A/N: 18+ readers only, please.

**The 70th Annual Hunger Games**

Finnick had turned on the sofa until he was fully facing him. Haymitch had suddenly felt scared. Not of Finnick, but of himself. If Finnick kissed him, he wasn't sure he was sober enough, or strong enough, to stop him. He wanted to kiss Finnick. The victor from District Four had gone from annoying and arrogant adolescent, to indecent heartthrob, and Haymitch was no more resistant to his charms than any Capitol citizen.

"Finnick," he said, not sure what would come next. A plea to stop and think? A declaration of how much he admired him for his ability to survive, his strength, and yes, the staggering fact of his beauty?

It didn't matter. His name was all Finnick allowed him to say before pressing his lips to Haymitch's. The kiss was as gentle as his hands on Haymitch's face. He was so tender, like Haymitch was some fragile sea creature just come out of his protective shell. As Finnick's tongue gently swept across his lips, seeking entry and finding it when Haymitch opened them, he felt too vulnerable. He couldn't stand the feeling much longer, and grabbed Finnick's shirt, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, tasted Finnick's lips, his tongue. He bit his bottom lip and moved the kiss to his cheek, his jaw, and trailed kisses down his neck until he found a spot that made Finnick gasp. He licked and sucked gently on the spot, mirrored the move on the other side of his neck.

He broke away to pull off Finnick's shirt and pushed him down so he was lying on the couch.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, reverent.

Finnick's skin was supple and smooth. If he had chest hair normally, a prep team had removed it. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Three dark freckles congregated in a small constellation on his right side. Haymitch traced the invisible lines between them and Finnick shivered. Goosebumps raced across the muscles on his chest and abs.

Haymitch could look at Finnick forever. He looked into his eyes, ran his fingers from his abs to his chest, and lowered his head to take one of Finnick's nipples into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, kissed his chest in warm, sloppy moves to his other nipple. Finnick gasped and moaned when Haymitch lightly bit around his pec.

Haymitch kissed Finnick on the lips again, both of them getting sloppier, lips meeting and parting as Haymitch's hand undid Finnick's trousers and slid inside to lightly grasp his cock.

Finnick sucked in his next breath.

"You okay?" Haymitch asked. "You don't have to do this."

Finnick cut him off by kissing him again, and reached between them to grab his wrist, and started moving Haymitch's hand up and down his length. Haymitch let go of him and Finnick closed his eyes, panting.

"Haymitch, please, I want you to touch me."

Haymitch licked his hand, spit in his palm, and wrapped his hand around the base of Finnick's cock. Going by the look on Finnick's face, the pace of his breathing, he gauged how tight to hold him and how fast to move.

"I know," he whispered. "I gotcha, sweetheart." He kissed him briefly, then sat up again to watch his face while he moved his fist up and down Finnick's shaft, squeezing gently at the tip before moving back down.

Finnick was breathing heavily. "You," he breathed, "You're really good at this." He moaned and the sound traveled all the way down to Haymitch's cock, which was rock hard. His balls were high and tight. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this good, and didn't try to.

He kissed Finnick's shoulder, traveling up his neck to his ear. Finnick's hips were rising and falling, pushing his cock through Haymitch's fist.

Haymitch said, "You're good at this too," and heard his own breath coming hard and fast. "You're beautiful, you're so damn beautiful."

"I… I want you inside me. Want to come… with you inside me."

Haymitch's hips stuttered forward. God, he wanted that. To be inside, deep inside Finnick, feel him tighten around him while he came.

"That's good, District Four. Do you have…"

Finnick reached under the sofa, batted something out with his hand. A bottle of lube.

Haymitch pulled off Finnick's trousers and underwear all the way, then settled back on the couch to kiss Finnick while he made his fingers slick.

He rubbed his fingertips against Finnick's asshole, spreading as much lube as he could, still kissing and swallowing the sweet, tight sounds Finnick made.

He slipped the first knuckle of his index finger in. Fuck, he was tight. Haymitch wasn't sure if he could get his whole finger inside, let alone his cock. He removed his finger and Finnick gasped.

"Sorry," said Finnick, "It might… Ooh."

Haymitch reinserted his finger with the lube he had reapplied. He slowly moved it back and forth, but just kept meeting resistance.

He lowered his head to Finnick's chest. "Relax," he muttered, not sure how long he would last if he ever got in there.

"They did something," Finnick said. "Sorry. Might be hard… to… ah!"

"Did I hurt you?"

Finnick shook his head, then nodded. "It's okay though. Don't stop."

Haymitch had managed to get his whole finger past the tight ring of Finnick's anus. He twisted it, pushed it in and out, trying to widen him enough for his middle finger too. "They did something," he thought. But Finnick's moans were melting back into sounds of pleasure. Apparently, the pain wasn't meant to last long. Haymitch slipped in his middle finger and Finnick's face contorted as he said, "Ah, Haymitch, fuck, it feels so good. Keep going."

Finnick started moving himself on Haymitch's fingers. Haymitch felt his mouth drop open. His ring finger slipped in too, and he pumped his fingers in and out. He wanted Finnick to be almost gone when he put his cock inside him. He was nearly there himself, watching Finnick move on his fingers, hearing the sounds he made, and seeing the faces he made. He put his other hand, also slick, on Finnick's cock.

Finnick moaned. "Uh… so good."

He pulled and released, and pumped his fingers in and out until Finnick was breathing hard and moaning, and then pulled his fingers out. Haymitch raised himself slightly, his weight on one hand next to Finnick's head, the tip of his shaft against Finnick's asshole. He rubbed himself against it, feeling how hot and slick he was.

He paused, waiting for Finnick to look at him.

"It won't hurt?"

Finnick shook his head, locked his legs around Haymitch's lower back. They looked into each other's eyes until Haymitch pushed the tip of his cock inside. Then Finnick let out a low sound and let his eyes close. Haymitch kept pushing as slowly as he could. When the head of his cock popped past that tight ring and the rest of him slid inside his heat so slowly, he lowered his head until their foreheads were touching.

"God, I hope you're close," he said.

Finnick made a quiet huffing sound, possibly a laugh. "Yes, I'm close. Touch me again, and I'll come all over you."

Haymitch drew back a little and pushed back in. He felt his balls draw up tight. Finnick's asshole was gripping him so tightly, he could barely move, but he managed and that small friction had him panting as hard as Finnick. He found a rhythm, and quickened his pace. In and out, watching Finnick's face twist up, his brows draw down, his mouth open and wet.

He wrapped his hand around Finnick's cock again, giving a very sloppy handjob, trying to make it good, trying to time it to his thrusts in and out, in and out, up and down.

It was good, so good. Every thrust felt better than the one before. He was being driven to the brink of madness, Finnick's scent all around him, and that beautiful face all twisted and sweaty from pleasure, and it was good to feel good, it was better than good. He could feel himself getting close, willed himself to calm down until Finnick came.

Finnick's hole clamped down around him. His cock throbbed in his hand, hot sticky loads spurting onto his belly, Haymitch's hand around him. Haymitch's mind went utterly blank with pleasure, he felt his own cum, wrung from his core in three warm bursts. He stilled, realized he had his hands propped either side of Finnick's shoulders.

He pulled out slowly, his breath hissing out. He was sore from how tight Finnick was.

He lay down on his side. Finnick scooted closer to the side of the sofa to give him room. He was still practically on top of him, and put one leg on top of Finnick's to create enough space he could lie comfortably. He was hot all over and sweating.

Finnick was similarly sweaty.

Haymitch wanted to get up, move around, but he physically could not yet, and Finnick seemed as incapacitated./

He finally regained the ability to think after a few minutes, and the ability to move soon after. He kissed Finnick, put his hand on his cheek to turn his head towards him, and kissed him deeply.

Then he slid rather bonelessly to the floor, and struggled from all fours to a standing position. He stretched and smiled down at Finnick, who was watching him with that same helpless look he had had earlier. Haymitch wished things were different. That he could kneel back down, kiss Finnick for another minute, or day, and hold him till dawn broke. That he could spend the next week alone with him in this apartment, make them both forget what the Capitol had done to him.

But Finnick needed a nap and a shower. He would need to get dressed, bound to take some time, and have to ready himself for the Gamemakers' finale, which they warned was coming today if things hadn't picked up. Whenever his next break in schedule appeared, Snow would make sure it was full, no matter how Finnick felt about whatever he had seen on screen that day, or how many sleepless nights he had already had.

Haymitch would stay until the victor was announced on screen by Claudius Templesmith. Then he and all the other mentors would be shipped back to their districts till next year. Next year, the 71st Annual Hunger Games, Finnick would be 20, and he would be 37.

Whoever was watching (and for all they knew, it could be Snow himself) might not care about two victors fucking. That had been happening since the first mentors, probably. Haymitch had been doing it since his own Quell, and his partner had seemed familiar with how it needed to be done. But he couldn't expect leniency if he showed how much he cared. Finnick knew that. He had been around the Games for four years now, and a Capitol plaything for three.

Haymitch knelt down and kissed him again anyway. He wanted to say so much. He had settled for a simple, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

**Present Day**

All this remembering has Haymitch hard as a rock. He hasn't had sex with anyone since that night with Finnick. Hasn't really wanted to. He's been drinking a lot, too. Maybe that's why he's so hard now.

He keeps some lube in his nightstand drawer, and grabs it. There's no way he's getting out of this without getting off, not after remembering the 70th so clearly.

He lubes his hand and slides it down his shaft. He thinks about that third time with Terra. They had sneaked out, grabbed a blanket, and headed for the woods.

There was a clearing not far into the woods. The moon was bright, but no one could see them. He could see every inch of her though.

Her big, round tits, he'd felt half wild seeing them bounce above him, feeling her slide up and down his cock while she rode him, hearing her moans and feeling her fingernails scrape him as her hands twitched spasmodically while she came.

He tried to make his hand tight like Finnick's asshole, remember how hot Terra felt around him, and he was coming, coming.

He drifted down, down, into the bed. He might actually sleep a while. He drifted into soft clouds, rolled over, and felt again how Effie had felt in his arms, his overwhelming joy at two alive kids, and fell asleep.