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Your fingertips glide across a sharp jaw, the slight resistance of stubble just apparent. Drifting your fingertips to the round of his chin and over his full bottom lip, it's smooth and just a little damp. You lean in slightly and smell coffee on his breath, black, unsweetened. Your fingers lightly sweep up the sides of his face feeling the soft curves of his cheeks, to his eyes, which flutter closed as you pass the pads of your fingers over them. Tickling on his long lashes. You sweep over his eyes twice more, committing the soft lids and laughter lines around them to memory before your thumbs spread out and find thick eyebrows, gently brushing over them once. By now you are so close that your breaths are mingling, lips almost touching.
One hand moves up across his temple to bury a hand in his gorgeously soft curls, the other hand goes around to the nape of his neck and he releases a shuddery breath as he presses his lips to yours so gently.
Languidly he presses his mouth over yours with more intent, his lips gliding over yours, a satisfied rumble you can feel from deep within his chest spills from him in to the kiss. The air between you is heady, it feels like sinking in to sweet molasses.
You part on a sigh, extracting your hands from him, all at once you feel bereft, cold and yet stifled by the want and need to be within his space once more. Feeling his warmth and longing to be wrapped up in his scent. You turn away quickly shocked by your own actions.
Poe Dameron will be your undoing.