, the feeling is amplified by his curiosity as she flows the length of one of his ribs, stopping right before its connection with his spine.
Stopping right before the scar tissue.
He opens his mouth to say something, to remind her that it’s not her fault, that he chose to take up the lightsaber and defend her, but his remark is swallowed when she brushes the tips of her fingers along the raised flesh.
She doesn’t gasp at the roughness of the uneven flesh. She doesn’t shudder at the hardness of it, the knotted nature of scar tissue. Her touch is unwavering as she explores the scar, starting in the middle of his back and working upwards, over the edge of his right scapula, her knuckles grazing the hard angular bone until she reaches the spot in his shoulder where she’d traced her little designs.
Her lips are soft and warm as she presses them to his flesh. Beneath the pressure of her mouth, Finn tenses and she pulls back abruptly, placing her hand on the small of his back to steady herself. He releases a short breath and casts a look over his shoulder where she stands, her dark eyes focused on his profile.
Finn smiles at her then, just as soft and gently as she’s been touching him, and though she doesn’t smile back, she leans forward to kiss the scar again, the placement of her mouth just a little lower than it was before.
She stops halfway down his back, walking her fingers the rest of the way until her fingertips resting in the dimples of his lower back, right above his kidneys. Then she splays her fingers along his flesh, dragging them around his sides, stepping closer as she moves.
Her breasts are soft against his back as she presses herself against the curve of his spine so tightly it’s like she’s trying to mold herself into him. Wisps of her loose hair tickle his skin and the tip of her nose is cold as she moves to rest her cheek against his back. Her hands settle on his stomach and he closes his much bigger hands over hers, slipping his fingers through hers.
For a long time, they stand in silence, holding each other. Occasionally, she presses a kiss to his shoulder blade and eventually, he turns in her arms to kiss her properly on the mouth.