Hayffie prompt: Haymitch discovers Effie's proclivity for cursing during sex. (Only once it's really good and worth it, that is).

Curses & Discoveries

The first time Haymitch hears Effie Trinket curse, they are in bed and he's pounding into her so hard he's a little afraid he's going to break something – his hip, her hips…

He has her on her back, his hands on her thighs keeping her legs open wide, almost flat on either side of her on the bed – and he didn't know she's that flexible, he didn't know but now he does and the possibilities… He's kneeling between her legs, not the most comfortable position, not the greatest balance given how hard he is thrusting into her but he's too far gone to care about the risk of falling and crushing her to death…

It's not the first time they end up fucking. It's her fifth year as his escort, it's the second year they've developed this particular way of settling fights but it's the first time they end up actually hitting the bed. He likes it up against the wall or on the couch or even on the floor… He hates the way it seems to happen without his realizing – one second he's screaming, the next he's inside her – but he likes the sex. It's the best sex he's ever had. It's the hottest sex he's ever had. Maybe because they've never made it to a bed before. Maybe it should be less thrilling now that they are on one. And yet…

She's naked except for the corset he hasn't bothered to completely rip off. It's hanging half open around her waist, absolutely useless, and her breasts bounce with the fast pace he is imposing her. Her arms are tossed over her head, her fingers bundling the pillow… Her bubblegum pink wig is bright against the white of the sheets…

"Harder." she demands.

He's not sure how harder he can go without popping her leg off but harder is a command he doesn't mind obeying. If she had said softer or slower, he might have ignored it. But harder… Harder is punishing and punishing goes with anger and hatred and loathing and that's what it's about, isn't it?

She's clenching around him and writhing under him and he doesn't think she's ever been like that before. She's close. At least, he thinks she is. He never bothered trying to make it good for her before. The pleasure she got out of those short fucks had been left up to her and her own hands but right then… Right then her hands are clenching her pillow over her head and she doesn't seem to need them.

"Fuck…" she whispers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

Her voice rises with each new fuck she utters.

It's the first time he ever hears her curse and these profanities in that mouth of her… She's always so proper, always to uptight…

It spurs him on.

He moves his hands from her thighs to her hips, grips tight.

"That's the idea, sweetheart." he deadpans.

He wants it to sound flippant, detached maybe, but it sounds needy and rough.

When she comes, with a shout that nearly pierces his ear, it doesn't take much more to get him over the edge too.

He collapses on her, aware of her quickly rising and falling chest, aware of the sheets of sweat that covers their bodies, aware he's crushing her, aware he's lingering too long, that he should bolt and get dressed and run with a vague promise that this would never happen again like he always does.

He rolls off her, short of breath, and does just that. He drags himself out of bed, manages to unearth his pants under her dress, abandons his boxers as a lost cause…

She's still lying there with her legs open, exposed and without a care in the world, her eyes closed, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat, her nipples gloriously reddish and perky… For a second, he's almost afraid he broke her. Just a second. Then he simply wants her again.

Now is the time he should toss some remark about how this was a mistake and run for his life.

But he wants her again.

The longer he stands there, his shirt forgotten in his hand, staring down at her, the more he wants her.

Her eyes flies open in alarm when she feels the mattress dip but the fear is quickly replaced with amusement when he settles back between her legs, naked and half-hard again.

"Did you forget something?" she asks in the same polite tone she always uses in the dining-room. He hates her politeness, hates the way she's always so perfect…

He wraps her legs around his waist, tries not to notice how her muscles are trembling from the previous strain…

"You're always so vulgar during sex?" he challenges, unlacing the rest of the corset so he can take it off. He wants her totally naked. They hardly ever get naked. Often, they're too impatient to take all their clothes off.

"Only when it is good." she retorts with a sneer, the implications clear.

Two years they have been having sex and it is the first time she ever came that hard.

He bites her neck in reprimand, hard enough to leave a mark probably and she sucks in a breath. In slight pain, maybe, but also aroused…

"Get ready to curse again…" he warns.

"Promises, promises…" she taunts.

Oh, he would get her to curse again.

He would get her to curse if it's the last thing he does.