Song Suggestion: Nina Nesbitt—"Little Lion Man" (David Keller Remix). Or if you prefer the original: Mumford and Sons—"Little Lion Man"
Thank You: Lucy Greenhill, Guest, Obscure-Reference-Girl, Sandraanataliaa, HalleyJoe, Guest, obsessivesyndrome, 3vlee, kenziesplash, HeyBirdy, and a Guest!
On Cato: Sorry if people want sweet Cato (You'll see a little bit here and there), but I think you're forgetting his character. Character arcs take time, and it wouldn't make sense for him to do a 180 degree personality change.
On sex: I warned people from the beginning that there will be some racy stuff. I'm not going to apologize or temper my writing. On that note, in this chapter there will be some DUB-CON. Consider yourself warned.
On Plot: Everything and everyone is important to the story. There's a storm coming. I hope you can feel it brewing. But in the meantime, there's a few things that need to happen.
Sorry about the long author's note. Some of these responses are geared to anonymous reviews that I can't respond to anyway but through here.
Oh, and happy birthday and merry Christmas. This chapter is twice as long .
Family Matters
"Everyone needs to get the fuck out of my room!" Katla screeched.
Cato's mother glared at her with disapproval. A bowl of grapes was wrenched out of the older woman's hands by Katla in a fit of rage and thrown across the room. It cracked in half against the ground. A few servants nervously cleaned it up.
Prim gave a squeak in surprise with the noise and actions, and Cato's mother turned to her with a scowl.
"Get control of yourself. Learn to be strong, or your children will be weak."
She was one to talk! Prim ground her teeth together. I promised Cato. She repeated in her mind.
Theodora was right on every account about the matriarch of the family. Prim was terrified of her, and it had nothing to do with appearance. She wasn't a large woman by any standards. In fact, she was shorter than Prim by a few inches and skinnier. Her delicate bones fit into snug dresses that women half her age couldn't pull off. She was stunningly beautiful, with large blue eyes and straight blonde hair set in a ridiculous Captiol haircut with longer hair in front than in the back. Sections were brought up into an intricate up-do, reminiscent of hundreds of tiny bows.
"It's the latest style," she had told Theodora upon arriving. "Isn't it just lovely?" she was standing beside Cato's father, who looked more like Hannibal than anyone, with dark blond hair and brown eyes. He was a mountain of man, reminiscent of Brutus. He did nothing but give the room a cold stare, crossing his arms across his chest and rolling his eyes at the display of feminism in front of him before walking through the house with gunshot steps, completely ignoring Prim's existence.
"Oh," Theodora had exclaimed, even more bubbly than normal, "It's just divine. Have you ever thought about changing its color?"
"Briefly, dear. Young Josephine dyed hers lime green, though, and I must say it looks horrid. However, I'm leaning towards streaks of red, especially with the June ball this year. The decision is just too difficult."
When Prim heard this she wanted to scoff. Difficult? Prim could name many difficult situations: being trapped in a game to kill children, starving to death, having no shelter in the middle of winter, children withering away from lack of nutrition. Changing a hair color was not difficult.
She was so wrapped in disgust at District 2 she hadn't realized the focus of the woman had shifted.
"And you must be Primrose?" The mother's attention was on her for the first time. The woman glanced her up and down for a moment in silence, judging, evaluating. Prim tried not to shrink down, tried to hold her chin up with the inspection.
"You can call me Prim." Prim stuck out her hand for the other woman to shake.
"What are you doing?"
"It's a greeting."
"How plebian." Her lips pulled up in disgust. "I'll do no such thing. Who knows what diseases you picked up while living in such filth?" Her attention shifted from Prim as if she was no longer there. "Honestly, Theodora, a slum rat and a quarry girl. My sons are touched in the head. I almost don't want to go through with this Manato. Too bad I couldn't stop Cato's."
Prim had never been so offended, and there wasn't much she could do about it. She bit her tongue, reminding herself of her promise.
If anything, Cato should be grateful he is with me!
"I'm sure they know what they're doing," Theodora said, "Sometimes the lower classes are strong and hardy breeding stock."
Breeding Stock? Again, Prim withheld her exclamation of disgust. Prim guessed that was Theodora's way of both complimenting and helping out. In her anger, her fear of meeting new people flew out the window. She wanted to spit on both of them and be done with the vile people of District 2. She was positive her face was bright red.
Cato's mother sighed. She obviously wasn't done complaining. Prim wondered if she could just go in the other room. It's not as if the two women would notice. By this point, she was invisible.
"At least Cassius had the sense to pick someone of worth. Even Helena found a good match before… You have no idea how shameful it is Theodora, talking to the other ladies. They already make little snide comments under their breath. First a bastard granddaughter and now this…" she motioned to me up and down. "For every ounce of pride he gave me by winning the games, he tripled the embarrassment."
"I love you too, mother." Cato appeared. He leaned against the doorway with a small smile on his lips, as if what she said wasn't insulting.
He must be used to it.
"Don't get me started." His mother turned on him with all her scorn.
"I'm assuming you want to yell at me anyway. Might as well go ahead." He straightened. The smile fell from his face, but his eyes still danced with amusement.
She obliged him, with a finger in his face.
"How dare you take a Manato without my consent. You didn't even let me give her the food. It's unheard of, it's tradition… and you—you… I can't even talk about your Manato with the other ladies because of it, Cato. Do you realize what you've done to me?"
She looked as if she might break down and cry, which would have been ridiculous, but Hannibal walked into the room.
"Oh, my little baby." She rushed over and draped her arms around Hannibal's shoulders. All of her complaints and rants seemed to vanish. Then she started to tear up again. "I can't believe you're going to have a Manato soon. It seems like only yesterday you were clinging to my skirts."
"And the favorite child finally emerges," Cato said, with a tilt of amusement."By the way mother, it was yesterday he clung to your skirts."
Hannibal stuck out his tongue as if they were still children. "It's the only thing you can be jealous of me for, so I'll claim it." He hugged his mother tight to him.
Cato and Prim's eyes met over his family. He smirked and then gave an exaggerated eye roll at the displayed behavior.
"You're right, I'm just brimming with jealousy. I've always tried to hate you, little brother," Cato reached out and pinched Hannibal's cheek, "but who could hate this ugly face? Certainly not mother. Katla, however…"
That was a low blow.
"Hey," Hannibal reached up and tried to punch at him, but Cato was ready and dragged him down into a headlock. Their innocent brawl turned more serious as they wrestled to the ground. However, compared to how he fought Gale, Cato was being almost gentle. Hannibal put up a good fight, but Cato quickly got him in a vulnerable position, with both his arms and legs wrapped around his body, causing him not to move. One of his arms was in a strange angle that must be hurting.
Cato's mother stomped her delicate foot against the marbled foyer floor in exasperation.
"Oh, will you two ever grow up! Honestly, grown men wrestling about on the floor like men of low station. Cato, you release him this once. It's an unfair fight and you know it."
"Not until he admits that I'm better in every way."
"Never!" Hannibal roared. "And it's a perfectly fair fight!"
This went on for several minutes, with Cato's hold becoming steadily more intense. Hannibal started turning purple in the face, and his mother more emotional and nagging before Hannibal finally tapped his brother's arm.
"I give up!" Hannibal ground out.
"And?" Cato's muscles bulged and moved with laughter.
"And you're better in every way."
Cato released him. Hannibal rolled over and gasped on the ground. When his color came back, he stood up with a smirk.
"Especially at being a pussy-whipped bitch!"
Then he took off before Cato could grab him. Hannibal sprinted up the stairs, his feet pounding the treads.
"You better fucking run faster!" Cato screamed after him, following him up the stairs. They both disappeared from view.
"Oh," Cato's mother sighed rubbing her forehead. "They sometimes act as if they're still five." The rest of people in the room followed the boys up the stairs. Theodora flashed her a quick smile behind the matriarch's back.
They ended up in Katla's sick room. When they entered, Hannibal was curled up against Katla, much to her obvious disdain. She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her shoulders and forced his torso behind her back.
Cato stood at the of the bed, not even trying to attack him anymore.
"You're fucking embarrassing, Hannibal. Way to impress your new Manato."
"Save me, Katla." Hannibal said with a small smirk, clenching her shoulders tighter towards him like a shield. She tried to shrug him off. "Be my hero."
"Why would I want to do that? Have at him, Cato. Ugh, if you think this is disgusting behavior, Cato, you should've been there when I pushed him off his bike when we were ten. Burst out crying like the momma's boy he is."
"Was that the time you broke your finger?" Cato asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His lips jumped in amusement. "You told me you fought off three Club boys. You never told me it was a girl, and a little one at—"
"You don't know her!" Shouted Hannibal, "She throws a mean punch."
"And I'll throw another one, if you don't release me."
Cato tipped his head back and laughed, open-mouthed and long.
"I think I like you." Cato told Katla.
Prim was unused to him being so carefree and happy, and it almost made her jump. It was a strong sound, an infectious sound. It made Prim want to join him, and for a brief moment, she wanted to be the reason for the joy.
Cato's mother made a sound at the back of her throat, interrupting her children. Hannibal reluctantly released Katla.
The feeling dissipated quickly when she remembered why they were there. She had almost forgotten the purpose of the visit was to coerce her new friend into a marriage she didn't want. Cato's laugh ended and he glanced back at Prim. She gave a scowl back at him, and his smile dipped downwards.
"Right," Cato clipped. He picked up a bowl of grapes from the side of the table and thrust it towards his mother. "Here you go. You better begin."
Cato brushed past her on the way out. Prim turned and tried to follow him, but he stopped her with a hand to the shoulder. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to see the family break down and manipulate her friend.
"Stay," he said with firmness, "It's tradition that the sisters and mother are there when she accepts the food.
"But—" She started. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cato's mother glare at her resistance.
"Stay." He said again. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She froze for a moment before she remembered her promise and joined in, bringing her palm up to run along his jawline. They disconnected after a few moments. His eyes were soft and somehow warm, and he bent and kissed the end of her nose.
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair, only loud enough for her to hear. He seemed to understand she only kissed him back right then for show. Then he exited the room, leaving her with a victor, a shrew, a quarry girl, and the most naïve man she had ever met.
Hours later and here she still was. The bowl of grapes shattered across the room. No matter how much Mrs. Carthage tried to make Katla see "reason", the girl didn't budge. It cheered Prim, though the look on Hannibal's face as time went on also tempered her joy.
"Now, you will eat these grapes you uncultured, vile…" Mrs. Carthage trailed off when Hannibal threw her a sharp look, "or I'll force them down your undeserving throat."
There was no denying Cato's mother was a formidable enemy.
"Fuck you. I'm sure you'll need it to dislodge the stick up your delicate ass." Katla flicked up her middle finger. Prim didn't understand the gesture, but Mrs. Carthage gasped, and Hannibal gave out a little snort despite the situation, as if her volatile behavior endeared him. Theodora, from her spot in the corner putting on makeup, snorted as well. By this point, Theodora had stated her level of boredom multiple times and that her only entertainment was Katla's outbursts.
"No class and vulgar. Are you sure about this, Hannibal?" Mrs. Carthage turned to her youngest boy, her obvious favorite child. This must be hard for a lioness like Mrs. Carthage, to let a woman push her out of her place in the boy's life. Someone who despised her son and did not fit in with the upper-echelon of Capitol and District 2 society. Prim would feel bad for the woman if she wasn't so awful.
"She makes me happy." He shrugged, blinking his big brown eyes, the type of eyes designed by nature to manipulate. It worked on his mother, for she softened and touched his cheek in affection.
"I've never been able to tell you no. What you want, you shall get, even if her every breath offends me."
Prim rolled her eyes. Spoiled brat. No wonder he thought he could just steal Katla, as if it was his right, if that was the crap he'd been told all his life.
Cato walked in after giving a brief knock on the door frame. He held a bowl of ice cream in his hand, the sight making Prim's mouth water. Back in District 12, ice cream was a rarity, just like cake, and it was only eaten on singular occasions, if ever. The week after Katniss was killed, the baker showed up at her front door with a small collection of food, including a cup of ice cream. It was the kindest thing anybody had ever done for her, and it cemented a bond between the two. She made a point to visit the man every week, selling him random herbs and berries from the forest.
It was just another reminder of her surreal reality, where ice cream was a normal household commodity and could be eaten at any time.
"Here you go," Cato said, shoving the ice cream into Hannibal's hands. "I got what you asked for."
"Well, if you're sure… " Mrs. Carthage still facing Hannibal. She seemed to have made up her mind and glanced back to the bed where Katla scowled and clutched her arms across her chest—a clear message to stay away. "At least she has some spunk. Cato's is a wet rag."
Cato's fists clenched, his mouth drawing into a scowl. He looked as if he might step up and say something, but Prim beat him to it. Her anger boiled over at the comment, unable to be contained anymore.
"That's enough. If you insult me one more time, you'll have to leave my house." Prim raised her arm and pointed her finger to the door.
Cato's eyes snapped up, rounded with surprise. His fists unclenched. She wondered a moment at what had him so speechless, until she realized it, and it wasn't because she spoke up.
I said my house. Not his, not Cato's. The implications that small pronoun made were greater the more she thought about it, and it scared her. Was she fitting into her role so much that she took ownership of the space she was held captive?
Mrs. Carthage's face looked surprised, but almost… pleased? Still, she played her part of being offended.
"How dare—"
"Mother," Cato cut her off, "I don't care for you kicking what's mine. Prim's allowed to make the rules in her domain."
When Cato left the room, Mrs. Carthage turned to Prim with a sneer.
"Now that the dramatics are over, shall we get on with it?"
Prim wanted to say something but held her tongue.
Hannibal walked forward towards Katla slowly, as if she was a skittish animal that would bolt at the least provocation. He held out the bowl in his hand, nudging it against Katla's fingers for her to take.
"Are you serious?" Katla glanced down in disgust. "This is starting to give me a headache. How long must you persist? What will it take to get through your thick skull that I do not want you? Why the hell would you want someone that despises you anyway?"
"I brought you ice cream," said Hannibal, ignoring her question. Though his emotion showed through when he ran his free hand through his hair, causing some of the curls to stand on end. "I remembered that it's your favorite. Please, Katla… just…"He sighed before placing the bowl on the bed next to her clenched fingers. "Just eat for me. I promise to treat you right, if you give me a chance. I could make you happy, not right away, I know you'll insist on being upset for a while, but maybe, maybe after you have a baby—"
That seemed to be Katla's last straw. Her face turned beet red, and she gave a scream, tempered by a closed mouth.
"Just stop the fuck there if you know what's good for you. I can't believe you'd suggest something like that. Do I look like the type of girl who'd want a baby?" Katla began to look ill. "Besides, you can't make me happy. You stole me from the only man who could!"
Hannibal's cheeks turned red with a malevolent expression, which didn't look right paired with his innocent curls. The temper seemed to steam off him.
"The quarry kid? He could make you happy? That worthless bag of air?" Hannibal stopped for a moment, and took two calming breaths before continuing. "I should have killed the runt when I had the chan—"
Ice cream splattered across his face. It stuck for a second, a big frozen ball of sugar and dairy, before squelching off and landing on the ground. Katla breathed heavy, her fingers stained with chocolate droplets. In her anger, Katla had reached down, and with her bare hands, scooped out the ice cream and threw it into Hannibal's face.
Hannibal rubbed at his eyes and pushed off big droplets off liquid with a downward motion.
"What a waste of perfectly good ice cream." Hannibal said, glancing at the floor.
Theodora hummed her agreement from the corner.
"Is she always like this?" Hannibal's mother said with a scoff.
Hannibal smirked. One finger flicked a droplet of ice cream from the corner of his mouth and he sucked on it.
"Mostly."
Cato's mother gave a long, all-suffering sigh at that, and her shoulders hunched forward.
"Well, you're a harder nut to crack than most, I'll grant you that. I'm exhausted from my journey here, and this can wait for another day." She turned and placed a hand on Hannibal's shoulder, who started to look sad all of a sudden, as if his favorite toy had been taken away. "She's not going to break today. Tomorrow she'll eat the food. I promise."
Katla snorted so loud, she blew up an auburn curl with her breath.
"Not likely."
Theodora and Mrs. Carthage left the room shortly after that. Hannibal looked as if he might say something. He stepped towards Katla's bed, before stopping.
Prim took pity on the poor boy.
"Maybe you should give her some time."
Hannibal's eyes snapped towards Prim's. He sighed and nodded before following his mother and sister-in-law out the door. As soon as it was just Prim left in the room, Katla gave a low growl and slammed the now-empty bowl in her hands on to the ground. It cracked in to shards on impact.
"How dare he, that fool!" She gave a severe frown and pulled the covers from around her legs, standing. She wobbled for a moment on her new, capitol robotic feet before finding her balance, clutching the bed with her free hand. "Out of all the things… ice cream. Does he not remember how mad it made me the first time?"
Her eyes found Prim and she blinked as if just realizing there was a separate person standing beside her.
"You have a habit, Katla, of referencing stories I know nothing about."
Katal gave up trying to walk and leaned back against the bed. She glared at her floor.
"Damn feet. My hand responds better to what I want. The doctors tell me it will take time for the neurons to form new pathways to the synthetic ones." She sunk even further into the bed, shoulders drooping. She brought both her hands and covered her face with them, give small heaves as if crying, but when she raised her face again, it was free from tears. "They're right, you know. I'll break soon. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those fucking grapes, I'm so hungry. And I don't have the strength to fight..."
Prim sat down beside her and placed an arm around her back. Katla's rested her head against her shoulder. It took a moment for Prim to find the right words to say.
"Do you think you could grow to love him… not as a friend, but… in that way?"
Katla sighed and raised her head, obviously done with comfort. She was the type to use her anger as strength, and just the thought of Hannibal rejuvenated her fury.
"When we were fifteen Hannibal brought some ice cream to a friend's house. Not a whole tub of it, mind you, just enough for himself. The selfish bastard told me that he'd give me some. I'd never had it in my whole life, and it was the first time I asked him for anything." She stopped for a moment and glanced back down at her hand, the new one. She gave a little wiggle of her fingers, the mechanical joints giving off a strange noise as she did. "I ate it, or course. I mean, who wouldn't? I'm a quarry girl. It was a lucky day when our family would have milk for the babies let alone sugar."
"I'm guessing there was a catch."
"Yeah," Katla placed her hand back on the bed, "Even to a club kid, ice cream is still a sort of luxury. They have it, but it's still an imported commodity. He told me that I stole from him, but that he'd forgive me if I'd give him a kiss."
"He gave it to you; you didn't steal."
"From whose perspective? Look, Hannibal's a club kid. He's been groomed and pampered since birth. The hierarchy in this District is far from fair. If it's a quarry kid's word against a club kid… let's just say, the odds were not in my favor."
"Ugh, your district disgusts me."
"Whatever," Katla said, "In the end, I kissed the spoiled bastard. I mean, it's just a kiss. I believe he thought I would fall in love with him after that, or something. He tried to pull me in for a deeper one, but I hit him in the balls and ran out the house before he could try anything else." At that, Katla gave a small smile.
"You seem to hit him a lot."
"I hit him just as much as he deserves. I was the first person to knock him down a peg, and it's not about to stop now."
Prim had a moment of realization, as the fog on the window cleared. Theodora had said something about how Cato sought kindness in Prim. If that was true, maybe Hannibal's fascination with Katla stemmed from her refusal to coddle him, from her refusal to spoil him rotten like everybody else in his life.
Prim gave the girl one last hug of encouragement before standing and walking to the door. Before exiting, she turned around towards the dejected girl sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I've only known Hannibal for a few weeks, but from what little I've seen of him, he seems one of the better men in this district." Katla's face snapped up, and she looked as if she might say something, but Prim cut her to it. "I'm not saying for you to eat or give in or… it's just something to think about, yeah? At least you care for him and know him. At least you were once friends even if it's now… strained."
Prim didn't wait for a reaction, walking out the door and shutting it behind her. Again, Hannibal was there waiting for her, leaning against the wall, his head pressed against the wall. He had been listening to their conversation, and it made Prim want to roll her eyes at him.
When she shut the door, his head whipped up, causing his curls to fall messily across his forehead. He gave a sheepish expression at getting caught, and in what she assumed was a nervous gesture, patted down the errant curls on the top of his head, trying to flatten them.
"I thought she would like the ice cream. With the symbolism and all." He said as if trying to justify his actions. "It was our first kiss, you know."
His shoulders shrugged and his face fell with defeat. No matter how composed he seemed around Katla, she really did injure him. And despite if he deserved it or not, Prim couldn't stand to see him in such a state. Her insides desired to comfort him, help him, reassure him.
In the end, Prim slapped a hand to her forehead for his utter stupidity.
"You don't win a girl that way, Hannibal," she said, "You need to give her a choice."
He mulled over that for a moment.
"Choice, huh?" His eyebrows scrunched together before raising in a comical expression of understanding, "Choice! Yes, that's exactly what I'll do."
Prim had a feeling he misunderstood her.
"So… you mean to let her go?"
His face morphed into horror, and he grimaced at her.
"Let her go?" He spat the words as if they were evil. "No, I meant I'll give her choice in the food. I'll create a plate filled with everything in the kitchen. She's bound to like something."
That was not the direction she meant the conversation to go. But she had no time to correct him, nor did she think it would affect anything if she did, before he grabbed both her hands with a smile.
"You're brilliant, Primmy. If you weren't Cato's, I'd kiss you." He stopped for a second, and the scoundrel smirked. "Hell, that's never stopped me before."
He bent down and gave a cool kiss to her cheek, and then nearly skipped down the hall, humming under his breath. Hannibal reminded her so much of Rory it made her heart break. She missed her friend so much it hurt to think on it.
Prim took a deep breath and headed for Coral's room, overwhelmed by Cato's family. The expectations she felt boxed her in, so tight she wasn't sure she could breathe properly. In the end, she couldn't be what they wanted from her. She couldn't have a perfect pedigree for Mrs. Carthage. She couldn't be a best friend to Theodora. She couldn't spoil Hannibal, because what he wanted was beyond what she could or should give. And Cato… She wasn't even sure what he wanted from her, but it was too much.
Most of all she hated what she expected of herself. She should fight and rage and hold onto her anger. She should remember her sister, the wound gaping open. Peeta's face eaten by the mutants. But it was starting to fade, like trying to grasp wisps of smoke. The images were beginning to become hazy like a bathroom mirror after a shower. The numbness crept in to the old wounds, no longer as painful as they should be.
She was running out of excuses to hate him, especially after meeting his family, who even with his vile mother and brutish father, she could see herself growing to love.
Cato's arm stopped her, breaking her blind walk. Wetness fell down her cheeks, and she was surprised to find that she was crying, though they didn't stem from depression or fear, but from confusion.
"Hey now, what's wrong little bird?" He brushed the rough pads of his thumbs to brush away the droplets. Almost tenderly, the actions not fitting the monster. "Is it because of my mother? I'll talk to her. You shouldn't let her get to—"
Prim tugged out of his arms, cutting him off.
"Don't touch me!"
The anger came from nowhere, and his countenance darkened to match. He took a step towards her, his frame towering in a menacing stance. It wasn't until he pushed her against the wall, that she realized where the emotion stemmed.
She wanted to provoke the beast within, to shed his false mask of benevolence. Ha! She wanted to shout. See, underneath it all, the claws still reside, just waiting to hurt and tear and gut. She didn't believe he could care for her. Him: the man who stalked after a child huddling in fear under the cornucopia. Him: the man who lifted that child by the hair and slid a sword through the boy's stomach as if he was nothing more than butter.
"I don't think you understand." He pressed hard into her and gripped her up closer towards him by her knees. They gave out with the force and he spread them and wrapped them around his waist in one movement. "I can touch you when I want. Do you know why?"
Prim turned her head away from him. She refused to answer him, but he continued anyway.
"Because in this district, I own you." He breathed into her hair, and at the same time, his free hand went to the buttons on his pants. He fumbled for a moment, before she heard it snap and zip down. He reached inside his pants and pulled himself out, leaving his arousal hot against her inner thigh. "And you have no one to blame but yourself. You let me have you. You spread your legs and moaned my name. There's no way to go back now."
Fingers slid up her thighs in tantalizing slow crawl. She almost betrayed herself with a whimper. It found its destination and pushed aside the flimsy cloth of her underwear. He didn't give her any time to get used to it before he pushed his finger inside, taking her breath from her lungs. She tried to wiggle away from him, but it caused his fingers to clench inside her and a delicious sensation to crawl up her spine. Her toes curled with the feeling.
She started to make noises of protest, but his free hand cupped her mouth.
"Hush now. You wouldn't want to wake Coral would you?"
She quieted, though she fumed at the manipulation, and the hand that wasn't inside her slid into her hair, gripping it until she thought it would rip out of her scalp before pulling down and exposing her throat. The pressure didn't hurt, really, but it was enough to make her mouth fall open. His lips fluttered along her pulse line, floating up and down, nipping the soft flesh where shoulder met throat.
Her resistance faltered, and he knew it.
"No," she breathed. But he didn't listen to her, as usual. Ever since she ran away, he was more forceful with sex, no longer allowing the say of when or where. He controlled her, and she knew it.
His fingers left her body, and he replaced it with something scorching, thrusting completely insider her. A moan ripped from her throat with the next thrust. He spared her no gentleness, slamming into her repeatedly. The dress rode up her back and bare skin scrapped against the Chair rail on the wall. Another noise of protest exited her mouth, a noise of confusion between the pain on her back and the pleasure he forced on her.
"Shh," he hummed, placing his open mouth on the swell of her breast.
They continued this way, pressed against the hallway wall, breathless, whimpering, trying not to make a sound. The pleasure came despite her refusal to feel. It came anyway, weaving through her body like a dance already learned and unable to be forgotten. Grunting, he finished inside her, and it branded her as it went up and dripped down. It claimed her, possessed her.
It made her feel not herself, as if she did not own her bones or skin.
Angry tears filled her eyes, and Prim looked towards the ceiling so she wouldn't have to look at him, so he wouldn't see her weakness. She tried to prevent them falling, hating that he had such an effect on her.
It was awful that he forced her. It was even more awful that he made her enjoy it. And in his mind, she bet he believed her enjoyment made it alright.
But it didn't.
"I can be a doll if you want," Prim said.
Cato still held her pushed against the wall, resting against her, legs firmly wrapped around his waist. The skin on his forehead pressed moist against her neck. Breath tickled the tiny hairs with each of his exhales, both hot and cool at once. At her words, Cato pulled back with a slight furor to his brow, but he didn't say anything back.
"Since you don't seem to listen to me when I say no," She explained. "Press my thighs and my legs could open automatically. Wouldn't that be great? You wouldn't have to deal with the nasty business of another's persons opinions. At any time you could get what you want. And I wouldn't even have to speak—"
"I already have what I want." His fingers dug into her thighs, probably leaving marks with his nails. "And at any time that I want. What would I need a doll for… I have you."
There was something biting and toxic to his words. He meant them. If there was anything Cato hated, Prim was beginning to realize, it was when he was called out on his cruelty. Though, it didn't cause a change in his behavior. He usually responded with more.
Cato dropped her roughly, pushing her away from him. She slipped from his arms and down the wall, her legs shaky beneath her.
"Do you? Do you really?" Prim asked, backing away from him, edging her way towards Coral's door.
Cato cocked his head to the side.
"Do I what?"
Prim opened Coral's door and stepped into the darkness.
"Do you have what you want?"
Cato's mouth moved as if he wanted to answer impulsively, but he stopped himself, staying silent for several moments.
"I will in time," he said, "It's my habit to win."
He walked the other way, away from her, disappearing in his room, the door slamming violently behind him.
Time. The word stuck with her, something sticky that refused to budge. When Cato first took her, she harbored a hope for escape one day. Even after her confrontation with Snow, she breathed into the ideal, giving it oxygen to survive. Sure, he needed her to gain Panem's love for distraction, but the Captiol's attention couldn't be held forever. Eventually, they would be able to part. She'd be able to go back to District 12, sleep in her shack, feed Buttercup and Lady, take walks with Rory and Madge… mourn Gale.
Besides, Cato was just acting, right? It was for show, a part he had to play, like his smile in the games. An edge to survive. She never really entertained the idea that it was real and forever. That Cato could be telling her the truth and not just a mouthpiece for what the Captiol wanted.
But Prim was starting to realize how naïve and foolish she had been. It hit her like a thrown stone, so painful it almost knocked her senseless. Cato was going to let her go as soon as Hannibal would let go of Katla. It was now beyond show or acting. Manato wasn't marriage; Manato was forever. Chills started in her toes, zipped up her spine, and raised every hair on her body.
Prim replaced the hope in her heart with desperation.
It was more like a frantic heart instead of held breath, and for once she felt she could move. She had a goal, an action to complete.
She had to escape, there was no other option. Though, she'd have to be smart about it this time. The capitol would have to agree and encourage her escape.
Play fire with fire, right? And Prim could play a steady hand when she had to. She had to play the game to survive.
This time, her escape wouldn't be spur of the moment, running into a snow storm without proper clothing.
This time, it would be planned with patience.
Here's a nugget of information: I got the idea of Manato based on bride kidnapping in other parts of the world. I watched as the mother of the groom tried to put a scarf on the woman's head as the hysterical girl tried to refuse. If she accepted the scarf, it would mean she accepted the marriage. The whole documentary disturbed me.