Prompt: I have a prompt for you but I don't know if you would feel comfortable writing it, so it's up to you. You often mentioned that Haymitch isn't that experienced in the sexual department, so I would love to read something where Effie isn't that satisfied and teaches him a little bit? It could be awkward, I love awkward stories.
Crash Course
Effie's head knocked against the wall, her eyes shut tight, nails scratching the hallway's paint, her other fingers digging in the flesh of Haymitch's shoulder. She could feel pleasure building and she bit down on her bottom lip, relishing in the way he was gripping her ass, propping her up against the wall and slamming home so brutally her hips would be bruised.
It was good.
So, so good…
And then, he came with a grunt and briefly rested his head on her collarbone, while he caught his breath back, before letting go of her legs and stepping back. He started straightening his clothes, leaving her where she was, legs spread, skirts hooped over her arm, the bodice of her dress ripped open, breasts poking out, indecently exposed…
By her counts, it was the eighth time they had slept together. And, still by her count, she had only come three times out of eight.
"Finish me." she ordered.
He looked up at her, a sneer firmly on his lips. "Finish yourself. Should have been quicker."
"I wouldn't have to be quicker if you were a better lover." she accused, leaning her weight against the wall more heavily. Her legs were still trembling a little. "If you leave me hanging right now, it will be the last time I let you touch me."
"Cute to think you can stop me." he snorted but soon turned serious. "It's the last time anyway."
"That is what we say every time." she laughed without humor. It was pathetic. Pathetic. It was always the same pattern. They argued, one of them crossed a line and the other attacked and they ended up pinned against a wall or the couch or, on one memorable occasion, the bay window. It's not happening again was their parting line. It was starting to feel ridiculous to cling to that pretence.
"It's true, this time." he growled.
"It will be if you don't make me come." she promised, a dark glint in her eyes. "Think carefully."
"You don't boss me around, Trinket." he spat. "I'm not your bitch."
"Fine, then." she retorted. "I hope you enjoyed it because this was the last piece of me you will ever have."
She didn't avert her eyes when she slipped her hand between her legs, she kept them anchored in his grey ones, silently daring him to do something. After a few hard strokes, her eyelids fluttered shut. The moan was for show more than out of bliss but she tilted her head to the side and kneaded her breast with her free hand. She wasn't surprised when she heard him curse under his breath.
Her hands were batted aside and rough fingers replaced hers.
He lacked finesse, she had already observed. He knew how to get from point A to point B but he never took the scenic route.
"Easy." she whispered when the strokes became too brutal to be enjoyable. She had nothing against brutal but she had been stimulated for too long without result now, it wouldn't do the trick. She coiled her hand around his wrist, showing him the rhythm she wanted before guiding his fingers to her opening.
"Shit, Effie… That's hot." he breathed out when she started fucking herself on his fingers. The angle wasn't good though, she had no leverage and she felt tears of frustration welling behind her closed eyelids because she needed to come very badly. When his thumb flicked against her clit, she didn't have to fake her moan this time – but it didn't help.
She felt a sob bubbling in her chest and she swallowed it back, stilling his fingers by tightening her grip on his wrist.
"I need… I need…" she stuttered.
"What?" he asked, his voice gruff and annoyed.
"Eat me out." she requested. "Please… Please, eat me out."
His whole body tensed and she wondered if she had crossed a line. Some men didn't enjoy doing that any more than some women liked giving blow jobs. Haymitch didn't look disgusted though, just embarrassed.
"I'm not getting on my knees for you." he scowled.
She had gotten on her knees him for him once. She had gotten on her knees and opened her mouth and suffered through his tugging of her wig until she told him to stop that – he had listened though, not everyone was that considerate when receiving oral.
"Is it just the kneeling problem you are objecting to or is it the act you don't wish to perform?" she asked, feeling slightly light-headed. "Because you can take me to bed." He hesitated for long enough that she licked her lips and shook her head. "Never mind."
She tried to straighten her clothes, feeling stupid and humiliated for no good reason. Women didn't always come but he had tried and she hadn't managed it and she felt like she ought to have.
His hands stopped her pitiful attempts at making herself decent.
"Bed." he agreed. "But it doesn't change anything. This is nothing. This means nothing."
She nodded her understanding and led the way to her room, shedding her torn dress and underwear while doing so. She was aware he was staring at her with a sort of avid hunger and she bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from grinning. He had never seen her completely naked because they had never gotten around to taking their clothes off, they usually worked around that.
She wasn't shy though and she was confident in her body. She was good-looking, more than that she was gorgeous… He liked to tell her she was ugly but it was obvious to her he was liking what he was seeing. Men were easy to read on that front.
She crawled on the bed and lied down on her back, legs spread and bent at the knees, waiting. It was just the right side of vulgar to send his blood boiling probably.
He kicked off his shoes, never looking away from her, his eyes roaming on the bare flesh on display, often darting back between her legs… His jacket and waistcoat were next. He did it slowly, almost deliberately and she felt anticipation coiling in her belly.
"Take everything off." she demanded.
"You're awfully bossy today, sweetheart." he commented but it didn't come out as accusatory as usual. It was more a warning than a rebuke. He wanted to be in charge, she figured. She would gladly let him be in charge if only he would do it properly. Being used like a fuck toy was all well and good if she got pleasure out of it, otherwise it was simply debasing.
"Please." she amended.
She saw the flash of satisfaction in his eyes, the way her surrender aroused him. She stored the information away for later use. He liked a fight, she had already guessed, but he also liked to win.
He took the shirt off first – and didn't look at her once his chest was bare. It wasn't the first time she saw him half undressed, she had helped him to bed too many times over the last three years. She knew the shape of the ugly scar on his side, knew how much he hated it and how he would shy away from her touch if she reached out for it. She knew there were more scars, thinner and paler, on his abdomen and a few on his back.
The ones on his back horrified her despite the fact they were old and almost faded. The injuries he had sustained in his Games… People had hurt him, yes, and it was terrible but the people who had done that had been trapped in the same hell he was, forced to kill or be killed. The ones on his back… The idea that someone, an adult, had deliberately raised a whip and then lashed out at a teenager ten times because he had been caught poaching to feed his family…
She was brought back to the present when she heard the noise of his belt being unbuckled. She chased the bad memories away. She wasn't sure he knew just how aware she was of his personal history anyway. He talked when he was very drunk. He talked and she listened and she hurt for him.
He stepped out of his pants, dropped his underwear and kneeled between her legs, his calloused palms running up and down her thighs several times, parting them even more. He was half hard again, clearly aroused by her little display.
His hands continued past her bruised hips and to her waist, exploring. They had never taken the time to do that before and she was suddenly curious about how it would feel to trace an unhurried line of kisses down his torso to his groin or to run her fingers through his chest hairs – she was deadly curious about how that would feel because men in the Capitol were groomed and Haymitch… Haymitch was the complete opposite of groomed.
When he pressed a kiss against the soft skin of her stomach, she couldn't help but suck in a breath, unprepared for the raspy feeling of his stubble. She imagined how it would feel down there and she shivered in anticipation. He probably felt her quiver because he glanced up but he didn't stop or asked if she was okay – he never did.
The next kiss he pressed was right between her legs.
Straight to business then, she thought, as he sucked on her. He varied the pressure and experimentally poked with his tongue but he remained fixed on her clit, his hands remained on her thighs and the burgeoning pleasure started stagnating again after a few minutes.
He was trying. She couldn't argued on that, he was trying.
"Haymitch…" she hesitated, not quite sure how to word that in a way that wouldn't terribly vex him.
"What now?" he grumbled, propping his chin on her knee.
She licked her lips and wondered if she wouldn't have been more inspired to simply fake it and be done with it.
"Do not take this the wrong way but… Do you know what you are doing?" she asked and immediately winced. His face darkened and she sat up and reached out for him, scared he would bolt away from the bed, which would have worsened their already volatile relationship. "It was good. I swear it was good." she hurried to say. "I just… There is absolutely no shame in admitting it if you do not know how to…"
"Shut up, sweetheart." he spat. "I know how to please a woman."
That, she could argue with, but she wisely held her peace on that front for now. He was thirty and he was sometimes clumsier than some twenty years old. She had pieced together than most of his experience came from strings of one night stands he had never bothered to sleep with twice. She didn't think he had ever cared much for their pleasure.
"I know." she hummed, pressing hot kisses on his shoulder and neck. She ran her fingers through his hair before coiling them around his nape. "I liked it."
"No, you didn't." he scoffed. "Or you wouldn't have said anything."
His whole body was tensed but he wasn't trying to flee so Effie relaxed a little. She didn't let go of his nape or of his arm though. She kept peppering his neck with slow soothing kisses, sometimes grazing his skin with her teeth. "Sometimes, rough and brutal is very good. I do not mind it. But sometimes…" She looked for the right words and decided she might as well be honest. "You always rush through it, Haymitch. Half the pleasure is in the build-in but you never allow that to happen."
"'Cause it's just sex." he scorned. "Won't cuddle you through it."
She nipped at his chin in rebuke, satisfied when he hissed in pain.
"I am not asking you to cuddle me through it." she growled. "Sex does not limit itself to simply putting it in, thrusting a few times and coming. It can be just sex and be more than that. It is not a race. Besides, there is pleasure to be found in pleasuring the other."
His face was schooled in irritation and it was obvious to her he was embarrassed. She leaned in and pecked his lips. He responded to her kiss by opening his mouth. He tried to take control of the kiss but she didn't let him, she kept it deep but purposely unhurried, messy in the right ways but not rushed.
"See?" she whispered when he gasped for breath, briefly capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. "Let it build."
"I'm not completely clueless." he grumbled.
"I know you are not." she replied. "But you are selfish in bed. You take and you do not give. I suspect you do not quite know how to give. Again, there is no shame in that. I can show you if you want to learn."
"Maybe I just don't care enough about you getting off, sweetheart. Ever thought of that?" he challenged.
"Why did you follow me to bed then?" she retorted.
"'Cause you said you wouldn't let me play with you again if I didn't get you off." he shrugged. "And you're hot. For a clown."
She rolled her eyes at the last part and she shook her head, guiding his hand to her breast. "Touch me." His eyebrows furrowed a little at the request but it didn't take him long to start kneading it, his thumb occasionally flicking her nipple or twisting it. It sent jolts of pleasure through her but she tried to keep her head on her shoulders. "Your first impulse is always rough. This is good. It feels good. But it is not the only way. Tease me."
There was a glint of vulnerability in his eyes when he followed her lead and brushed the tip of his fingers lightly against her other nipple, slowly coaxing it to peak, as if he wasn't sure she wasn't about to openly mock him. He glanced at her and then lowered his mouth to her breast but instead of sucking and biting like he usually did, he poked at her nipple with his tongue and nuzzled the flat line in the middle of her chest before licking the swell of her breast. He did that over and over again, switching breasts, teasing with his mouth and hands.
"Haymitch." she panted and blindly reached behind her so she could lie down again because she felt faint. He had been keeping it so soft and light that when he actually closed his teeth on her nipple, she arched her back with a cry.
He chuckled against her stomach. "Liked that, did you?"
"Yes…" she breathed out as he continued on his path south. "Don't go straight for…"
"Yeah, got it." he snorted against her inner thigh. "Tease. Let it build." He sucked on the fleshy part of her thigh hard enough to leave a mark. "Get you to beg…"
"I do not beg." she countered.
"Today you do." he decided. "Tell me what you want."
He was a fast learner and this wasn't fair at all. He followed the basic instructions she gave him and apparently decided that having her trembling and incoherent was his new favorite thing in the world because he brought her to the edge several times only to stop and chuckle at her obvious frustration.
It was only when she started begging that he finally helped her the extra mile and she cried out in relief at finally reaching her climax.
It took her a while to come down from it.
He was lying on his back, his erection obvious, his head cushioned on his arms, watching her with rapt attention.
She was sleepy and a bit tired but she still straddled his hips in a swift move. His hands immediately grabbed her hips, digging painfully in her flesh. She automatically coiled hers around his wrists.
"No." he said. Loud and clear.
She frowned, puzzled, her eyes on the throbbing proof that he wanted this. "Don't you want…"
"Not like this." he groaned, pushing her off him. Once she was flat on her back, he rolled on her with a smirk that was just a bit too much forced. "Like this, now…"
The frown hadn't left her face. "I wouldn't hurt you."
"You're Capitol." he spat and then shook his head. "It's not you anyway, don't get any ideas, you're nothing special. I don't let anyone ride me. I'm no one's bitch."
There was a flawed logic in there, but the subject was obviously sensitive and she thought she had done enough poking at his virility for the day, so she simply wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to get a move on. He was bent on keeping a slow pace that frustrated her and him both though.
"Faster, Haymitch." she growled.
"Now, you want fast." he mocked.
"Now, I want to kill you again." she hissed.
"Everything's back to normal then." he taunted, picking up the pace and making her whimper in pleasure.
He was infuriating her so she supposed it was.