John tenses, grips his shoulders, and Finnick knows he's right at the edge. This is a precipice of power and control; he could still deny John his orgasm, even now. Leave him a whimpering puddle.

But that feels cruel. He wants John to feel good, he wants it so much he thinks he might burst himself, soon.

"Come for me, baby." His voice comes low and husky, thick and urgent, a hungry growl. His grip tightens around John's cock and his pace increases, working the length expertly in his hand, giving it his all to ensure John's peak is glorious.