That confession, subtle as it is, makes Loki want to reach out and try to comfort him, although...it's hard to tell if they're there quite yet. He extends a hand tentatively and gives him a light squeeze on the wrist, before withdrawing again. Stilted, but well meant.
"If we do this--and you're allowed to back out at any point, no ill feelings--you would be in charge the first time, anyway. The other method I've seen for checking in is having a sort of color code. Green for "I feel fine, keep going", yellow for "I'm not sure about this, go gently", or red for "stop". Maybe that would be easier for you? If I ask how you're feeling in the middle of something?"
He still might lie, might feel compelled to say he's good when he's not, but the 'yellow' option makes it easier to back out of things than having to directly call for a sudden halt.
The positive reaction to his own confession earns a smile in return, warmer and less guarded than most of Loki's facial expressions have been. "Some people like the versatility, I've found, but other people feel weird about it. I feel weird about the blue-ness, I'm not used to spending so much time in this shape, but that's my hang up, I guess, and no one else's."
His eyes glance to Loki's hand as he squeezes Finnick's wrist. A nice gesture, and he does find it comforting, if a little awkward. Loki doesn't really seem like the touchy-feely type, so Finnick assumes that was probably a big move for him. He gives a small smile.
"Oh... Yeah, that sounds really helpful. I'm sometimes unsure about things, but I don't want that to be taken as a no right away." He already knows he will be far more likely to speak up if he doesn't have to say 'no' or a word that means stop. And even if he says yellow but means red, things will slow down, and allow some time for him to muster up the nerve to be honest.
"If you'd ask me about the colors, that would mean a lot to me," he says sincerely. Loki being the one to check in, rather than the onus being completely on Finnick to shout out a word randomly, would help a lot with his ability to communicate. Besides... It's just nice to be asked. No one ever does that, really, in his world.
"Just sounds like double the fun to me," says Finnick in a more lighthearted tone. Then cocks his head to the side. "Wouldn't it be weirder if your dick was the only part not blue, though? Besides, lots of people here are funky colours. I fucked someone red already, and another blue-ish person, and a demon-spider with a fuzzy pink retractable dick." Hopefully those examples will make Loki feel less out of place.
There is a barrier that has to be broken before Loki gets touchy-feely with anyone. His inclinations, especially in this shape, are to maintain a personal space bubble. That might vanish if they sleep together, though.
For now, for just a moment there's an interesting shift in Loki himself, a brief burst of uncomplicated contentment because evidently he said something right. He smiles, bright and hopeful, and takes another drink of his wine.
Finnick's commentary about his dick makes him laugh. "Norns, no, you're right, that would be disturbing. I mean, a strap-on is one thing, those can be any color..."
Wait, hold on a sec. "Demon-spider? You saw him? I thought I had hallucinated him entirely!" Sorry, this is exciting news, he's so pleased he's not losing his mind. "Damn, now I'm sorry I didn't proposition him, myself."
Finnick smiles warmly, as well. He's also hopeful. He's almost never had such a frank discussion about consent, aside from his relationship with Annie, and even with her, they didn't have all of these methods and tools for safe communication. They sort of just... Muddled their way through with love and understanding. It's mind-blowing and eye-opening to Finnick that there even are safeguards like this that exist, and he's immensely grateful to be taught about them. Now, he can use them with any partner, and no one will feel taken advantage of (in an ideal world. The real world is of course messier).
He chuckles.
"No! He's real! And it was more like he propositioned me first. It really threw me to be beaten to the punch! He was a porn star in his world, so, we hit it off about our similar professions. Haven't seen him since, though... I really hope he's okay."
Finnick didn't get to learn a lot about Angel before they jumped in bed together, but anyone who can relate to Finnick that much about sex work, he worries for.
"Oh, now I'm jealous," he says, without sounding jealous at all. "We were looking for that child in the well, it wasn't a good place for anyone to be propositioning anyone else, let alone following through. I have to know, was the fluff as soft as it looked?"
His smile turns a little wry then, and he nods slightly in understanding. "Hard to say what happens to people who just...vanish from here like that, isn't it? Theoretically at least he's returned home and has a fighting chance there."
But then, Loki didn't talk to Angel Dust long enough to really get the picture of what his home life was like.
"Oh my god, so soft!" Finnick raves with enthusiasm. "That was the best part, besides all the hands. Six hands, touching everywhere... Ugh." He shivers with pleasure to remember it, grinning as his eyes roll back behind his fluttering lids a little.
But then his frown returns.
"I couldn't find the username he gave me on the network, so he must be gone. And that's the thing... He's from hell. If he went back home, that makes me even more worried. He acted like he enjoyed his job, but... That kind of work is easily exploited in a place like that." He scratches his temple, looking off to the side with worry.
"Anyway, uh, I'm getting off topic. Was there more you wanted to negotiate? I'm really enjoying learning from you. I wish I knew this stuff years ago." Not that it would have really helped, in his situation, but still.
"Damn," Loki sighs plaintively. "I should have asked for a quick snuggle. Maybe we'll see him again some day."
His expression sobers at the news, although it doesn't really surprise him to hear that a demon came from Hell. "Mm. Well, if it makes you feel any better, he mentioned he normally had guns, and seemed reasonably capable with a knife, so he's likely capable of defending himself."
Not that being able to physically defend oneself means you're exploitation-proof. Far from it, but maybe they should talk about lighter things. "Well. As long as we're talking about it...I should add that aside from abandonment, I can't tolerate much heat. No hot wax, thank you. Actually, I'm not sure how cold you'll find skin contact with me. That may be a matter for experimentation before we get into anything too physically intimate."
He's not going to give anyone frostbite with casual contact, but that doesn't necessarily mean the coolness of his skin will be comfortable for a human.
"Oh, that's good," he murmurs, nodding. It definitely doesn't mean Angel Dust is completely safe, but at least he has some way of fighting back.
"Only one way to find out." Finnick reaches out his hand without hesitation, laying it palm-up on the table and open for Loki to grab. If he does, Finnick will not only hold it for a moment, but then begin to slide his hand up Loki's inner forearm, wrapping his fingers gently around it as they glide over his skin.
Loki smiles at the offer of his hand. He would have asked, had Finnick not taken the initiative, but based on their conversation earlier, it feels better to let him lead. He places his hand in the other man's, curling his fingers gently. His touch is cold, but not in a way that feels inhuman. More like someone who's come in from a brisk walk in the snow. The texture of his skin, on the other hand, is very smooth, silky, save for where the Jotun ridges etch across it. They're symmetrical, fine, raised lines, about the width of a violin string on his fingers, but growing a little wider as they arc up his forearm.
As Finnick slides his hand up, Loki makes a faint sound of surprise, and his eyes close briefly. The ridges are more sensitive than he realized, at least in the context of touching and being touched by living flesh. "That...feels strangely new."
It feels new to Finnick, too. The chill of his hand, the tiny raised lines on blue skin. The sensation gives him a slight shiver as he examines Loki closely. The other man closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the touch more than Finnick expected he would.
"New?" Finnick tilts his head, curious. Loki did say he doesn't spend much time in this form, but he wonders what exactly is new about it.
He releases a shaky breath, and smiles wryly without opening his eyes again. "Nnh. I...it's a long story, but I wasn't even aware of this form until about a decade ago. I was adopted, and my parents built enchantments around me to hide my species. Asgardians look like humans, aside from being taller and stronger. Their skin is shades of ivory, or brown, or pink. Not blue, and not..."
He waves his free hand as if to indicate the ridges. "I'm a fool. It never occurred to me until now that I hadn't actually been touched in this shape, aside from in battle. Or handshakes, since arriving here." Part of him is still surprised anyone wants to, but saying so would sound pathetic at this point.
Thoughtfully, and still holding Loki's hand, Finnick uses his other hand to run over the back of it gently, then caress up the outer part of his forearm, taking care to touch as many of those ridges as he can with warm palms and outstretched fingers. Slowly, he makes his way up to Loki's elbow, then back down to his hand again.
If there is one person who knows what touch can communicate about a relationship, a person's worth to you, and what you think of their body, it's Finnick. A touch can make one feel disposable, or like the most precious thing in the world. Finnick is going more for the latter here, obviously, encouraging Loki's curiosity of this new form, as well as showing his own acceptance of it.
He speaks gently, quietly. "It's cool... I like getting to know everyone's unique features. And if it feels good and new for you, then... All the better, right?"
The gentleness is unexpected. Finnick struck Loki as conscientious, someone he could trust not to cause him gratuitous harm, else he wouldn't have put himself in this position in the first place. Actual kindness is a pleasant surprise. His eyes remain closed a moment longer, but his smile grows more relaxed, and he finds himself leaning closer instinctively.
"...oh, I like you," he says softly, and finally looks at him again, red eyes sparkling. "Your hands feel very warm. In the interest of full disclosure, I should warn you the lines do go all the way down. I may need to start out a bit more gently than I thought I would."
"But we have all the time we need, don't we?" He curls his fingers around Finnick's and pulls his hand gently to his lips, kissing the back.
Hearing Loki explicitly say I like you makes Finnick's eyes visibly light up, the corners of his lips lifting unbidden. He has to restrain the urge to say really? like a little kid, because he wants to play it cool. However, it's rare someone gives him such a direct form of praise on something other than his looks. Finnick needs to be liked, as a form of survival, but he also very much wants to be liked, perhaps because his sense of self worth and identity never had a chance to grow. He was taught many lessons about his worth over the years, absolutely none of them good.
"Loki, you don't need to keep warning me about your body and what it looks like. I assure you, I can handle it. Bodies of all types are my specialty, after all." He smiles with his teeth, like he's assuring a customer who has doubts about a service. There seems to be some shame there, and Finnick wants to snuff out any negative body talk before it starts, because he's not about that life.
He smiles softly again as Loki kisses his hand. Having attention returned to him so readily is making him swoon a little.
"But yes, I'll be gentle with you, as I trust you will be with me. We can take it as slow as you like." Loki will check in with him about consent, and Finnick will be mindful of the newness of this body for Loki, and try to check in as well.
There are underlying currents here, similarities between them that Loki can feel exist, even if he couldn't put words to them. His experience is vastly different from Finnick's, of course. He's a prince, grew up with all the material and educational privilege a child could possibly have, but affection always felt contingent upon his behavior--except with Frigga. And his behavior was never up to par (also, except with Frigga), and so he spent a lot of time scrambling for some sense of identity he could live with.
Which then got shattered brutally by the revelation of his Jotun skin. His sense of worth is bound up in his divine providence now: god of liars, tricksters, mischief-makers, outcasts. Sower of chaos, which is sometimes good and sometimes terrible, but always leads to change.
At one time, not so long ago, sex workers were part of his providence as well, which means he picks up on that customer-service smile, and while it's okay--confident charm is endearing--he wants to clarify his own position, too. He reaches out and strokes along Finnick's jawline with the backs of his fingers, unmistakably gentle rather than cloyingly possessive.
"I know you can handle it. I'm impressed that you're being so kind about it, particularly since I didn't think I needed that." Didn't think he deserved it, is what he means, but there's not much difference between not-needing and not-deserving in Loki's head. "I like that."
The bar is clearly on the floor here, if Finnick's simple acceptance of Loki's body is such a likable thing, but there are plenty of forms of basic human decency that shock Finnick when he receives them, as well. Lioriley giving him food and gifts with no strings attached, Halsin telling him he could have a hug any time. When you're not used to such kindnesses, they hit you like a truck.
At the question, Finnick smiles and nods. He didn't expect Loki to like him so much, or to want to kiss him tonight, but kissing is as easy as breathing to him. Keeping their hands clasped, Finnick deftly moves around the table to sit next to Loki in the booth. He gently puts a hand on Loki's cheek to turn his face, and leans in to kiss his lips. Softly, slowly.
Most of Loki's long-term acquaintances regard him with wholly justified suspicion, which unfortunately precludes simple verbal expressions of kindness. He is a villain, in his own mind, however much he may protest it when someone else takes him to task. Something a little soft, a little gentle, is a better way to disarm him than any weaponry.
So, maybe the bar is low for them both. No shame in that, as long as they keep it to themselves.
His lips are cool, but smooth and silky as the rest of his skin, and he responds to the kiss with finesse. He lets Finnick lead the kiss, lips half-parted in invitation, and the hand that just stroked his cheek slips down to rest on the back of his shoulder. Eyes closed, he's conscious of warmth and the scent of the ocean.
...Oh, yes, he could to like this man quite a bit.
In contrast, Finnick's lips are warm, but a bit chapped from the amount of time he spends outside, his hands rough and calloused from cold wind and salt water and working with rope. His thumb strokes Loki's cheekbone, and he takes the kiss slow, deepening and opening it little by little. There is something about kissing in a public place that Finnick loves. Finding a moment of quiet tenderness among the chaotic din of the bar, showing his affections for all to see. His tongue slips into Loki's mouth, and he's for some reason surprised that even the inside of it is oddly cool. He hums softly and nips gently at the other man's upper lip, a playful smile growing on his face.
Loki is relatively indifferent to the place. He is not, by and large, a touchy-feely person. Hugs he doesn't see coming will result in wincing or pushing away, a hand in the wrong place at the wrong time might get injured...but that's all about his personal space, not about who's watching. He has consciously relinquished his personal space here.
The more involved Finnick grows in the kiss, the more Loki seems to melt into it. Touch-starved? Sure, we'll go with that. This is a form of physical comfort he can accept.
When they pause for breath, Loki's eyes are dark, pupils wider in the sea of red iris and sclera. He strokes across Finnick's shoulder, halfway down his chest, and back up to his cheek. "Mm. I needed that."
Finnick finds it very sweet, the way Loki melts against him. He's quite surprised he was able to get Loki's guard down so soon, considering they both have a bit of a distrustful, defensive strategy with new people. Perhaps this could all go better than he expected, but he won't count his chickens before they hatch.
As he meets Loki's gaze, Finnick's eyes look much the same; a large void opened up in the midst of sea-blue. It was a very nice kiss, and he's slightly breathless now.
"Me too," he murmurs. His thumb still strokes Loki's smooth cheek, a small smile on his face.
"What else do you need, Loki?" He asks in a quiet murmur.
That's the problem. Loki's surprised he was able to get his guard down so soon, too. His throat aches, a hollow, dark pain that feels suspiciously like the precursor to tears. The soft little touch of Finnick's thumb sends an additional shiver along his skin, tingling along the ridges there. Half of him is ready to beg for more, and the other half is suddenly alarmed by how little it takes for him to throw any semblance of propriety and control out the window.
What does he need? Gods, that's a long list. He leans in and nudges his forehead against Finnick's, closing his eyes again. "Opinions vary on that point," he answers, a quiver in his voice. "Everything from therapy to a swift kick in the arse has been suggested."
"I...I don't know." He says, and truer words were never spoken. "I don't know."
Finnick does have a knack for that. Not that he's planning on using the skill in any kind of malicious way, not here in Caldera. There isn't any need to be manipulative or deceptive with the people here. They're all just... Kind. No one that he's encountered has anything but his best interests in mind.
Finnick laughs softly through his nose. "I wasn't asking for anyone's opinion but yours."
When he says he doesn't know, Finnick continues gently, tucking some dark hair behind Loki's ear.
"That's okay. I never know how to answer that, either. How about some options? We could stay here and chat a little more, get to know each other better. You could... Come to my place, which isn't too far of a walk. Or we could think things over and plan to meet another time."
Loki might get the sense that Finnick has practice with this sort of conversation, and not with his clients, but with someone he cares for. That comes through in his voice now, though he hopes it isn't condescending.
He could back out gracefully now, or turn and run, and in the long term he's pretty sure Finnick would forgive him for either, especially given how careful Loki's been to leave him an out. He's not sure he'd forgive himself for backing down, though, and instead he does himself the courtesy of just...waiting. Catching his breath and thinking things over.
Which gives Finnick the opportunity to be rather sweet, so it works out in the end.
He smiles, finally, as the desperate feeling fades. "I think...I want to be touched, and seen, but sex might honestly be too much tonight. What are the chances of us going to your place and just sitting together like this for an hour or so? Is that too precious?"
"No, of course we can do that. Buddy will be pleased I brought him a new friend." Finnick smiles back, looking into Loki's red eyes again before stealing one more quick kiss. Then he nods to the wine on the table.
"If you paid for that bottle already, you should bring it."
"Buddy? Your dog?" He makes a little mm sound and leans into the kiss briefly, then smiles and picks up the wine bottle. "I like animals. Most of our dogs were working dogs, when I was growing up, but I used to play with them when I could."
He notes Finnick's hand still in his and threads their fingers together, a surprisingly soft gesture. This is a kindness; he won't forget that.
"Did you find your dog here, or did he come from your world?"
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"If we do this--and you're allowed to back out at any point, no ill feelings--you would be in charge the first time, anyway. The other method I've seen for checking in is having a sort of color code. Green for "I feel fine, keep going", yellow for "I'm not sure about this, go gently", or red for "stop". Maybe that would be easier for you? If I ask how you're feeling in the middle of something?"
He still might lie, might feel compelled to say he's good when he's not, but the 'yellow' option makes it easier to back out of things than having to directly call for a sudden halt.
The positive reaction to his own confession earns a smile in return, warmer and less guarded than most of Loki's facial expressions have been. "Some people like the versatility, I've found, but other people feel weird about it. I feel weird about the blue-ness, I'm not used to spending so much time in this shape, but that's my hang up, I guess, and no one else's."
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"Oh... Yeah, that sounds really helpful. I'm sometimes unsure about things, but I don't want that to be taken as a no right away." He already knows he will be far more likely to speak up if he doesn't have to say 'no' or a word that means stop. And even if he says yellow but means red, things will slow down, and allow some time for him to muster up the nerve to be honest.
"If you'd ask me about the colors, that would mean a lot to me," he says sincerely. Loki being the one to check in, rather than the onus being completely on Finnick to shout out a word randomly, would help a lot with his ability to communicate. Besides... It's just nice to be asked. No one ever does that, really, in his world.
"Just sounds like double the fun to me," says Finnick in a more lighthearted tone. Then cocks his head to the side. "Wouldn't it be weirder if your dick was the only part not blue, though? Besides, lots of people here are funky colours. I fucked someone red already, and another blue-ish person, and a demon-spider with a fuzzy pink retractable dick." Hopefully those examples will make Loki feel less out of place.
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For now, for just a moment there's an interesting shift in Loki himself, a brief burst of uncomplicated contentment because evidently he said something right. He smiles, bright and hopeful, and takes another drink of his wine.
Finnick's commentary about his dick makes him laugh. "Norns, no, you're right, that would be disturbing. I mean, a strap-on is one thing, those can be any color..."
Wait, hold on a sec. "Demon-spider? You saw him? I thought I had hallucinated him entirely!" Sorry, this is exciting news, he's so pleased he's not losing his mind. "Damn, now I'm sorry I didn't proposition him, myself."
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He chuckles.
"No! He's real! And it was more like he propositioned me first. It really threw me to be beaten to the punch! He was a porn star in his world, so, we hit it off about our similar professions. Haven't seen him since, though... I really hope he's okay."
Finnick didn't get to learn a lot about Angel before they jumped in bed together, but anyone who can relate to Finnick that much about sex work, he worries for.
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His smile turns a little wry then, and he nods slightly in understanding. "Hard to say what happens to people who just...vanish from here like that, isn't it? Theoretically at least he's returned home and has a fighting chance there."
But then, Loki didn't talk to Angel Dust long enough to really get the picture of what his home life was like.
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But then his frown returns.
"I couldn't find the username he gave me on the network, so he must be gone. And that's the thing... He's from hell. If he went back home, that makes me even more worried. He acted like he enjoyed his job, but... That kind of work is easily exploited in a place like that." He scratches his temple, looking off to the side with worry.
"Anyway, uh, I'm getting off topic. Was there more you wanted to negotiate? I'm really enjoying learning from you. I wish I knew this stuff years ago." Not that it would have really helped, in his situation, but still.
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His expression sobers at the news, although it doesn't really surprise him to hear that a demon came from Hell. "Mm. Well, if it makes you feel any better, he mentioned he normally had guns, and seemed reasonably capable with a knife, so he's likely capable of defending himself."
Not that being able to physically defend oneself means you're exploitation-proof. Far from it, but maybe they should talk about lighter things. "Well. As long as we're talking about it...I should add that aside from abandonment, I can't tolerate much heat. No hot wax, thank you. Actually, I'm not sure how cold you'll find skin contact with me. That may be a matter for experimentation before we get into anything too physically intimate."
He's not going to give anyone frostbite with casual contact, but that doesn't necessarily mean the coolness of his skin will be comfortable for a human.
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"Only one way to find out." Finnick reaches out his hand without hesitation, laying it palm-up on the table and open for Loki to grab. If he does, Finnick will not only hold it for a moment, but then begin to slide his hand up Loki's inner forearm, wrapping his fingers gently around it as they glide over his skin.
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As Finnick slides his hand up, Loki makes a faint sound of surprise, and his eyes close briefly. The ridges are more sensitive than he realized, at least in the context of touching and being touched by living flesh. "That...feels strangely new."
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"New?" Finnick tilts his head, curious. Loki did say he doesn't spend much time in this form, but he wonders what exactly is new about it.
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He waves his free hand as if to indicate the ridges. "I'm a fool. It never occurred to me until now that I hadn't actually been touched in this shape, aside from in battle. Or handshakes, since arriving here." Part of him is still surprised anyone wants to, but saying so would sound pathetic at this point.
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If there is one person who knows what touch can communicate about a relationship, a person's worth to you, and what you think of their body, it's Finnick. A touch can make one feel disposable, or like the most precious thing in the world. Finnick is going more for the latter here, obviously, encouraging Loki's curiosity of this new form, as well as showing his own acceptance of it.
He speaks gently, quietly. "It's cool... I like getting to know everyone's unique features. And if it feels good and new for you, then... All the better, right?"
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"...oh, I like you," he says softly, and finally looks at him again, red eyes sparkling. "Your hands feel very warm. In the interest of full disclosure, I should warn you the lines do go all the way down. I may need to start out a bit more gently than I thought I would."
"But we have all the time we need, don't we?" He curls his fingers around Finnick's and pulls his hand gently to his lips, kissing the back.
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"Loki, you don't need to keep warning me about your body and what it looks like. I assure you, I can handle it. Bodies of all types are my specialty, after all." He smiles with his teeth, like he's assuring a customer who has doubts about a service. There seems to be some shame there, and Finnick wants to snuff out any negative body talk before it starts, because he's not about that life.
He smiles softly again as Loki kisses his hand. Having attention returned to him so readily is making him swoon a little.
"But yes, I'll be gentle with you, as I trust you will be with me. We can take it as slow as you like." Loki will check in with him about consent, and Finnick will be mindful of the newness of this body for Loki, and try to check in as well.
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Which then got shattered brutally by the revelation of his Jotun skin. His sense of worth is bound up in his divine providence now: god of liars, tricksters, mischief-makers, outcasts. Sower of chaos, which is sometimes good and sometimes terrible, but always leads to change.
At one time, not so long ago, sex workers were part of his providence as well, which means he picks up on that customer-service smile, and while it's okay--confident charm is endearing--he wants to clarify his own position, too. He reaches out and strokes along Finnick's jawline with the backs of his fingers, unmistakably gentle rather than cloyingly possessive.
"I know you can handle it. I'm impressed that you're being so kind about it, particularly since I didn't think I needed that." Didn't think he deserved it, is what he means, but there's not much difference between not-needing and not-deserving in Loki's head. "I like that."
"I'd like to kiss you. May I?"
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At the question, Finnick smiles and nods. He didn't expect Loki to like him so much, or to want to kiss him tonight, but kissing is as easy as breathing to him. Keeping their hands clasped, Finnick deftly moves around the table to sit next to Loki in the booth. He gently puts a hand on Loki's cheek to turn his face, and leans in to kiss his lips. Softly, slowly.
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So, maybe the bar is low for them both. No shame in that, as long as they keep it to themselves.
His lips are cool, but smooth and silky as the rest of his skin, and he responds to the kiss with finesse. He lets Finnick lead the kiss, lips half-parted in invitation, and the hand that just stroked his cheek slips down to rest on the back of his shoulder. Eyes closed, he's conscious of warmth and the scent of the ocean.
...Oh, yes, he could to like this man quite a bit.
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The more involved Finnick grows in the kiss, the more Loki seems to melt into it. Touch-starved? Sure, we'll go with that. This is a form of physical comfort he can accept.
When they pause for breath, Loki's eyes are dark, pupils wider in the sea of red iris and sclera. He strokes across Finnick's shoulder, halfway down his chest, and back up to his cheek. "Mm. I needed that."
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As he meets Loki's gaze, Finnick's eyes look much the same; a large void opened up in the midst of sea-blue. It was a very nice kiss, and he's slightly breathless now.
"Me too," he murmurs. His thumb still strokes Loki's smooth cheek, a small smile on his face.
"What else do you need, Loki?" He asks in a quiet murmur.
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What does he need? Gods, that's a long list. He leans in and nudges his forehead against Finnick's, closing his eyes again. "Opinions vary on that point," he answers, a quiver in his voice. "Everything from therapy to a swift kick in the arse has been suggested."
"I...I don't know." He says, and truer words were never spoken. "I don't know."
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Finnick laughs softly through his nose. "I wasn't asking for anyone's opinion but yours."
When he says he doesn't know, Finnick continues gently, tucking some dark hair behind Loki's ear.
"That's okay. I never know how to answer that, either. How about some options? We could stay here and chat a little more, get to know each other better. You could... Come to my place, which isn't too far of a walk. Or we could think things over and plan to meet another time."
Loki might get the sense that Finnick has practice with this sort of conversation, and not with his clients, but with someone he cares for. That comes through in his voice now, though he hopes it isn't condescending.
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Which gives Finnick the opportunity to be rather sweet, so it works out in the end.
He smiles, finally, as the desperate feeling fades. "I think...I want to be touched, and seen, but sex might honestly be too much tonight. What are the chances of us going to your place and just sitting together like this for an hour or so? Is that too precious?"
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"If you paid for that bottle already, you should bring it."
As he stands, he keeps hold of Loki's hand.
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He notes Finnick's hand still in his and threads their fingers together, a surprisingly soft gesture. This is a kindness; he won't forget that.
"Did you find your dog here, or did he come from your world?"
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