For a second the question doesn’t register. Finnick’s fingers are working in and out of him, he’s rocking back onto them, being fucked by his fingers and it feels so good he wonders if he could come like this…

The question finally sinks in as John realizes how badly he wants Finnick inside him—not just his fingers. He should probably give it more time, but Finnick is hard and dripping for him and John—fuck, he wants it so bad he can’t stand it.

So he nods as he kisses Finnick, thoughts hazy but orderly at least—not so far gone he forgets caution.

“Want you, please.” He breathes, rocking back onto his fingers one more time with a moan. “Just—lotta lube, go slow, ‘n s’ fine.”