prompt: the guys take haymitch to a strip club, but he doesnt like it and just wants to go home and be with effie, so he does ( you can make it smut if you want)

I did want xD

Striptease

Effie glanced up at the clock when she heard the chime of the elevator and made a face before quickly crushing the bud of her cigarette in the ashtray. It was early still, much earlier than Haymitch usually came back. She barely had time to feel around her purse for the small bottle of perfume and to spray some in the air to mask the odor of tobacco – she didn't fancy a lecture on smoking that night. The ashtray was deftly hidden under a magazine.

When her victor stumbled in the room, it appeared as though she was filing her nails.

"Busy night, I see." he mocked, going straight for the liquor cart.

"Haven't you had enough?" she rebuked, wrinkling her nose. "Where were you? You smell… even worse than usual."

And it was putting it mildly. He smelt like sweat and smoke and liquor.

"Strip club." he mumbled, pouring himself a whiskey. "Chaff and Jo's great idea."

She wasn't quick enough to hide her annoyance and he lifted his eyebrows at the irritated look she shot him. She filed her nail harder – and she would have to make an appointment at the beauty parlor the next day because she was ruining her manicure – focusing on the task rather than on him.

"I see." she huffed. "I won't ask if you had fun then, will I? I do hope you were discreet at least. It won't do for Twelve's good name to be dragged in the mud because its victor visits houses of ill-repute."

He chuckled, perching himself on the armrest of the couch instead of properly sitting next to her. "Twelve's got no good name and I said strip club not brothel… Might have been a special order on the menu though. Can't say. I left when the dancers became too friendly." He coiled his free hand around the back of her neck, squeezing once. "Why the long face, sweetheart… You're jealous?"

"Hardly." she huffed, shrugging his hand off. "Why did you leave then?"

"Don't like having women on my lap." he snorted. "Even if they're naked and ready for the taking."

The image he was describing made her blood boil for exactly no good reason at all. She snatched the glass of whiskey from his hand and stood up, storming to the window and taking a sip of the liquor. It did nothing to cool her temper. She hated whiskey – so obviously it had to be his poison of choice.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" he smirked and her irritation grew when she realized he was amused by her reaction. "Don't like the idea of me looking at pretty young naked things? Should have seen them, sweetheart… Perky breasts, tight nipples… Firm asses… And the legs…"

"Will you stop?" she snapped. "I have no interest in listening to this. You are a pig."

And the idea of him doing exactly that, of him watching women wriggling and writhing in front of him, begging for his attention…

"Maybe." he granted, dropping in the seat she had just vacated. "You're going to give me my booze back?"

"No." she declared, taking a pointed sip from his glass. "You do not deserve it."

Damn him, his smirk and his twinkling eyes.

He knew she was annoyed and he also knew why although the reason would remain unvoiced and unaddressed as usual. There were things too dangerous to be acknowledged. As long as they could pretend…

"You've got the best ass this side of the country." he said, almost placating. "Didn't see a better one."

"This side of the country?" she repeated with a huff. "Haymitch, I have been elected sexiest woman of the year, three years in a row. I do think I look a little better than mere strippers."

He chuckled. "What year was that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and he lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. He was in a good mood, she observed, and she wondered what exactly had happened at that club.

"Are you sure you did not enjoy it?" she asked, trying to keep the ice out of her voice because she had no business policing him. He was free to enjoy whatever he wanted to enjoy and to do whatever he wanted to do.

"Enjoyed the view for a while." he admitted with a shrug. "Then it got boring. It's like foreplay with no actual… You know."

A little assuaged by that, she took another sip of whiskey. "You are not fond of foreplay."

"Depends with whom." he smirked. "Can't say I wouldn't like you stripping for me…"

"I do not think you deserved that either." she commented.

He tilted his head to the side and watched her, the smirk deepening a little. "Kept my hands to myself."

"Common decency is hardly a feat worth a treat." she declared, finishing the liquor and abandoning the glass on a table next to a vase for the Avoxes to clean up.

"Kept imaging it was you in front of me…" he continued, his voice dropping to a rough tone that always made her a little aroused – not that she would admit that much. "Say, you can do the stuff on the pole?"

"Since there is no pole in the penthouse, you are unlikely to find out." she hummed – and immediately put it on her to-do list to take some discreet classes because one could not have too many skills.

"I've been dying to fuck you since that girl tried to rub her ass on me." he told her.

It was crass. And awful. And she shouldn't have been as arousing as she found it to be.

"Let me make sure I understand…" she growled. "I should let you take me to bed because you are turned on by another woman trying to seduce you?"

He slumped a little on the couch, his gaze by far too knowing. "Lose the wig."

His voice wasn't as much teasing as commanding now and her automatic response was to lick her lips. "I am not playing this game, Haymitch."

They stared at each other steadily for a while and the certainty she read in his eyes angered her. He was convinced she would cave.

"Lose the wig." he repeated.

"Not until you learn proper manners." she retorted. "Say please and I might consider it."

"You don't want proper manners." he mocked. "You want to be fucked so hard you can't think anymore."

"You are so vulgar." she scoffed with open loathing.

"And it makes you so wet." he taunted.

"Do not talk to me like I am a stripper or a prostitute." she hissed. "I am a lady and I will not…"

"You're no lady, sweetheart." he cut her off. "Cause ladies don't get off being fucked from behind the way you do…" The smirk was back, cocky and smug. "Maybe I'll take you that way tonight… Bent over the couch… You'd like that?"

She probably would. And wasn't that an irritating thought?

"You won't take me at all." she scowled. "You have annoyed me. I am not your sex toy."

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"Lose the wig." he demanded again.

"Say please." she challenged right back.

Amusement flickered on his face. "You're already soaked, yeah?"

"Just like you are already hard, I suppose." she dismissed, because it was of little consequence how aroused they both were, the only thing that mattered was who would win this particular verbal spar. She didn't mind giving up eventually because he did like to be in charge and she loved how dominant he could be but she didn't like the assumption that she would simply hand power over like it was a given. She liked the struggle for control. She liked the fight.

He studied her for a moment and then shrugged. "Please, lose the wig, sweetheart."

"Much better." she beamed, quickly pulling pins out and letting them ping on the floor.

Soon, the wig joined the pins and she tousled her natural curls, crushing down her insecurities. Any other man in the Capitol and she would have been mortified by her plain blond hair but Haymitch… His gaze darkened and he licked his lips because her hair, for some reason, was an immediate turn on to him.

"The dress now." he commanded.

For a second, she almost made him ask politely for it once more but then she forgot the thought. It wouldn't be as fun. She could wriggle the power back later.

She unzipped the dress and let the purple silk flop to the floor, slowly stepping out of the pool of fabric. She stood there, proud and victorious, offering herself to his hungry stare. She was wearing a corset and matching navy blue panties embroidered with golden arabesques. She knew she looked amazing and it made her feel powerful. The way he looked at her made her feel powerful.

It wasn't the healthiest, what they were doing. And often she thought they should stop while they were ahead. But sex was a drug of its own, just like his liquor or her cigarettes. It made them crazy and weak for each other. She simply couldn't resist.

She brushed the tip of her fingers along the swell of her breast, looking straight at him. "Should I take the corset off or do you want to do it yourself?"

She made it sound innocent and he growled, his right hand falling between his legs. It was cheating, she wanted to argue, because she wanted to do that herself but she couldn't deny she enjoyed the thought of him touching himself because she was just… too much.

"Do it." he said.

The corset was tied on the front and she made a show of undoing the knot and then on pulling on the laces, going very slowly. He squeezed himself with every new flash of creamy white skin and when the corset dropped at her feet, he was obviously flushed. He chucked his waistcoat away and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Don't." she warned when he moved to open his pants. "That's mine."

He snorted and then shrugged. "Then come and get it."

"But I have clothes on still." she hummed. "This is a complete striptease."

He shot her a look that let her know he knew what she was doing and he didn't enjoy having the power stolen back like that.

"Panties off." he demanded anyway.

She strode closer, swinging her hips, the golden bangles on her wrist clinging together with every step. He opened his legs for her without her having to ask and she stepped in between them, her intent clear. His hands briefly rested at the back of her thighs and then roamed up to knead her ass.

"Take them off." she requested. "With your teeth."

"Bossy." he commented.

"Do you want me bent over the couch or not?" she challenged, lifting an eyebrow.

She hadn't been expecting the small slap on her ass and so she startled and yelped. Haymitch simply smirked. "I'm in charge, sweetheart."

"Aren't you always?" she replied innocently. "Now, pull my panties down. With your teeth."

He wasn't delicate when his mouth closed on the waistband of her panties and she almost regretted that particular idea because she was rather fond of that underwear set. Of course, she stopped second guessing when his nose nuzzled her mound on his way down. With the panties stuck around her thighs, preventing her from fleeing, he forced her legs apart and, before she could say anything, his tongue was poking at her core.

"Haymitch." she breathed out, all thought of their game deserting her mind. There was a more pressing concern: pleasure.

"Like I said…" he chuckled between her thighs. "I'm in charge."

His tongue was too talented for his own good.

When he stopped torturing her, her legs were shaking, she was gripping his shoulders so tight her nails had probably left crescent shaped marks on his skin and she was far too gone to think. He had taken her to the brink and he had left her hanging.

She barely registered when he slid her underwear off or pulled her down so she would straddle his lap.

"My heels…" she reminded him.

"Leave them on." he mumbled.

"I thought you did not like women sitting on you." was the only gibe she could muster and it was muttered under her breath because she was too busy rubbing herself on him, trying to create friction, to find release.

It didn't take a long time for him to be ready. When he pushed her off his lap, she got into position without being told, her stomach wedged on the armrest, her legs spread as wide as she could. She heard the zip of his pants and the ruffling of fabric, she felt him move in a kneeling position behind her and she closed her eyes in anticipation.

He didn't touch her at once and it was even better.

He teased her.

Breathing down her back…

Kissing and nipping at her spine…

Kneading her ass…

When he finally thrust into her, it took her by surprise and she gasped in pleasure.

Of course, it also prompted him to bend over her, face pressed against her lower back to muffle his chuckles. She didn't care. At that point, the only thing she cared about was triggering her climax. She sneaked a hand between her legs but Haymitch grabbed it and trapped it at the small of her back. He grabbed her other wrist and held it secure too.

"Don't cheat, sweetheart." he teased. "You want something, you beg for it."

"No." she protested with the last shred of sanity she had.

He gave one powerful thrust and she whimpered. Another and she was wriggling, trying to rub herself against the leather armrest of the couch. She got another small slap on her ass for her troubles.

"None of that." he growled. "What do you want, Effie?"

The use of her name was a rare one. He usually preferred pet names. And in that context…

"Fuck me." she breathed out. "Please, fuck me."

"Why, Princess…" he mocked. "You only had to ask."

The thrusts were deep and brutal and she loved every moment of it. The whimpers turned to screams without her truly realizing it, she had no control over her body or what was going out of her mouth – encouragements, pleas and threats alike.

When she came, she came hard, slumping over the armrest without a care, the upper part of her body dangling down. She didn't even notice when he found his release, only realizing he was done when he pulled her back properly on the couch. There was a sticky mess between her legs but she didn't even care, she was bone deep exhausted for all the right reasons and so she laid on the couch on her back, panting a little, naked except for her high heels. Haymitch was sitting next to her hip, still half undressed, pants around his knees, watching her, panting too.

"He's a fool." he muttered suddenly.

"Who?" she asked, rolling on her side so that he would have enough room to lie down if he so wished. They didn't cuddle but, sometimes, he would allow them to ride the afterglow together. She loved it more than she should have.

He did lie down but not before kicking his pants and his shirt off properly. It was better that way. She got to snuggle close to his naked body.

"Chaff." he sighed. "Thought those girls were sexy… Clearly, he hasn't met you."

"If you are saying I ruined you for other women, don't expect me to apologize." she teased. "I am simply that exceptional."

He snorted but turned his head so his nose would be buried in her hair. His hand ran up and down her side for a moment and then wandered down to her bottom, rubbing the spot he had slapped twice.

"You did not hurt me." she hummed. "Do not fret."

"I ain't." he scorned.

"I would have your head on a plate if you had, you know that." she insisted. "I am not helpless. Everything I do with you, I fully consent to."

"I know." he granted. "Not sure it's quite clever of you, but I know."

She pressed her face against his shoulder and did her best to just enjoy the instant. Peaceful moments were too fleeting during the Games.

Next year, she thought… She would find a way to sneak a pole in the penthouse.