So, not so different from fucking a woman—little bit of a different angle, he’ll have to support a little more of Finnick’s weight rather than letting the wall bear him up…
It’s a little dizzying, a little scary how easy it is to let his mind fall into familiar patterns, a known rhythm. Tactics, strategy—but not to win a fight or a war, to give someone pleasure. John didn’t even realize that was something he could do with what the Army turned him into.
It’s…a relief and a huge turn on at the same time, and it takes away some of the fear that he might hurt him. With a growl, he kisses Finnick again, deep and greedy and messy as that heat boils his blood and he lets himself go.
He was trained to win, defeat is unacceptable, and Finnick is the victory, getting him off and keeping him safe…
Breaking the kiss, John’s mind works with almost unnatural clarity to form a plan of attack as he squeezes some lube into his hand to cost his fingers, then hesitates a moment to let it warm up a little.
“Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.” He breathes, kissing Finnick’s jaw as he drops the lube and wraps a hand around Finnick’s cock again to start stroking him slowly. “Hell, tell me if I can do something to make it better, okay?”
It’s hard not to get distracted by him as John strokes Finnick’s cock—he’s fucking gorgeous, and God the sounds he makes—but after a few moments, he hesitantly shifts to slide lube-slick fingers down between Finnick’s cheeks…and falters again, but only a little.
He starts just stroking over his hole a few times, slow and firm, then tries careful pressure, still stroking, doing his best to be careful as he learns his way through working him open.
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It’s a little dizzying, a little scary how easy it is to let his mind fall into familiar patterns, a known rhythm. Tactics, strategy—but not to win a fight or a war, to give someone pleasure. John didn’t even realize that was something he could do with what the Army turned him into.
It’s…a relief and a huge turn on at the same time, and it takes away some of the fear that he might hurt him. With a growl, he kisses Finnick again, deep and greedy and messy as that heat boils his blood and he lets himself go.
He was trained to win, defeat is unacceptable, and Finnick is the victory, getting him off and keeping him safe…
Breaking the kiss, John’s mind works with almost unnatural clarity to form a plan of attack as he squeezes some lube into his hand to cost his fingers, then hesitates a moment to let it warm up a little.
“Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.” He breathes, kissing Finnick’s jaw as he drops the lube and wraps a hand around Finnick’s cock again to start stroking him slowly. “Hell, tell me if I can do something to make it better, okay?”
It’s hard not to get distracted by him as John strokes Finnick’s cock—he’s fucking gorgeous, and God the sounds he makes—but after a few moments, he hesitantly shifts to slide lube-slick fingers down between Finnick’s cheeks…and falters again, but only a little.
He starts just stroking over his hole a few times, slow and firm, then tries careful pressure, still stroking, doing his best to be careful as he learns his way through working him open.