John breathes in sharply at the words, not the sensations--he hasn't fully surfaced from that wonderful golden haze and it's easy to let it muffle the voice of reason again. That giddy joy makes the pleasure more intense, and the onslaught of new sensations keeps him from floating away too far into the golden fog. Keeps him present and as bound as he had been with Finnick pinning his hands to the bed.

He's focused on the way it feels, on obeying as he keeps breathing--and that sense of being unable to escape just makes him melt again, magnifies sensation, creating an endless loop that has him sagging into Finnick's chest, body loose and breathing shaky in between moans and gasps.

He's not even aware he's starting to press back into Finnick's touch until he adds a second finger--and it's intense but not painful, the sweet pleasureburnsting of a muscle lengthening under a full body stretch that goes on a little too long. John rocks back thoughtlessly to try and get more, hand drifting towards his nearly fully hard cock again and stopping abruptly to cling to Finnick again as he fights the urge to touch himself.

"Fuck--fuck, Fin, please--don't stop, please don't stop..."

He moans the words against Finnick's neck, mouthing and nipping at his throat just to taste his skin as he breathes through the stretch, torn between trying to be still and relaxed and just fucking himself on Finnick's fingers with wanton abandon.