Healing Hands ||Finnick Odair x Female!Reader||
Warnings: Explicit content, 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of non-consensual knife play and blood drinking. Descriptions of trauma, a lot of angst. Talk of Finnick’s prostitution. Fluffy ending. Female Reader so she/her pronouns and body descriptions used.
Word Count: 4280
Summary:
Finnick tries to come home to her in one piece, but when he shatters, its only her that can put him back together again.
“Don’t talk.” He grumbled.
In a matter of seconds since entering her apartment he had her pinned her against the wall, her wrists trapped above her head in one hand while the other tilted her mouth up to meet his in a bruising kiss. He pushed his knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs for him as tongue, teeth and lips collided.
“Finni-“ he cut her off with a sharp nip of her bottom lip, eyes dark as he pulled back and shifted his hand from her cheek to her chin, gripping her jaw firmly.
“I said, don’t talk. Only time I should hear you is if you’re saying your safe word. Tell me.” He ordered. She stared at him with wide eyes, frozen for a moment as her mind raced with a thousand and one possibilities as to why Finnick could be so riled up, but they fled her head as quickly as they had come when he squeezed her jaw lightly and pressed her for an answer.
“Seasalt.” She breathed. Finnick’s eyes were not the gentle, seafoam green she was used to but more of a harder shade today. Whether it was lust or something else she wasn’t sure, as he was never usually so forceful with her, but she couldn’t deny the quiet thrill it sent through her to think about what he might do like this.
“Are you using it now?” he asked. There was her Finnick. For just a brief moment he shone through, his thumb grazing her jawbone as he intently studied her expression for any sign of discomfort or discontent with the situation he’d put her in. She swallowed, taking a deep breathe in through her nose before exhaling deeply.
“No, but…are you okay to do this?” she asked. Finnick’s expression faltered for only a moment, and she saw a storm of grief and aggravation in his eyes before he pushed it all down again, his eyes flickering to her mouth, then her forehead, anywhere but her eyes in case she saw through him.
“I need this.” He huffed, smothering her mouth once more with the sloppy heat of his desire. Whether it was driven by true passion or something else she wasn’t too sure but she let it lead her for now, the underlying hint of desperation in the way he licked into her mouth telling her just how much he really did need this. To feel her. To claim her. To know she was there and whole and his. With a groan, Finnick dropped her hands in favour of getting a firm grip on her thighs, hiking her up the wall and pulling her legs around his waist. She gasped, head thunking back against the wall as Finnick buried his mouth in the crook of her neck next, biting and sucking marks into the skin like he wanted to devour her whole and keep her safe inside him.
Finnick grunted, reaching up with one hand to forcibly tug her shirt away from her collar bone, mouthing his way along the bone before biting down on the fleshy part of her shoulder with a grunt. With a soft cry, she moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair, pulling on the carefully styled strands until they were tousled beyond saving. Heat simmered in her veins as he kissed her once more, setting her down and giving the hem of her shirt a firm tug in quick succession. Panting, she lifted her arms to oblige him, and one hand immediately went to her chest to pull and pinch her nipples stiff. With quiet pants, she kept one hand tugging at his hair while the other raked down his back, making him arch into her. She moaned, feeling his free hand push down into her pants and firmly press against her before he began to rub in harsh, quick movements.
“Fuck, Finnick!” she yelped, eyes screwing closed as she threw her head back, “Fuck, t-too much!” It was a dizzying, overwhelming experience to feel so much of him at once. His mouth was hot against her neck and collar bone, his hand warm and strong on her breasts while the rough and calloused pads of his fingers created a delicious kind of friction against her clit.
“Take it.” he growled, pulling back just enough to press his forehead to hers. There was a light sheen of sweat covering both of them know, his breath coming in harsh little pants as she floundered, desperately looking for something to cling onto and ground her. The ebb and flow of her pleasure was not gentle. It felt more like a shock, quick to come and quick to go, but it was building the all too familiar sensation in her gut all the same. She gasped, pleaded, attempted to move his hand away as her hips jerked, but it was all to no avail. Finnick didn’t move until he was ready to, his fingers dipping down and slipping in with ease. She was soaking wet and squeezing at the intruding digits, close to release and losing her mind at the overwhelming sensation of him abusing that one little rough patch that always bought her such relief.
“Finnick.” She whined, flexing her hips in time with the bruising pace he had set to try and ride his fingers. Finnick’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and she almost whimpered at the sight. He was practically ethereal in the fading light of the early evening. Bronze skin and golden hair glowing in the sunset, he was firm and lean against her, smelling of salty sweat and sea breeze and something so distinctly Finnick she could never quite name. The growl in his voice when he spoke to her was enough for her to lose all sense of rhyme and reason.
“Fucking take it!”
“F-Finnick! Oh!” the noises she was made were loud and obscene. Her thoughts scattered like dust in the wind. Her knees quivered and her body nearly folded in two, jerking and spasming as her orgasm hit her hard. Finnick’s pace didn’t let up, not until he was satisfied he had completely robbed her of the ability to walk, and when his fingers left her pants he immediately began smearing her essence over her lips in a silent demand for her to clean them off. Completely drunk on pleasure as she was, she obediently opened her mouth and began to suck the remnants of her orgasm from his fingers, her eyes locked with his as they both tried to catch their breath. Though her mind was a little hazy, relaxed and sated, she became aware of the feeling of pressure against her thigh, and her hand lazily drifted down to find it was Finnick rutting against her. It stopped when her hand found the straining material at his crotch, replaced instead by her hand massaging the outline of his arousal as his head tipped back slightly and his eyes fluttered closed.
She watched the way his mouth moved, opening and closing a little as he tried to form coherent words. His throat bobbed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he exhaled sharply in a pant.
“Want you on your knees.” He rasped. She reached up to grasp his wrist, pulling his fingers from her mouth slowly until they came free with a quiet pop. His head slowly lifted, eyes watching her as she slithered out from between him and the wall and began to walk backwards, leading him by the hand into the living room. Finnick watched her every move with intense scrutiny, but obligingly helped her unbutton his shirt and push down his trousers before she pushed him onto the sofa. He landed with a huff, reaching for her eagerly as she bent at the waist to press a kiss to his lips. Finnick tried to chase her mouth before she pushed him back against the cushions, moving her mouth instead to his throat where a few gentle bites were left. She couldn’t mark him up, not when he had so many patrons who would become incensed if they thought their favourite toy had been played with by somebody else. It was an unfair part of their dynamic, but she had accepted that the price to pay for being with Finnick was having no claim to her lover whatsoever and wondering whose bed he was in on lonely nights.
Pushing the thoughts away, she focused on sucking the tension from his body via his cock.
The moment she sucked him into her mouth his hands flew into her hair, gripping tightly at the roots as a low moan of relief escaped him. She felt him throb against her tongue as she began to vigorously work him over, her tongue lapping at the underside of a swollen, sensitive head whenever she bobbed back up while her hand pumped synchronously at the base. He had been trimmed recently and the little pinpricks of hair stabbing into her fist were only a minor distraction compared to the symphony of noises escaping him. Finnick had always been one to enjoy quieter moments of intimacy, but the Capitol had changed even that about him – his patrons needed to know their pathetic attempts at pleasing him work ‘working’ after all. Not that he even managed to get it up for them without help. No, that was a privilege he tried to save for her and her alone, but there were days when the Capitol took even that from him to.
“Fucking hell sweetheart,” he groaned, “Oh, oh that’s good, good fucking girl.” The rambling praise was new and it distracted her enough she wasn’t quite prepared for him to suddenly thrust up into her throat. She gagged a bit and had to pull back, taking a moment to catch her breath and clear her throat as Finnick thrust into her fist instead. His head had snapped up at the sound of her cough and he seemed tense, only relaxing again when she gave him a nod and a smile to let him know she was alright. She would have been lying if she had said that the praise hadn’t sent a bolt of need straight through her. She needed to hear it again, needed to make him feel good like that again. Closing her lips back around the leaking head of his cock, she gently tapped his hand to let him know he could control the pace, could take what he needed, and Finnick immediately set to work thrusting up into her mouth, a broken string of curses and whines escaping him.
She whimpered quietly, her jaw beginning to ache but the rest of her alight with want. When she peered up at him through her lashes, she got a halo of gold and glistening skin, and she was quite sure that nobody in this world or the next would have ever been able to say no to him. His chest heaved with every gasping breath, the toned muscles of his abdomen twitching and jumping beneath her fingers as she skated them up over his stomach. Finnick Odair was hers. No Capitolite would ever know the planes of his body better than her. No patron could ever tell him secrets he would hold as dearly as he held her own. Nobody could make him come apart like this.
Except he didn’t.
Without warning he pulled her off of him and urged her up, hands immediately shifting down to her pants.
“Don’t you want to-“
“You, need to cum in you.” He panted, his eyes pleading as her heart shot into her throat. This wasn’t the Capitol, there were no fancy injections or pills here to prevent childbirth, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk having to take those herbal teas that did terrible things to your insides just to ensure you wouldn’t add to the infant mortality rate. This wasn’t her Finnick. Her Finnick knew well how she felt about the mere thought of children in their current world and had never pushed the issue, even agreed with her.
“Seasalt.” She spoke firmly, clearly, and Finnick immediately froze, staring at her with wide, unfocused eyes. She crouched in front of him, taking her face in his hands and brushing her thumbs along his cheeks.
“I…I…”
“In another life, I’d say yes, but this is the one we live, so you do it on my back or stomach or no dice, you understand?” she said. Finnick swallowed thickly, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers and whispering an apology. She kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips, and gave him a little smile of reassurance. He reached up to cover her hands with his own, squeezing lightly.
“I understand. I’m sorry, I just…I need…I can’t…Snow…” he could barely stutter the words out, his expression more agonised than usual, and it was all the explanation she really needed. The President had threatened him many times before, and it usually resulted in some outward display of behaviour that wasn’t quite the norm for him. She pulled her hands back to push down her pants instead, letting the soft, cottony material pool at her feet so she could step out of them. Finnick kicked his pants away and was quick to welcome her into his lap, shifting so he could guide her down until she was laying beneath him. Heart fluttering at the sudden tenderness behind his gestures, she gave him an encouraging nod and smile that quickly melted away into a gasp as he pushed into her.
For a moment, they simply stayed that way, two people intertwined, chests pressed together, hearts ricocheting against each other. For a moment, there was no Capitol, or patrons, or Snow. For a moment, there was only their little home, the sound of waves lapping the shore outside their window, their own heavy breathing. Then, Finnick pulled his hips back and gave a firm thrust forward. Her legs tightened around his waist as he found himself a punishing rhythm, moving deep and strong inside of her like the pull of the tide, stealing her breath and giving her life anew with every careful movement. When he worshipped her with every inch of himself like this, she was certain he meant it when he told her he loved her.
“Oh baby.” She moaned, hips meeting his in perfect timing that only made that coil tighter and tighter. Finnick had been mouthing along her collar bone, muffling his own pleasured grunts and groans into her skin, but he pulled back just enough to skim his mouth along her ear, biting and tugging at her ear lobe.
“Right here sweetheart, so good,” he breathed, “Feels so good.” Temple pressed against hers, he increased his pace a little, squirming a bit to push deeper with his thrusts and be closer to her. He held her tighter, fingernails leaving little crescent moons on her skin, but she didn’t care. The gentle pulsing in her core and the sharp pin pricks against her skin mixed well together and simply pulled her that much closer to the edge. Another pant, a whine of her name, the blood in her veins roaring like an inferno as her heart enveloped the rest of her, an overwhelming adoration for Finnick and all his little idiosyncrasies as he dropped a hand to her clit and began to circle it. He was close then, closer than she was, but he’d stave off his own release until she came. It made a pleasant change and only egged her on towards her release knowing that he felt safe and good. Finnick had been through so much physical trauma he didn’t always get to finish, no matter how desperate he was for it.
The gentle pulsing suddenly became a crescendo, her every muscle seizing and her mouth hanging open, a choked whine the only sound that escaped her as she clenched around him hard. Finnick groaned loudly in her ear, his thrust becoming a bit more erratic as he tried to push her through her high, her fingers raking down his back again. He pulled out suddenly, desperately fisting his cock until he painted her torso white, and then he almost collapsed on his side. The only sound was their shared, heavy breathing and the creaking of the sofa as he leaned against the cushions with a puff, his arm slung across the back of the seat so he could rest his chin on his bicep and watched the sun disappear over the horizon. She simply closed her eyes, basking in the pleasant buzzing in her head while her core throbbed its way through a few after shocks.
She pretended not to hear the first little sniffle. Finnick was never one to show her how hard he took it all if he could help it, only ever wanting her to be happy and safe, but he couldn’t shield her from everything, and when she opened her eyes to view him she saw the red rimmed irises staring solemnly at the moon as if it might deliver him some sort of freedom or redemption. If there was anything she knew for sure, it was that Finnick Odair did not need redeeming.
“Snow threatened me, didn’t he?” she asked quietly. Finnick tensed, and then he sniffed, wiping his eyes on his bicep briefly and nodding once. “How bad is the situation?” her question remained unanswered for a while, and she felt her frustration begin to grow when she was forced to call his name and press him for an answer.
“He was going to kill you,” he snapped, his face full of so much horror and anguish when he faced her that it broke her heart, “He was going to kill you if I didn’t…if they couldn’t…” he sucked in a deep breath, his voice wavering as he finally confessed to all that had happened to him before he got home. “They used me, Y/N. Degraded me and beat me and cut me and I just…I had to take it.”
Immediately, her eyes raked over his form, ready to spot any sign of injury and help him soothe his wounds, however he was shiny new and the only marks on him were from her own nails. The Capitol had once more scratched their cruelty into his marrow and then erased all traces of it.
“Oh baby.” She whispered, angry and hurt and sorry all at once. She wished she could protect him better, keep him far away from Snow’s clutches, but there was no chance of it when his grip on Panem was still so vice like.
“They drank my fucking blood!” Finnick raved, standing now and starting to pace as he ran a hand through his hair.
“They what?” she sounded as shocked as she felt, her stomach curdling at the thought.
“They used a knife, they cut me and they drank from the wound, but they call us fucking animals,” he scoffed, eyes wild and brimming with self-loathing, “And I couldn’t do a thing to stop them.” Reaching for her trousers, she used it to quickly wipe away the remenants of Finnick’s release from her skin, and got to her feet to gently grasp his face between her hands.
“Stop. Don’t trap yourself there.” She ordered.
“But they-“
“Stop.” She repeated. His eyes grew wet, shame painted all over his face. His hands trembled when they reached up to grasp her wrists. She hushed him, her thumbs gently scrolling over his cheekbones.
“I feel so dirty. I just want to feel like me again.” He whispered brokenly. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she nodded in understanding and slowly leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He didn’t respond, but his eyes were closed when she pulled back and took his hands instead. He sucked in a sharp breath, looking at her with so much vulnerability that she almost let the tears pricking her eyes spill.
“Let me take care of you.” She said softly. Finnick looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded, letting her lead him to the bathroom. He stood numbly, not willing to look in the mirror at his reflection as she got the shower running. Step one would be to clean all remenants of the Capitol from his skin, whisper her praises and affirmations of love into the abused flesh to replace all the filth they’d tried to fill him with. Finnick remained silent as she washed them both down, her hands running gently over his skin and her lips pressing delicate kisses to the places her hands had been. He took the shampoo from her to help her with her hair, his fingernails scratching lightly at her scalp as he massaged in the suds.
“Is this new?” he asked. She hummed in agreement. “Smells real nice.” The compliment made her smile slightly. Only as he washed the soap away down the drain did she turn to pull him into another gentle kiss.
“It smells like you, like home,” she murmured, brushing her nose against his, “I love you, Finnick. I’m glad you’re home.” Finnick sighed slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. She felt the first wave of chill crawl over her skin as the water began to lose its warmth, so she reached for the dials and turned it off. Finnick was the one to hand her a towel, but she made sure to wrap it around herself securely in favour of drying him off with a smile – she could wait. With his towel wrapped round his waist, he patiently sat on the edge of the bed while she detangled his hair with his comb, carefully styling it to coif up just as he liked.
“Don’t stop.” He murmured. She had pulled the comb from his scalp but realised he must have found the sensation quite relaxing, as his shoulders had dropped and his eyes were closed, not a wrinkle on his forehead in sight. He smiled briefly as she began to comb his hair again with a hum.
“You know, I don’t think it’s possible to make you any more handsome.” She mused, kissing his shoulder.
He snorted slightly, “They always find a way.”
“No, they don’t. You are and always have been enough as you are.” She murmured, kissing at his spine next. Finnick shivered a little. With a hum, she let the comb fall onto the bed and moved to wrap her arms around him from behind instead. He hissed and drew back from her with wide eyes, making her frown in confusion.
“You’re still damp!” he protested. Rolling her eyes, she got to her feet and made a show of towelling off, changing into her usual pyjamas as he watched her with mild intrigue.
“Those pyjamas are new to.” he noted. He’d only been gone a week, yet that was two new changes for him to discover and adapt to. Perhaps two too many given the week he’d had. The pyjamas had been necessary, but she was feeling a tad guilty to have surprised him this much. He hated missing time with her and had confessed that when he came home and found she had moved furniture or bought new things, it made him feel left behind, like a foreign object in his own home.
“My others one were beyond saving. I would have been better off wearing my birthday suit.” She sighed. Finnick smiled faintly.
“I wouldn’t mind.” He assured her. With a grin, she shook her head and pointed to the door.
“I know you wouldn’t, now get out and let’s make some cocoa to take to bed with us, okay?” she suggested. He nodded his head, keeping his hand in hers as they exited the bedroom and went to find the necessary things. He stayed close, finding any excuse to touch her, and she leaned back into him every time with a contented hum, just to remind him she really was glad he was home.
“Marshmallows?” he asked, frowning in confusion as he closed the cupboard they were supposed to be in. She bit her lip, cheeks flushing pink.
“The little table by the armchair. I got snacky.” She admitted. He chuckled and went to retrieve them, looking happier as he dumped a handful into his mug. Only when he was curled up against her, the two of them content to simply sit in silence and appreciate the other’s presence, did he really seem to come back to her. She stroked his hair, humming a song she had sang with her mother once years ago as they baked bread in their small kitchen. With his eyes closed and his head on her stomach, he looked peaceful, like he might be able to rest for once. She knew it wouldn’t last. The nightmares always came, and she would hold him as she always did and lie once more about how he was safe now. There was only one real certainty she had. One fact that would remain constant no matter what Snow threatened or what nightmares ravaged him.
She loved Finnick Odair whole heartedly, even if she had to say goodbye so he could belong to another just three weeks later, as was their tradition. This was their cycle, the never ending loop that had become their lives, but she would endure it, for him, and one day, they would be free of this game they played. Until then…until then, she would smile, wave, and miss the man she loved while he went to love another.
