[Finn]

"It's going to be alright," Finn tried again to reassure Rose after the door shut behind Kaydel.

Rose had a worried, determined set to her features. She had that a lot in the short time he'd known her. She stared out at the forest floor, but he doubted she was thinking about the scene out there. She was probably thinking about the damage to the ship and how best to fix it, if it could be done at all. She turned to him. "Can that door be locked?"

Finn was sitting in the pilot's chair because he knew best how to access information from the First Order systems, even if he didn't know much about flying. Rose might be better than him in taking them apart and putting them back together (and it wasn't a 'might' – she definitely was), but when it came to knowing which menu commands to use, the First Order's user interface had had thirty years to diverge from the rest of the galaxy. So even if the flight controls hadn't changed, the software had. Finn could coax information out faster than she (or Kaydel) could. He could also find the door switch. He flipped it.

"Locked." He pivoted his seat to face her. Previously, Kaydel had been sitting at the co-pilot's station with Rose standing between them, but now Kaydel was gone. Rose glanced over his chair with the same focused determination, then climbed in it to straddle him.

"Oh!" he said, raising his brows in surprise. He'd thought it was secret time or something. Maybe it was … just another kind. Or just private instead of secret. (He was still putting together how things worked in the Resistance on this front.) He put his hands on her hips, staring into her eyes. She still had that look on her face, but she obviously wasn't thinking of fixing the ship. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with a desperate energy that had him responding, embracing her tightly and kissing her back.

"We were almost blown apart," she said when their lips parted. "We were torn apart. Do you know how close we must have come to dying?"

The First Order didn't glorify death (much); if they had, it would have implied there was a value to a life so sacrificed. Live or die, the success of the Order was the only thing that mattered. "I- uh- don't-" He shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it. They'd left the hangar, he'd been thrown against the closed door, and that was it for him. Next thing he'd known, Hux was kicking him awake. The jerk.

She kissed him again, pressing her body to his. Her hips hitched forward and he put a hand between them, trying to judge how much pressure (and where) was appropriate. They'd done this one other time, the sole night they'd been able to find together. He'd been thrilled that she wanted to spend time with him, that he meant that much to her! And then realized what she really wanted to do involved sex. Which had not worked. At least not initially, not the way she'd obviously expected.

He wasn't exactly sure what she had expected. He'd never had an erection in his life, as far as he recalled, though of course he was aware of the function. The basic health and hygiene class given to stormtroopers didn't even mention it, because why would they? No emissions, no ovulations – that was not what stormtroopers did.

So she'd showed him how to use his hands, his fingers sliding inside the heat of her body as she moaned and bucked against him. He'd been torn between finding it repulsive and compelling, a sort of strange fascination settling over him. But the main thing was that he knew how much of an honor this was, that she wanted him to do it, to her and with her. He went with that.

Like he rubbed her now, though she was fully clothed and they were pressed together as she kissed him fiercely. The angle was awkward but if she minded, she didn't show it. She moaned instead, as she had before, so he supposed he was doing it right. He liked the taste of her mouth. He liked the bliss she found in his touch. He liked the sound of his name lost in her gasps. He especially liked how she was wearing an officer's uniform, but he didn't think that was something he should like.

He cupped her groin, fingers curled and the base of his palm rubbing against the crotch of her pants. Her tongue was in his mouth. Her breath huffed against his cheek. Finn felt something pass over him, through him, yet stayed to dwell in his chest and his gut. It was a warmth and a desire in turn, but he didn't know what to do with it. He felt himself shiver under the strain of it, strange and unfamiliar. Her hips hitched less regularly and she stopped kissing him as the tone of her voice changed. She was nearly there.

Something … there was something … like he wanted this not to be over. He wanted … He couldn't say what he wanted. But it was like he wanted to do something, to be an even more involved part of this, but he couldn't quite pull it together. He was on the cusp of it, though. He kissed across her cheek and down her neck, pressing and rubbing to make up for her falter. Her breaths became gasps, then none at all for a moment as she trembled, then jerked a few times under his hand.

"Stop, stop," she breathed.

He did, and hugged her, fairly sure all she wanted him to stop was to stop getting her off. She hugged him back, sagging into him and proving him right. "We're going to be alright," he whispered. He still had that lingering feeling, like he wanted to do this right back to her – to have sex, to thrust, to enter her. He was not erect. It was not an option. He sighed, letting the tension drain from him.

"I hope so," she answered.

"We will be," he promised. "Some things take time."