His eyes do sweep over John thoroughly, drinking him in. Every curve of that tanned skin, every shift of muscle under it.
And that ass. Oh, it's perfect, muscled and juicy and plump cheeks under that tight mesh, the curve of it illuminated well by the candlelight.
Perhaps most enticing, though, is the way John touches himself. Finnick's not sure what it is, whether he's thinking of his own hands doing it or if it's just the idea of John's skin being touched at all that's enjoyable... Or if it's the prospect of John making himself feel good with his own touch. In any case,
"I love it. You're beautiful, love, and very sexy." A small grin. His eyes glance to John's obvious erection.
"You like it, then? Me watching you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
The last thing he would want is for John to feel how he felt, drooled over like a piece of meat while naked and bared for the world. Sure, it could be fun at times, but it also had made him feel... Empty, like no one cared about the person underneath. Like he'd be worthless without his beauty.
The hand smoothing over his chest and stomach starts to linger over his chest, feeling and seeing Finnick’s eyes moving over him making him feel warm all over in the best way possible. The compliments still get a shy smile, still make him blush, but the color creeping down his neck and chest is as much arousal as it is bashfulness.
He feels anything but empty or devalued. He feels like his every movement is being catalogued, studied, memorized like poetry or music. Like he’s the center of the universe, Finnick’s own personal sun to orbit.
“I’m…outta my comfort zone.” He replies honestly. “Not comfortable, but not a bad thing. Just not used to this, and…yeah. I do, I think, like you watching me like this—“
The way he’s touching himself does feel nice, maybe a little self soothing, but is still mostly unconscious. Then his fingers slide just so, his nail catches on the edge of one of his scars, and John discovers that apparently that is an erogenous zone he didn’t know he had.
His eyes shut with a gasp, shoulders dropping as he reflexively tries to chase that delicious shock of sensation, and his hips just barely cant forward like they’re looking for something to press against.
It makes sense that this is out of his comfort zone. He thinks back to Cinna saying that John has no idea how good he looks. He imagines it's hard for him to find the confidence to show himself off like this. Finnick's not sure if something or someone in John's past made him feel ashamed of his body, or if he's just not naturally very confident, but either way, it's nice that he's pushing himself to do something like this. Finnick will treat it with the care and sensitivity he needs and deserves.
"I think you do, too," he murmurs slyly with another look to John's erection.
Then something happens- Finnick isn't quite sure what, but John reacts.
"Found something that feels good? Try doing it again," he encourages gently.
John knows he likes being told what to do, the strange, delicious way it messes with his head. This isn’t it, doesn’t bring the golden fog. The gentle question and encouragement smooth away the mild embarrassment of his knee jerk reaction, leaving just the pleasant heat of a blush and that low, electric hum of excitement he’s discovering when he’s being watched when he’s on display like this.
So, very deliberately, he does it again. Running the edge of one nail very gently along the scar highest on his chest, the sparks of sensation make him shiver pleasantly as he sighs. Heat pools low in his belly, and it feels so good he just—
John opens his eyes before he can be swept away by that urge: to slide a hand down to palm himself through that sheer material, tease himself, get himself off with Finnick watching him. Just thinking about it…
…makes him realize he wants it. To let Finnick have that moment, where he was forced to be this for other people, John wants to be for him tonight. Not to play with power but to let Finnick be the one indulging himself with John. To know he can ask for anything and get it, and that John will enjoy it.
So he moves closer to the bed, close enough to touch—to reassure him with a greater sense of intimacy that he’s giving Finnick a gift still and not playing games as he smiles down at him shyly…and gently scratches that scar again with a hum of pleasure that isn’t remotely exaggerated.
“That does feel good. What, uhm…what else should I do? That you think might feel good, or—y’know—that you just want to see?”
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And that ass. Oh, it's perfect, muscled and juicy and plump cheeks under that tight mesh, the curve of it illuminated well by the candlelight.
Perhaps most enticing, though, is the way John touches himself. Finnick's not sure what it is, whether he's thinking of his own hands doing it or if it's just the idea of John's skin being touched at all that's enjoyable... Or if it's the prospect of John making himself feel good with his own touch. In any case,
"I love it. You're beautiful, love, and very sexy." A small grin. His eyes glance to John's obvious erection.
"You like it, then? Me watching you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
The last thing he would want is for John to feel how he felt, drooled over like a piece of meat while naked and bared for the world. Sure, it could be fun at times, but it also had made him feel... Empty, like no one cared about the person underneath. Like he'd be worthless without his beauty.
no subject
He feels anything but empty or devalued. He feels like his every movement is being catalogued, studied, memorized like poetry or music. Like he’s the center of the universe, Finnick’s own personal sun to orbit.
“I’m…outta my comfort zone.” He replies honestly. “Not comfortable, but not a bad thing. Just not used to this, and…yeah. I do, I think, like you watching me like this—“
The way he’s touching himself does feel nice, maybe a little self soothing, but is still mostly unconscious. Then his fingers slide just so, his nail catches on the edge of one of his scars, and John discovers that apparently that is an erogenous zone he didn’t know he had.
His eyes shut with a gasp, shoulders dropping as he reflexively tries to chase that delicious shock of sensation, and his hips just barely cant forward like they’re looking for something to press against.
no subject
"I think you do, too," he murmurs slyly with another look to John's erection.
Then something happens- Finnick isn't quite sure what, but John reacts.
"Found something that feels good? Try doing it again," he encourages gently.
no subject
So, very deliberately, he does it again. Running the edge of one nail very gently along the scar highest on his chest, the sparks of sensation make him shiver pleasantly as he sighs. Heat pools low in his belly, and it feels so good he just—
John opens his eyes before he can be swept away by that urge: to slide a hand down to palm himself through that sheer material, tease himself, get himself off with Finnick watching him. Just thinking about it…
…makes him realize he wants it. To let Finnick have that moment, where he was forced to be this for other people, John wants to be for him tonight. Not to play with power but to let Finnick be the one indulging himself with John. To know he can ask for anything and get it, and that John will enjoy it.
So he moves closer to the bed, close enough to touch—to reassure him with a greater sense of intimacy that he’s giving Finnick a gift still and not playing games as he smiles down at him shyly…and gently scratches that scar again with a hum of pleasure that isn’t remotely exaggerated.
“That does feel good. What, uhm…what else should I do? That you think might feel good, or—y’know—that you just want to see?”