"I can't have you," Finnick whispered, pressing a soft, parting kiss to Rose's forehead, "because you'll always be Snows, not mine."
Rhoswen (Rose) Snow is the daughter of President Snow, who rescued her from a homeless, destitute life in District...
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"It smells like you," Rose said, smiling. She heard Finnick bark out a laugh, his fingers running through her hair.
"What does?" he asked, fingertips coasting down her bare arm, sending goosebumps skittering over her skin.
Rose leaned into him. "The ocean."
Finnick chuckled, lips pressing to her temple. He never stopped touching her, no matter what they were doing. It was always their fingers laced together, or his hand on her hip, or a brief touch to her lower back. It was almost like he couldn't bear the thought of letting her loose, of setting her free. Not that she minded, she enjoyed being in his arms. It was safe and warm and comfortable. She had never been so at peace.
"I think I smell like the ocean, not the other way around. The ocean gets priority."
Rose frowned, shaking her head before leaning it back against his shoulder. The two of them were sitting on the sand near the shore, the water lapping up at their toes before drifting away again. Rose adored watching the tiny white birds that would run out as the water drifted away, plucking away at the damp sand for the crustaceans and other food that awaited underneath.
"No, you always get priority," Rose murmured. She felt Finnick's chest grumble with a laugh before his hand was drifting over her jaw, sinking down to her throat. He palmed it lightly, bringing her head upwards so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. Finnick was the best kisser. Not that Rose had anything to compare it to, she had only ever kissed him. But she couldn't imagine being addicted to someone else's lips, or the way they ran their tongue over hers in just the way she liked. It was like her own personal brand of morphling, seeping deeper into her veins and muting everything but the parts where their bodies were linked. Finnick had many skills, but one he was quite adept at was turning her into nothing but putty in his more than capable hands.
"Rose," Finnick said softly against her lips.
"Finnick," she breathed, smiling against him as he tilted them downwards so that he was pressed down against the sand an she was atop of him. Normally, she'd be more than halfway done ripping his clothes off by now, but she didn't want that. Well...she always wanted sex, but right now, just the want to be with him overpowered that urge.
Finnick's hands roamed over her waist, sliding up her back and against the bare skin that her dress exposed.
"I love that you're here, in Four," Finnick said. "It feels right."
Rose hummed in agreement, twining her hands up to feel his hair. So soft.
Softer than it looks.
Rose paused as that thought flickered through her mind, of a voice that wasn't her own but was just as familiar. She felt her brows furrow but a quick sweep of Finnick's hand against her thigh had her losing all sense of thought.
"Come back to me," he murmured. "Where did you go just now, Rho?" He chuckled but Rose couldn't share the sentiment.
Come back to me, Rose. Promise me you'll come back.
