Lost at Sea || Finnick Odair x OC (DISCONTINUED)

Twenty-Six: oopsies!

DAPHNE

°•. ✿ .•°

"Then, specify."

I'm not sure why the words stumble out of me. I'm not sure why any words I've exchanged with Finnick this evening have stumbled out of me. I've had considerably more alcohol than usual, and I suppose it's easiest to blame that, but I know deep down that it isn't the alcohol. I know that those are my words. Those are thoughts I've been having a time too many, and the only thing the alcohol is impacting is my filtration of thoughts to words.

I'm a little bit surprised when, after several minutes of silence, Finnick's kissing me. It isn't the first time he's done it. That one night, the one I will never forget, he kissed me over and over again. So, why doesn't it feel the same?

Last time, it was empty. I was moving my lips on instinct, on memory, and I suppose he had done the same, because nothing ignited me the way that this kiss does. Finnick isn't just blindly pressing his lips to me for someone else's pleasure. It feels like he's just as in the dark as I am, like he's scared yet eager to take a step forward.

I kiss him back, which causes a shift in his breathing. He's warm, and tastes like vodka. When he pulls away, I can do nothing but stare at him. His golden hair that's starting to turn bronze, his well-tanned and moisturized skin, his broad shoulders and sea green eyes.

He looks at me, not saying anything. He glances me up and down for a single second, and I rush forward at the same time as him. His hands are on my cheeks, cupping my jaw. I've got mine on the back of his neck, my lips moving against his rhythmically. He smells like alcohol and the sea. I find my hands in his hair, which curls slightly around the edges. I bring my fingers to his sharp jawline as he presses me into the counter.

I've never quite felt something like this. It's an odd feeling. I know what it is, of course. I'm not stupid. I've just never experienced it. I've heard tales of it, promises that it'd come one day, but I'd simply ignored all of those, regarded them as lies. I certainly never thought I'd feel it with my best friend. I never thought I'd willingly feel his lips on my own, or feel like I need him in every regard.

I pull away this time, breathing a bit heavily. I press my forehead to his, my eyes still closed.

"We don't-" Finnick licks his lips. "You don't have to."

Of course I know that. I've had to every instance so far. This time, there are no jewels or other gifts involved. There isn't some stupid Capitol pony begging for me to please them. This time, it's just us. Just me and Finnick, and for once, I am offered a choice.

"We probably shouldn't, anyway." He whispers, and I know that he's looking away. I open my eyes, and take his jaw, forcing him to look at me again.

"Why? Would this get us in trouble?"

I kiss him, and I feel him smile against my lips. His hands move to my waist and he effortlessly lifts me onto the counter, letting his hands linger there. It sends a nervous jolt through my whole body as I slip my tongue into his mouth. I feel his own against mine as I keep my hands on his jaw.

He squeezes me lightly, but it's enough to make me realize: he wants this as much as I do. I hadn't really been thinking about this before. I can't plan out everything in a way that makes it all go along in a way that satisfies someone else. Everything is spontaneous. Every touch on my waist, every time his tongue flicks against mine, every time my hand presses down slightly. Every single one of these movements is for me. It's to make me feel good. It's intoxicating. I want more.