John growls when he bites his neck--kind of hard, too, sting turning to heat that bleeds into him and has him fighting the debilitating urge to pull Finnick into his lap and jerk him off right there, worrying a bruise into John's skin that everyone will see...

All of his concentration goes to releasing him long enough to stand, guiding him upstairs--and the second the door of their borrowed room is shut, John makes a beeline for the bed and drags Finnick down to straddle his lap so John can kiss him again, hard and greedy and desperate. Fuck, he's already hard, his head is spinning with that delicious bite of pain, shit the biting--

John stops to break the kiss, press his forehead against Finnick's shoulder, breathing like he's run a marathon.

"Okay, so...the biting. Guess it's a thing." he rasps, hands smoothing restlessly over Finnick's thighs. "Wanna make that clear, I'll say something if it's too much but...fucking Christ, Fin..."

The way he says his name sounds like begging, praying, broken and desperate and out of control...

"...I wanna do it back." he admits hoarsely, pressing a messy kiss to Finnick's neck. "Don't wanna hurt you, but fuck I wanna leave marks--want them to ache tomorrow so you remember how hard you came when I made 'em...want everyone to see 'em, see marks on me and know what we've been doing..."