That gets him one of those smiles that only seem to really reach his eyes, wry, as he shifts just a little closer. Levi's not really sure what it means, that most of the time he's more than content just to curl up with a partner and listen to their breath, the beat of their heart, and any other poof of life, rather than fuck them. It's never been anything he's particularly craved or needed. For nearly as long as he can remember, he's been averse to casual touch - you never know what people have been doing with their hands, and far too many who have tried to touch him have done it in an attempt to impress control or intimidation. He's gotten better at knowing the difference over the years, learned how to let people in close enough. It isn't even that he dislikes being touched, rather very much the opposite.

But there are some things that take a long time to unwind.

He clicks his tongue a little, falsely admonishing. "Would bet money you already have."

Fingertips trace lightly over Finnick's cheekbones, his jaw, trail down carefully over scars on his throat and follow the graceful slope of neck out to his shoulder.

"Don't worry...not in the habit of doing things I don't want to."