Prompt: Here's a prompt for you to write. I'm sure Effie has her tricks when it comes to putting her corset on or maybe Portia is there to help her. But can you write something where she can't do it on her own and she's already running late and so she has to ask Haymitch because that's still better than asking an Avox? And he definitely has his problems with the amount of skin he sees then and he's also making fun of her? Thank you!

Aaaand we're back to business with a prompt a day ;) This one has smut in it.

Corset Conundrum

Haymitch Abernathy had a rare gift for making her late.

Effie was punctual, always. She had manners and she stuck to them. She hated it when people wasted her time by being late and so she tried to grant others the same courtesy. Usually, she managed. But when Haymitch sneaked into her room in the middle of the night, passably drunk and yet not enough that she would deny him what he was after, with a bottle of tequila to share and plans to take advantage of her... Well, needless to say, she ended up slamming off her alarm clock the next morning only to wake up two hours later than planned, late and annoyed.

She glared at the man still snoring in her bed on her way back from the bathroom, pinning her hair up in a bun as she went.

It wasn't exactly usual for him to spend the night, he preferred to leave as soon as they were done, but there had been quite a lot of alcohol involved as the empty bottle of tequila on her nightstand could attest to, and she couldn't deny they had had fun but it had left them sore and exhausted. She wasn't exactly surprised he had fallen asleep right there.

She discarded her silk dressing gown and put some lacy panties on before grabbing her white corset. She had to appear on TV in a few hours and the dress she had in mind wouldn't be forgiving. Her figure would need to be at her best.

She was practiced in the art of lacing her own corset by herself. Her mother had insisted she wore some since her early teens. Effie didn't quite mind. It was a necessary evil when you worked in the fashion field and she always made sure to choose pretty ones just in case. Haymitch may hate the thing – although on certain occasions he had been known to find the whole thing arousing – but men usually thought them sexy.

She was practiced in the art of lacing her own corset by herself except her head was pounding and her hands were unsteady – she already had to try three times before managing to pin her hair up. It wasn't such a huge surprise to find herself unable to tighten the strings to her liking.

The answer to that problem, however, was obvious.

Calling an Avox – what she usually would have done – was out of the question with her victor lying in her bed, in consequence, it was time to wake up the sleeping beast. And she did that by tossing a pillow at his head, knowing full well the fact that there was no knife under the pillow didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

He startled awake.

It was almost funny, really, to see him bolt from his stomach to a sitting position, his grey eyes roamed around the room only calming when they settled on her, his hair was sticking up in all directions and he looked like he was sporting the worst hangover. He ran a hand over his face and flopped down on his back.

"What did you do that for?" he grumbled.

"I need help." she announced.

"Professional help, yeah." he scoffed. "I'm no head doctor." She rolled her eyes and tugged on the blankets he was rearranging around him, clearly intending to go back to sleep. "Fuck, Effie, it's cold!" he snapped.

There were worse sights than Haymitch Abernathy naked in her bed but she didn't let herself linger on that thought for now.

"Clearly." she smirked with a pointed glance at his groin.

That earned her a glare.

"You're a fucking bitch." he muttered, sitting up once more to run a hand in his hair this time.

"Language." she hissed. "That's no way to talk to a lady."

"You're no lady." he mocked, reaching for the bottle on the nightstand. "No lady would do what you did last night." He gave a hurt look at the empty bottle but brought it to his mouth nonetheless, clearly hoping for at least a drop of tequila. "Nice trick though. New one too."

It was almost a question, not quite but almost, and the possessiveness she could hear rampant underneath made her grin. It wasn't like they had set ground rules. Their occasional tumble in bed didn't mean they couldn't go with other people. Not that Effie had done a lot of that lately…

"Help me with my corset, would you?" she requested sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

She wouldn't have dared let anyone else see her without wig or make-up but like the ruffian he was, Haymitch actually preferred when she was ugly to when she was at her most radiant.

He rolled his eyes at her antics, giving a dark look to the piece of lingerie she was keeping in place on her chest. "Why do you even need that? Pain to get off."

"If it were up to you I would walk around naked." she pointed out.

"Would make for a great view." he snorted. "Might get us some sponsors too." Her smile faltered for second and his amusement turned to sternness. "Forget it. You're not doing it. Come here so I can lace your fucking thing." He kneeled on the bed and she turned her back to him, her mind still preoccupied by what he had just said. In jest or not... "I said forget it, Effie." he growled, tugging brutally on the lacing. "You do that and I get you fired, hear me?"

"Yes." she sighed. Some other escorts and victors were not afraid to play dirty – Career Districts particularly never played fair – but Haymitch's opinion on that matter had always been very clear. He said it was a Pandora box, that if they did it once they would forever be fair game for the vultures. She shook her head, chasing those thoughts from her mind. "Harder, Haymitch."

"That's your favorite line, right?" he teased, pulling harder on the strings until a soft gasp escaped her. "Harder, Haymitch. Faster, Haymitch..."

He might think he had a talent for imitating her but he was wrong.

"If you did it right you wouldn't need directions from me." she deadpanned.

"I've half a mind to show you how right I can do it right now." he scoffed, giving her a small slap on her bottom.

She shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Do that again and you will get the same stump as Chaff."

"Not what you said last night." he smirked, neatly knotting the strings together.

"The good news is with only one hand you will still be able to take care of yourself." she hissed, slightly out of breath as always when she had just put the corset on. She needed time to adjust. "Because at the rate you are aggravating me this morning, I will never let you touch me again."

His smirk only deepened as he leaned to bite right under the hem of her panties, at the junction between thigh and cheek. She yelped, she couldn't help. It didn't hurt, he didn't squeezed hard enough for that but the feel of his teeth and his stubble on such sensitive skin...

"Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. "Stop this instant." He didn't stop. He nibbled, licked and kissed, inching the lacy fabric up, and then he simply retreated to pull her panties down without ceremony. "Haymitch, I'm late." she whined. "I don't have time for this." And yet she didn't protested too much when he tugged her down on the bed. She laid on her back, resigned to her fate, as he got her in the exact position he wanted her in : her legs spread, her feet on the floor... "Wait!" she called when he knelt next to the bed, between her legs. But he didn't wait. His mouth was hot and eager and her hips immediately buckled. "Haymitch..."

"Shouldn't have said I didn't know how to do it right, sweetheart." he snorted. "Shouldn't have woken me up either. Payback's a bitch."

He was very skilled when he wanted to be and in a matter of seconds she was panting and feeling dizzy in a way that wasn't entirely pleasurable.

"Haymitch, I can't breathe." she heaved out between two deep breaths.

"Kind of the point." he mocked, not looking up, too busy sucking on part of hers that were throbbing in joy.

"No..." she hissed. "I can't... The corset... Haymitch, I will faint..."

That got his attention fast. He finally looked up, saw how pale she was and immediately rolled her on her side so he could loosen the laces he had just finished tightening.

"Shit." he spat. "Shit. Shit. Told you this thing was a pain."

"Yes, you did." She forced herself to take even breaths and not to gulp too much air at once. "It doesn't excuse your foul language."

He tossed the corset at the other end of the room and she figured she would never have time to put it on again if she wanted to finish this and still be on time. She would need to change her wardrobe plans.

"Better?" he frowned, sounding a little worried.

"Was that a ploy to get me naked?" she joked, brushing her hand against his cheek, her nails catching on the stubble. She asked him to shave ten times a day but the secret truth was that she liked him like this. "It is rude to frustrate a lady, you know." she hummed. "Bad form. We wouldn't want you to be rude, now, would we?"

She brought his hand where she wanted it, ignoring his smirk.

"Thought you didn't have time." he taunted. "Wouldn't want you to be late, now, would we?"

"Haymitch, I swear I will kill you if you don't finish me." she growled.

He chuckled and nuzzled her neck, nipping at the spot under her ear that always made her responsive before bringing his mouth closer to her ear. "Beg."

"Never." she bristled.

"Then you're not getting what you want." he shrugged, taking his hands off her.

"I will kill you." she threatened.

"Such violence." he mocked. "Is that well-mannered?"

Turnabout was fair play and so she had no qualm in grabbing what was so obviously eager for her attention. She knew him too well not to know how to get him to squirm quickly.

"Cheater." he accused, flopping on his back to leave her enough room to work.

She straddled his hips and helped herself to what she wanted. His hands rested on her thighs but he seemed content to let her set the pace. She treasured the rare show of trust for what it was – she knew he didn't like relinquishing control even though he occasionally humored her – and rewarded it by slowly rotating her hips, using him for her own pleasure but careful to bring him to his too.

"Staring is rude." she panted, too close to her climax to even care about how she looked.

"You're hot." he commented.

He rarely said things like that and she thought the words were her undoing. She came with a cry and collapsed on his chest, spent and out of breath. She matched the moves of his hips lazily, in a daze, focused on the fingers digging in her thighs and on the strong heartbeat under her cheek. It didn't take him long to fall over the edge.

"I'm going to help you get dressed more often." he chuckled in her ear.

"Oh, shush it." she chided him. "You made me terribly late."

"Like you care." he challenged.

She didn't rise to the bait.

She didn't care.

She felt too good to care.