Despite the exhaustion, Effie woke a few seconds before the alarm rang, like always. She hit the snooze button but not before music blared from the small loudspeakers hidden around her room like it did every morning. She turned the sound system off and buried deeper in her nest of blankets. Her body felt sore but in a pleasant way and the bone-deep exhaustion she still felt after almost a whole night of sleep was the good kind. She reached behind her for the male body she expected to find but only encountered still warm empty sheets.
She forced her eyes open, her heart suddenly racing.
Was Haymitch gone?
The dull echo of flushing in the en-suite bathroom answered the question. It was followed by the soft sound of water splashing in the sink, longer than she would have expected.
She stretched her body from her toes to her fingertips before letting her limbs heavily fall back. She reached for the phone she had tossed on the bedside table after having hung up with Portia the previous night and quickly cancelled her usual training session. She wasn't in any state to exercise or let her personal trainer put her through hell. Brutus was never very understanding of her late nights out, his job was to keep her in shape and he took it to heart.
She had just finished checking and clearing most of her schedule when the bathroom door opened, revealing her soulmate. Would that ever get any less weird? To think that this man was half of her soul? Or was it twin of her soul? She wasn't even sure of the appropriate terminology. She could have been less lucky. She had heard of extremely beautiful people like herself getting extremely ugly people for a soulmate. Haymitch was anything but ugly.
It was early still, barely past dawn, and light was trickling through the windows since she hadn't bothered rolling down the blinds the previous night. It hit his body just right.
She had an eye for bodies. She always had some interest in art and while she preferred to sketch dresses and suits, she had attended some art classes from time to time… She had learned to study a naked body in a glimpse, spot the particularities that made it unique.
Haymitch had a very nice body but it was painfully obvious it had been mistreated recently.
It wasn't just the huge scar she couldn't help but stare at or even the dozens of smaller, paler white lines, it was the obvious muscle loss – the consequence of his injury, she supposed – and the abs that were softening without yet turning into fat. He looked slightly underfed too and she wondered if he bothered eating properly. Or even taking proper care of himself.
He hadn't said much about himself since they had met but the few he had let slipped out had told her he didn't love himself a lot.
He hesitated, his eyes darting from her to the alarm clock and back. "You need to get up?"
His voice was a little rough from sleep and she found herself smiling because she liked the sound. She almost regretted not waking up to that voice whispering in her ear.
"No. I cancelled." she answered. "Come back to bed."
After another brief hesitation, he did. And instead of walking around the bed to get back to the free side, he climbed over her like it was perfectly civilized behavior. Since it brought him so much closer to her, she didn't mind. The moment he was back under the blankets, she snuggled against his side with a sigh of relief.
A part of her worried it made her look needy or clingy but she couldn't quite bring herself to care because she needed it. And given the way he immediately wrapped his arms around her, she wasn't the only one.
There was something so soothing to being close to him…
Was it the soulmate bond? She didn't know much about it, she had never been interested enough to learn, she had never thought she would need to.
"Did you sleep well?" she hummed, pressing a kiss against his shoulder.
She was trying hard not to feel awkward even though they were virtually strangers on which an intimacy had been forced. Sex had been great – more than great – sex had been easy. It was when they tried to talk that it became halted and complicated.
And why wouldn't it be? There was a code to this. One-night-stands didn't usually linger to talk the following morning and if there was to be more in the morning, the sex was usually predated by a date that at least covered some of the basics and offered for more topics of conversation to be explored. They were in a strange in-between.
"Yeah…" he answered and he actually sounded surprised by it.
He tentatively coiled a strand of her hair around his finger, let it bounce back in place… She tried not to worry too much about how she looked. She had applied some lighter make-up while she was talking to Portia on the phone and her hair had looked alright, but that had been before wild sex and a whole night of sleeping. Ideally, she would have slipped away while he was still asleep to make sure she didn't look a fright but there was no discreetly doing that now. And he hadn't yet called her another clown name so… Still, it would have been a shame to repulse her soulmate so early in their acquaintance, perhaps she could pretend she wanted to use the bathroom and…
He dropped his hand from her hair, loosened his hold on her body and turned his face away from her, toward the window. His voice turned hard. "It ain't safe, sleeping with me. If we… If we do this again, don't let me fall asleep."
If.
What a small terrible word…
"Why wouldn't it be safe?" she asked, to cover her growing anxiety.
She wasn't certain where she wanted this to go but she was pretty sure she didn't want him to leave just yet, that she wouldn't be able to bear it without great heartbreak – as ridiculous as it was since they had only met less than twenty-four hours earlier and since they hadn't been able to go ten minutes without bickering. The idea that morning was there and it implied they would have to part ways soon was already overwhelming, the thought that she might never see him again…
He sighed. It was a long heavy sigh. She might have thought he was annoyed by her questions if that strange new instinct that was quickly growing inside her hadn't whispered to her that it had more to do with the weight he was carrying on his shoulders. Perhaps he didn't want to burden her. Perhaps it was about things you wouldn't tell someone on a first date, never mind on a one-night-stand and he wasn't sure how to confess them.
"Night terrors." he spat after a silence so long she had almost filled it with platitudes. His arms completely fell off from around her, the loathing in his voice was obvious. The weariness.
He was a weary man, her soulmate, tired all down to his soul.
She saw that.
She saw a possible space for her there, assuming he let her take it. She could help. She was good at cheering people up. She was an optimistic person, always had been, and she refused to let anyone be grim on her watch. She could chase his melancholia away, she knew she could, if only he would let her.
"Night terrors…" she repeated slowly, softly, as if it was the name of a monster about to pounce crouched in the corner of the room. She knew what the term meant, of course, it was self-explanatory really, but she wasn't quite certain what it encompassed. "Are we talking somnambulism or…"
"Nightmares." he cut her off in a cold sharp voice that told her he was making an effort by talking about it, by explaining. "So bad I can't wake up. Don't know what's real and what's not anymore. Can be dangerous if anyone's around."
"Dangerous how?" she insisted, forcefully dragging his arm back around her because she could feel the tension in his body. It looked like he was about to bolt and run away and she wasn't going to let him.
"Could hurt you." His voice was cold and mocking, designed to scare her.
And, for a moment, it worked.
"It makes no sense." she huffed. "Why would you hurt me?"
He tried to struggle free of her attempts at forcing him to hold her but she was stubborn – more stubborn than him, she was determined to prove it – and, in the end, she pinned his legs down with her right one. He finally turned his head away from the window to look back at her and she answered his irritated look with a bright innocent smile.
The anger and humiliation battling in his grey eyes subsided a little, softened.
"Wouldn't know it was you." he grumbled.
"Oh…" It made more sense now. She bit her bottom lip in thought and then gave him a small shrug, a rare gesture on her part even though he couldn't know that. "Well, there is an easy solution to that, isn't there? If you are having a nightmare, I will simply keep my distance…"
He stared at her hard. "You don't get it. It ain't just a nightmare."
"How do other people take care of you when you have these night terrors?" she asked, sitting up but taking care of keeping her leg where it was, tossed over his. She took the sheets with her, pinned them to her chest.
He scowled. "Just told you I don't sleep with people."
For all his scowling, he still tugged a little on the sheet. She dropped it without making a fuss, not even trying to control her smile when his eyes immediately darted to her breasts. His gaze caressed her chest, the length of her neck, her stomach…
"Someone must have told you you were suffering from them. Or you had an accident for you to be so adamant it is dangerous." she argued. "You must know how someone could best help you when something like that happens."
He pulled harder on the sheets until more of her was exposed. "Sure. They can do the smart thing and never let me fall asleep on them."
"But I like you on me." she purred. "Asleep and otherwise."
His eyes darted up, straight into hers, and he licked his lips. "Sweetheart…"
"How do I help?" she insisted, innocently retracing the curve of his hipbone with the tip of her finger.
He rolled his eyes. "You stay away. You don't let me hurt you 'cause that…" He shook his head and the spark of desire in his eyes dimmed into bitterness again. He looked at the window once more. "It's better if you don't see it, trust me. Ain't exactly my best look. It can be scary."
"Oh, darling… It takes a lot more than nightmares, as impressive as they must be, to scare me." she challenged.
She expected taunting and all she got was a snort and a smirk. "You don't have the good sense to be afraid of much, yeah?"
She thought that over for a second, debated between offering an easy jibe or the truth, and, in the end, concluded that he had taken a step toward her by talking about night terrors and that it was only fair that she took one too.
"Oblivion." she whispered.
"What?" His frown made him look older. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and she wondered if it was his days as a soldier that had put them there.
She looked down at her hands, ran the pad of her index on her thumbnail to feel the smooth layer of her nail polish. It comforted her.
"Oblivion." she repeated quietly. "That scares me. Not being remembered by anyone. Being forgotten."
She waited for the mocking comment and, when it didn't come, she tentatively looked up to find him watching her, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Funny." he said in a flat tone that wasn't very amused.
"What is?" she asked.
"You're afraid of it and I've been looking for it at the bottom of bottles." he replied.
Was it funny? Or was it fate?
They studied each other in silence for a while, each contemplating what that might mean. Effie hated silence though, it made her uncomfortable, anxious, and she was already full of energy like always so early in the morning so she didn't want to get anymore jittery.
"Well." She forced some cheer into her voice, tried to cut through the weirdness of the moment. "Perhaps I am meant to teach you to be afraid enough of it that you will stop looking."
She used the leg that was tossed on his lap – and that was quickly becoming numb – to sit herself on top of him properly.
She didn't remain there for more than a couple of seconds.
She didn't even have time to yelp.
In a flash, she was flat on her back, he was on top of her, her wrists were pinned over her head and his hand was around her throat, squeezing.
The worst, maybe, was the look of horror that crossed his face. He let go of her throat and her wrists as if her skin burned him and he would have bolted out of the bed for sure then if she hadn't quickly locked her legs around his waist.
He froze.
She made very, very sure to keep her voice detached. "I am going to go on a limb here and guess you are either into control fantasies or you do not like not being on top."
He stared at her for a while, confusion and shame and a dozen of other emotions he wasn't hiding as well as he probably thought he was battling on his face. In the end, he scoffed. "You really don't have any good sense. You should be halfway across the room by now."
"Perhaps I don't." she retorted. "Perhaps that is why I need you."
His features turned into a scorn. "You don't need me. What would you need me for? You've got everything!"
"No." she murmured, tentatively brushing his too long hair back. "No, I don't have everything."
He puffed and took a deep breath and puffed again, clearly torn between two instincts. She could relate, she had been battling with that herself ever since she had met him. It was fight or flight, stay or go… Except the brand new instinct that dictated them to stay was imperious and very difficult to deny.
Slowly, impossibly slowly, his body relaxed, his weight gradually pinned her to the mattress – and that felt good, more than good – and he cupped her cheek, propping himself on his other elbow so he wouldn't entirely crush her. She leaned into his hand. His palms were calloused and she had been surprised by how much she liked that.
"I do not mind anything." she offered. "In the bedroom, I mean. Well, I do not like being choked but I am open to discussing it. Whatever you want, you can have… If that means dominating me, so be it."
She was too eager to please, she knew. She had tried most of everything, often to cater to the desires of lovers who had ended up rejecting her or using her to their own ends. She loved too easily, she had been told many times, and love, in her opinion, meant doing whatever you could to satisfy your partner. Love, in short, was foolish and often ended with tears. Love was not something she trusted readily.
The way he was looking at her…
She wasn't sure if it was awe or sadness. The idea that he could be sad for her was vexing and his silence was starting to make her feel self-conscious. She had the distinct feeling he was thinking she was easy or promiscuous or… She flushed and pursed her lips, averting her eyes.
"Maybe you do need me." he grumbled. "You often say that kind of things to guys you just met?"
It was like a slap.
"Do not dare judge me." she hissed. But what else was she expecting from a man who had compared her to a clown the second he had met her? To a man because of whom her soulmate words had brought her a lifetime of humiliation? Yes, the words were easily hidden and that was a small mercy but there were situations – intimate situations – where they had been on display. How many of her previous lovers had known that she was fated to a soulmate who wouldn't respect her? How could she demand respect from them after that? How many of them had made a joke of the words, forcing her to laugh with them because it was either making light of it or crying?
She tried to push him away but he was a little too good at keeping her still. He only had to rearrange his body to have her pinned there, at his mercy.
"Hey, hey, hey… Easy." he demanded. She didn't stop struggling immediately when it became obvious she wouldn't be able to get him off her without his cooperation. She couldn't just submit that easily. So she pouted and glared at him and that only made him smirk. Slowly, he released his restrictive hold but stayed exactly where he was, on top of her. "Alright, sweetheart, first thing first, I ain't into whatever BDSM stuff you're imagining… I ain't a control freak."
"That is so patently obvious right now." she deadpanned.
It only made him smirk more but he soon turned serious again. "You know what you said about the condoms yesterday?"
"That I am not as careful as I should be?" Was he going to toss that back in her face now? Call her a slut, perhaps? She wasn't sure it would be an improvement from being called a clown.
"No." he sighed. "That… That maybe we could go without but not on the first night. Yeah?"
She pouted. "Technically, this still counts as the first night and you are not making me willing to negotiate right now."
"No…" he said again, clearly getting frustrated by her lack of understanding. "I mean… It's like that. For you to get on top. For me, I mean." He stopped, let out an annoyed breath and… "I mean…"
"Yes, I understand." she interrupted, relaxing a little. "You need to trust me more."
Relieved, he nodded. "It ain't about you. It's…"
"Like the night terrors." she surmised.
"Yeah." he admitted. He cupped her cheek again, a bit hesitantly. "I ain't always… I can't control myself sometimes. There's stuff that triggers… I don't wanna hurt you so it's better you know… Don't get on top of me without letting me know first." He winced. "As a rule, don't startle me. I don't wanna hurt you. I just… Sometimes it's… It's like a reflex. I can't…"
He stopped talking, his cheeks a little red, his pain and his fears so plain she could almost feel them like a dull echo in her chest. She covered his hand with hers, her anger fading with the need to soothe his worry.
He had been hurt.
Badly and repeatedly.
He wasn't meeting her eyes anymore. He wasn't exactly shying away either, there was a defiant tilt to his chin, as if he was waiting for her chase him away, to decide he was too much of a burden or to finally listen to what he had been telling her since the previous night: that she deserved better.
He believed that, she could see it.
"Does my mouth on your dick count as me being on top?" she hummed, faking deep thinking. "Because, I suppose, if one wants to be technical my head would be on your lap." The vulgarity when she had only ever been so proper with him had the desired effect and he looked up at her with disbelief. She batted her eyelashes, praying that the light layer of make-up she had applied in the middle of the night hadn't smudged everywhere and that she wasn't currently impersonating a panda trying to seduce him. "I did promise to make you beg, did I not?"
She wasn't expecting him to refuse the offer and he didn't even try to protest or resist when she pushed him on his back. She made sure to remain a bit on the side, not to cover him completely since that made him uncomfortable. Once she was certain he wasn't about to snap again, she started exploring like she hadn't yet been able to.
She started by running her fingers on his chest, tracing random patterns, playing with the short and pale chest hair… That was a novelty of sort, her lovers usually preferred to keep their chest waxed. There was an area around the scars were the hair simply disappeared and she wondered if it would ever come back or if the skin had been too badly damaged. She didn't linger there, bringing her fingers back up to his nipples, retracing them…
Haymitch sucked in a breath and she didn't try to hide her grin. She was going to enjoy this.
She bowed her head, darted her tongue out to tease the hard buds…
"Fuck, sweetheart…" he groaned.
"That is the idea." she chuckled. "Be patient."
"Patient ain't really my thing." he grumbled.
She wasn't surprised to feel his hand on her back, running up and down her spine, ending up on her ass… She let him grope her while she learned the shape and taste of his chest. She also let him tentatively run his fingers through her hair when she started kissing her way down.
She stopped on his mangled soulmate words, she had licked them the previous night, she simply kissed them then, daring to show a little more tenderness. His stomach rippled as if he was trying to suck it in and she looked up, keeping her head close to it, her mouth a hair away from his scar… "Does it still hurt?"
His face was unreadable, his fingers tangled a little in her curls… "Sometimes."
She didn't ask anymore. She didn't ask how it had happened or how bad it had been. It would have spoiled the mood and they had made enough confessions for one morning. She simply noted to be extra careful when she touched him there and continued her way down, nibbling at each of his inner thigh in turn, avoiding the area he wanted her to touch…
He was hard and curling toward his stomach when she finally caved to the harder grip he had on her hair.
"I do not mind some tugging but pull my hair too hard and I will bite." she warned playfully. She didn't give him time to think it through. She pinched his head and gave him a long lick that had him breathing even harder than he already was.
She made it a good show because she knew it was half the fun. She didn't know yet what he liked and what would drive him crazy so she experienced, tried a couple of her tricks… She was very good at this and there was no complain.
"Effie…" he mumbled after a few minutes.
She hadn't need the warning, it was obvious he was about to come. She squeezed his thigh and took him deeper in her mouth, silently letting him know it was alright. This time, it was definitely awe on his face. Then, pleasure took him and his eyes almost rolled back with the strength of it.
As she swallowed and tried not to choke because there was nothing less sexy in her opinion, she wondered if it was the same for him as it was for her. The sex, with him, had felt so much… more than it usually was. Everything had felt enhanced.
She waited until his hips had stopped thrusting and he had softened to let him slip out of her mouth. She placed a last soft kiss on the scarred soulmate words – she could tell already that it was going to be a favorite spot of hers – and got pulled upward.
The kiss was almost brutal and his tongue slipped in her mouth before she could think it through. She might have worried about morning breath if she hadn't quickly determined he would only be able to taste himself on her tongue. As for him, he tasted like her mouthwash and it made her smile into the kiss that he had taken advantage of being in the bathroom to rinse his mouth.
You didn't make sure you didn't have morning breath if you didn't want to see someone again…
She was so pleased she let him roll her on her back and barely reacted when his mouth left hers to roam on her jaw and then lower… She only understood what he was planning to do when his mouth reached her stomach and she immediately touched his shoulder to stop him.
"It is alright…" she whispered. "You do not have to…"
"Want to." he replied.
He had already briefly gone down on her the previous night in his quest to find her soulmate words, not long enough for her to come, but it had been enough for her to know she would if he kept at it.
"Haymitch, don't." she insisted, tugging harder on his arm.
He paused uncertainly. His nose nuzzled her lower belly and he placed his big hand on her hip before looking up at her, confusion writing on his face. "Why? You liked it last night."
Given a choice, she would have lied but she felt, deep down, that it would be only too easy for them to misunderstand each other and she didn't want him to think she had been faking.
"I need a shower." she offered honestly.
He studied her a second and then rolled his eyes. "It's fine."
She squeezed his arm. "No, it is not. After last night… I feel gross."
Not something she liked to admit to her lovers but she refused to let herself be self-conscious and she jutted her chin a little higher. Condoms might make things a little less messy but she still badly needed to wash – another thing she would have done if she had woken up before him.
He studied her a little longer and moved back up with a sigh. "Just to be clear, your problem's with my mouth being down there, yeah? How about my hand?"
He was pouting like a child denied a particularly shiny toy and she couldn't help but chuckle. She planted a kiss on his mouth and she chuckled harder when he chased after her lips.
"I am fine for now." she promised. "I sucked you off because I wanted to, not to get something out of it."
He licked his lips at the words 'suck you off' , his eyes darted to her mouth… "Alright."
There was a touch of regret in his voice as if he would really have enjoyed making her come – and to be honest, she would have too. Later, she told herself, there would be time later.
With a last kiss, she slipped out of his arms and out of the bed. Her legs were far less steady than she had planned and it took her a second to get her balance. She strutted to her bathroom like she would have walked down a catwalk, making sure to swing her hips just right, keeping her eyes on the en-suite door… She might not have been sure about the make-up or her hair but her body… She took religious care of her body and it was perfect. She knew just what effect it could have if she used it right.
"Are you watching me?" she asked, her tone light.
She knew he was, she could feel his eyes roaming on her body, exactly like in the bar the previous night. His stare was hot.
"Worse views." he mocked.
Her lips stretched into a grin. "Are you joining me?"
"Maybe." he answered.
"Give me a minute." She tossed him a teasing glance over her shoulder and then disappeared in the bathroom. She closed the door firmly shut and quickly relieved herself, hoping he wouldn't come in at that point because that would kill any possible romance for sure. When she finally checked her reflection in the mirror, she cringed at the slightly smudged make-up. She wiped her face off, immediately reaching for waterproof mascara…
Her hand was covered by a bigger one before she could grab it, the box of condoms was placed on the edge of the sink – it was good to know he was planning ahead, she supposed – and an arm sneaked around her waist, dragging her back against a firm chest. She met Haymitch's eyes in the mirror with a confused frown – and maybe some irritation since her face was bare; didn't he know when a lady asked you for a minute you waited for her to call you before going in?
"You don't need that shit." he mumbled. "You're gorgeous."
It was nothing no one hadn't told her before. Of course, she was gorgeous, she was a famous model… But without artifices? To be fair, she didn't remember the last time she had let someone who wasn't a member of her prep team see her without make-up, certainly not a lover… But still she couldn't ever remember anyone telling her plain bare face that she was gorgeous or that she didn't need the make-up. Everyone needed the make-up. Even the most beautiful woman in the world needed make-up.
"Gorgeous is an improvement from calling me a clown." she deflected because she wasn't sure what else to say.
He had the good taste to wince.
He pressed a kiss on her shoulder. His stubble itched. She wasn't sure why she was finding the contact so arousing, she was pretty sure she had stubble burn all over her body.
"Just… You're so fucking beautiful… Don't see why you need all that stuff…" He shrugged.
"You are not a fan of make-up." she mocked, a little bitter because of those words branded on her inner thigh.
"Ain't a fan of fake." he corrected slowly. "If you're putting that on for my sake, don't bother. I like you better without all that crap."
"Well, I like you better sober." she retorted defensively. It was her turn to wince when he flinched. His arm loosened around her waist and she grabbed it before he could move away. "I am sorry. I am getting old and beauty is a sensitive subject for me."
He looked at her hard and she had the feeling he was trying not to let his temper flare.
"Old." he scoffed after a couple of seconds. "You can't be older than…" He paused in thought and then shrugged. "My words appeared when I was five so you've got to be twenty-five. How's that old?"
It was old for her profession but she didn't want to go into that right then. She had honestly been surprised when he had confessed he hadn't recognized her the previous night. It was understandable he hadn't immediately put her name on her face but later on, once they had reached her apartment… She had thought he had by then. She was strangely grateful he hadn't though because it made that whole meeting seem more genuine. A lot of people would have thanked fate for being her soulmate, she had connections, money, fame… Being her soulmate would meant an instant access to all of that, to stardom even. Haymitch didn't seem to care at all, on the contrary he had almost looked upset standing there in front of that poster.
She wondered if it was too much for him. It was too much for some people. The press hounding them, the objectification she suffered from, the stress of watching the contracts and the propositions slowly dwindle down…
Haymitch was still watching her in the mirror, waiting for an answer that she didn't want to give. She turned around and locked her arms around his neck, maneuvering him toward the big shower in the corner.
"Weren't we about to take a shower?" she hummed before kissing him.
His lips were unyielding and, for a second, she thought he would insist. But that strange connection she attributed to the soulmate bond exploded again in the kiss and he soon let himself get distracted.
They kissed and fooled around in the shower, covering each other's body in so much soap that there was foam up to their ankles… Because he was stubborn, he touched her until she came. Because she was no less stubborn, she reciprocated.
"I am not sure we are doing an outstanding job at washing up." she joked.
"Hope you don't have a hot water limit." he snorted, smearing some more shower gel on her to clean up the proof of that last round.
It was too hard to resist the urge of kissing him and she didn't even try. She kissed him and let her hands explore his back while his learned her curves… She wasn't sure how long they played like that, making-out like teenagers…
Still, she giggled in his neck when she felt him getting hard again. "You have stamina."
"Usually not that much anymore." he grumbled, not quite happy to admit it. "Must be that soulmate thingy…"
"The bond?" she whispered, her amusement fading a little. "I am not sure… What should we expect?"
He shook his head in ignorance. "You think it's gonna get less… intense?"
She wasn't certain if he meant the sex or everything else but she licked her lips and forced a smile. "I am not complaining about the intensity. It feels too good." She wrapped her hand around him, having a sense of what he liked by now. "And if it is to fade, we should make the best of it."
It was a good thing he had thought about bringing the box of condoms.
He pinned her against the glass wall of the shower and she briefly wondered what it was with them and glass surfaces… When he tried to lift her up though, he groaned and dropped his forehead on her shoulder, breathing out slowly between his teeth and placing both hands on the wall to steady himself.
"Are you alright?" she immediately worried, gently rubbing her hand up and down his nape.
He had scooped her up without problem the previous night but she had noticed he was straining when he had been carrying her to the bedroom.
"Yeah. Yeah…" he said after a minute, pressing a kiss against her shoulder and then her neck, his hands came back on her body. He sounded irritated. At himself. "Haven't been doing much since…" Her hand drifted down his stomach and to his scarred soulmate words, silently finishing his sentence for him. "I'm fine." he said again. "Out of shape but fine."
She chased the bitter edge of his words with a kiss under his ear. "It is probably wiser to keep our feet on the floor anyway. It is slippery."
His hands found her hips and, for a second, he seemed to hesitate. She let him set the pace, let him have the control he seemed to so desperately need… When he gave a gentle push, she turned around without question, braced herself against the wall and even went as far as wriggling a little with a teasing glance over her shoulder.
He looked half-confounded and half in awe again. She supposed most women opposed to that position, particularly on a first night-slash-morning. She didn't care.
His smirk was almost fond. "I said you're perfect yet, princess?"
"A few times." She looked back at the wall and grinned. "But do not let that stop you from saying it again."
"Don't let it go to your head." he joked.
And then his fingers were gripping her waist and he entered her in one powerful thrust, without warning, and she let out a cry of surprised pleasure that made him chuckle. The chuckles infuriated her but there was more urgent than butting heads with him at that moment – like chasing her release.
That round was short and rough, almost brutal…
When he came with a soft groan, almost a whole minute after her, and bowed his head over her back, her legs and arms were killing her from the strain of remaining in that position. She didn't complain though, not even when he took a good look at her and groaned again. "You're gonna bruise…"
He was gentle when he helped her straighten up and turn her around so she was facing him again. There was a look of dismay on his face as he stared at the reddish marks his fingers had left on her hips. There would be more bruises than that, she already knew, and a few scratches too.
"I mark easily." she dismissed, tossing her arms around his neck and leaning in for a kiss, eager to bask in the afterglow with him.
He drew back, his hands coiling around her elbows to keep her away. "Should have been more careful…"
His distress wasn't faked or overplayed to score sympathy points. He looked upset. Really upset.
And it also really wasn't worth it.
"Haymitch." she said firmly and his eyelids fluttered a few times before he finally met her eyes. He looked a bit dazed and it soon morphed into the same urge to flight she had seen earlier in the bedroom when he had wrapped his hand around her throat. She tightened her embrace, refusing to let him run. "You did not hurt me. I am fine. I just mark easily. Honestly."
One of his hands remained coiled around her elbow even as he reached for the tap with his other one, turning the water off. He didn't step out of the stall though. With a long deep breath, he leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together.
"I meant what I said last night, you know…" he mumbled. "You'd be better off without me."
She pursed her lips and gently ran her fingers in his hair. She was less gentle when she tugged a little so he would look up. She kept her voice firm. "And I meant what I said when I told you you would not be."
There had been a vow in there. She hadn't been aware at the time but she was now. He needed her. So badly it wasn't even funny. He needed her and his soul called to hers and she didn't know if it was fate or chance or something else but she knew that now that she had found him she never wanted to lose him.
He shook his head, almost begging her to understand. "I'm not a good man, sweetheart…"
Bad men, she thought, never warned other people that they were bad. Good men who thought they were bad on the other hand… And what was even his definition of the terms? Was she a good person? She had never hurt anyone physically but she had sometimes destroyed people's reputation on a whim or for her own gain. She had made and unmade stylists, make-up artists and photographs without any regard for their wellbeing… She was ambitious, self-centered and vain… But she also always accepted to do events for charity and gave them money, she tried to promote younger stylists when she could and she would have done anything for a friend in need. How reductive to try and fit people in small cases as good and bad.
She hated cases. She had spent too long trying to define her sexuality to linger too long on labels.
However, she didn't launch herself in an explanation she suspected would fall on deaf ears. He would not believe her. And she didn't know him well enough to convince him yet. All she had was a gut feelings and this strange new overwhelming instinct.
"Good men…" she opposed slowly. "…are overrated."
And that was her final opinion on the subject.
soooo I did add a third part and I am planning on at least a fourth but let's face it, I think there will be a few more... Did you like it? Let me know your thoughts!
