Permission is all he needs—Finnick barely has to tug before John is reaching, sliding his hand over his shoulder, his chest, shifting closer with another low sound as the warmth of his body makes John…ache for more.
He’s gorgeous, and yeah: John wants it. To touch skin, to know more of that thrilling difference, but just as much he wants to fall into this and not come up for air. Finnick in his lap, pressing him down, tasting and touching and not caring if it leads to more or not.
…but then he asks, between kisses, low and brief and playful, and that ache gets sharp enough to tear another, higher sound from him. Not a whine, the nerve damage that leaves his mouth with a crooked slant and his voice so deep won’t allow for that, but the breathy hum in the air between them is dangerously close.
“Yeah…yeah…”
He likes it. Fuck, he loves it, and rather than just kiss him again, John can’t resist leaning in again to barely brush his lips to Finnick’s, then kiss the corner of his mouth—then nose at his jaw until he can press a slow, warm, openmouthed kiss to the curve of his neck with hesitant care.
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He’s gorgeous, and yeah: John wants it. To touch skin, to know more of that thrilling difference, but just as much he wants to fall into this and not come up for air. Finnick in his lap, pressing him down, tasting and touching and not caring if it leads to more or not.
…but then he asks, between kisses, low and brief and playful, and that ache gets sharp enough to tear another, higher sound from him. Not a whine, the nerve damage that leaves his mouth with a crooked slant and his voice so deep won’t allow for that, but the breathy hum in the air between them is dangerously close.
“Yeah…yeah…”
He likes it. Fuck, he loves it, and rather than just kiss him again, John can’t resist leaning in again to barely brush his lips to Finnick’s, then kiss the corner of his mouth—then nose at his jaw until he can press a slow, warm, openmouthed kiss to the curve of his neck with hesitant care.