[ normally, people don't know what finch is, so they don't question him this closely. he doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't really like it. what does it matter what he wants? he's an incubus. that's like any sexual being's wet-dream, isn't it?

he goes with the careful push, though, letting himself be crowded back against the wall without protest, eyes half-lidded and glittering beneath their lashes. ]

When we eat, we kill, [ he says after a moment, lifting his fingers to brush them over mink's hand against his collarbone. where they're in contact, he pulses pleasure along the taller man's nerves. ] I learned how to do it a different way, just taking a little at a time so I don't hurt nobody. Means I gotta' fuck a lot to survive, though.

[ he tips his chin up, head rolling back against the wall to expose his throat-- making himself vulnerable. .. physically, at least. ]

Why're any of us here? To fix shit, right? Do our part. 'S just easier for me 'cause of what I am.