Prompt: Gale and Madge meet again, years after the rebellion.

Warning— this is very, very explicit. Please don't read if you don't like smut!

One more drink, and he'd call it a night.

Gale Hawthorne watched the stage intently, cataloging every arch and moan, every flash of bare flesh washed pale by the harsh lights. Shows at the Iron Arms weren't just skin on display with bored dancers writhing a pole and counting down the hours until closing. They were real, in-your-face revelries of lust.

And fuck, they were hot. The redhead on stage could take apart a rifle, rebuild a carburetor in twenty minutes, and get herself off on stage like it was the most fun anyone in the whole goddamn world had ever had. If Gale could manage to remember her name, he might have loved her.

Maybe.

By his own choice, Gale had always existed on the fringes of the new government. He was all in, working his ass off to carry out President Paylor's commands. But when it came time to hang up his gun and play, he shied away from the glitzy ballrooms and unrestrained wealth of the capitol. It wasn't his style.

The redhead rolled to her knees on stage, drawing his attention to the smooth curve of her ass. He shifted in his chair to relieve the pressure caused by the sudden surge of desire—and almost groaned aloud when the persistent ache in his right leg ignited into fiery pain. It was an immediate and sobering reminder that these days he was not only useless as a soldier, but also as a lover.

Some fucking hero he was.

The bartender with the pink—tipped hair stopped by his table, her hand lingering over his nearly empty glass. "You want a bottle for the road, Gale?"

Shit, he didn't remember her name, either. "Yeah. That'd be good."

"You got it."

He followed her to the bar, his stride carefully measured to cover his lingering limp. Doc had assured him he was getting better, that all it took was time and care, but most days he felt like all the time and care in the world wouldn't make his leg normal again.

He accepted the bottle with thanks and made his way out the door at the back of the room, dreading every step he took in the cold, night air, straight to his own personal fucking hell—the steep, narrow stairs leading to his office. He never seemed to go home to his apartment anymore, instead, he'd just turned the cramped back room of his office into a makeshift bedroom.

Gale stood at the bottom of the stairway for a moment, then gritted his teeth as he started walking up. Slow, precise, his right hand clenched around the railing. He clutched the bottle in his left, and halfway up the flight of stairs, he almost lost his grip on some of the best whiskey in District 2, all because his palms were growing slick and damp with the sweat of exertion.

He heard the sounds before he reached the top, footsteps in his office followed by the clatter of filing cabinets. Someone bit off a curse, a low but feminine sound that made his stomach clench.

Gale swiped his arm across his forehead and flung open the door. A woman stood there, dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that made her blonde hair look even brighter in the dim light.

A stranger. She was pretty, petite, infinitely fuckable, the kind of curves he'd want to drop to his knees and worship— if his right knee wasn't as useless as a knitted condom—but she was standing in his home uninvited, and that meant she had to go.

"Get out," he growled.

She started at the sound of his voice, clutching a file folder of reports to her chest as she spun around. She tensed, her big blue eyes fixing on his for just a moment before sweeping down his body. "Gale," she breathed out, startled but not shocked to see him— even though it'd been 8 years. He looked... massive. Even bigger than he had all those years ago in District 12. He had the body of a soldier now— unyielding muscle and cold eyes.

"Undersee? What the fuck are you doing here?" Gale's fingers loosened around the bottle for a few precarious moments before he recovered and fisted it tightly. He never imagined he'd see the Mayor's daughter again. In fact, he never even wasted second thinking about her after he dragged her, sobbing and clawing at his hands, away from her home as the Capitol rained hell down on District 12. He'd gotten her through the fence and immediately shoved her into the arms of some face-less blonde woman. After that, he never stopped to think about her again— too caught up in saving his family, then saving the world by Katniss's side.

"I'm your new analyst." She shuffled the papers to one arm and held out a hand as if he wasn't standing there glaring at her. "Well, Hevensbee gave me the job and told me I was to speak with you as soon as possible."

He ignored her proffered hand. "I don't have an analyst. Don't need one."

"You may not, but the Capitol requires you to have one." She frowned and tilted her head, observing the room. "You have filing cabinets. Honestly, I don't know where you found them. It's barbaric."

Wonderful. Not only had she invaded his personal space, but now she was insulting his organizational skills. "You're a long way from the Capitol's fancy computers, Princess Undersee. Around here, I decide how things are done, even if it involves barbaric pieces of paper for record-keeping."

She braced her free hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me the most infamous general, the soldier whose weapons won the Rebellion is afraid of a little tech." She ignored his dig at her. Maybe she'd been something akin to a princess— back when District 12 existed and she was the Mayor's daughter. But then 12 turned to ashes and rubble and her father turned to dust. Now she wasn't anything close to a princess. She wasn't even the Mayor's daughter. She was just another orphan from the Rebellion.

Gale narrowed his eyes at her, wondering when she'd grown a spine. She didn't act the girl he knew all those years ago, not with that hint of fire in her eyes. It reached past the throbbing ache in his leg to reignite his banked libido, and he found himself staring at her mouth, waiting for her to lick her lips so he could catch another glimpse of her quick pink tongue.

Gale groaned. The smartest thing would be to scare her off, but she didn't look easily cowed. "I'll pay you to leave," he offered. "How's that?"

Now both of her eyebrows were up. "I don't need your money. I need to do this job. If you don't want me to mess with your files, fine—"

"Okay. Don't mess with my files."

She didn't falter, didn't even blink. "Then tell me where your records of the District 2 uprisings are."

If I were an asshole... He waved the bottle of whiskey at her. "You could start by letting me drink half of this and jerk off so I can get some sleep."

That snapped her teeth together—for about five seconds. He found some measure of sick pleasure at the way her eyes widened for a moment before she composed herself and looked at him with an impassive expression. "If you're self-conscious about doing that with me in the next room, I could take some work home."

"Self—conscious?" He took a few steps toward her, dropped the bottle on his desk and unbuckled his belt. "I'll lay it out right here, Princess, if you want to watch." What the hell was he doing? Why was he even bothering with conversation and taunts— he should have just tossed her out and gotten on with his miserable night.

Her gaze flicked to his hands, and he got that flash of tongue he'd been waiting for as she wet her lips. "I wouldn't be watching. I'd be working."

Filing papers like there was nothing more interesting going on? Fuck that. "Bullshit." Gale tugged open the top button on his jeans, watching her face as he dragged his thumb over the zipper. In the back of his mind, he should hear the sober part of his brain telling him to get his hand off his dick but he ignored that voice. "It may be a little battered these days, like the rest of me, but my ego's not dead. If I start stroking my dick right in front of you, you're damn sure gonna be paying attention. Not just watching—riveted."

The folder in her hands creased under the force of her grip. Not fear though, and that flush in her cheeks wasn't shyness, either. There was too much awareness in her eyes like she was imagining his cock and how it would look with his hand wrapped around it.

Or maybe her hand.

Little Miss Madge Undersee was far, far too interested.

She pivoted abruptly and dumped the crumpled files on his desk. "Life's funny sometimes, isn't it?"

"Goddamn hilarious." He left his belt hanging open, left that one lone button undone, and reached for the whiskey. "What are you doing here?"

She ignored the question and gestured to his straining fly. "Do you want me to help? Or just watch?"

The thrill of anticipation that shot through him made him the worst kind of asshole, after all. He snorted to cover it. "If I wanted a whore, Undersee, I know where to find one. I'm a big boy. I don't need Hevensbee to deliver one to my front door."

Madge's expression didn't change, but that damn shirt dipped low between her collarbones, and he could see the flush rising. "Plutarch warned me you've been cranky since the accident. But calling me a whore won't scare me off, you know. I've been called worse."

Her tone raked at him—defiant and resigned, all at once—and suddenly he wondered. "What the hell happened to you after 12? We never heard anything." He knew it was a lie the moment the words left his lips. They'd never heard because they hadn't bothered to ask.

That made her flinch, though her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "I went where I was needed." Her words were brittle and harsh, "I figured out how to get by." She rounded the desk and perched herself on the corner until her lips were a breath away from his— he could smell her perfume now—something sensual and floral that hit him low in the gut. "But don't worry, Gale. I learned what to do with a man." She stroked one fingernail up the rough material at his thigh, sending hot flames to his erection. "You all want a girl who acts like she's never seen a cock but can still swallow it when you shove it down her throat."

That sounded about right—for the fancy men in the Capitol, the ones who liked their women mindless and obedient. Completely dependent—which was why all the Capitol whores were addicted to morphling and all sorts of dirty drug cocktails. But when had she learned what those men wanted? "Look, Undersee, you don't know me or my dick. But men outside the capitol don't prize drugged-up subservience over a woman who honestly loves to fuck."

"Shows what you know." She pushed herself further onto his desk and lounged back, resting her weight on her palms as she crossed her legs, deliberately sliding her foot up the calf of his uninjured leg. "Talk about your dick all you want, Gale, but that's not going to stop me from doing my job."

"I'm not just going to talk about it." He offered her the bottle with one upraised brow.

Madge snatched the bottle from him and her lips closed around it so slow and deliberate it was fucking well obscene, then she watched him as she took another deep sip. She knew what she was doing, all right—and he was playing right into her sweet little hands. "Talk is cheap, Hawthorne," she raised an eyebrow and nodded toward his zipper, "Get on with it."

Gale slid one large palm up her thigh and grasped her hip, squeezing for a moment before yanking her to her feet. He tugged the bottle of whiskey from her, sliding it across the wood and walked around her, dropping into his desk chair as she turned to follow him with her gaze.

He signed as the ache in his injured leg waned but the tension twisted, leaving his balls heavy—and everything else painfully tight. Achy. She hadn't moved a finger, still as a statue on the other side of his desk.

He winced as he pulled open the zipper on his fly and freed his cock, shoving down his jeans as far as they went. It was a gamble now, would she stay or would she go? He touched himself lightly at first, watching her, growing harder at the predatory look in her eyes, then grinned as he shifted his hand to grip his shaft. He dropped his head against the back of the chair but not before he heard her quiet gasp.

He felt her moving closer, smelled her perfume as it wrapped around him, drowning him in its heady scent. He'd seen one thing in her eyes as her gaze had traveled over him earlier—she wanted to touch him.

She wanted it bad.

She wouldn't hesitate to take what she wanted, either. Gale breathed deeply, and tightened his fist, waiting for her. He didn't know what to expect. Would she drop to her knees between his legs and drag her fingers slowly up his thighs or would she throw all her inhibitions out the window and close her lips over the head of his cock, knocking his hand out of the way to take complete control. Maybe she'd lean back against his desk and watch him while she drank his whiskey. He groaned and squeezed his hand for a moment before relaxing into easy strokes.

She stepped between his legs and leaned toward him. First, he felt her palms on his shoulders, then her lips against his ear, "Not so fast, not at first."

Gale moved fast, dragging her closer as he opened his eyes. She landed astride his lap—inches from his cock, which jutted up in the hot space between their bodies—and he locked both hands around her waist. Madge tried to shift her position and pull herself closer to him but Gale gripped her thighs and held her in place, his thumbs moving in soothing circles, warming her skin through her jeans.

"Anxious?" Gale's voice was barely more than a whisper as he notice of the wary smile playing across her lips.

Madge laughed and kissed her way up his jaw, stopping to feather a kiss over his earlobe. "Depends," she tightened her fingers on the back of his head, and kissed him. Her tongue darted out to stroke his lips. She rolled her hips against his cock, grinding on his lap in a move worthy of an Iron Arms dancer, forcing a low groan from his lips.

He had to force his hands to relax before he left finger-shaped bruises up and down her thighs. "On?"

"How long you can take it." Another roll, and this time it was her teeth on his earlobe, the barest tease as her fingernails pricked his scalp. "How long you can grope and grind and let me touch you before you'll lose control."

His dick swelled against the warm juncture of her thighs. "Take off your shirt."

She lifted her head long enough to grin at him, wild and unrestrained, her eyes dancing. "No," she said and leaned in to nip at his other ear. Her breath raced across his skin as her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "But you can take it off."

Too easy.

Gale twisted his hand in the fabric at her waist and pulled it up slowly, groaning when he caught the first glimpse of her lacy, white bra. He tugged the black cotton over her head and let it fall to the floor.

Shuddering, she pressed an openmouthed kiss to his throat.

He flicked her nipple through the lace. "Can't take it?"

"You haven't even scratched the surface of what I can take," she skimmed her lips down his jaw and closed her teeth on his throat.

Yes.

"Show me what you want," he invited.

She lifted her head and caught the back of the chair before rocking up, rolling her hips in a slow, taunting grind as she stared into his eyes. "Like this. Deep and hard." She reached between them and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to feel it when you first push into me."

He sat back and let her have her way with his body, her lips, and teeth leaving wicked, stinging bites down his chest as each button exposed more skin. She suddenly seemed to lose her patience and jerked open his shirt, sending the final buttons pinging wildly to the floor.

She sat back on his thighs, eyes hot with appreciation as she took in his broad, muscled chest.

"Something you want to say, Undersee?"

"Shut up, Gale." She ran her hands down his abs, lightly scratching him in warning.

He bought his hand down on her ass with a sharp crack. Then, before she had time to open her mouth, he smacked her lace-covered breast next, and the firm flesh swayed enticingly. Made his dick ache, too, and his next words sounded rough. "I could play with these tits for hours. Sucking, pinching..." He tweaked her nipple just to watch her jerk.

Her skin flushed, and her breathing quickened. "Do that again."

Gale reached up and jerked the thin straps down her arms, pulling until her bra slid down to her waist and her breasts were naked in his hands.

He caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, the edge of his teeth scraping her flesh. He lifted his head, giving her the full impact of his lust-hazed eyes. "Are you wet?" He sucked her nipple into his mouth and opened her pants with his free hand without waiting for a response. Her gasp turned into a groan when his knuckles brushed her abdomen. He jerked her jeans low on her hips, low enough to slip his hand into her panties. His wide fingers parted her, one fingertip nudging her clit, and the tingles exploded into buzzing warmth all the way to her toes.

Madge pulled him up for a kiss, all tongues and teeth, as he worked his hand between her thighs. His hand shifted until one finger pushed inside, teasing her with a taste of what he could give her.

"Fucking hell, you're dripping." He pulled the finger out and circled it around her clit, savoring the soft gasps falling from her lips.

It was so calmly obscene she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, but she couldn't stop her body from tensing, silently begging for his finger to be deep and hot inside her. "Of course I am," she said unsteadily. "Why wouldn't I be if I'm riding your hand?"

"You're not riding it, yet." He thrust two fingers inside her, almost distracting her from the steely hand he laid on her hip, stilling her furtive movements.

Panting, she put more effort into moving, but he had her fixed in place, trapped with two fingers filling her, stretching her. Arousal constricted around her, and now she was aware of every damn way her body reacted. Her tightened nipples, her flushed skin, her pussy clenching around his fingers, every reaction betraying how hot he was making her.

And the smug bastard knew it.

She clenched her teeth and slid her palms down his chest until she had both hands wrapped around the base of his cock. She stroked her hand over his length, twisting lightly, and swallowed a moan when he strummed his thumb over her clit. He thrust hard against her palm and she squeezed her fists tight around him.

He closed his eyes and licked his lips as she began working him, up and down, twisting and releasing. The groan that left his lips sent hot tingles down her spine.

Oh, God. She watched him, rapt, as she slowed her movements, then stopped entirely and leaned forward to kiss him lightly.

He wasn't the only one who could be smug.

At her low laugh, his eyes shot open, burning with need. The arm around her back tightened and he hauled her closer, thrusting his fingers deeper and pressing them to a place inside her that sent violent shudders through her body. Her mouth dropped open in a silent moan, and she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to hold out.

Gale reared his hand back and brought his palm down on her ass again as his thumb settled on her clit, the perfect, piercing counterpoint. "Come for me." He leaned forward to capture her nipple between his lips, sucking hard, gently biting, overwhelming her with sensation.

Madge tensed, and her eyes snapped open. Her arms were going numb, her muscles were cramping, and she didn't give a flying fuck. All that mattered was his hand, his fingers, and the sheer, bright ecstasy flooding her. She bit back a shriek as the mounting pleasure crested, sudden and inescapable.

"Just like that." He dragged her through her climax with relentless stroking and his thumb working in circles that wouldn't stop. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, holding on for dear life as savage waves crashed over her.

Good didn't describe the torturous pleasure. "Gale—" Her voice shuddered, broke as she pressed damp kisses against his skin.

"Want something, Undersee?"

So satisfied. So smug. "Fuck you," she panted, scraping her nails across his shoulders.

Laughing, Gale pulled his fingers free of her body. "Not unless you ask nicely." He traced his slick fingertips over her nipple. Before she could respond, he bent to capture the stiff peak between his lips, sucking the taste of her from her skin with an appreciative rumble.

She pushed at his chest, forcefully, making his back met the chair with a dull thump. "My turn." She slid to the floor between his knees and hooked her fingers in the front pockets of his jeans, dragging them down as he lifted himself to help her until they lay pooled at his ankles.

She stroked her fingers over his thighs. Fresh scars broke the skin of one leg, angry and jagged. She ran her tongue up the scars, looking up at him to see the heady lust in his eyes. She traced her fingertip up to where he still held his shaft in a loose grip, teasing over his fingers before brushing her knuckle up the underside."

When he spoke, it twisted her trembling even higher. "Go on, Princess," he growled, low and taunting. Tempting. "Suck."

Yes.

Madge parted her lips and traced the tip of her tongue up his shaft teasingly, smirking up at Gale before he sank a hand into her hair and thrust his thumb between her lips. "Suck, don't tease," He commanded, grimacing when she bit down on his thumb.

Her hands teased up his thighs and she licked him wet, then held his gaze as she slid her lips down around him.

Hazy pleasure made his eyes droop, but he forced them open. He wanted to watch her, glistening lips stretched wide around his cock, staring up at him as she took him deeper and deeper, wrapping him in wetness and heat.

A moan vibrated around him. She changed the rhythm, sucking hard as she drew him into her mouth, and licking as she retreated, over and over. He tugged at her hair, forcing her to look at him. His lazy gaze drifted over her features, and his lips twitched up in a smile.

All his worries about his mangled leg eased away as she pulled back and flicked her tongue over the crown of his cock. Release edged closer but he shoved it back, gritting his teeth as he hauled her up by her arms until his cock popped free of her lips. She let him pull her to her feet, then shrugged his hands off and slid her jeans and lace panties down, leaving them on the floor as she straddled his lap.

Her hips aligned over his and she ground down with a moan, rocking back and forth, digging her nails into his shoulders every time his cock stroked against her clit. She exhaled shakily and eased up his body, sinking onto him until her hips were flush against his. He was even bigger than he looked, thick and so damn hard, pressing into her, stretching her. He didn't just fill her—he invaded her.

Gale waited for her to gather herself, then ran his hands down to her thighs and rubbed his thumbs over her bare skin. "Ride me."

She hesitated until he slapped a hand against her hip, and then she was moving, the strong muscles of her thighs working as she rose and fell, taking him deep and hard and frantic.

Blinding pleasure shot through him like a shock, but a string of curses drew his attention back to her lips— filthy pleas slipping out each time she lowered herself. He dug his fingers into her thighs, rough and wild—on the verge of an explosive orgasm.

No time for Madge to find her rhythm and ride him to completion. Gale gripped her hips and held her suspended above him. She made a single noise of protest that turned to sheer pleasure as he drove up into her, pumping his hips in thrust after desperate thrust.

She arched her back, offering her sensitive breasts to him as she took him, over and over. He glanced up at her, smirking as he caught a nipple between his lips. He bit gently as she came with a cry. Not just a cry but his name, broken and desperate, spilling from her lips as she begged for more. He fucked her through it, fucked her until the tight, rhythmic clench of her pussy drew him over the edge, too.

The room blurred, everything but the thump of Madge's pulse faded into the darkness as he hauled her close for his last frenzied thrusts. His teeth dug into the silky skin of her shoulder, marking her as he was certain she'd marked him with her teeth and nails. He thrust into her one last time then collapsed back into the chair.

She gave it a few moments, a few peaceful, quiet moments before she dragged herself off his lap and turned to yank her panties and jeans on. She glanced at him quickly, unable to resist the temptation, and nearly climbed back onto his lap for another round. He lounged back like a king on his throne— shirt still hanging unbuttoned, giving her a glorious view of his chest and abs; and knees spread wide, cock laying across his thigh— still impressive in its softening state. He looked completely unbothered by his nakedness.

She had her jeans at her knees when, Gale leaned forward, grasping her hips and spinning her around.

"Such a pretty ass," he squeezed a handful of the soft skin and slapped her, hard, forcing her to brace her palms against his massive desk. She'd never been into getting spanked before, but somehow, Gale made it feel so fucking dirty and hot. Her knees weakened as he caressed her. He brought his hand down on the other side with an even louder crack, then, surprising her, he followed with a kiss. He opened his lips over the hot, reddening flesh and sucked, finishing with a rough bite, leaving a mark on her ass, as well.

Gale reluctantly released her and sat back, watching as she wriggled into the tight pants. She took a long swig of his whiskey, slid it back onto his desk and shot a wink at him over her shoulder before she turned and walked the hell out. No goodbye, no goodnight, not even a 'thanks for the fuck'.

He ran his hands through his hair and reached for the whiskey. Who the fuck was this new Madge Undersee?

Next Prompt: Gale and Madge are in high school, he's on the football team and she's a cheerleader (Sent in by Lady Isabelle Black)

If anyone has an idea for a prompt, send it my way!

—M—