A/N: I'm not thrilled with parts of this chapter, particularly the start of it. I don't know that it fits the tone of the rest of the story until about 2/3 in. If you have suggestions for how I can clean it up/revise it, please let me know in reviews/messages. I'm very open to constructive feedback. Thanks!
Cato was starting to worry that he was going to give Hera abandonment issues.
As soon as he'd slammed the door to his room in the District 2 apartment he unbuckled his belt and shoved his hand down his pants. He could still taste her on his lips and in his mouth and the sound of her crying out his name as she came reverberated in his ears. He pictured her lying on her bed, her thighs parted, her fingers running over herself, and it only took about five strokes before he came with a sigh of relief.
It was that dead look in her eyes that had done him in and brought him out of his brief backslide. He could have dealt with it if Hera had showered her warmth down on another man and forgotten he'd ever existed. But he could not take the thought of her spirit drying up until it disintegrated into dust.
And what Johanna had said about her crying out for him in vain as she wrestled with her nightmares….it very nearly broke his heart.
So he had gone to the District 7 apartment as soon as he'd returned to the training center after her interview. "Up on the roof," Johanna said to him when she answered his knock at the door.
After he had given her her first orgasm, he had wanted to lift her into his arms, carry her to her bed, and worship her with his body, just like he had with his mouth, but he'd felt himself lose control when she ground herself into him. And the sound of her voice as she'd begged him….She had no idea the amount of self-control he'd had to exert not to rip off his pants and fuck her senseless. And when she'd told him that she had touched herself while she thought about him it had nearly driven him insane.
He still needed to cool down some more from their encounter, so he took an ice-cold shower. He was both elated and apprehensive as he sudsed up. He couldn't believe she'd allowed him-wanted him-to touch her, to taste her. She had been so warm and wet and tight, the most delicious thing he'd ever seen, ever felt, ever tasted.
But he'd left her by herself on the roof after her first sexual experience, and he felt more than a little guilty about it. He wasn't quite sure what kind of reception he'd get from her after the stunt he'd just pulled, but he was determined to try to make it up to her.
xxxxxxxxxx
She didn't answer his tap on her bedroom door, and for a minute he wondered if she was still up on the roof. But when he cracked the door open he could see her dress, lying in a silken puddle on the marble floor. And when he pushed it open further and entered the room, there she was in her bed, facing the wall with her back to him. She must have needed to cool down as well, because her hair was wet and she was naked apart from the sheet covering the lower half of her body.
She didn't turn to greet him, but he knew she wasn't asleep.
He approached the edge of the bed and sat down. Still, she said nothing, didn't move a muscle. "Hera," he said softly, and then slowly, lovingly, he traced one of her scars with his fingers. He felt her stiffen, heard her inhale. He bent his head to kiss the same scar, and she exhaled and let her body relax. He guided her onto her stomach and straddled her legs, and then he touched his lips to each and every scar, lacing his fingers with hers when she clutched the sheet on either side of her head.
A small bruise was beginning to form on her neck where he had nipped her earlier, and when he was finished with her back, he returned to that spot and gave it a gentle bite. She moaned and pushed herself up off of the bed and into him, wriggling out from under the sheet, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her onto his lap so that her back was pressed against his chest and her legs were bent under her on either side of his knees. He wrapped his arms around her and attached his mouth to her neck again, shivering as he looked down and saw her breasts for the first time. They were beautiful, perfect, and he cupped them in his hands, caressing her nipples with his thumbs. She cried out and her head fell back against his shoulder.
He wanted to make her feel good again, to make up for leaving her on the roof, so he slid one of his hands between her thighs, and stroked her with his fingers, making her arch her back and moan. She was soaking wet and she clutched at his wrists, urging him on. He traced her opening with his index finger, and then slipped it inside of her.
"Cato," she breathed, grinding down into him. She lifted her hips and brought them back down. He'd thought his cock couldn't get any harder, but he was obviously wrong.
"Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her ear and taking one of her hands in his to bring it down between her legs. He wrapped his arm around her waist and watched in fascination over her shoulder as she took the pads of her fingers and ran them over herself desperately, and he carefully slid a second finger inside of her.
After a couple of minutes, he sensed her starting to grow frustrated, and realized that she didn't know how to bring herself to release. "I can't…I need...I need..." She whimpered pitifully, unable to finish her thought, and burrowed her face into his neck.
"Shh, shh, it's ok, it's ok," he whispered to soothe her, and he kissed her forehead gently. He placed the fingers of his free hand over hers. "Like this," he whispered, showing her how to rub herself in a circular motion. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and gasped as he slid his fingers in and out of her, and together they stroked her until he felt her muscles spasm around his fingers and she cried out in relief and relaxed against him.
He was throbbing so hard it hurt.
She slipped off of his lap and turned to face him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him, then drawing back to tug at his t shirt. He pulled it off, and returned to her mouth, but she backed off again after one kiss.
She was looking at him shyly, running her hands over his shoulders, his chest, and his arms, and the look on her face was so innocent it made his heart twist. He smiled at her and sat back patiently while she explored, trailing her fingers down his sides and over the muscles of his stomach. She traced the indents where his hips met the waistband of his pants and he tried to keep himself from gasping, but a quiet one slipped out anyway. She hooked her index fingers into his waistband and gave a little tug and he hitched his breath. She looked up at him with eyes full of mischief, and he was so relieved to see his Hera back that he let out a small laugh.
He helped her remove his sweatpants and boxers, and watched her face as she looked at him in person for the first time. Her eyes widened a little and she swallowed, and he could sense doubt and fear setting in.
So he reached out and lifted her chin until their eyes met. "It's ok," he said softly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"Doesn't it ache?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then…"
"I've gotten hard from thinking about you, or looking at you, or touching you for the last two months," he said, looking at her tenderly. "And it was ok. I took care of it. I can take care of this."
The mischief returned to her eyes. "Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me," she said and he burst out laughing at how cleverly she'd tossed his earlier request to her back at him. Then he took himself in his hand and started to stroke, his eyes still on her face. She reached out tentatively and touched the tip of him, and he shuddered. She ran her fingers around the ridge where his head met his shaft, and he groaned. Then she tugged on his wrist to still his movement. He let go and she wrapped her little hand around him. He thought he would faint. "Teach me," she said, and he covered her hand with his and guided her. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and his breathing became unsteady. He felt himself winding tighter and tighter. She's fucking touching me, she's fucking touching me, he thought, and he leaned his forehead into her shoulder, and tried and failed to stifle another groan. And then she stopped their hands and pulled away. Why?! Why, why, why?
When he opened his eyes she was lying on her back, knees bent, legs wide, her gaze locked solemnly on his face.
"Hera..." he said plaintively, shaking his head. "I'm not sure you're ready."
"Please," she pleaded. "I'm not afraid. I just want you to take away the empty feeling."
All his resolve left him with one rush of air as he exhaled. He bowed his head again.
"...unless you don't want to," she whispered.
He snapped his head up. "Oh no, trust me...I want to."
He slid closer to her and positioned his body between her legs. He placed a finger at her opening to make sure she was still wet. She moaned in answer, so he leaned down and took her into his arms as he had on the roof after he'd given her her first orgasm, cradling her head in his hands, supporting her back with his forearms. He kissed her on her forehead, on her eyelids, on her cheeks and on her mouth. And then he pressed himself into her, little by little, fighting back the urge to bury himself in her in one powerful thrust. So tight, so tight, so fucking warm and tight.
She held her breath, and when he was a little more than halfway in, he felt her tense up. She let out a cry, but there was no trace of desire or pleasure in it. He immediately started to pull out but she wrapped her legs around his hips to stop him.
"Hera, no," he said firmly.
"I'm not punking out on this," she said stubbornly.
"No one accused you of that. If that's why you're doing this..."
"I'm doing it because I want to. I want to. I love you."
It felt like what he'd thought winning his games would feel like. He stared at her in shock, and then he dropped his head onto her chest. He could hear her heartbeat.
"I fell in love with you the day I made your nose bleed," he whispered into her skin. "It took me weeks to understand what had happened, but that was the day. I know it." She sighed and he felt her relax around him a little. He eased in a little further.
"If they'd thrown us into the arena together I would have died for you. I would have run myself through with my own sword for you." A little more she relaxed. A little further he pushed.
"What you did for Rue...you took what I taught you, all the cruelty and all the violence, and you made it clean. You made me clean." A little further.
"The night I saw you holding that baby, I dreamed about our daughter. She had your eyes." She relaxed completely. He slid the rest of the way in.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
"You sure?" he whispered back, lifting his head to look her in her eyes.
In answer, she slid herself down the length of him and paused for just a second before driving herself up onto him again, burying him inside of her.
He almost came right then and there, but he forced himself to focus.
He braced himself with a hand on either side of her head and leaned down to kiss her, to put his tongue to hers. He rocked into her tenderly, reverently, selflessly. Her legs slipped from his hips to rest on the mattress. Her body language and the soft sounds that issued from her throat told him exactly what to do, how fast or slow to go, how to angle himself just right for her. He learned that when it was good she wrapped her arms around his waist, but when it was really good she seemed to forget about him completely and tossed her head from side to side and dug her fingers into her scalp. When it looked like she was nearing orgasm, he shifted his weight to one hand, careful to keep his pace and angle, and brought his other hand down to stroke her with his fingers, making tight little circles over her flesh. She bucked her hips and cried out and then he felt her clench around him and it took all of his self-control not to come with her. He concentrated on maintaining his rhythm as she rode it out. She sighed contentedly and he slowed his pace.
When he looked into her eyes, he could tell that the empty feeling was gone. She was sated.
"I want to feel what it's like when you come," she whispered and he gave himself permission to let go. This wasn't like the hundreds of other times, though. He didn't detach himself. Instead, he immersed himself in the sensation of her, leaning his head down to take one of her breasts in his mouth. He felt her wrap a leg around his hip to open herself up further to him. She pressed one hand into the small of his back to urge him further down into her, and with the other she grasped his hair, holding him to her breast. He drove into her, fast and deep, over and over again. God she felt like velvet. Warm slippery velvet suctioning the life out of him.
As he approached the edge, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could, and he put his forehead to the side of her neck. She responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and both legs around his waist. His thrusts became small and tight, more like pulses, and he dug his toes into the mattress, bracing himself to try to push into her as far as he could go, trying desperately to become bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh. As he came, he cried out her name and pushed into her one last time to milk himself dry, and then he heard her gasp, felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as she bit him, felt her clench around him again as a final orgasm snuck up on her with no warning.
He rested all of his weight on her for a minute before rolling to his side, taking her with him. "Holy shit," she whispered and he smiled and kissed her tenderly. They lay quietly in each other's arms for a while, and he ran his fingers lazily over her back. "Your scars," he whispered. Her hair was still slightly damp, and it was a tangled, matted mess from their lovemaking."And your hair right now," he teased, smoothing it off her forehead.
She huffed playfully, pretending to be offended, and pushed his shoulder, but grew serious when her fingers came away wet with blood.
"I bit you!" she exclaimed softly, looking at the teeth marks. "I didn't even realize it. I'm sorry!"
He laughed at her. "It's ok. I liked it. You were just marking me as your territory."
"Oh," she said shyly, and put her mouth to the wound, gently sucking the blood from it to clean it. He shivered with pleasure.
"Are you sore?" he asked her when she put her head back on the pillow. He brushed another strand of hair from her face.
"A little," she said.
He disengaged himself from their embrace to look down between their bodies, and saw traces of dark red on the insides of her thighs. "Hera…" he breathed apologetically. She followed his gaze.
"It's ok," she said, smiling at him. "I liked it. You were just marking me as your territory." Cato felt his heart swell. He pushed gently on her hip to roll her onto her back, then slid down the bed to clean her thighs with his tongue.
When he was finished, he took her into his arms again and pressed his forehead to hers. "We be of one blood, thou and I," he whispered to her.
"You have read a book," she teased.
"Yes. Only one though," he teased back.