"One doesn't plan one's swoons," Finn said, playing wounded, and though he was as dedicated to the stance as he usually was about whatever tangent he picked up and ran with, he couldn't help the rough edge that came into his voice with that movement of hers, the step in and the lean. It was automatic.
"And you don't have to be difficult on command, sweetheart," he told her. His voice was a murmur by then, a caress even though the words teased. "That's our default, or have you forgotten?" His hand left it's dramatic pose and sifted into her hair, brushing over the side of her jaw. He tilted her chin just enough but waited, his own churned up heart needing to see his own desires reflected back at him before he could take. He felt when her quickened pulse bounded under his fingertips, and it made his grin spread. "There you are," he said, and shifted that last little bit impatiently to draw her in, to kiss her. He was demanding rather than gentle, because as usual he was sure she could take it.