When Tying Knots Isn't Enough
Author's Note: First, before you freak about the pairing, read the story. I am not necessarily a Finnick/Katniss shipper. Although I would like Finnick for myself. ;) I'm on a roll with my fanfics recently. I have another one coming up soon, so be on the lookout for that. In a way, it is a prequel to this fic, but they both stand alone as their own stories. The beginning section in italics is from Mockingjay. Please enjoy.
When the restless, wiggling majority has settled into sleep, I carefully extricate myself from my blanket and tiptoe through the cavern until I find Finnick, feeling for some unspecified reason that he will understand…
"It takes ten times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart." Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece. "The more you can distract yourself, the better," he says. "First thing tomorrow, we'll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine."
Finnick and I sit shoulder to shoulder on his bed in the bunker with our back against the cold stone wall. I furiously knot and unknot the rope so many times I lose count. Minutes or maybe hours slip by in silence.
I throw the rope down in frustration. "If I tie one more knot, I will really lose it." I look to Finnick. Although he retrieves the rope, his expression seems to echo the same sentiment. "I just want to not think of anything. I just want to forget." I drop my head onto his shoulder. "There is nothing to do down here. At least before these raids, I could go out and hunt," I groan. I feel Finnick shift his body, and I lift my head, looking into his sea green eyes. He really is beautiful.
"I can think of something we could do. If you're ok with it," he says. Slowly, he moves forward and kisses me. I don't respond at first. I think I am too stunned to do anything. When I crept across the darkened bunker to seek out Finnick, this was not what I had in mind. I think of Peeta and feel a pang of guilt, but Peeta isn't here. Who knows if I will ever see him again? Who knows if we will even survive the night down here with the air raids? Besides, Finnick probably wishes it was Annie in his bed, not me. I pull back anyway placing a hand on his chest.
"Finnick, I like you, but I don't feel that way about you," I say. He just smiles sadly.
"I know. I don't feel that way about you either," he replies, but he leaves his hand cupping my cheek waiting for me. I know I could pull back now and go back to making knots, and nothing would change between us. However, I'm restless and honestly, I miss being close to someone. For a second, I think of Gale. I could be close to him again, but he makes things so difficult. He wants more than I can give. Finnick doesn't want that so I lean in and kiss him, thanking him for understanding and for being here. He reaches out and pulls the curtain on his bunk closed, giving us some privacy.
Although the ocean is probably miles away, Finnick still manages to taste like saltwater and smells like the shore. I run my hand through his bronze hair. It is thick and coarse, probably damaged from years of swimming in the ocean. It's a change from the scent of bread and the feel of silky, blonde strands. But, it's not bad.
I slip my hands under his shirt and feel his strong, broad chest. The head radiating off his body warms me thoroughly. He pulls his shirt off giving me more access to his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. I graze my fingers over all of it, appreciating his architecture. With one hand he draws lazy circles on my back, which sends shivers up my spine. He slips his other hand under the front of my shirt and massages one of my breasts. I can't stop the moan that escapes my throat. I feel my cheeks redden, and I am glad it's mostly dark in his bunk with only the soft glow of the safety light.
Finnick pulls my shirt up and off, tossing it to the end of the bunk. When I reach for the elastic of his pajama bottoms, he puts his hand over mine.
"Katniss," he whispers. "Have you ever done this before?"
The question triggers memories that are too painful. This is the whole reason I sought him out, to forget. In my mind, I am back in my room in the training center before the Quarter Quell. I see Peeta's hands on my body, experimenting. I feel him complete me in a way I never knew I craved. I see his face, eyes squeezed shut, as he finds release. I hear him gasp my name. I forcefully push the thoughts from my mind and refocus on Finnick.
"Yes," I reply, trying to keep the trembling in my voice to a minimum. "With Peeta." At the sound of his name, I feel a tear drop roll down my cheek. Finnick holds my gaze, unflinchingly.
"Good," he says. I feel his hand on my cheeks, his fingers wiping away the tears. "I didn't want to be your first," he explains before capturing my mouth with his.
When he curls his fingers inside me, I am finally not thinking about Peeta, the Captiol, the games, or District 12. I am only feeling. My mind stays in this cloudy haze of pleasure only registering what is happening in the present. Finnick slipping his underwear down his legs so we are both finally completely free of clothing. Me gasping when he slips his hand between us to rub me close to where we are joined. Us both beginning to move at a frenzied pace as if the quicker we move the further we can travel from the memories that plague us. When I come, at first I think thirteen is being attacked again, but I realize quickly that it is my own body which shakes and quivers, not the bunker. As I crash back to earth, Finnick thrusts into me one final time with a grunt. He holds still for a moment before rolling off of me and collapsing onto the bed.
After, as I lay beside Finnick shoulder to shoulder in his small bunk, I can still feel the heat coming off his body, and it feels nice to have someone next to me again.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks. The question doesn't feel prying or awkward so I answer honestly.
"Peeta."
Finnick rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, looking down at me with a smirk. In his silly seductive voice he asks, "Was I better?"
"Yes and no," I sigh. He raises and eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. "You are definitely more…um… skilled." I blush at the word which seems dumb considering what we have just done. He laughs whether at my embarrassment or my word choice I am not sure. "But, with Peeta, well, it's just different," I trail off unsure how to finish my sentence.
"When it's someone you love," he finishes for me. He rolls back onto his back. "It's the same way with Annie," he says after a moment of silence in a much softer voice.
"We did a terrible job of forgetting," I respond.
"Yeah, we did," he agrees. "I like remembering this way better though," he adds in a hushed tone minutes later.
"Me,too," I agree as I once again imagine Peeta's hands tracing warm paths down my body and his bread flavored lips on mine.
Thanks for reading!