That hand creeping up his thigh makes John aware of just how good this is—how good Finnick is, giving this to him. That soft hum of pleasure makes things low in his belly tighten, the hand on his leg makes him want to reach for it and draw it closer, or explore those callused fingers and palms as readily as that strong column of his throat…
John wants so much more than he has any right to, and he should just walk away. He should protect Finnick from him, because he likes this guy and even if nothing comes of this…
Nothing John touches can survive him, but God forgive him he’s selfish enough to want.
Pressing his forehead into the curve of Finnick’s neck, he slides a hand over the one on his leg and grips tightly, not pulling away but pressing it firm against his thigh.
“If you wanna stop, we can.” He breathes, unable to resist nipping at his pulse point. “But…I don’t wanna stop. Please.”
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John wants so much more than he has any right to, and he should just walk away. He should protect Finnick from him, because he likes this guy and even if nothing comes of this…
Nothing John touches can survive him, but God forgive him he’s selfish enough to want.
Pressing his forehead into the curve of Finnick’s neck, he slides a hand over the one on his leg and grips tightly, not pulling away but pressing it firm against his thigh.
“If you wanna stop, we can.” He breathes, unable to resist nipping at his pulse point. “But…I don’t wanna stop. Please.”