Between the way Finnick drags him closer and rocks against him, and the fresh score of nails along his back…

Rational thought falls swiftly away as he meets the roll of Finnick’s hips, and keeps moving, a slow grind with a rhythm that makes him growl and gasp as they do little more than share each other’s air, taste each other…and when Finnick asks for that wakes John up a little bit.

“Yeah?” He asks, brow furrowed with uncertainty as he slides a hand through Finnick’s hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp but not yet gripping. He doesn’t want to hurt him…

“You’re sure?”