The words are torn out of him on a giddy laugh as they settle in his chest with a warm, effervescent joy that settles something in his marrow.
I’m yours, and you’re mine.
He wants to say it back, tell him how much he wants that, how much it means—but Finnick is grinding against him and kissing, worrying and sucking a bruise into his neck and the words are just fucking gone.
John’s head falls back, an animal offering its throat, gasping and moaning and growling. He’s rocking up to meet every roll of Finnick’s hips—not even aware of the one hand tearing desperately at Finnick’s pants to get them open so he can get his fingers wrapped around his gorgeous cock.
He’s gonna come in his pants like a fucking teenager and he doesn’t give a damn, not when the silky heat of him is finally in John’s hand and he’s stroking him, slow and firm, hopefully unmaking him as readily as Finnick is unmaking John.
no subject
The words are torn out of him on a giddy laugh as they settle in his chest with a warm, effervescent joy that settles something in his marrow.
I’m yours, and you’re mine.
He wants to say it back, tell him how much he wants that, how much it means—but Finnick is grinding against him and kissing, worrying and sucking a bruise into his neck and the words are just fucking gone.
John’s head falls back, an animal offering its throat, gasping and moaning and growling. He’s rocking up to meet every roll of Finnick’s hips—not even aware of the one hand tearing desperately at Finnick’s pants to get them open so he can get his fingers wrapped around his gorgeous cock.
“…God…fuck, please, more—all yours, please…so good…”
He’s gonna come in his pants like a fucking teenager and he doesn’t give a damn, not when the silky heat of him is finally in John’s hand and he’s stroking him, slow and firm, hopefully unmaking him as readily as Finnick is unmaking John.