TDM #5

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

FLAMEFRUIT SANGRIA a deep red wine based punch with chunks of softly glowing fruit floating in it. A single serving makes you feel relaxed, social, and maybe even a little flirty.

MOLTEN MEAD Though the thick drink itself is room temperature, it bubbles sluggishly, and feels very warm going down. The bold flavor affects your mood. You feel very bold! Like you could do anything!

BESALT BRANDY a hopefully staple drink for the brewery, this liquor is smooth and rich with a peppery bite. Ironically after consuming it, you kinda want to bite someone! Not hard! Just a little nip and nibble!

THAT ASHY ESPRESSO a single potent shot of dark espresso swirled with a gold-tinged cream. Intense and bitter with a hint of caramelized sugar. You are now very awake, hyper, and excited.

PYROCLAST'S WHISKEYa glossy black whiskey that turns a vibrant glowing orange when swirled. You now breathe fire.

EMBERMARK WINE a rich, velvety, spiced wine that immediately makes one feel mellow and calm.

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

IGNACIA'S CRADLE/EMBER VEIL

Months ago, a piece of land from Heaven’s Bow fell from the sky and scarred the land below, damaging a part of the city. From that chaos and ruin rose new life, a new ruler, and a new city: Ignacia’s Cradle. Just a short walk from the edge of Grey Ward, the gates of the city are guarded by two massive obsidian golems, and any who did not rise from the lava itself are warned at the entrance that to travel about the city will be most difficult, unless they have obtained a way to mitigate the extreme heat: be that with a charm, an ability, or a potion. The very streets themselves are paved in slabs of volcanic rock, tall spires of buildings constructed and shaped by rapidly cooled lava. The main method of travel are the mine carts, with tracks that wind through the spires ready to take one to almost any location.

Currently, the main feature of Ignacia’s Cradle is the Lava Flats, home of skilled smiths that use the extreme heat of the lava to melt the strongest metals and create unbreakable weapons, glassmakers and jewelers who fashion elaborate headpieces, rings, and amulets. These items are sold at the Ember Market on the outskirts of the Flats.

At the edge of the city lies the Ashfall Terrace, where a small farm using the rich volcanic ash and soil is in its infancy, as well as the Basalt Brewery where clever alchemists are researching ways to use the extreme heat to craft new and unique beverages that they are eager to find folk to test them out on.

---

The hot spring of Ignacia’s Cradle is a breathtaking anomaly located just beyond the Ashfall Terrace, tucked into a secluded crater formed by the celestial impact that gave rise to the city. Here, molten veins from the Lava Flats weave beneath the earth, heating a natural reservoir that bubbled to life amidst the chaos. The spring’s waters shimmer with an ethereal brilliance, hues of deep turquoise blending with molten gold and fiery orange, as though Heaven’s Bow itself left behind a fragment of its essence. Steam rises in curling wisps, carrying the tang of minerals and faint traces of sulfur.

The spring, known to locals as The Ember Veil, is both a sanctuary and a marvel of natural wonder. Its soothing waters are reputed to heal wounds and fortify the spirit, with the temperature kept in perfect balance by an intricate system of naturally formed vents and channels. The edges are lined with intricately carved obsidian benches, where patrons can soak their feet or meditate in the rising steam. Plants resistant to the intense conditions—vivid fire lilies and ash ferns—dot the perimeter, their resilience a symbol of life’s ability to flourish even in the harshest environments.

Sometimes, when two or more individuals share the waters, the spring creates a subtle connection between their minds, allowing memories to surface like ripples on its surface. These shared memories appear as glowing, translucent scenes that hover above the water, visible to all within the spring. Participants can relive moments from their lives, experiencing them through each other’s eyes, fostering profound empathy and understanding.

Another of the spring’s mystical properties occurs when bathers who enter the waters feeling drained, injured, or burdened by grief often find their vitality restored. The waters seem to draw out negative energies and emotions, replacing them with a warm, invigorating sensation that spreads through the body. In rare instances, the spring has been known to accelerate physical healing, mending minor injuries and soothing chronic aches, as though the magic itself is stitching the body back together.

A lesser-known but equally fascinating effect happens on particularly clear nights, when the moonlight reflects on the spring’s surface, some bathers report fleeting glimpses of potential futures. These visions are often cryptic, appearing as brief, dream-like flashes, but they have guided many to life-changing decisions. The alchemists of the Basalt Brewery believe this effect stems from residual cosmic energy, and they have begun experimenting with enhancing it through the addition of rare minerals and lunar elixirs.

RADIANT SUN

The day begins like no other, with the skies painted in hues of golden-pink as the Radiant Sun ascends. Its light spills over the world, warm and soft, caressing the land and filling every heart with a sense of peace. Beneath its glow, emotions of love and connection bloom like never before. Strangers exchange heartfelt smiles, old friends embrace as though no time has passed, and lovers find their feelings deepened, their bonds strengthened.

Even the air feels different—lighter, sweeter, as though the universe itself is celebrating. The songs of birds harmonize with the melodies of impromptu musicians who feel inspired by the sun’s radiance. Those with magical abilities sense their powers of healing and creation magnified, as if the sun itself lends its strength to their intentions. Long-held grudges seem to melt away under the sun’s tender gaze, replaced by tears of reconciliation and words of forgiveness.

The Radiant Sun touches every heart differently:

◾A widow finds peace as memories of her late spouse no longer bring sorrow but gratitude for the love they shared.
◾A timid youth finds the courage to confess their feelings to the person they’ve admired for so long.
◾A gruff warrior lets down their guard, laughing freely with their companions for the first time in years.

For a fleeting moment, the world feels as it should be—unified, harmonious, and drenched in love.

But as the day wanes and the Radiant Sun dips below the horizon, an unease begins to settle...

JEALOUS MOON

The golden light gives way to deep purples and silvers as the Jealous Moon rises, its glow pale and cold. Its light pierces the heart, not to warm it, but to expose the insecurities that lie buried within. Where love had flourished during the day, doubt begins to creep in.

Under the Jealous Moon’s influence, emotions twist and darken:

◾A once-reconciled pair of siblings argue over old grievances, as jealousy over perceived favoritism resurfaces.
◾A couple, who had spent the day lost in each other’s arms, now question each other’s loyalty and intentions.
◾A nobleman, inspired to be generous during the day, grows suspicious of those who received his gifts, fearing they may exploit his kindness.

The air grows heavy with tension, and the magic of the Radiant Sun fades, replaced by the sharp sting of distrust. The moon’s pale light seems to follow people like a judgmental gaze, amplifying every fear, insecurity, and lingering resentment.

Worse still, the night seems endless, as though time itself has bent beneath the weight of the Jealous Moon’s envious glow. For three long days and nights, the moon lingers high in the sky, its pale, piercing light casting a shadow over hearts and minds, amplifying discord and despair. Its power sows strife among even the closest bonds, driving some to dangerous extremes. Yet, when all seems lost, the scholars of the three factions unite their wisdom and uncover a glimmer of hope—a means to dispel the moon’s cruel influence. For those who have not yet succumbed to jealousy’s grip, there remains a chance to reclaim harmony, a chance for redemption before the damage becomes irreversible.

The solution lies not in complex rituals or rare relics but in the simplest and most instinctive actions: physical connection. To weaken the moon’s hold, people must embrace one another—offering a hug, a handshake, or even resting a hand on someone’s shoulder. These gestures of closeness disrupt the isolation and mistrust that the moon thrives upon. Sitting side by side or holding hands creates a barrier against its oppressive light, reminding the afflicted that they are not alone. Even small acts, like sharing warmth through proximity or clasping arms in solidarity, build a shield of connection that the moon cannot penetrate.

As these actions ripple through the night, the Jealous Moon’s light begins to dim, its sharp, cold glow softening until it fades from the sky entirely. The tension in the air lifts, replaced by a quiet calm that feels almost foreign after the chaos of the past three days. Slowly, the world seems to exhale, and the darkness that clung so tightly to the hearts of many begins to loosen its grip. People step back from the brink of despair, their minds clearing as if waking from a long, disorienting dream. Relationships strained by the moon’s influence begin to mend as apologies are exchanged, tears are shed, and bonds are reaffirmed.

ALL IS WELL(?)

With the Radiant Sun rising again, its golden-pink hues spilling across the horizon, life begins to return to normal. The birds resume their morning songs, markets reopen, and the hum of daily activity fills the air once more. Though traces of the moon’s influence linger in whispered memories, there is a collective sense of relief and gratitude among the people—gratitude for the light, for connection, and for a second chance to heal.

In the outskirts of Ignacia's Cradle, Aella and Terra, two of the three leaders of the factions, come together to address the gathered crowds. Together they assure the people that this celestial event was a rare anomaly, something never before recorded in the annals of history. They explain that while the Jealous Moon’s influence was unprecedented and deeply unsettling, it was a unique alignment of cosmic forces that is unlikely to occur again in their lifetimes—or ever.

The leaders thank the people for their resilience and compassion, emphasizing how their acts of unity—simple gestures of closeness and connection—proved stronger than the moon’s envy. They commend the scholars for their quick thinking and the Visitors for their role in guiding others through the chaos. Finally, they urge everyone to move forward, not in fear of what has passed, but with the knowledge that even in the darkest moments, their strength lies in the bonds they share.

QUESTBOARD

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

*February will be the last month to complete quests for this rotation. New ones will go up on March 1st.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fifth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored! Ignacia's Cradle and Ember Veil have been added, along with details about the Violet Drop regarding the Cult of Triton.

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

Participation in the Radiant Sun/Jealous Moon effects is not mandatory.

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Comments

Clutches pearls!!!

[odare]

Finnick holds John's hand as they ascend, and straddles him readily on the bed. His kisses are open mouthed and deep, venturing his tongue into John's mouth as he groans and grinds his hips hungrily against his partner.

"You like it?" Finnick asks with a breathless grin. He listens to John's rambling dirty talk, laughing a little under his breath at the reveal of this kink.

"Mm, how possessive. I like that. You can bite me, mark me, however you want. I'll wear it proudly. Everyone will know I'm yours, and you're mine." He purrs that last bit, leaning in to kiss John's neck again and suck a hickey into it.

[theydrewfirstblood]

“…oh…fuck…”

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.

[odare]

The words taste sweet on his tongue. He likes the sound of it. You're mine. Yes, he likes that, he wants that very much.

And so he puts his all into marking John up, kissing and sucking and biting up and down his neck, his collarbone and chest. His earlobe. While he's at it, he slips his hand up John's shirt and scratches down his abdomen, vaguely remembering him liking that the last time they were together (which was over a year ago in Finnick's timeline of events, so this time feels almost like the first time all over again). John is extremely excited, and Finnick once again finds amusement and satisfaction in how easy it is to rile his lover up.

A bit differently from their first time sleeping together, Finnick feels more like the one in control- at least for now. He grinds hard until John takes hold of him, gasping at the gentle, intentional firmness of his grip. His hand tangles into John's hair, the other expertly undoing his pants.

"Tell me what you want, babe." More, yes- but come now, John, let's get more specific.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John sinks back onto the bed as Finnick…just devours him, every brush of his mouth making John shiver and moan. It’s those scrapes of teeth, though, that make him cry out louder and arch into every nip, every place where Finnick just gleefully sinks his teeth into skin.

When he asks John what he wants, he laughs a little—how can he be expected to think clearly enough for words at a time like this? Finnick scratches nails over his stomach then…and it’s when John hisses between clenched teeth, tenses and tries to hold back that building knot of hot tension threatening to explode low in his body that he realizes just what he wants.

“More of this.” He breathes, burying his fingers in Finnick’s hair and tugging just hard enough to pull him in for another deep, messy kiss that’s little more than open mouths and seeking tongues. “You, marking me up anywhere, everywhere. Want to feel you for days, all over…want you to decide when I get to come, how I get to come.”

He grins against Finnick’s mouth—then darts in to rake a sharp bite against his throat.

“Then I wanna do the same thing for you.”

cw sexual abuse

[odare]

All of these sounds are important data that Finnick is logging in the file folder labelled Things That Drive John Crazy. Crucial research that thus far is yielding the results he was seeking.

"I can do that," he purrs, moaning softly as his hair is tugged.

"Ah--" the sharp pain takes him slightly by surprise, cuing an exhale that sounds like a dubious mix of pain and pleasure. Finnick was always a bit ambivalent about pain during sex- much of the time it was something he just had to tolerate, but when John gives it to him, it's thrilling. He feels his partner's desire for him through that greedy clench of his jaw, marking him like his territory. Unlike careless partners hurting Finnick by accident or out of apathy, this pain is intentional, this pain communicates his care.

"You naughty little thing-" he growls. "Fooling everyone with your sweet, innocent brown eyes when you're really a dirty boy." He grabs both his partner's wrists and pins them to the bed next to his head, then slides his fingers to entwine with John's. His movements over John immediately become slow, fluid, and teasing. He takes his time, tracing against John's cheek with the tip of his nose, brushing his lips ever-so-softly against his jawline. He takes John's earlobe between his teeth, but doesn't bite down yet, exhaling hot breath behind it. He's showing his restraint, even under the influence of the biting potion, even with his heady lust. Showing that he can and will make John wait for it, beg for it. His tongue licks sweat from his partner's strong neck in a careful line.

CW: torture, PTSD

[theydrewfirstblood]

There’s a fleeting moment when John wonders if Finnick is okay, with the sound he makes when John bites him. He’s pretty quickly teasing John and calling him a naughty boy and okay that’s apparently right up there with good boy—

Then he pins John’s wrists to the bed, on either side of his head, and for one split second he can’t breathe.

For one split second, he’s back in Vietnam, hands bound to a metal bed frame in the same position. He’s bracing himself for the electric current again…

…then Finnick’s fingers are meshing with his, pressing his hands into the mattress. Soft, warm, firm pressure with Finnick bearing down on him. His lips brushing John’s jaw, nose tracing his cheek, teeth gently catching his earlobe.

There is no agony, no bite of steel, no cord cutting into his wrists in a shabby reed hut. Soft bed under his back, soft hot breath, liquid movement and the smell of Finnick’s skin.

His fingers gripping John’s. Soft and warm and firm and…safe.

John’s eyes slide shut and he shivers with a breathy hum that’s as close as his voice can manage to a whine. His body melts under Finnick at first, then begins to shift and twist into those soft touches trying to get more. The deliberate, slow trail of wet heat along his neck from Finnick’s tongue does him in.

“Please…fuck, Finnick, please—“

Without thinking, he tugs against the grip Finnick has on his hands—not hard, but enough to feel the pressure holding him. Instead of feeling trapped, he feels strangely grounded, tethered to his body and the moment as his growing need and desperation threaten to carry him away…

And melts again with a sound between a growl and a sigh, hips rocking up against Finnick reflexively trying to find some relief for his aching cock.

[odare]

There's a brief look of fear on John's face and a stop to his breath as he's pinned, and Finnick briefly worries it's too far.

"You okay? Traffic color?" He checks, looking into John's eyes.

He does seem to be okay, though- more than okay, as despite the momentary lapse, he's still literally begging for it. Hearing his own name in that whimpered plead makes heat churn in Finnick's gut. Still, though, he does not grind against John, does not allow him that contact he craves below the belt. For now, the only stimulation John receives is an instinctual press of his hands back into the bed as they attempt at a struggle, and a harsh bite on the currently unmarked side of John's neck. Again, the resistance of John's flesh against his teeth makes Finnick moan, the sound muffled against wet skin.

"You're all mine tonight, sweetheart," he utters as he pulls away, his voice thick with lust.

[theydrewfirstblood]

"Green...green." John pants as Finnick pauses to look into his eyes, his own black with desire. He adds a little nod for good measure, squeezing Finnick's fingers as he lets his eyes shut again just because he can. Just because it feels so good...just because Finnick is holding him down and he's safe...

"...green..."

The word trails off into a whisper, into moaning and begging and more pressure holding him down. That should scare him but he finds his whole body reflexively just melting back into the mattress with husky hum of a whine. Even that delicious, sharp bite makes him gasp, head arching back, but he can't make himself struggle again when it feels so good to be held down like this...to be good.

It would scare him, feeling this way, if Halsin hadn't introduced him to it, and John will be grateful as hell later when he can think straight. Right now he can only gasp and squirm under Finnick, fighting the urge to move and tugging just a little against his hands because it makes him so deliciously loose and warm and--fuck, more, he just wants more so badly...

"All yours." he echoes breathlessly. "Always yours...fuck, s' so good, baby, please Finnick, want more need more please..."

[odare]

Green, okay, good. He seems very sure about that answer, so Finnick won't worry.

John takes the bite like a champ, and reacts to it like he might an orgasm, which is so very hot.

"Good boy," Finnick murmurs, low in his ear. "Always so good for me..."

The begging, oh god, it does something to him, it melts the circuitboard of his brain and makes him want to give in and give John everything. But Finnick restrains himself, because it is all still up to him. He releases John's hands and carefully helps him remove his shirt, then caresses down his arms, onto his chest. His hands glide over John's scars there, and then he kisses them gently, slowly.

In time, he moves downward to tease his tongue around one of his nipples. As he does so, he scratches sharply with both hands down John's sides. He still gives no attention to his lover's cock, wanting him to focus only on the sensations of Finnick's mouth and fingers on his body. Between scratches, his hands roam and caress the rippling muscles of his abdomen. Once the bud of his nipple hardens, Finnick takes it carefully between his teeth, worrying it gently.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John lets out another of those husky, breathless hums that pass for a whine and can't control the way he arches under Finnick out of sheer reflex, those two little words, that soft good boy setting off a far different kind of electricity that makes his skin flush and his gut clench with even deeper lust.

Always so good for me...

"Yeah, fuck--please, wanna be good for you, please...please, more...wanna be good..."

He makes a sound of protest when Finnick lets go of his hands, but when he realizes what he's doing he keeps his hands in place as best he can while arching and shifting so Finnick can pull his shirt off.

He leaves his hands there as Finnick trails fingers over his arms, his chest, his scars...

John knows what his scars are. Flaws, defects--they're a source of shame that he tries to hide because they're just a physical display of how badly he's broken. The reflex is to say something, tell Finnick it's okay, that he doesn't have to--but he's sliding his fingers over them so carefully, kissing them like they matter...

And the words wither up and die. They burn to ash on his tongue, and those ashes taste oddly sweet as he arches into every brush of lips and hands, moved and aroused at the same time. He's sinking into that mix of feeling, sticky and sweet and warm, down and down and down.

With Halsin, it just...sort of happened, that strange soft golden fog his mind slipped into. Now it's like Finnick is deliberately trying to take him there with the wet heat of his mouth on a nipple, in the sharp rake of nails along his sides, and he finds he wants it, wants to just fucking drown in him. Give him everything, every part of his body, his heart, what's left of his soul.

"...Fin...Fin..."

He can't even beg, and just saying his name feels as good as his palms skimming his bare stomach--and when his teeth pinch his nipple and tease, clench, worry at it, John cries out with pleasure, mind finally shutting down totally as just feeling consumes even his need to come.

[odare]

"Yes, keep your hands there for me, that's good," he encourages, giving John the instructions he needs to be the good boy he so desperately wants to be. It's adorable.

The scars are evidence of John's experiences, what he's been through. Evidence of pain, but also proof of his resilience to still be here, to heal, to mend. Finnick is grateful for that, and he has appreciation for everything that's made John into the man he cares for.

It's true, though; Finnick is trying to overwhelm John, to send him to that lovely place where thoughts are slow like sludge and wrapped in fog, and all that matters is submission, in being held safe and treated to pleasure. John deserves that. His hands and mouth keep working lower, and he hears John struggle to form words, knowing that rational thought is unravelling from Finnick's touch. He looks up, meets his eyes.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I've got you; nothing's gonna hurt you. Let yourself go." As though to support his point, his hands wrap around John's hips, holding them securely. Given that his partner seems relaxed enough and still enjoying himself, Finnick undoes his pants and slides them down his hips carefully. His cock springs free, and John's physique is fully revealed, like a statue carved of smooth marble. Finnick's hands caress over his hipbones, thumbs creeping into the divets of his hips. He then kisses there, very softly. Lips and tongue lap at the spot, then gradually make their way lower, toward the base of his cock. Still, nothing touches it. It stands erect, pre-come dripping onto John's stomach.

"You're so beautiful," Finnick murmurs adoringly.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John lifts his head to watch Finnick, and their eyes meet. Every word out of his mouth shoots straight to John’s core, registering in his conscious and subconscious mind to make that sense of warmth and safety as overwhelming as the slow teasing pleasure of Finnick’s touch.

Let yourself go.

John’s eyes fall shut, he shivers with a sigh as Finnick’s hands wrap around his hips…and he does just that.

He doesn’t try to control how much he feels, how he moves, what he gets from Finnick—just feels, accepts, and sinks so deep into sensation every touch feels like that tense, glorious moment before orgasm. Even the cool air as Finnick strips him bare feels like a lover’s caress over fevered skin.

He feels every touch at once, those thumbs sweeping the indents over his hips, mouth hot and wet on his skin, inching towards his cock with painful slowness…and he doesn’t care. He can’t care, only one thing pierces him with the kind of painful longing that should be reserved for that distant, all consuming need to come.

“Please.” He breathes, and then the words tumble from his mouth, barely coherent and riding the edge of every moan. “Please…touch you, can I? Can I touch, Fin—wanna touch, please, wanna touch you so bad…”

[odare]

Finnick sees and feels John relax, meaning he feels safe, which is perfect. He knows it takes a lot for people like them to feel safe, in any scenario.

It's also clear that even as he relaxes, his body is creeping toward climax despite the lack of attention his dick is getting.

And just as he thinks John is far gone, that it may be time just to take him in hand and finish him, a new plea falls from his lips, making Finnick look up.

The request is sweet, as is the way the request is made- urgent, like touching Finnick is the greatest privilege he could receive while also being a desperate need. Not a sly want from a man who thinks he's entitled to Finnick's body because he has money and power, but a plea for connection and intimacy from someone who deeply needs it and can only let himself ask for it when his inhibitions are completely stripped away.

He moves back up to lay next to John, keeping eyes on his. He brushes some brown fluffy hair back from his forehead with his fingertips, smiling softly.

"Yes, you've been very good, so you can touch me, darling. Thank you for asking." It means a lot- to be asked. To have that bit of control.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John's whole face lights up like the sun as Finnick moves to stretch out beside him--he just wanted to be able to put his hands in his hair, feel and touch and lose himself further. The act of obeying just feels so good, letting go of control and taking orders without fear of what those orders will be...knowing he can just stop thinking and do what he's told, and it will be good for both of them. That he can ask for permission, and even if Finnick says 'no,' it will still lead somewhere wonderful.

Finnick won't ask him to do more than this: be with him, be for him, and it's frighteningly easy to get lost in that.

Realizing what this might be for Finnick, what a question like that might mean, sort of wakes John up a little in a really nice way. He can feel that pleasure with more intention, and as he reaches up to just bury his fingers in Finnick's hair he obeys to the letter.

He lets his hands move down over the sides of his face, his neck, his chest. He rolls to the side and presses his cheek to Finnick's, shoves his hands under his shirt to trace the muscles of his back and slide over his belly. He curls a hand down over his clothed ass, firm sweeps of his hand just to memorize those planes and curves.

Doesn't kiss. Doesn't taste...just touches, feels, sinks even deeper into that heightened sensory experience that comes with letting go of everything, punctuated with softer moans and happy sighs as he just lets himself explore his beloved's lover's body without any more expectation than doing as he's told.

[odare]

That smile is wonderful, as is the way John chooses to touch Finnick. Not grabbing or kissing or biting or taking. Just feeling him, getting closer, more intimate. The hands in his hair make Finnick melt, his eyes closing as he allows John to explore him. It's sort of like a sensual hug, soft and sweet, and Finnick exhales some contented sighs as he wraps his arms around John and presses soft kisses to his neck.

"Good boy..." He whispers on an exhale in John's ear. "So sweet..."

Finnick considers taking his long-sleeved shirt off, but he's been forced to undress so many times before that staying clothed actually feels nice. Empowering. Finnick knows he won't, but even if John wanted or tried to grab at his genitals, or ogle him, he can't really. It's up to Finnick how exposed he is, and what touches he receives. In this scenario, being withholding is allowed, might even amp up the tension and pleasure for John, as opposed to being a big no-no in his previous line of work. That's freeing, that feels good.

Finnick's hand moves down again to John's bare hip, his fingertips teasing there lightly. They drift up to John's muscled abdomen, back down to his inner thigh, but still don't touch his cock yet. He moves back slightly to examine John's neck.

"Nice and marked up..."

His tongue laps gently at the spots that are probably a bit sore now.

[theydrewfirstblood]

The soft praise in his ear threatens to steal that tiny fragment of reason John has regained--and succeeds, voluntarily this time. No coaxing needed, not when giving himself to Finnick like this, giving him all of the control is so...freeing. And to be seen as something as pure as being sweet...

John presses his face to Finnick's neck for a second, where he might be able to feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and can definitely feel the giddy smile curling against his skin.

He's slow to realize, as Finnick's touching him, as the physical arousal keeps tearing little moans and growls from him, that Finnick is deliberately teasing him. He wants to come, needs to come, feels everything so intensely, and yet it feels distant at the same time. He's just sinking deeper and deeper and deeper into need and pleasure and this simple perfect joy of possession that he almost forgets there's more...until he realizes Finnick is teasing him.

John opens his mouth to say...something, he doesn't know what, when Finnick's tongue brushes one of the bruises forming on his neck with a delicious ache that makes him shiver. Appraising them, and him, like John's his prized possession, and that makes John press closer even as he melts into Finnick at the same time with a groan.

"Fuck--feels good, so good...all yours..."

He looks into Finnick's face with hazy eyes gone black with desire.

"...wanna kiss you. Please? Please, can I kiss you?...please, Fin..."

[odare]

"Yes, baby, kiss me," Finnick breathes, because he needs it too, and he can't tease much more, can't hold out much longer when John's pleading is driving him insane with dizzying lust. His own cock is still untouched, and it throbs with heat, but it's not his turn, not yet.

So his mouth crashes into John's without delay, wet tongues and lips mashing together with a moan as he lets some of his dominant restraint fall away. As they kiss, his hands continue working. One grabs a meaty handful of John's ass, the other wraps around his cock. He uses the grip on his ass to pull John's hips toward himself, rocking his cock into his own hand. He strokes him slowly, building more heat as he bites at John's lower lip, makes a meal of his mouth.

"Fuck," he groans, overwhelmed by even the thought of John's impending orgasm, on the edge of losing his own control. He wants to hear John beg for it.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John falls into the kiss with that breathy hum—and it’s that, along with Finnick’s fingers wrapping around his cock, digging into his ass to drag him closer, that drag him to the point of breaking. He has to cling to Finnick, arms around his shoulders and nails digging into flesh through his clothes to keep himself from shattering right there. It would be so easy, breathing Finnick’s air and feeling him move to rock against his own hand as he strokes John slowly, so slowly…

But he can’t. No, he could—but he doesn’t want to. Asking to touch made Finnick so happy, asking for a kiss has him fucking devouring John like he’s starving…he’s given himself over to Finnick completely and he wants to keep giving.

“Please…please, Fin—Fin, please, wanna come for you, please…wanna come for you, just for you…for you, please, please let me come for you…”

[odare]

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.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John stops holding back then, pressing his forehead into Finnick’s as he shamelessly thrusts into that perfect grip. Heat and pressure and those beautiful callused fingers moving over him fast and deliberate as the pleasure tightens in his belly…

…and for a second it’s like his body isn’t listening, has forgotten how to stop holding back that release he wants so badly. He does whine then, not a true whimper but so much higher than that breathy hum—but something happens, Finnick’s breath on his face and the right twist of his wrist and the way his body feels under John’s hands.

He reaches the edge, he falls over it—and he quits thinking altogether.

For a long time there’s nothing but pleasure. He’s moaning and crying out Finnick’s name, nails raking his back over his shirt, shuddering and fucking Finnick’s fist for what feels like forever. When he does start to come down, he finds his face pressed to Finnick’s neck where he’s been mindlessly nipping and worrying at a patch of skin just above the collar of his shirt in between lapping at the spot just to taste his skin.

“…holy shit.” he laughs softly, drawing back to kiss him. “Mmmm…”

Love you.

He keeps kissing Finnick so the words don’t fall out of his mouth too soon.

[odare]

That small noise John makes right before he comes is one of the most beautiful and affecting sounds he's ever heard, a culmination of vulnerability and desperate pleasure, a sound he's honoured he can even draw out of a hardened army man like John.

Finnick watches John come, and it's even more beautiful- eyes closed, he's gone, somewhere else entirely. The cry of Finnick's name prickles sweat on the back of his neck and makes his gut twist. The curves of his sinewy muscle writhe beneath sweat-beaded skin as he grasps blindly for something, anything, and finds Finnick, holding him close and secure, ensuring he gets every last drop of the pleasure he deserves, until he's totally spent. It's long and drawn, and gives Finnick a deep sense of satisfaction, of gratification, even with his own cock still untouched.

As he comes down, he cradles John in his arms, petting his hair. Finnick laughs in return, kissing him deeply.

"Sweet man," he murmurs when their lips part, his thumb stroking John's cheekbone, meeting those soft brown eyes. "So beautiful."

[theydrewfirstblood]

John’s mount curves into a smile of pure pleasure against Finnick’s mouth. He can feel himself flushing with delight, warm and loose and just…happy. He’s so fucking happy with little raw spots aching across his body where he’ll wear Finnick’s marks for days, Finnick’s arms around him, Finnick calling him sweet and beautiful…

…and John loves him. He’s still half buried in that haze of simple, obedient joy but he knows that feeling won’t go away when his head clears. It’s too deep, too pure, and it’s too fucking soon—and John loves him.

Proving that he’s still not fully clear headed again, he’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realize he’s been nuzzling Finnick’s palm where he’s touching John’s face until he decides on something.

Because he’s pressed close, and he wants to ne closer, wants to feel Finnick fall apart, too…and even though he’s not going to be able to get it up again for a little bit, there’s a new ache for more that has him kissing Finnick again.

“…is fucking me something you’d like?” He asks softly, shyly. “‘Cause I would. If you want to.”

[odare]

Finnick certainly isn't far off from love either. Being with John makes it feel like nothing else in the world exists, no troubles. It feels blissful and sweet and right. When you come from a cruel world, you have to hold onto things like that, to people like that.

His own arousal is still very much there, a simmering heat that spikes a little as John kisses him. He returns the kiss with the fervor of his unquenched desire.

"... Wanting more of me in charge?" He asks, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm happy to fuck you, darling," he murmurs, a hand rubbing the curve of John's back in a slow caress. "Is there a position you'd like best?" John... Maybe still doesn't have much experience with men, but Finnick still thinks he might have some ideas.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John shivers at that—because yeah, he does like this. Loves this, seeing Finnick realizing how it feels to have control. He’ll have to return the favor, make Finnick feel as good as John does now.

…but he’s not just looking for that, belonging to Finnick a little longer. The way Finnick is rubbing his back, the way he’s taking his time to talk when John can feel how fucking hard he is. He’s gotta be going crazy.

“Wanna feel you. Everywhere.” John admits, kissing him again. “Wanna be closer, I want—I wanna make love to you.”

…shit. It’s too soon for that. It’s way too soon for that…

cw scars, injections, implied hospitalization

[odare]

The kiss is hungry, again, lips locking deeply- Finnick can't help it. He can show restraint in all other ways but when John kisses him, he loses it a little, his body wanting more.

He then grins a little. Make love. It's cheesy, it's cute. And, well... It sounds really nice. Something slow and intimate feels fitting, based on the sweetness they've been building, not just tonight but in general. It would feel a bit out of place, tonight, to put John on his knees and fuck him from behind like an animal. Something more tender seems right.

"Okay. That sounds good," he says, connecting their gaze again before giving one more soft peck.

"Why don't you take my clothes off for me?" He asks softly.

Finnick hasn't had sex since he returned from Panem, and he's also been pretty covered up lately, what with it being winter. John may have, by now, seen the burn scars on the back of Finnick's right hand and knuckles, still new and not yet faded from the volcano incident. If John takes off Finnick's shirt, he'll find a much larger scar on his shoulder and part of his chest, matching in newness, and seeming more severe.

In addition to those, the Capitol no longer had control of him for much of his recent stint in Panem, so he kept all of those scars. There are small, irregular circles, strange little splotches on his neck, arms, legs, and hands, almost like acne or chicken pox scars, but not quite. They're faded. He also has some tiny scars on his arms and neck, which seem to be from injections, either haphazard or planned. Other than that, a slash mark here or there- his body is no longer unnervingly perfect. He's still getting used to that, but overall, he's relieved for it. He knows John will treat it all with compassion and care, so he isn't too worried about showing it all.