The feel of his skin sliding against hers is perhaps her favourite sensation in the world. Warm and strong and beautiful above her, she blinks up at him with flushed cheeks. Her chest rising and falling a little faster now than normal; the need for air suddenly greater; her heart beat faster; her skin on fire.

Over time, she has come to learn many great and wonderful things about Finnick. Some of those things can make her blush just to think about. But perhaps one of the easiest things to learn about him was that he seemed to be happiest whenever she was happy.

Annie doesn't like to speak. Not unless she has something to say. But Finnick knows how to read her. A catch of breath, a sigh, a quiet hum translate easily into things like yes and please and more.

She lets her head slip back into the pillows, her fingers coming to curl around the sun kissed strands of his hair, trace the lines of muscles in his arms, touch every piece of him that she can reach. Though sometimes, she loses herself. Forgets what she's doing. Gets too caught up in sensations that all she can do is arch up into him and remember to breathe.