Author's Note: More Clato for you guys. Because I love them.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games.
Strands of dark hair that had come loose from her ponytail brushes his skin and her hot breath fans his face like wind to a flame. He was only half-aware of the cold edge of her knife pressing to the base if his neck.
"Do you yield?" she whispers in a breathy way.
He looks up to her eyes, and he sees that she finds amusement from his inability to defeat her, and his hesitance in admitting that he is unable to win.
"Never," he hisses, and that's when her lips settle on his.
The sound of Clove's knife falling to the ground echoes throughout the Training Center.
~ε~
"You know that I'll have to kill you, right?" Clove says as she barely avoids Cato's sword.
Cato advances and grabs a hold of her hand. He twists it behind her back and tries to hold back his smirk as she gives out an almost inaudible cry of pain.
He leans in so his lips touch her ear. She shivers. "We'll see about that, Princess."
~ε~
"This isn't healthy," the knife-thrower comments as she puts on her clothes.
"Who gives a damn, Clove," Cato says, holding up her shirt. He's only got his pants on. "We're all going to hell anyway."
He tries to kiss her, but she snatches the shirt away from his grasp. "Pig."
She leaves and slams the door behind her.
~ε~
"What the hell are you doing?"
Clove takes a look at him and extends her arm toward the party that was raging below. "Watching these dipshits. I want to kill them all."
Cato sits beside her, ignoring heat that seems to radiate from where his arm brushes hers. "Really? Never thought meaningless carnage was your thing."
"Never thought you knew what carnage meant," she replies with a smirk. He glares at her. "It's not all meaningless. They killed my sister. I'll kill them."
After a while she says, "I'm gonna come out of there alive, Cato." He believes her.