Finnick moans again, substantially louder, as John presses two fingers in, and he can no longer help the way his hips move to seek more depth, more sensation. He curses, and then John calls him good boy, and he's a thread away from begging.

If John teased him any further, he absolutely would have- Finnick has never been too proud to beg in such situations. Thankfully, John instead picks him up, and Finnick readily wraps arms and legs around him, holding himself up between John and the wall. The kiss helps Finnick relax into the new position, reminding himself he only needs certain muscles for this, and not to tighten the wrong ones too much and cause himself pain.

He shifts to find the right angle, and fingers tangle into John's hair again. Finnick breathes out a big, long sigh as he's penetrated with the much girthier length of his lover's cock.

"Hold there," he whispers once John is buried inside, which can be taken as an intimate request or a command, whatever floats his boat. He stills, breathing deeply in and out, allowing his body to adjust to the size. He forces himself to wait longer than he wants to.

"Okay," he murmurs again, signalling for John to start moving with a light tap of a heel on his ass.