Later, he's awoken by someone sliding into bed with him. By muscle memory, he reaches out and holds the person, feels their heavy head come to rest on his chest. It's not until his shirt feels wet that he really wakes up.
He must have startled awake, because he's startled Effie. She props herself up on one arm, looking at him, and for a second he sees Peeta lying just that way to look at him, in just that spot. He smiles. In the light from the bathroom, and the dim light from the hallway, he can see her smile back. And he can see that she's blonde, like a merchant square girl. Her hair falls perfectly flat. It's wispy, like straw.
He runs a hand through it. It's not easy to see her face. He wants to, feels almost desperate as he twists around to turn on a lamp.
Finally, he settles again, and sees her clearly for the first time. She regards him, almost cool. He notices a faint tremor of uncertainty in her eyes. He must banish that tremor immediately.
He puts his hand on her face, caresses her cheek and rubs his thumb across her lower lip.
He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, hates the thought of her leaving, and has to force himself to say, "You know we're being watched, right?"
She laughs, very quietly, looking at her hands. "Yes," she says to her fingers. Then she looks at him, her gray-blue eyes paler without her bright wigs, or maybe because of the dim lamplight.
He rolls onto his side, almost on top of her, but he keeps his weight on his arm, off her chest. He just wants to touch her.
Haymitch lowers his head until he's breathing her air. Her eyes flutter closed. He can see her pulse pounding in her neck, rushing through the blue veins under her very white temples. He even notices the tiniest smattering of freckles across her nose before he closes his own eyes and kisses her.
Her lips are warm and soft. The top lip is spare, but the bottom lip is round and ripe as a strawberry. He nibbles it between his lips, flowering kisses from lips to cheek to ear. He takes her earlobe very lightly between his teeth, bites gently all the way up to the middle of that soft skin on the outside of her ear.
She gasps when he licks the inside of her ear.
He moves back to kiss her mouth again, sweeping his tongue across hers while his hand drifts up her skirt. He kisses her deeply, almost drinking her into him, as the backs of his fingers skim her thigh.
He feels the lace on her most intimate underthings, slips them down so he has unfettered access to her already wet lips.
He slides one finger between her folds, not penetrating, but tracing a line from the bottom to the top, collecting her wetness as he goes. He allows his middle finger to do the same, before both fingers begin circling her clit, very gently at first, getting her used to the slight friction before pressing down just slightly harder, continuing to circle and stroke.
She moans into his mouth.
"Effie," he hears himself say. It comes out like he's groaning. "You're so hot." She is, and it surprises him. Like she's had this bright flame inside her all along, hidden under an impenetrable exterior.
His thumb starts moving on her clit, while his first two fingers slide into her.
"Oooh," Effie moans, eyes going empty while she feels his fingers move in and out, and his thumb continues its work on her clit.
He kisses her one more time then pulls his fingers out and stands up.
Effie is breathing heavily. "Mm, Haymitch, why did you stop?"
"Haven't stopped," he says roughly. He drags her so her butt is just barely on the edge of the bed. Then he gets on his knees, hooks her legs on his shoulders. She's watching him, an apprehensive look on her face.
He puts his face between her legs, kisses her cool inner thigh, licking and mouthing his way to her most inner parts.
He licks a line up her cunt, mimicking the move his fingers made earlier, before kissing her lower lips like he'll die if he has to stop. His tongue goes as deeply inside her as he can, tasting her, her scent surrounding him completely. Effie is panting, and he uses her squirming and breathing and sighs to find her sensitive spots, to see how much pressure she wants.
Then he licks her clit, rolls his tongue around it and over it and across before gently, gently sucking it and inserting his first two fingers again, twisting and thrusting them into her again and again.
He feels the spasm around his fingers, then hears a muffled cry of pleasure. He licks her until her walls stop pulsing around his fingers, and slow down to a quiet quiver. Then he rises up, still on his knees like a supplicant, and rests his head on her belly. She puts her hand on the back of his head and plays with his hair.
She's still wearing the much simpler shift dress she wears under her more elaborate dresses and costumes. He wishes he had taken more time, taken off each piece to her outfit, until she was totally naked and ready, and so was he.
A knock sounds on the door.
"What?" he barks.
"We're pulling into the station in an hour, sir," says one of the train servers. "If you need time to get ready," he adds, before they hear him walk away.
Effie's belly is jumping up and down. He looks at her and giggles pour out of her mouth until he's laughing too, and they're both laughing so hard his stomach hurts. They quiet in a few minutes, just to look at each other and start all over again.
"I really should shower," Effie says, red-faced and still snorting.
Haymitch scratches his beard and says, "Think I'll stay dirty."
Effie is scandalized. "Haymitch Abernathy, if you think you can go to the Training Center -"
"Maybe a Capitol citizen should show a poor yokel from 12 how it's done," he says, grabbing her hand and taking her to the bathroom and the shower. Haymitch has never disembarked from that train in such high spirits.
With one last look, Effie makes her departure at the elevator bank, needing to sign in 12 and make arrangements.