Warning: Smut without a plot, includes hints of non-con and a tiny bit of dominance. Also, it speaks of one character cheating on another. So... be careful reading this one.
AN: So, I was extremely disappointed when I began to search for yaoi in our wonderful fandom. I started this journey at Gale x Peeta, which I thought would be fairly usual. I didn't find much that sparked my interest. So I tried Peeta x Haymitch, and find only a few. Lastly, I tried AO3 and just put in the filters of M/M, which I found quite a few on. Even a Haymitch x Finnick, which I'm excited to try out myself.
But not very much Peeta x Haymitch, still.
So, I'm adding my contribution so our small pool of M/M smut here. Enjoy.
Best You Ever Had
"You bought me for a reason," he growls, his voice low and gravelly and just so fucking masculine. He stands in the doorway, his hair shaggy and his eyes a glistening gray, more alive and alert than I've seen from him in years. Ironic, the one night I need him to be so drunk he doesn't remember, he arrives perfectly sober. His prep has dressed him casually - a dark shirt that clings to his chest and shows off the not-quite toned stomach that they've been forcing him to work on muscling up. His pants are just as tight, and so black that without the illumination of the house and street lights, I wouldn't have seen them. I can't help but think how attractive he is right now, dressed as if we're going to have tea instead of... my breath hitches at the thought, and I try not to look away in shame at the thought of why he's here tonight.
"I missed you," I breathe, mustering up the courage to handle this like an adult. I've got myself in this deep - no need to shy away now. "And I want you, again. And I need you to... to... to make me forget. Katniss and I, we're falling apart at the seams and... I need you to help me."
"Oh?" He asks, before pushing past me and into my house. I close the door behind him, trying not to inhale the sweet scent of cognac and sharp cologne that follows in his wake. Not so sober after all. Still, he doesn't have enough alcohol to do very much forgetting tonight. Taking deep, shallow breaths, I squeeze my eyes shut before following him.
He's on the couch of my sitting area, pouring himself a glass of the expensive wine I'd set out for this occasion. From the way his muscles are relaxed, the way he appears at home, it's almost as if he isn't here in the context that I want him to be here in. It's almost as if it's just another day in the Capitol - mentoring tributes and trying not to die of sorrow.
"I'm... Haymitch, please. I'm done with stolen kisses and cuddles on the couch. I mean, Katniss and I... we've never... I'm-" I start and then break off shakily, wiping the sweat of my palms on my pants. Is that important for him to know? That Katniss and I have never consumated our sham of a marriage? I mean, obviously it holds some credit to him. It must, I'm the kid he married his so-called neice off to. He doesn't move an inch, but by the way he moves mechanically, I know he's stopped thinking. A trick, Finnick had once whispered to me, that us Victors do. Pretend that you're not there, that this isn't happening. Maybe it was a bad idea to tell him. Or maybe it was a bad idea bringing him here at all. It had probably made him feel cheap... expendable, even.
"They say the virgins are the best fun," he says randomly, his lips pulling into a predatorial smirk. "They say virgins are usually the most... versatile. Are you any fun, sweetheart?" He asks, and I see that we're merely inches away from being able to reach out and touch each other. I didn't notice it, but as he was advancing on me, I had been moving backwards. I take another step back as he takes one forward and my back hits the wall that separates the sitting room from the front foyer. Almost immediately, he's pouncing on me. His hands plant themselves on either sides of my head, pinning me to the spot. I watch in adrenaline fueled fear and anticipation as his tongue darts out to moisten his chapped lips.
"You'll just have to see, won't you? Not like you'd know, you're too scared to try." I reply with much more boldness than I think I have in me. He chuckles darkly, as if this is some morbid joke and his hands moving to grip my waist, so hard that I can almost feel the bruises starting to form. He pulls my hips forward and I move away from the wall only for him to slam me back into it. By the sickening crackling sound behind me, we surely cracked the wall. What the hell has gotten into him?
"I'll be honest with you," he mutters, bringing his mouth close to my ear. His warm breath puffs onto my neck, and a shiver crawls it's way up my spine, forcing my entire skin to prickle with goosebumps. Why, oh why does he have to be so dangerously enticing? "I didn't just come to this appointment because I had to."
"Y-you didn't?" I ask, my voice quivering. "Then why?" Why else would he come? I mean, of course, it couldn't be Katniss or I. President Snow may hold our potential prostitution over his head, but he has every right to refuse an appointment with another Victor. I know it's part of his contract - I was there with him when he signed it! Maybe, maybe he actually came because he's just as tired of not going further than kissing as I am.
"Oh, because, Peeta," he says my name like some delicacy one would want to savor, his hands now going to the zipper on my pants and sliding it down. "I have... fantasized, you could say, about this night. About every element... how rough I would be, how I would make you beg... mm, and you smell so good, much better than my unimaginative mind could conjure up. Yes, I've had plenty the wet dream about the infamous Peeta Mellark." I fight my blush again, at the way he so offhandedly said he'd thought about me in ways that weren't the caring fatherhood he'd displayed to both Katniss and I previously. I can hardly fight my arousal when he pushes at my pants.
"Off," he demands, his voice back to that gravelly masculinity that had be stiff from the moment he appeared in my doorway. "I want them off." I'm more then happy to oblige, kicking them aside as if they're on fire - ironic. His hands - large, callused, rough hands that scrape over my skin and leave me trembling - find themselves under my thighs and instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist. Haymitch nips at the small part of my neck that has been left exposed by my shirt before bringing me closer - so close that I can feel his hardness through his own pants. I feel my face heat up at the large bulge that presses against my stomach, but like the old pro he is, he doesn't falter. Instead, his fingers work at the buttons of my shirt, his moist lips leaving sloppy kisses up and down my jaw and neck.
I sigh, but it comes out more of a moan and he pauses, if only for a moment. His hands still and his entire body stiffens. Quietly, I wonder if I'd done something wrong. Then again, this whole thing was so very wrong. How much more 'wrong' could I possibly be at this point?
Haymitch moves so his eyes are on mine, clouded over into an almost black color with lust and unfed desires of want. I open my mouth to say some witty remark about him forgetting what to do when his lips crush against mine. The kiss is far from loving and delicate, like the ones we sneak when no one's looking. Our teeth bump breifly and I think I bite his tongue on accident. It's rough and sloppy and so soaked with desperation and need that I can feel the tears threatening to prick at my eyes. When he pulls away, he leaves me gasping for air, but I don't mind. Just as long as tonight is filled to the brim with those kisses.
With my legs secure around his waist, he cups my bottom and lifts me away from the wall. I tighten my legs so that I won't fall and cup his face, bringing my lips back down to his for a more gentle kiss, one that he immediately pulls away from, as if it's a warning. My back slams against the cold tile of my floor and I give a small squeak of pain and indiginance. Now what I have I done?
"I want to fuck you on the floor," he hisses in my ear. "I want to fuck you right here on your floor, rough and hard and anything but humane." I get the hint. None of that gentleness, that's reserved for whatever cameras have been stuck in Katniss and my room by the sick perverts of the Capitol. That also means we can't do it in our bedroom. And probably means that I shouldn't have bought him tonight, should have just went to him and asked.
I'm thinking too much into it because panic blooms in my chest and I feel my nerves bundling in my stomach. I bite my lip, ignoring the fearful thoughts that threaten to poison this... whatever this is that I share with this man and instead focus on the tightness around my underwear. His hips lurch forward, the friction of his trousers against my bare legs causing me to gasp in anticipation. His body grinds against mine, his hands touching and wandering and just feeling to the point to where if he goes any further, I might not make it very far.
"Fuck me," I say, in a voice so hoarse it can't be mine. "Fuck me, Haymitch." I say it again, louder, and he groans - a low guttural thing that comes from deep in his throat. My underwear are constricting at the noise, so much so that it's painful to stay clothed and I'm desperate for them to be discarded like my shirt and pants. I tug at them, eager for my twitching member to get some sort of attention, but he moves his hand and pins mine above my head. I can't stop my grunt of frustration.
"Oh no, you didn't think it would come that easily, did you sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, and the look of confusion and anticipation in my eyes must give it all away because he laughs. "No, no, no. When I say, I want to fuck you, I mean I want you on your knees begging for release. And that means, you must wait." His other hand, however, slips through the slit in my underwear and grabs fast onto my cock. I lift my hips into his hands and groan, the explosion of being touched otherworldly. I practically fuck his hand, my hips moving so that he could give me something.
But then his hand is gone and there are two, thick fingers in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around them, keeping my eyes on Haymitch as I do. I don't need to look to tell that his own pants are down around his ankles and his member is stiff with the need to be dealt with.
He takes his fingers from my mouth and laces them into my hair, moving so that he sits beside me, his hand on my chest, in a weirdly reassuring way. "I suppose you've never given oral before?" he asks. Surprisingly, I'm not ashamed to admit that no, I haven't.
A wave of gentleness washes over his face. "It's easy. Just move up and down with your mouth. That's all."
"I can't do anything if you're holding me down." Haymitch chuckles, sitting back on the floor and removing his hand from my chest. I crawl over to him and grab his member, careful not to yank as I gently stroke him like he had done to me. His head falls back and his features twist into one of painful need.
"Peeta," he sighs. "Peeta, oh god."
"Am I doing it right?" I ask. "Am I hurting you?" I know I'm not hurting him, but I've always played up the innocent card with the Capitol. The sweet little boy who fell so madly in love with the abrasive girl from the other side of the fence. It certainly won't hurt now, would it?
"Oh, just keep doing what you're doing," he sighs, his fingers scraping at my scalp and through my hair. I can't stop the grin that forms on my lips, so I make a bold step and take him into my mouth. A sound, animalistic and feral, comes from Haymitch and he pushes down on my head, forcing more of his length down my throat.
It's a bit funny, having his throbbing erection in my mouth. There's no particular taste besides the salt of his sweat but for some reason, I can't get enough. Trying something that I had only ever seen in the XXX videos from the Capitol, I hollow out my cheeks to take more of him in. Immediately, my head is yanked back and away from his cock. I give a small squeak of annoyance and peer shyly up at him.
His breathing is shallow, and his eyes are wild and uncontrolled. From the ruffled state of his hair, I can tell he'd been fisting at it.
"You keep that up and I won't last, honey," he drawls lazily. I make my way over to him and plant myself on his lap. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I bring my mouth down his. Haymitch busies himself with twisting and squirming to get comfortable under my weight.
"Lube," he gasps, pulling away from my mouth. My cheeks warm at the word, but if he notices it, he ignores it. "Or vaseline... something to make it less painful for you. And, maybe a condom. I don't have any diseases or anything, but hey, you never know." I laugh drily, shaking my head. From the way he asks, I can tell he doesn't want to move away from me, and he'd be contented to sit here and ram into me. But, Haymitch has a secret kindness about him - no matter what he tells me, he'll always put my needs first.
"No, no. Too much work. Just take me now and I'll try not to scream," I tease, even though I'm only half-joking. Haymitch studies my face, before nodding his head and bringing his mouth back to mine. I'm so distracted by the way his tongue probes at my mouth, finding all the small spaces to leave his trail, that I don't notice the pain until it ripples through me and I have to pull away in a gasp of shock.
"I thought... kissing makes it easier, helps you forget," he mutters, but by the look of absolute content on his face, he doesn't want to be bothered with explanations. I bring my head back down, biting hard on his shoulder as I try and slide all the way down. Haymitch's grunts and groans are one of the main things that spur me on, until he's buried to the hilt and the pain has evaporated into pleasure.
"Damnit, Peeta," he says, when I wiggle around a bit. "You'll be the death of me, boy."
"I'm sure," I whisper hoarsely, before lurching my hips forward, tentively. Haymitch gives another one of his animalistic growls, his hands gripping my waist again.
"Yes, that, do that again," he instructs. I obey, rocking my hips back and forth. The amount of pleasure that richochets through me is indesribable and I make a few of my own sounds. "Peeta, oh shit, Peeta..."
Experimentally, I lift myself up and Haymitch's face almost falls. But immediately, I inch back down. The pain starts up again, but by the way his face twists into bliss, it's so worth it. I can tell he's restraining, by the way his hands grip my waist like a vice. I know that he wants to make good on his promise and fuck me, and it's almost a torture to forbid him from doing so. And unlike him, I don't particularly like torture.
Locking my legs around his lower back, I pull until he's on top of me. Haymitch looks at me in surprise, before a questioning expression replaces it. I give a small incline of my head and he goes absolutely feral.
Pulling all the way out, he slams back into me again before repeating the motion. At first the pain comes at intervals, returning every time he buries himself back into me, but eventually it evaporates completely, leaving me in nothing but mindless bliss.
"Hay- fuck... shit... I... god damnit." My ability to form words quickly turns into a string of curses, and above me Haymitch grunts like he's going through some form of physical exertion. He lifts my leg onto his shoulder for an easier entrance, and slows down, if only for a moment, before picking back up again. It feel as if my senses are put into overdrive, everything is enhanced by ten thousand times, it seems.
If anything, I'm more than glad I saved my first for him.
Haymitch's hand clasps around my still untouched member and begins to yank, hard enough to get me off but not so hard as to hurt. If I though my speech was impaired before, this puts me down to nothing but slurred attempts at words and moans of ecstasy.
As the intensity builds, so does my impending orgasm. I can feel myself on the edge, my muscles tightening with anticipation.
"Haymitch I'm going to-" I don't get to finish, because with a final tug, I explode all over his and my stomach. As I become unraveled, the edges of my vision become spotted and blurry, and I almost feel like I'm going to faint. Haymitch stills above me, before I feel his teeth everywhere - scraping along the sensitive skin of my neck, leaving small nips and bites in their wake. Eventually, he collapses on top of me, obviously spent and exhausted.
"Peeta," he mutters, pressing another small bite on my neck. "You know what this means, right? Mine." The way he says it is childish, as if a child claiming their favorite toy, but I don't care. The words send joy rippling through me. It's the first time since I've left home for the Games that I've felt genuinely wanted by someone, and wanted them just as much as they wanted me.
"Yours," I whisper back, ignoring the probable cameras that were decorated across our overzealous Capitol residency. "All yours." Moments merge into minutes, which slowly merge into hours, and we remain in the same spot in the sitting area, with Haymitch tracing the muscles on my back and me fading in and out of consciousness. As much as I'm contented to lay there with him all night, I realize after the clock hits 20:14 that I really do need to get up and dressed - Katniss will no doubt return home soon, and the last thing I need is for her to see us like this.
"You have to go," I murmur, ignoring the shivers up my spine at the way he continues to trace invisible patterns on my back. Haymitch isn't easily persuaded, and he even leaves trails of wet kisses up my neck. He knows my weaknesses too well, and that's dangerous for me. "Seriously."
"Tell the wifey I said hello," he drawls eventually, reaching for his pants that he'd discarded. The venom in the word 'wifey' is hard to miss, but I ignore it. His snark is the last thing that would hurt me. I roll my eyes instead, accepting the underwear he tosses at me.
"Aren't you going to... clean up?" I ask, watching as he pulls his shirt over the sticky mess that I'd left on his stomach.
"I should ask you the same. I don't really need to... everyone in the Capitol knows that if I'm leaving and returning to my seedy little condo, then I'm coming from an appointment." The words are said grimly, and I pity him. I'd never experience having an appointment - Haymitch had willingly shaped up and taken Katniss and I's appointments for us so that we could keep playing the 'happy couple' card every time we needed to call on a sponsor.
"Oh. Well, I'll shower before Katniss gets home. Thank you, Haymitch. For coming and... well... I love you," I mutter. He shrugs, pulling me to my feet and into his arms. His arms circle my waist, despite the fact that I'm still half-dressed, and he presses a small, chaste kiss to my forehead.
"Don't say that aloud. And, anytime, darlin'. But remember," he mutters, his fingers grazing the small bruise that he must have left on my neck. I touch it too, feeling the moisture his tongue had left behind. "I was, and am, the best you'll ever have. Mine." His words are low, so low that if I weren't standing right in front of him, I would have missed it.
"Yours," I confirm again, my voice nothing above a whisper. He smiles proudly before buckling his belt and making his way to the front foyer to let himself out.
I have to admit, I always thought the saddest thing I ever saw was the girl I had crushed on for years looking at me in disgust. But it turns out the saddest thing I've ever seen in the man of my dreams limping away from my porch and onto the abandoned sidewalks.
He was, and is, the best I've ever had.