Finnick at times approaches sex in a similar way- not trained by the army, but by years of sex work, to think of it as a job to be done highly effectively. Always in his head to ensure the other is feeling as much pleasure as possible, is satisfied with the whole experience. Never about Finnick's desires and needs, only about them. Mags and Annie's safety always depended on Finnick's ability to please, after all. But this is different. While John switches into a gear to rely on his training, Finnick is somehow, miraculously, switching out of it a bit. Beginning to lose himself in that greedy way John kisses him, in the waves of pleasure that ripple through him as John's big, calloused hand strokes his cock. His eyes are closed, his mouth open for kissing and moaning.

"Okay," he breathes.

Right now, he doesn't feel as though there's a job to do. He feels like his pleasure actually matters as much as John's, and he feels safe enough to allow himself to fully feel it. Still, he grabs the lube and spreads some on his own hand, then strokes John's shaft with it, expertly knowing how to quickly cover its surface area. The slickness allows him to use more pressure, and he teases the tip with his thumb.

He exhales slowly as John's fingers find his hole, and he steps wider to make more room, arching his back instinctively to create a better angle. He tucks his face into John's neck, mouth idly kissing and nipping there.

"That's it..." he breathes. "Start with one finger." Already, the pressure there is making his breath hitch, and he's not all too sure he'll be the most patient through this process because of how eager he feels, but he'll do his best.