Silly prompt: Hayffie's over at someone's house and that someone has a waterbed and they start fooling around and pop the waterbed. Yup 😆
And We're Gonna Be Sinking Soon
His touch was hesitant.
Haymitch brushed his fingers along her thigh, keeping the caress ghost-like as the kisses grew deeper and deeper. They were quickly losing their breath and he had been hard for a few minutes already, although determined to keep his hips angled away from Effie's body – he didn't quite succeed on that front. He stopped kissing her to nuzzle her neck.
"Alright?" he asked.
It wasn't something he had ever asked her before.
Sex between them had never been about asking consent – not that it had been about bypassing consent either, but it had certainly never been sweet or about making sure their partner was comfortable, they had always taken what they wanted only stepping back if verbally asked, often taking it for granted that the other would provide what was needed – he had never asked her if she was sure, or if she was alright.
But things were different now.
She was different now.
Months in a cell had assured that.
He could feel it under his hands even as he tried to keep his touch light: the jutting bones, the bumps and rough patches on her otherwise smooth skin, how tiny and frail she felt under his body… He wouldn't – couldn't – go on top if they went through with this because he was afraid of crushing her. They had fooled around before, after her release from the hospital, when he had brought her back to his suite in the Mansion, but it had always come to a point where she had told him to stop. He was okay with it. She needed time and he could give her that, he could give her anything as long as she didn't push him away, as long as she didn't vow to never see him again as he had feared she would.
She was too hurt and too empty for that though.
She needed him.
And he would give her everything she needed. Everything. Anything.
"Yes." she hummed, pulling on his shirt until he drew back enough to let her slip it over his head, leaving him bare-chested.
It made the mattress pitch under them.
"I hate this bed." he grumbled, as her hands roamed on his chest, reacquainting themselves with his scars and soft muscles.
"It was generous of Plutarch to host us." she reminded him quietly.
She was often quiet lately. She put on particularly convincing acts when she visited Peeta at the clinic and she tried to appear cheerful every time they left their room but she didn't bother pretending with him and the quiet was getting to him. Effie was exuberant, lively, too full of life… And now she was a shell of her former self.
"Still." he sighed. "Can't the man have normal beds?"
Waterbeds weren't for him. It made noises every time one of them turned – and between the two of them and their respective nightmares, there was a lot of tossing and turning at night. It made him feel sea sick. And he really didn't like how floppy it felt under his back.
Plutarch had offered them a place to stay after Coin's death and Katniss' subsequent arrest. Peeta was in a secluded clinic on the outskirts of the Capitol where they could help him recover better, everyone else had more or less left the Mansion, leaving Paylor to take office… The logical step would have been for them to move to Effie's apartment but it had been ransacked and torn to shreds: between the shattered windows and smashed furniture, it wasn't ready to be lived in. So Plutarch had extended an invite for them to stay with him and Fulvia.
They had been there for a few days only and Haymitch was already done with the whole thing. He had never really liked Fulvia, it was plain to see the two women had no love lost for each other, and the whole house felt far too grand for his tastes. Everything was too fancy and too fragile. Even the beds.
"It is the latest fashion." she explained. "I read about it in one of Fulvia's magazines. It is supposed to be good for one's back."
"Bullshit." he called, leaning down to kiss her again. He propped himself with a hand above her head but there was no firm purchase to get and he almost toppled over. "Fucking…" he muttered against her lips.
It made her giggle.
It was such a rare sound nowadays that his annoyance receded.
He brushed his mouth against hers, seeking permission to deepen the kiss and she granted it by parting her lips. He felt her hands running down his sides, toying with the waistband of his sweatpants…
"We don't have to." he reminded her, dropping soft kisses along her jaw.
"Can we try?" she asked. "And if it is too much…"
"Whatever you want." he cut her off, sucking on the familiar spot under her ear. It made her breath catch in her throat.
She placed her hand on his ass and nudged it down. "You can put your weight on me, Haymitch."
He had purposefully dug his knees on either side of her legs – as much as the waterbed would allow him anyway – to keep himself off her.
He shook his head and rolled on his back, making the whole mattress pitch one way and then the other. It made his body bounce a little and he rode it off, trying not to let it get him nauseous. When the waterbed settled, he patted his chest. "You put your weight on me."
"It isn't your favorite position." she pointed out. "I can handle…"
"You're gonna need the control, sweetheart." he cut her off gently. "Trust me."
When he had gotten out of the arena, he hadn't been able to handle anyone getting on top of him for… a very, very long time. And he had only learned to enjoy it again with Effie, because he trusted her to never abuse the power he was granting her.
"If you are sure…" she hesitated, straddling him. It took her a few seconds to find her seat on his thighs. It wasn't as sexy or as confident as it used to be. She was uncertain.
He toyed with the hem of the shirt she had stolen from him – she always stole his shirts to sleep even if he had bought her a complete wardrobe when she had still been in the hospital. "On or off?"
She covered his hands with a small frown and then slipped it off, offering herself to his hungry gaze. Her body was different. There were scars, bruises that were taking their sweet time to fade, the shoulder that had remained dislocated too long was a bit slouched – and he knew that meant it was hurting her but she was adamant about not taking the painkillers because it made her drowsy and that, in turn, made her panic – her ribs were poking out from her under her skin and her breasts were a lot smaller. She had lost so much weight… She had been hurt so badly…
He had seen her naked plenty of times since her rescue.
He had helped her get dressed in the beginning, when her shoulder still hadn't been working properly. He had helped her wash herself because she hadn't been able to bear the nurses' hands on her. She had never been self-conscious around him and she had seen him at his lowest often enough that she didn't find it as humiliating to let him see as she did with other people. But she didn't find herself attractive anymore and she was terrified he shared that sentiment.
She had confessed as much in the hospital one day, as he had been helping her wash her hair and they had both been naked in the tiny shower of her hospital room. He had laughed so hard tears had spilled from the corners of his eyes.
She was always attractive to him. It didn't matter what she looked like. It was her he wanted. Her and everything she was.
She slowly guided his hands up her stomach and to her breasts. He let her do as she pleased, let her set the pace. When she nudged his thumb to her nipple, he took the hint and started caressing her, toying with her…
She closed her eyes and let him wake her body up, let him try to make it work again. He knew that too for having been there. It wasn't that easy to come back from something like what she had been through. Everything felt different and you couldn't settle in your own skin. Once you were hurt so badly… Your body was never the same. You had to relearn it, to tame it… He didn't take it personally when she let out a frustrated sigh.
"All in good times, sweetheart." he murmured as a reminder. They could try again the next day and the day after that. It would work eventually. She would relax enough to let herself feel.
"Touch me." she ordered instead, bringing one of his hands between her legs.
With the bulge in his pants in his way, it wasn't the best angle but he made it work, teasing her the ways she liked best, eventually rewarded with her sharp intake of breath. She wasn't anywhere near wet enough for him to entertain any thought of having real sex with her though. Another time, he told himself, forcing himself to keep a clear head.
He slipped a finger in but quickly retreated it when she groaned, focusing on her clit instead – it wasn't the right groan and he didn't want to hurt her. She was rocking her hips now, trying to find friction, and he grabbed her waist to make her stay still, to better tease her… Maybe if she rode his face… But he didn't have time to suggest it.
He wasn't expecting her to sneak a hand in his sweatpants and his sight briefly flashed white when she closed her fingers around him. He was hard and throbbing and before long they found a matching rhythm. Their eyes locked as they stroke each other to completion…
She came first. It was a pitiful orgasm compared to what he had given her in the past and she recovered very fast but it was a first step and she seemed happy about it. Two hard tugs later he burst in his pants and on her fingers.
She carefully flopped down on his chest and snuggled tight against him. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing the cuddling wouldn't last long – she would want to clean up. He had never considered himself a cuddly man. Before. Having her in his arms, safe… After all those months spent imagining her dead at every turn, it meant the world.
He distractedly retraced the bumps of her spine, slowly but surely drifting off. She mumbled something but it was too confused for him to catch so he simply kicked the sheets and blankets back up and made themselves a nice little cocoon.
He would have fallen asleep if he hadn't felt it.
Suddenly, his ass was cold and wet.
"Err… Effie?" he hesitated, not quite sure what had happened and not really liking the thoughts that came to him. She hummed something indistinct, clearly asleep. His back was cold and wet too now and they were slowly but surely sinking in the middle of the mattress. "Shit." he spat, nudging her up. "Wake up. Effie, wake up."
She looked up with a displeased groggy expression and immediately made a face when her knees met wet floppy sheets. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?" he scoffed. "We're fucking sinking! There's a leak."
"Cold." she complained, still half asleep, scampering away from him and off the bed.
He had troubled doing the same and he grumbled and scowled until he was safely off the leaking mattress. Of course, he only understood why Effie had retreated to the bathroom once his feet splashed in the quickly growing puddle on the floor.
"Shit." he commented.
She tossed him towels and tried to mop most of the mess but to no avail. They tried to avoid disaster but it was a lost cause and he quickly told her to get dressed because he sensed it wouldn't be long before someone would come investigate the racket they were making.
He was well inspired because she hadn't been wearing his woolen dressing gown for five minutes that Plutarch knocked on their door.
The former Gamemaker profusely apologized – it was probably rude to try and drown guests, Haymitch figured – and made sure a maid would take care of the mess before guiding them to another guest room. Plutarch looked so flustered and, if Haymitch was right, annoyed that his own irritation started to fade. By the time his friend left, he was ready to burst out laughing.
It was Effie who giggled first, prompting him to start chuckling.
They fell on the new bed, laughing like children.
The new waterbed sloshed under then.
"Let's try not to break this one." she grinned.
"But I like breaking beds with you." he retorted with a smirk of his own.
"Idiot." she mocked with open fondness, before pressing a kiss on his lips. "My idiot."
He didn't dispute the claim.
He was hers.
That ship had long sailed and, unlike the bed, it wasn't about to sink.