Despite his assurance, Finnick keeps going--and it's wonderful, so good John can't be impatient about waiting or taking the time when he's trying to ride Finnick's fingers, and that delicious burn relaxes into more heat and pleasure. He feels like he's losing his mind in the best way possible, and that golden haze can't compete with the electric sensation of Finnick's touch. He feels, but he isn't lost this time. He knows exactly where he is in all that sensation, wants more, wants all.

He feels greedy and wild and when Finnick withdraws his fingers--yeah, that feeling is new and strange and not bad but not remotely fun, empty and longing for--

Finnick flipping him onto his back stops his thoughts dead, because having him covering John's body is a wonderful feeling...and being with someone who can take advantage to get the upper hand on him, physically, is debilitatingly hot.

The show Finnick puts on is appreciated, and as John watches him slick up his cock, stroking himself, he has a wild fantasy of pushing Finnick into that submissive headspace, instructing him to touch himself, to come exactly the way John tells him to come...

He's hooking his leg around Finnick's hip almost at the same time he's reaching for him, hands sliding up Finnick's chest and over his shoulders--body aching to feel him again with an anticipation that makes it hard not to move, to try and pull him closer. He wants, but even with his head rapidly clearing he likes this--taking what Finnick allows him, waiting and wanting and anticipating before he's finally bathed in new sensations and experiences that damn near blow the top of his head off.

"Yeah--need you." he breathes, winding his arms around Finnick's neck and trying to draw his knee up still higher. "Please, fuck I want you inside me so bad. Please."