The little voice in his head, the one that said 'bad idea, bad idea, bad idea' almost every time he had any idea was back, although he was having a really, really hard time listening to it. In fact, his hands were already obeying the demand, pulling Finn's trousers open and down to his knees with an almost violent efficiency, pulling back to push him down onto the stairs - before his brain finally managed to echo that voice loud enough that he paused, panting hard, standing over him.

Damn it. Damn everything in the entire universe, but not here. Not now. Ruin was the right word for it, if he did it now, and though he was almost a hundred percent positive that Finn would not complain, he would feel guilty about it forever. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt Finn. The markings were something else - shallow but purposeful. But if he actually gave in to that demand, the chances of hurting Finn were way too high.

So with a strain of effort that took everything in him, Finn let out a groan that was half a frustrated cry, and staggered backward, harder than he could ever remember being in his life.

"No."