—

Now to understand this fully (or at least fuller), you must realize I started this out as a character description for myself. I took a picture of Sam Claflin's Finnick and tried to get that down in words. Then, sorta by accident, my fingers and brain had a mind of their own. I started describing what he would act like. Think like. Be. He became alive, and almost terrifying with his untouchable beauty. I played around with his thoughts, with his beauty and I put the reader in almost a sense of the thoughts of a Capitol citizen being seduced by Finnick Odair.

Definitely a different sort of Finnick that we see in this fanfic. We see a darker, hungrier Finnick, thirsty for human skin. He's not really portrayed as fully human but rather as a Roman god by the name of Neptune. We see a Capitol being become obsessed and in a way intoxicated by Finnick.

I wanted a fanfic of The Golden Boy of Panem in a Capitol citizen's eyes. I wanted to see just how far the obsession, the need would go. I definitely darkened the school girl, flirty teen crush stage and turned it into more of a peculiar, dark sultry sort of fanfic.

All I can say is get used to it. I haven't posted anything yet, but I'm full of dark, sultry surprises in all my writing so don't be surprised. Ever.

Thanks, Seneka (don't get me started. I called myself Seneka before I knew about HG).

—

Finnick Odair had a oval face with a slightly tapered jaw, and a beautiful jawline. His tanned face is narrow, and his cheekbones were angular, face lacking hairs anywhere. His seagreen eyes were glittering and throbbing seduction, underneath perfectly plucked bronze eyebrows. His dark eyebrows rest over his gravitating, glittering green orbs, following the curvature of his eyes, hugging the slight desirable crinkle in the edge of his eyes. The flirtatious smirking curve of his vain, prideful lips is insulting. The cruel smirk hinted at the searing heat and sharp bite underneath those perfect lips. Thick bronze locks covered his head, easily making up for the loss of body hair everywhere else. The bronze hair looked like he had ran his fingers through it twice, and had simply...left it. Thick, silky bronze. His flawless, golden skin seemed to travel for miles on the untarnished plains of his body. He was tall, slim, with a beautiful body built for athletics of any sort. He looked like he swam everyday, and taking a second glance at him, I was sure he did. His beautiful body was that of a god's, a unworthy sight to man and woman of this vile earth. He stood before me, swagger oozed out from every pore on his very body. He naturally leaned in my direction, tilted his beautiful head to reveal a long, pure neck. Not a single scratch was on the man. His clothing was obscene, clothes practically painted on his skin with how tight they were. His black suit molded into his skin, gripped tightly and threatened to rip if pulled in the slightest. His sultry gaze was utterly unnerving, unexpected, and magnetizing. It was deep, and twisted, undoubtably wrong. Dark, and fulfilling, a promise of another kind swam murkily in sea-green waters.

One dark, full look like that was equal enough to him getting on his hands and knees before someone and begging them to respond in the slightest. He moved closer, body begging for examination just once more. He arched one single perfect eyebrow, tempted me. Do it. Do it. Look. Please. I'm here, waiting, ready for you. He got down on hands and knees and he begged me just to look at his golden skin. Just once. I couldn't help myself. A last look at perfection from the Gods. Another look over, and I finally spotted the slight moon shaped scars on his skin. Probably from a past lover's nails. He has just a hint of clear lipgloss on, and his eyes twinkled darkly as I realized this. He smelled of lemongrass and sea spray, salty tides, clear skies. A smell that could have easily become intoxicating and obsessive with age. Fresh, crisp, and citrusy. It was a day and back to District 4. The plain sliver ring on his pinky was plain. Boring, slim ring. But his long, slim, perfect fingers made it everything. On his hand a silver band looked better than a jeweled ring on my own. Slim, tanned fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently, he hummed a sea shanty. Even his voice was sinful, unworthy to my ears. It was deep, and tainted by a unknown polished accent, different from the usual Capitol speech. It was dark, fuller, had a perfect lilt that drove me mad. Come to me. Bow down to me. Love me. I am a God. Your life. You're nothing without my very breath on your cheeks, and my lips on your skin. You are but the dirt on my sandals, the sweat of my brow. You will bow down to me. You will love me. You will live for me.

He whispered horrible, nasty, wonderful things. Pressed those perfect scorching hips into mine. Short and sweet. That's what the five minutes of Finnick Odair was to me. He held me as I sobbed into his shoulder, under the insane heat of his fingers, my endless tormenting screams drawn out, as he played the villain. He hummed that sea shanty, as we danced, and I sobbed. I fell in love.

He kissed me. Again. And again. Oh, we couldn't stop. We were addicted then. He tasted of my worst nightmares. He whispered, insufferable, insane, things. Drove me up a wall, and down one in seconds. Play for me. Play under my fingers. Do as I command you. Kiss me. Good girl. Touch me. Good girl. Play me. Good girl. Dance with me. He kissed the pain away, weaved my fingers out of his hair. And he stepped back, another slate eyed, olive skinned girl at the opposite end of the building. And I felt hatred, and envy like no other. I would have slaughter her, if just for another taste of his lips. Pain and desire. Obscenely delicious, nauseatingly addicting, abhorrently intoxicating, hideously thrilling.

He knew of my jealousy and he soothed. All will be well, my love. Wait for me after the Games.

His attention had vanished. He sent me a last, longing look that literally sent me to my knees, groveling for him to say just a word, to stay and make me wish I could but touch him. But he raised his chin, and passed me by like the commoner I was. Like the commoner I am. He treated me like I deserve and I treated him like he deserved. He was a living god, his essence parallel to none in this earth. I wept in his presence and I washed his phantom footprints with my tears.

Finnick Odair. Victor of the 65th Hunger Games. Citizen of District 4.

Neptune. God of the Sea, Lakes, Earthquakes, Soil, Storms, and Horses.

All shalt bow before his merciless wrath.

A flash of golden skin. A glint of sea-green eyes.

The trident pierces my skull.

—

Odd, isn't it? I was unintentionally going for dark, sultry obsession. Did I achieve or did it turn you away?

If I achieved it, and you liked it, I might post more.

Feel free to comment, though it's certainly not a must.

Thanks for reading some Dark Sultry Surprises, with Finnick Odair, and my unworthy self.

:) And May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor!