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Cantholdon

Rated: M (language, smut)

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, yada yada yada.

This is the first chapter of what I plan to be a three-four chapter fic. As with similar stories of mine, the POV of the chapter will alternate from chapter to chapter. Here, we start with Katniss' POV. Hope you enjoy. Any feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated.

Katniss' POV

"How are they all so… calm?" I ask Haymitch as we sit in the living area of the suite. Peeta decided to go to bed not long ago, leaving our mentor and me to sit in silence.

Of course, Haymitch is elbow deep in some bottle of alcohol.

"Because they don't overthink it, sweetheart," he answers. "Everyone has their own way to cope with it."

"Like stripping down in an elevator, in front of strangers?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks and chuckles at the memory. "She ain't wrong."

When Johanna Mason entered the elevator, the last thing I expected was for her to leave all her clothes on the floor. Maybe some sort of angry verbal confrontation, since she's so well known for her wicked violence. But for her to strip in front of the three of us, without so much as batting an eyelash? I feel heat creep into my cheeks at the thought.

"Then what do you suggest?" I finally voice my last question, unsure if I want the answer.

"Fuck or get drunk, sweetheart," Haymitch answers easily before taking a swig from his bottle. "I guarantee it's what everyone else is doing."

The heat in my cheeks burns hotter and I look away from the man, trying to hide the bright red color. What does he expect me to do? I drank with him before we left District 12, and I have no desire to indulge like that again.

"I don't know if you'd heard, but Snow is watching everything I do, and wants Peeta and me to make Panem believe we're in love. So your first suggestion isn't an option. I don't want to… do that with him."

"If it's not on camera, it doesn't happen," he shrugs.

I open my mouth to argue, but shut it again. There isn't much fault to his logic. If I'm not in front of a camera, why shouldn't I do what I want? The Hunger Games are probably going to kill me, I'm sure Snow will do everything in his power to make sure I don't get out alive. Since he has me, he should leave Prim and Mom alone...

Maybe I should enjoy myself.

Just for one night.

But... who am I going to enjoy myself with? Peeta is out of the question. I just... can't see myself doing that with him. Of course there's no one for me to do that with, when I'm actually considering doing it.

With a sigh, I get up from the chair and leave the suite. I can't think while I'm cooped up and Haymitch isn't helping the situation. So, I head up to the roof of the Tribute Center for some fresh air - or, as fresh as it can get in the Capitol.

Stepping out into the cool night air, I find myself as alone as I'd hoped to be. I walk over to the retaining wall and look over, trying not to dwell on my situation. It's hard not to, though. Imminent death apparently has that effect on people. Maybe that's why everyone else is... well, coping the way that they are.

Lost in thought, I don't hear the door to the roof open again. So when someone's standing next to me, I jump and glance over wide eyed.

"Take it easy, Twelve. We're not in the arena yet."

It's Johanna Mason. She's actually clothed this time around, though my mind can't help but jump back to earlier that day. We were in that small elevator and she started pulling off her clothes...

"Twelve? Anybody home?"

"Oh- uhm... sorry." It feels like my tongue is tied in knots, and I mentally kick myself for the weak response. The last thing I need is for Johanna to think I'm weak.

Actually, she probably does think I'm weak. If I hadn't already been in the Games once, I'd probably be terrified of her. Not to say I'm not already intimidated. I may be taller than her, but her presence is much bigger.

"Shouldn't you be inside, making heart eyes at your boyfriend? Or is he your fiancée now? It's so hard to keep up with that riveting story."

"I.. I couldn't sleep," I answer, circumventing the actual question just so she can't catch me in a lie.

She smirks and leans back against the retaining wall next to me. "I know it's a bullshit story." Before I get too much time to panic, she keeps speaking. "Most of us do. We're not as gullible as these Capitol assholes."

"I-... I mean-... you-..."

"Stop trying to explain, brainless. You're failing miserably." She waits until I stop flapping my jaws fruitlessly. "So what are you doing up here?"

"I told you, I couldn't sleep." My answer is fairly weak again.

"What are you really doing up here?"

"Trying to follow Haymitch's advice," I give up the truth. "We were talking about how all the other tributes are coping with going into the Hunger Games again."

"Oh? And how are the rest of us coping?"

Heat is seeping back into my cheeks. Am I really going to talk to someone I don't even know about this? "Well, he said the others would be drinking, or... you know."

"Fucking?" Her smirk grows as she speaks and she eyes me for a reaction.

I lick my lips nervously before offering a nod. "Yeah... that."

Like a predator that's set sights on its prey, the black haired woman turns toward me and moves closer. "You're not drinking."

My heart starts battering my rib cage and my breath hitches in my throat. Johanna Mason, the woman with a wicked ability to murder, is coming onto me.

And I like it.

"I don't like alcohol," I tell her quietly. Surely she can hear my heart hammering away in my chest.

Johanna moves a little bit closer. "Then what do you like, Twelve?"

Suddenly self-conscious, I can't answer and look away shyly. I haven't actually... with anyone. The only intimacy I've shared with anyone is the few kisses I've had with Gale and Peeta, and those were meant to be comforting in nature. I don't think what Johanna wants is comfort.

She reaches over and a finger is tucked under my chin, turning me back toward her. Johanna leans in, and I can't remember how to breathe. Her lips lay claim to mine hungrily, I can barely keep up with her. Her touch is electric; it feels like I'm catching fire.

I lift a tentative hand to rest on a firm bicep and can't help but squeeze. She doesn't necessarily look the part, but there's strong muscle beneath my hand. It feels like Johanna is consuming me, stealing my breath and replacing it with fire. If I don't ever breathe again, I think I'd be okay with that.

Before I realize that we were moving, I'm pinned between the retaining wall and the fierce woman before me. She breaks the kiss, but quickly puts her lips back to use. She leaves a scorching path of kisses along my neck, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. Is this what was missing from my other so-called relationships? I don't think Gale or Peeta could make me feel like this.

I throw my inhibitions to the wind. All I want is more of what Johanna has to offer, if she'll indulge me any more than she already has.

Her hands are suddenly on me, and it feels like they're everywhere all at once. I drop my head back and moan, a foreign sound that I can't remember having made before. The fire I feel is starting to gather and settle in the pit of my stomach, and I need it quenched.

If I didn't know better, I'd think she can read my mind. One of her hands dips down between my legs. Even with clothing in the way, the pressure is tantalizing. Her lips find mine again as she starts to stroke me through my pants, and I part my legs to give her more room to move.

My hips start to move of their own accord, in time with her fingers. I didn't know anything could feel so... so...

I whimper, a desperate and needy sound that slips past my lips into the kiss. I can feel Johanna smirk - she must know what she's doing to me. Of course she has to know, she's probably done this before. With someone else.

Before the spark of jealousy can take hold, my mind is suddenly on something else. Johanna's hand is moving; well, it was already moving, but this time she's undoing the fastens of my pants. I'm very much self-conscious again, but I don't want her to stop. If she stops, I might just lose my mind.

I might lose it anyway.

I inhale sharply as her hand slips inside my pants and undergarments. She touches me directly and a louder moan leaves me this time. I hold on to her for dear life as she starts slowly, so slowly. Her fingers move leisurely against me, drawing moans and whimpers into the kiss.

It's maddening. And wonderful.

I have to break the kiss to pant for air, but don't let go of Johanna. Her free hand moves part of my shirt out of the way and her lips find my shoulder. I lift one of my hands to tangle in her hair, willing her to stay in place.

My hips move more desperately against her hand, the fire burning in the pit of my stomach raging out of control and driving my need for more. She seems to know exactly what to do and when to do it, because she slips a finger inside of me at just the right time. The movement makes me gasp and despite the foreign feeling, my hips are still moving against her hand.

Her finger curls as she pulls it back, then pushes forward again to repeat the action. It feels wonderful, and I'm lost in the sensation of it all. I didn't think it was possible to burn even hotter than I already was, but it feels like I'm about to be utterly consumed by the flames.

No wonder they call me the Girl on Fire.

As Johanna picks up speed, I keep up with the movements. I'm getting close to something I've never felt before, and I desperately want - no, need - it. I can hear my voice in every breath I pant out, and it's growing higher in pitch each time.

So close.

Johanna's lips find mine again with nearly bruising force and I utterly cave in to them. Every little sound I make escapes into the kiss until euphoria blossoms and I have to tear away to cry out my pleasure. Whatever grip I had on the other before was nothing compared to the death grip I have now.

I ride out the waves of pleasure, coaxing that little bit more out of the action until it eases and begins to ebb away. Finally, I open my eyes and meet Johanna's dark brown gaze for just a moment before she turns away from me.

Legs shaking, heart racing, and lungs working over capacity, I watch Johanna Mason walk away from me and wonder what the hell just happened. Now I can't help but feel like I owe her something... but what on earth could I give an axe-murderer?