Right as the sun began to rise in District 2, some light spilled through the window of Clove's house. As soon as the light from her open window fell upon her face, Clove's eyes opened. She knew what today was; it was reaping day, and although she should be excited, she was almost indifferent in a way. This was not her year to volunteer and unless by some miracle her name was pulled, which was actually a pretty slim chance, she would not be going in to the Arena this year; an 18 year-old girl named Deanna Rey had been chosen this year. So not only was Clove not going to the Hunger Games like she was itching to, but there would be no training today. And she saw no reason to waste a day of training on watching someone else get chosen as Tribute.
Oh well, Clove thought, sighing to herself, reaching under her pillow in order to feel the smooth metal of her favorite knife to comfort herself. She felt her breath catch in her throat when she realized it wasn't there. It was only then that she realized something, or more specifically someone, else was missing from her bed. She reached a hand behind her and felt nothing but air. Did he leave before she decided to wake? He'd never done that before. He never usually worried about leaving considering her parents were never home; that was the reason they had their little sleep overs at her place. Her parents were very important people, whose jobs rarely allowed them to be at home. When they were, Clove tended not to be. They were not the most loving parents in the world.
"Looking for something?" A low and pleasant voice came from the part of her bedroom that was still untouched by the rising sun's rays. She shot up, turning towards where she had heard his voice, narrowing her eyes. He hadn't left like she had thought, which made her feel better, but she was still not satisfied considering she was pretty sure he had taken possession of her favorite knife. Even though he was still shrouded in darkness, she spotted him in an armchair against the wall; or more specifically, she caught the glinting of her knife as he turned it over again and again in his hands.
"Cato, I understand that today is an exciting day for you," She started, grabbing her very sheer robe from her bed post, putting it on over her undergarments. It was Cato's year to volunteer for the games, and while she was supportive of her training partner, she was also very jealous. The fact that he took her favorite knife from her while she was sleeping just added insult to injury. "but what have I told you about taking my knives?" She stood up, moving very slowly towards him. "As I recall, it had something to do with it being hazardous for your health."
"Well sometimes I find it 'hazardous to my health' to sleep next to you and your knife." He said as she approached him. She kept up her glare, waiting for him to make an acceptable excuse as to why in the world she shouldn't cut off his hands. "You tried to stab me in your sleep again." She glanced over at her bed and noticed that there was an unmistakable slit in the pillow on the left side of her bed; exactly where Cato's head had been at one point.
She looked back at him and rose an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. "Well I can just as easily stab you now that I'm awake if you don't hand my knife over."
"And if I don't?" He said playfully.
She tried to keep calm as she grit her teeth together. Then she forced a very unnatural, sickly-sweet smile onto her face. "Today is a special day for you; don't make me have to stab you."
He rolled his eyes, holding out her knife. She snatched it out of his hand and held it tightly, feeling her temper calm as she was able to focus more whenever she was holding on to a knife. "You know, you should be nicer to me. Today is the last day you might ever see me." He said to her with such sarcasm that she contained her need to roll her eyes; they both knew he would most likely win the Hunger Games this year.
"Oh please." She said, turning away from him. "We both know you'll be back, unfortunately."
"Do I sense some jealousy?" Cato said, and she could just hear the smirk in his voice. "Don't be so impatient Clove, you've only got one more year." As he stood up only an inch or two behind her, she felt his hand run up the sides of her body. Her breathing intensified as his hands reached her shoulders. He gripped her robe and tugged on it slightly, and it fell at his feet. She was suddenly very aware that he was also shirtless at the moment, and very little clothing was between their two bodies. "You'll get to feel the joy of slicing open fresh flesh soon enough." She felt his hands go around her neck and her eyes fluttered shut as she bit down hard on her bottom lip. "Besides; this way I won't have to kill you, and we can continue our game."
"Who says I'll be waiting to play when you come back?" She said in a breathy way that she hated. It made her sound weak and told him he was getting under her skin and turning her on in the way no one else could. Nothing and no one besides her knives and Cato made her really feel anything. "Who says I won't have just moved on to some new toy?" In order to make her point and make herself feel more in control, she shot the hand that held her favorite knife back towards his face, she stopped it right under his chin, knowing she could never reach as high as his face. He dwarfed her in a way that made her feel like she a child.
He immediately grabbed her wrist with one hand, leaving the other around her neck; he quickly turned her around to face him, and then slammed her against the wall so hard he knocked the wind out of her. For most girls, this would be something scary. For Clove, it was something sexy. She tried desperately to keep hold of her knife, to keep herself focused enough not to lose control the way he loved to make her; the wild side of Clove was usually locked away very tightly, but something about their bedroom encounters unleashed it. She had an animal desire for him. It wasn't love she didn't think; at least not the usual kind. She definitely knew she didn't love him for his intelligence; he was more of a brute force, strong and manly sort of guy. Not only was he the only person who could turn her on, but he was really the only person she found she could truly stand instead of just tolerate for any extended period of time. That, and she admired his ruthlessness and his desire to win.
He pressed his body against her, bringing her out of her thoughts. "I know that you won't get any new toy, because you would break them all too easily." He spat at her.
It was Clove's turn to smirk. "Now Cato, am I sensing some jealously?" She said condescendingly.
"Oh trust me, I'm not." He said to her, his eyes fixated on her own. "Do you wanna know why?" She didn't respond because she felt his grip tighten on her wrist and she was trying to resist doing what he wanted, which was dropping her knife. "Because I am the only one who doesn't bore you."
"Are you sure about that?" She said.
"Do you wanna know how else I know?" He said, his own breathing heavy with a crazed look in his eye that drove her crazy. She knew she was not the only one getting turned on. "Because I'm the only one who is as sick and twisted as you are." He said, and he tightened his grip on her neck (not enough to seriously hurt her, but enough that she felt some bruises forming). She knew she was proving his point but she could help it; she arched into him, biting her lip to hold in a moan. "See? Twisted." Looking into his eyes was not helping her hold on to her self control. She turned her head to the side, trying not to look at him. "Oh no you don't." He said, taking the hand that was around her neck, gripping her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. He then lowered his face to her own, but instead of kissing her, he moved his mouth to her ear. "Drop the knife." His voice was rough, commanding. His breath on her neck was almost to much, and he let his lips graze her neck.
"No." She tried to say strongly, but it came out like a whine. She knew it was stupid, but she did not like conceding to what Cato wanted. If she dropped the knife, it would be of her own accord. It was part of the game they played; it was always a battle of wills.
She felt him smirk against her skin. He bit her neck, and she felt her last little bit of self control disappearing. His hand went back around her neck as he bit her earlobe, and she knew she was a gonner. She gasped and dropped the knife. "Fuck Cato, I hate you so much sometimes."
He pulled back and looked at her face. " I know you do." He whispered with no sarcasm in his voice. He even sounded sad; but she shook that notion immediately. Cato didn't give in to such pathetic emotions as sadness.
"Well? You got your way. So what are you gonna do about it?" She asked, using her free hand to pull herself up enough to wrap both her legs around his waist. He grinned, answering her question by grinding himself against her, her eyes fluttering shut once more. He couldn't hold out any longer and snaked an arm around her waist, letting his lips crash down onto hers. Clove smirked a little into his lips as she let her own arms snake around his shoulders; it was a small victory for her, him caving to kiss her first, but it was still a victory.
She knew it pissed him off that he had let himself cave; she felt it in the rough way he kissed her. He pulled her away from the wall, unclasping her black lace bra, never separating his lips from hers as he ripped the bra off of her roughly. Their hands were all over each others bodies, scratching and bruising each other.
He took her roughly by the waist when they reached the bed, throwing her down hard. He saw the wild glint in her eyes that meant that the psycho that Clove became when he unleashed her wild side had come to play. He straddled her, pulling her up against his body with on hand, holding them up with the other. She cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss. She bit his lip, making him groan. She then pulled him down to the bed completely, forcing him to press his body against hers. He bit her lip, drawing blood, and then pulled his mouth away from hers. He then weaved his fingers into her hair, grabbing her hair and forcing her head back, giving himself access to her neck. As he attacked her neck with his mouth, she scratched his back so hard that she drew blood. As soon as he moved his mouth away from her neck and to her ear, she tried to pull herself together. "Getting a little crazy there?" He whispered into her ear, breaking the little self-control that she had managed to grab onto. "Don't hold back. You know I like it best when you let your real insanity out." Right as he said that she scratched agains his back, and he let out a huge moan in her ear, "Clove."
Him moaning her name sent her over the edge. In seconds, she was on top of him. She looked down at the desire in his eyes as she pinned his hands to the bed. She wished that desire was for more than just something physical that both of the used to relieve the stress of their everyday lives. But it wasn't, she reminded herself as she teased him, biting his neck hard, running her tongue all over his body, not letting him buck his hips up against her. She let her mind wander again, and she even could swear that if she looked deep enough, she saw the falsity in that look of desire in his eyes. All he wanted was... well to get what he wanted. She wasn't sure why it bothered her, but she quickly forgot when he had sat up, while she still straddled him, pulling her body against his. He had gotten tired of her teasing him and not letting him touch as she dangled herself over him. They fell back to the bed like that, doing the one thing that relieved both of their anger and frustrations at the world on each other. Most of their anger and frustrations came from each other, but they didn't understand those emotions, so they ignored them, dissolving into the physical pleasure they provided one another.