Prompt: I'm so in love with your stories. I can't believe you started this on 2015 and you're still making them, what a dedication.
I haven0t read them all (yet) but if you're taking request, I have a very simple idea: Haymitch loves undressing for Effie, and she really enjoy watching him walk around n*** the next day.
best wishes!

The Naked Flesh Of You

1

Haymitch slammed her against the wall more than he pushed her but Effie didn't mind. Not really. Not when she retaliated by digging her teeth hard in the flesh of his neck. Harder than was enjoyable probably, given the grunt of pain that escaped him.

His hand wrapped around her throat and she immediately stilled, her breathing quickening from an old instinctive fear as well as from the thrill of it.

"Fuck you." he spat right against her mouth before crushing it under his.

A late reply to whatever taunt she had tossed to win the argument that had led them there: to bruising kisses and their bodies pushing and tugging in turns. She had lost count of the numbers of walls they had hit in their mad dance. She had lost track of the original fight too.

His other hand grabbed her under the thigh and lifted her leg up, she hooked it around his waist by reflex, tightening her grip on his shoulders in anticipation…

It wasn't their first rodeo. She had been his escort for five years and they had been doing this for… Well… It was the third year. Although she wasn't sure the first one counted. The first time had lasted all of five minutes. In and out. She had barely had time to start getting aroused before he had finished. It hadn't been good. It never was really good. She wasn't sure why she kept ending up back there in that position with him.

Or perhaps she did.

If he didn't insist on infuriating her so much…

The hand that was gripping her throat moved down to her breast. She didn't mind how hard he squeezed it but when he moved she caught a whiff of him and she suddenly remembered why she had been so furious…

She shoved him away, wrinkling her nose. "You reek."

He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "Maybe I reek but you look like a fucking clown."

Clown or not, he was still unbuckling his belt so he couldn't be too opposed to fucking her.

She unhooked her leg and pushed him away again, harder this time. He wasn't expecting it and he stumbled back, a flash of something passing on his face… Humiliation.

"Take off your clothes if you want this." she demanded.

"Who says I want this?" he scoffed.

She looked him up and down with a dismissive glance, a nasty sneer curling her lips. "Your erected penis."

"You don't give me orders, Trinket." he snarled. "It ain't how this works."

She resisted the urge to ask how this worked, then, and what this was because they had never discussed it. They had never even acknowledged it. The first time it had happened they had both walked away vaguely disgusted and still incredulous it had happened at all. And the year after that… The year after that, it had happened again and again in the middle of explosive fights that became too brutal.. They had fled afterwards, they had never exchanged a word… And this year… This year… This year she might have started more fights than necessary just because she wanted him inside her, just because she just knew if she ever managed to get off before he finished, it would be good.

"Well, if you are not interested…" she retorted, bunching her dress up to her waist and slipping her hand in her panties right there. She had done a lot of indecent things in her life but never with someone who made her feel as insecure as Haymitch. And yet she never looked away from him, even as she leaned harder against the penthouse's corridor's wall and started stroking herself.

He didn't make a noise.

He didn't make a noise but his grey eyes became even more lustful and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

His gaze burned her.

"Slut." he accused.

It should have hurt because he probably meant that as a genuine insult.

It only aroused her more. She sneaked her free hand inside the cleavage of her dress, inside her corset, twisted her nipple…

He took a step forward and, for a second, she thought he would pounce on her, take what she was so obviously flaunting…

"If you want it, take off your clothes." she warned.

"Or what?" he snarled. "You're gonna get off by yourself? Two can play that game."

He buried his hand in his boxers and gave himself a long stroke that made her clench with want. He wasn't good at giving her pleasure but he was thick and long and she had rarely had better in terms of penises.

"If past experiences serve, I would not be so sure…" she mocked, slipping two fingers inside. She closed her eyes and let out a moan, widening her stance a little… "But if you would rather enjoy the show than participate… Be my guest."

He watched her but she didn't pay him any more attention. She kept toying with herself, making a show of it and thoroughly enjoying it.

When she came, she heard him curse softly under his breath. She reopened her blue eyes and met his in a challenge.

He cursed again and shrugged off his jacket. The waistcoat was next. Then he started working on the buttons of his shirt. His grey eyes were on her the whole time.

She kept circling her clit, slowly coming down from her orgasm but keeping herself on the brink of another.

There was nothing teasing to the way he stripped. He didn't make a show of it.

She suspected he didn't know how.

He hadn't been new to sex the first time they had come together but, then and every time after that, she had remarked to herself that he was clumsy about it. With him, it was all about getting it inside and then pumping his pleasure out. There was no finesse, no real skill, no motivation to pleasure his partner…

Perhaps that was why she kept coming back to this, to him… Perhaps she wanted to teach him. To make him see that…

The pants and the boxers came off and he was left in his socks.

She lifted an eyebrow and, with another glare, he took them off too.

"Ain't feeling too overdressed?" he taunted.

He sounded a bit uncertain. Just a tiny bit.

Then again they had never gotten to the taking clothes off part before. It had always been hurried, heat of the moment, just enough pushed aside to get to relevant areas.

She had seen him naked before though. She had helped him to bed when he was drunk as a skunk enough times. She had helped him take off his clothes– and it wasn't her fault if he didn't always wear underwear under his pants. She wasn't sure how much of those times he remembered but she was careful not to stare at the big scar on his side. Scars weren't that common in the Capitol and this one was still an angry swollen thing. Frightening in a way.

"Not particularly." she hummed, licking her lips.

"Take that dress off." he ordered. "If I've got to be naked, so do you."

"You have to be naked because your clothes smell like the bowl of punch you rolled into while making a joke of us again." she pointed out. And yet she still took her hand out of her panties long enough to unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor. She kicked her panties off too and then turned around. "You will have to help if you want the corset off."

"You're a bossy bitch." he growled. "I don't like bossy bitches."

He yanked on the strings of her corset without care and she briefly reconsidered the wisdom of giving him access to delicate items of clothing. She rather liked her lovely lavender corset.

"You certainly seem to like fucking them, though." she pointed out.

She heard his sharp intake of breath at the vulgarity. There was nothing that turned him on more than when she used profanities.

She was good at noting that sort of things. What a man liked… What immediately put him in a certain mood…

The corset was unceremoniously flung aside and he placed a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing until she got the hint and braced herself against the wall. His hands found her hips. They were big and warm and slightly calloused from doing who knew what…

"Condom." she reminded him when she felt his head brush against her folds.

"Shit." he mumbled.

His hands left her hips and she heard the rustling of clothing, the clicking of his belt, as he retrieved his pants and, presumably, his wallet… Less than ten seconds later, his fingers were digging in her flesh once more and he used that grip to bury himself inside her in one powerful thrust. No preparation, no foreplay, nothing. He tried to swallow back the groan but she heard it anyway. He bent a little over her and she felt his breathy panting against her nape…

"Now, you're gonna take it…" he muttered, half a warning and half a threat.

She was ready though.

When he pulled out almost entirely, she braced herself, not surprised when he started fucking her hard. Hard enough that her thighs clenched and started cramping… She took a hand off the wall despite her shaky balance to touch herself again… She could feel his length brush against her fingers with every new thrust…

He seemed to like that too because his hands left her hips to grab her bouncing breasts, his chest plastered to her back… The change in position was almost enough to make them fall, the arm that was holding her up against the wall gave in and her elbow hit the concrete. It changed the angle, made him go deeper, and she couldn't help a little cry…

Haymitch froze. "Okay there, Trinket?"

"Fucking move!" she snarled.

He remained still for another second and then let out a round of mocking chuckles. He took her even harder and she probably should have been a little bit embarrassed by the noises that escaped her.

"Yes, yes, yes…" she kept chanting under her breath because she could feel the wave coming and she knew that when it would crash…

Haymitch bit down on her nape and it had never been a erogenous zone before but, right then, it was enough to make her come. Hard and fast and with a shout.

She wasn't sure of much after that. She was barely aware he was forced to wrap his arms around her to keep them both up. She felt him come but it was distant.

She had known it could be good if only he made an effort. If only…

They remained propped against that wall for a whole minute, trying to catch their breaths before Haymitch finally stepped back, slipping out of her. She turned around, picking up her clothes, feeling exposed with her sweaty skin now that they were done.

He made a mess when he rolled the condom off and he shook his fingers to get rid of the sperm. She didn't pause to think when she stepped closer to him and brought his hand to her mouth. She sucked every finger clean, slowly letting them out of her mouth, letting him picture what else she could suck, and finished by nipping at the pad of his thumb.

Then she sauntered off without another glance back.

He watched her naked ass until it disappeared inside her room.

2

Effie retraced the rim of her cocktail glass with a distracted finger, not even attempting to fight the grin off her lips. Haymitch glowered at her from where he was standing in front of the penthouse's couch, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Come on, darling…" she coaxed over the low throbbing beat of the music playing in the background. "Do not be a sore loser. A bet is a bet."

"Stupid bet." he scoffed. "And don't fucking pet name me."

She leaned against the couch's cushions, getting more comfortable even though she probably didn't look the lady part anymore. She didn't quite care to look like a lady at the moment. She intended to look debauched quite soon.

"You dared me to strip down in that sponsor's library and I did it." she argued.

"And I ate you out." he grumbled. "We should be even."

"You said if I stripped down for you, you would strip down for me later. This is later." she insisted, her grin turning into a small pout. "I thought you were a man of your word, Haymitch…"

"You never said anything about music or…" He scoffed again and swept his arm in an irritated gesture. "Look, you know I don't like… fancy stuff."

"Sexy stuff, you mean." she corrected, her pout deepening. "And yet you never mind when I am the one putting on a show for you…"

He made a face and grumbled something under his breath but, next thing she knew, he started taking off his clothes, awkwardly swaying to the music.

She leaned back, took a sip of her cocktail and enjoyed the show. Truth be told, he was off-beat and the way he undid the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off wasn't very sexy. She enjoyed that he was trying, however.

"I feel ridiculous." he complained halfway there, tugging his belt out of his pants.

She leaned forward and put her glass down on the coffee table behind him, brushing her lips against his stomach while she was at it. He immediately stiffened before relaxing at her touch. She gently run her fingertips up his chest, avoiding the scar he didn't like her to touch…

His eyes were riveted on her now and she could read the interest plainly in them.

"Finish your striptease and I will suck you off." she bargained.

He licked his lips, his hand coming up to cup her cheek… She pressed a kiss to his lower belly, nip at the skin there as a preview of what sort of pleasures she had in store… Not that he didn't know. They had been tangled in that no-string attached casual affair for years. They both knew exactly what the other could give.

"Take the wig off." he requested. "And the make-up."

She made a face and groaned. "This is supposed to be my reward, you realize. I won that bet. And you are getting a blow job out of it, why should I look ridiculous on top of that?"

"Cause I feel ridiculous dancing for you." he muttered, his face closing off. "And you look too Capitol for me to get over it."

That was more of an explanation than she had been expecting.

She pursed her lips but sighed, knowing when he had her beaten. "Fine. But I want a proper striptease." She stood up and placed a hand on his chest. "I do not care if it is a ridiculous one. I just want to admire the goods…"

She let her hand trail off as she stepped away, heading straight to her bedroom to turn into the plainer version of herself she would never have showed to anyone else. It had taken him four years of sex to coax her out of her armor of powder, wigs and silk. She still wasn't sure she had been right to cave, not when he wanted her bare all the time now.

She got rid of the make-up, carefully put the pink wig back on its stand and then slip out of her dress and into a lacy see-through negligee while she was at it. Since they were making a night out of this, she might as well go full out.

And she might or might not have bought the red piece of lingerie for him anyway.

She was a little concerned he would have drunk himself to a stupor during her absence but, while her cocktail was now gone, which told her he had indeed looked for some liquid courage, he had also gone to work. The music had been switched for something without a beat, some slow instrumental song she didn't know the name of but that fitted the mood, and he had dimmed the lights.

He had also put his shirt back on even though he had left it open.

He didn't gape when he saw her because Haymitch never gaped but she could tell that the lingerie was fulfilling its purpose.

"Now, that's the spirit." she joked, settling down on an armchair instead of the couch.

He rolled his eyes but his lips twitched as he studied her, from the curly blond hair she had let loose on her shoulders to her lips still slightly reddish from the excess of lipstick.

"If you laugh, I'm strangling you. Just so we're clear." he informed her.

"If you get naked, I will suck you off so badly your head will pop." she purred in answer.

They both knew her threat was the real one of the two. Because she could make it real while he would never physically lift a finger against her.

He stared at her a few more seconds before letting out a long breath, his shoulders slouching. And then he started swaying again, making an effort to follow the music. He grabbed the lapels of the open shirt and toyed with them, letting it slip off his shoulders but not taking it off just yet – she recognized the move as one of hers and she was strangely flattered he was trying to imitate her.

She grinned. "Now, we are talking."

He wandered a little closer as he let the shirt fall and she reached for his chest, eager to stroke and maybe even kiss…

He avoided her fingers, lifting his eyebrows, his lips stretching into a teasing smirk. "No touching, princess. Eyes only."

"Oh, is that how this is going to be?" she challenged, biting down on her bottom lip.

His grey eyes darted to her mouth but his voice didn't waver. "For now."

He always had to be in charge, she mused, even when she was the one in control. She did love it when they played the dominant game. She loved the chase, she loved the way she eventually had to surrender, she loved how wet he could make her by only murmuring good girl into her skin… But she enjoyed being the one to call the shots sometimes too…

He swayed his hips back and forth awkwardly while sliding off his belt and then coyly toyed with his zipper, ultimately sliding it down and wriggling out of his pants.

Nobody would have ever accused him of looking sexy but, hell, Effie thought, she would take him anyway.

The shoes and the socks were done away and then it was only him and the black boxers she had purchased for him prior to the Reaping.

She praised herself for her good taste.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly tugged them down…

His penis popped out, semi-erect in front of him, and she licked her lips.

Once the boxers had been playfully flung aside, he stepped closer to the armchair. She spread her legs to make room, flashing him a view he never minded, and opened her mouth in invitation. Her hands she left on the armrests because he hadn't said she could touch yet and since he had done what she wanted, she didn't mind playing his power game.

"Good girl." he praised, taking himself in hand and guiding his penis inside her mouth.

It rested heavy on her tongue and she lost no time closing her lips around him, slowly drawing back the length of him until only his head was still in her mouth. She swallowed him whole again, grinning when she felt his hand cupping the back of her head in reflex, pushing a little… She let him hit the back of her throat once, just to hear the curse he didn't fail to mumble, and then let him pop out of her mouth.

"Can I touch myself?" she asked.

"No." he replied immediately. "Not until I say so."

She let out a whine but when he guided her head back toward his groin, she opened her mouth back eagerly. She sucked him in and out twice and she used her tongue, drawing letters along his lengths, spelling to the best of her abilities…

He was fond of that trick…

She spelled M on his throbbing vein, E on his head, A on one of his balls… She was about to go for the N, on his inner thigh when he groaned.

"Enough play." he decided and pulled her up.

She barely had time to react before he was kissing her, tasting himself on her tongue – another thing she had taught him to be okay with because he had insisted it was weird in the beginning. His hands were everywhere all of a sudden, one of them was cupping her ass, the other one was flicking her nipple over the lace of the negligee. His penis rubbed between her legs, hitting just the right spot…

She must have been more turned on than she had realized because a few minutes of all that fondling was enough for her to come.

It wasn't a huge orgasm but it was one nonetheless and there was no mistaking that.

Haymitch drew back, a small frown on his face. "Did I say you could come?"

Her eyes sparkled as she shrugged. "Too tempting."

His lips twitched with amusement but she wasn't surprised when he grabbed her hips and turned her around, bending her over the armrest of the chair. "Bad girls get punished, sweetheart…"

"Oh, no… How ever will I cope with that?" she exclaimed.

"Too much attitude." he rebuked, pulling the negligee up to expose her bare ass.

The first smack landed on her right cheek, hard enough to make her jostle a little. He rearranged her legs, spreading them just a little more, enough that he would have a good view, she supposed…

"So wet, princess…" he mocked. "Ain't sure you're getting the point of the spankings… Maybe I shouldn't humor you…"

She wriggled a little, trying to strain her neck to look at him over her shoulder, to see how serious he was. She didn't like it when he turned the tables on her like that. It was annoying.

Then again, he lived to annoy her.

"Please." she asked, never above begging to get what she wanted in bed.

"Please what?" he replied, his hand wrapped around his length. He pumped himself up slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Please punish me." she clarified, wriggling her ass in the air in invitation.

"Ain't a punishment if you're enjoying it, is it?"he challenged.

"Maybe you are doing it wrong." she retorted. "Maybe you should hit harder."

He lifted an eyebrow as well as his hand. She watched it fall down with anticipation, letting out a small cry when it landed on her flesh. It had been harder than the first one and it left her skin all tingly. It was followed by three more in a quick succession.

"Are you rubbing yourself against that armrest, sweetheart?" Haymitch taunted.

She pursed her lips and deliberately looked at anything but him. "Perhaps."

"Lesson ain't taking, is it?" he remarked, running his hand on the burning skin of her ass. "Maybe it's time for a new one."

He lifted her up and back on her feet but only long enough to toss her over his shoulder.

"Caveman!" she huffed.

She was treated to another whack on her bottom for that.

Then she was tossed on her bed.

Then he was over her and his mouth closed on her nipple over the lacy lingerie. She lost track of what he did to her. His tongue, his hands…

He had already made her come once at that party and she had come once in the living-room and… It didn't take him long to get her there again.

He buried himself in her while she was still recovering from her high and he imposed a punishing pace that she struggled to meet. His thumb circled her clit though and she was still so sensitive…

"I can't…" she breathed out. "Not again."

"Oh, yeah, you can." he snorted. "Told you, you're getting punished… Should teach you to make me do stupid stuff for your enjoyment…"

She would have retorted that he seemed to enjoy himself too but, true to his word, he made her climax again and her brain simply stopped computing.

She barely had enough strength to snuggle against his body once he finished and slid off her. They tried to catch their breaths, his arm closed around her, his hand buried in her hair…

"All good?" he asked eventually, after a few minutes. His hand left her hair for her ass and gently rubbed the abused skin.

She was drifting off already and she had to remind herself that he was always wary of this side of himself, that every time it went on that path he would worry about hurting her and that it was important to reassure him because he could be like a skittish cat for days afterwards if she didn't.

"Perfect." she hummed.

He snorted, clearly mocking, and dropped a kiss on her shoulder before untangling himself from her body. She supposed she had gotten as much cuddling as she was ever likely to get with him.

She stretched when he rolled out of bed, trying to relax her cramped muscles, not really caring that the sheets didn't cover her. She watched him move around her bedroom with an appreciative eye.

"Would you terribly mind getting me a glass of water?" she asked for the sheer pleasure of watching him walk around.

His ass was perfection.

It really was.

She loved to bite it.

It was a secret she would take to her grave but, damn, did she love to bite it.

"I'm starting to think you've got a thing about me being naked, sweetheart." he taunted, stepping into her bathroom, presumably to retrieve the requested water.

She didn't gratify that with an answer.

She didn't want to encourage him.

He walked around the penthouse naked too much for her liking as it was. She enjoyed the view but it wasn't really hygienic, was it?

And it was tempting.

Oh, so tempting.

3.

"Stop." Haymitch growled without any bite in it.

Effie laughed harder and snapped another picture, not even bothering to try and catch the Polaroid as it fell on the bed. Her sheets were littered with the squares of glossy papers. She focused instead on trying to escape the hands that wanted to restrict her.

She retreated to the foot of the bed and took another one, managing to get a full shot of Haymitch's bare chest. Not a bad one, she was sure. There were a few of his lower body laying around…

She hadn't meant to start playing with the camera in bed.

Honestly, she hadn't meant to.

Her first serious boyfriend had been a photographer and he probably still had risqué pictures of her that could damage her reputation if they ever came to light. She understood more than anyone how stupid a move it was to have naked pictures of yourself in existence, but…

But the camera had been laying around on the bedside table and he had looked far too good sprawled there after a steamy session of sex and… Well… She hadn't been able to resist, had she?

A hand closed around her ankle and she shrieked, almost choking on her laughter when he pulled so she was lying flat on the bed. The camera was easily snatched from her hand and, before she could react, he had snapped a few shots of his own.

"See how you like it when you're the one in front of the camera…" he chuckled, holding her down with one hand on her stomach and snapping a few pictures without even really aiming.

"Why, darling… You only had to ask." she purred, batting his arm aside to take a more artistic pose.

He smirked and moved back a little, suddenly a lot more interested in getting the angle right.

If she was very good at one thing, it was photoshoots. She could tell he was a little surprised and impressed by how good the pictures turned out – if not how indecent.

"Do I get to keep some?" he asked after a few minutes.

There was a little voice at the back of her head that told her she didn't need another Damocles sword in the form of nudes. But she trusted Haymitch.

"As long as I get to keep some of you…" she teased with a salacious grin that made him toss the camera aside to cover her body with his.

His mouth found her breast, sucked the already reddish nipple… Her flesh was pliable, her muscles still limp from their previous tryst… His hand sneaked between her legs and she let him work her up unhurriedly … She closed her fingers around his length and pumped him just as slowly…

It wasn't their first lazy bout in their lives but she always thought those times were special. Less rough, less forceful, less… passionate. She loved their passion, as toxic as it could get at times, but she enjoyed some vanilla from time to time. She enjoyed the unhurried way he slowly rocked into her, with her…

Her climax came in a gentle wave, not quite earth shattering but pleasurable all the same. He sped up the pace a little, searching for his own release.

He let out that noise she loved. It wasn't quite a groan because he made it a point never to make noises – unless she truly applied herself – but it was midway to a grunt and… It might have been one of her favorite sounds.

She listened to his panting in her ear before he rolled off her and to the side.

They lied there for a while, their feet tangled on the pillows… Their feet couldn't have looked more different if they had tried. Hers were naturally perfect, with vivid fuchsia toenails and his… His toes were weird. A little twisted. His feet were big and slightly hairy, his nails too long…

And if that didn't summed up their entire relationship…

She snatched the camera and took a picture before she could think twice about it.

He groaned for real then and, before she could react, she was trapped in his arms. She barely had time to stretch hers to make sure the camera was out of his reach.

"Are you done with that thing?" he snorted in her neck. "What's your evil plan, sweetheart? Sell pictures of me? You'd make a fortune…"

She giggled at what was obviously a joke even if he did seem a little vexed by how hilarious she found it all. She snapped a picture of the two of them, just for the fun of it. His forearm was across her breasts so she thought it would turn up quite decent – if not incriminating.

"Perhaps I just want to keep them to myself…" she hummed.

"Deranged stalker, much?" he mocked, pressing an open kiss at the back of her shoulder.

"Well, you know I cannot resist you in all your naked glory…" she taunted. "Besides… I should take pictures for posterity sake from when you were still in shape… Are you still chopping wood, Haymitch? Because that beer belly of yours…"

He rolled on her with a growl and she laughed again.

Later, though, once he was gone and she was piling up the numerous pictures – and tossing out those that were of elbows and shoulders – she noticed most of hers were gone. That was alright, she had said he could keep them and she had glimpsed him secreting them away in his pocket before she went to take a shower. The one she couldn't find though was the one of the two of them together…

She wasn't sure what it meant that he stole that one…

4.

How used she had gotten to coming back to the penthouse to find Haymitch's little band of victors sprawled around the sitting-room…

Chaff's eyes lingered on her legs even as he nodded a reluctant welcome, Jo sneered – and Effie sneered right back because the girl had stripped to her underwear for some reason – Finnick greeted her with a grin and a wave and Haymitch barely lifted his eyebrows, his lips twitching into something that wasn't quite a smirk.

He raised his glass in a toast. "Short date. Wasn't expecting you back tonight."

She pursed her lips in warning at the hint of hardness in his voice. They had fucked that particular disagreement out a few hours earlier but she knew he was still angry she had decided to go out anyway.

"It was not a date." she replied coldly. "It was a dinner between friends. As you are well aware."

"Sorry, sweetheart, the way he looks at you, I don't think Crane wants to do friends." he spat.

She took a deep breath and she would probably have let him have it if Johanna hadn't made a puking noise and Finnick hadn't snorted.

"You're more Crane's type than Effie is." Four's victor mocked. "But you didn't hear it from me."

"As if that's a secret." Chaff muttered, his eyes sparkling in obvious amusement. "What's the matter, Haymitch? You look a bit green…"

"Jealousy would do that to you." Finnick nodded wisely.

"Oh, shut up, the lot of you!" Haymitch snapped, gulping down half his glass in his irritation.

It triggered guffaws from the boys and Effie didn't want to know how much they had drank so far. She noted the cards in their hands and the handful of chips scattered around…

"Oh…" She grinned, suddenly more interested. "Are we playing poker?"

She quickly took off her gloves, one finger at a time – to better enjoy Haymitch's discreet glances because he loved when she did a show of taking off her gloves – and tossed them on a nearby console with her clutch.

"We're playing. You're not." Johanna snarled.

"We're playing strip poker." Chaff corrected cheerfully with a leer. "Please, join us, love."

Her grin widened into a cruel smile even as Finnick and Haymitch let out twin groans. "Gladly."

"You get she's a poker master, yeah?" Haymitch scoffed. "She's the only one who won't lose a fucking thing…"

Finnick and Jo were on the floor, Haymitch had taken one of the armchairs, Chaff was on the couch… Effie perched herself on the last free armchair, accidentally nudging Finnick with her foot.

"Is that a come on, Effie?" Finnick asked with a grin. "Cause, you know…"

"Down, boy." Haymitch hissed.

Four's victor wiggled his eyebrows and made a show of whispering. "I'm scared. Jealous Haymitch is terrifying… He's been brooding and strangling the cards ever since you left…"

"I'm not jealous!" Twelve's victor protested – too loud.

"I will protect you." she promised Finnick.

"Are you all done flirting with the bitch?" Jo snapped. "Are we playing or what?"

"It seems to me you are losing." Effie pointed out, crossing her legs.

Chaff was suddenly very distracted – which was her aim, a distracted poker player was off his game.

"This is gonna be a bloodbath." Haymitch sighed.

And he wasn't wrong.

In less than half an hour, she had mercilessly forced all of them in various states of undress. Johanna was the worst off since she had lost her bra – not Effie's choice, the girl simply liked to strip and it was now very awkward because the three men were trying not to look but couldn't seem to stop stealing glances. She, herself, had lost only her shoes. Chaff was down to his underwear – which she had no plan to remove – and Finnick was without a shirt, socks or shoes. Haymitch had lost almost everything but still had his boxers and his socks.

"Alright." she declared as she was about to win Chaff's shorts. "Since I do not want to see horrors, I think we should call it a night."

Johanna immediately protested but, since she was well into her drinks and Finnick was always more reasonable, Four's victor readily agreed. Chaff insisted she had won fair and square and would probably have stripped down anyway if Haymitch hadn't clapped a hand on his shoulder with something that wasn't quite a glare but wasn't really friendly either.

"Fine." Chaff laughed his bark of a laugh. "Come on, kids, time to go to bed. Jo, love… Maybe put your clothes back on?"

Johanna didn't want to put her clothes back on and it was almost ten minutes before the other victors left. Effie started gathering the empty glasses to put them on the coffee table for Avoxes to clean up.

When Haymitch wandered back in the living-room after walking his friends back to the elevator, she sighed. "Why does that girl always have to strip down?"

"Don't know." he snorted, his words a little slurred. The amount of liquor he had drunk that day catching up to him, surely. "Why do you like to see me strip so much?"

She glanced at him, noting that he had lost his socks somewhere between the corridor and the living-room – he definitely had them when he had stepped out. He also had his thumbs hooked on the waistband of his boxers.

Her lips twitched. "Am I getting a treat tonight?"

"Depends." He shrugged. "What happened with Crane?"

She rolled her eyes, suddenly a lot less amused. "We had wild sex in the restaurant's bathroom. It was amazing. Mind-blowing, even."

He was in front of her in a flash and she always forgot not to underestimate how swiftly he could move, even drunk. He forced her to step back until she hit the bay window.

"Yeah?" he challenged in a growl.

She pouted, tilting her head to the side. "Are you truly concerned that I had intercourse with Seneca?"

"Intercourse." he mocked. She blinked but refused to be distracted. In the end, he made a face. "I don't care what you do."

"Of course." she deadpanned.

That was obvious. And it pleased her more than it ought to.

He stared at her for a moment and then turned his head, stepping back with a scoff. "Ain't worried about Crane 'cause I know you think I'm prettier naked and you've got a kink for naked people."

She didn't have a kink for naked people, she had a kink for naked him but she was so pleased he had remembered to say people and not men that she flashed him a bright smile anyway.

"Get naked, then." she retorted.

She didn't have to dare him twice.

5.

"Are you entirely unable to wear pants?" Effie asked, making an effort to curb the amusement in her voice.

It wouldn't do to let him know she was amused.

He would take that as a tacit permission to keep doing it.

Haymitch glanced at her over his shoulder as he flipped whatever he was cooking on the stove. "My house, my fucking rules."

"The children…" she insisted.

"The children should learn to knock." he grumbled.

She shook her head but propped herself on the kitchen table to watch him. Ten years and a war had taken their toll on his body but she still enjoyed watching him. She enjoyed that very much.

"Our house." she corrected, a little too late.

He tossed her another glance, his face softening.

"Our house." he repeated with a small smile.

It was new still.

Tentative.

But she felt good about it in a way she hadn't felt good about anything in a very long time.

"You know…" he let his voice drawl out, his Twelve accent thickening a little and she just knew whatever he was about to suggest would be improper. "Maybe you should try living by my rules for a bit…"

She was still in pajamas. Or, rather, she was wearing the shirt he had been wearing the previous day and that she had snatched from the floor.

"If I strip right now, you are going to burn breakfast." she pointed out.

He made a big show of turning off the stove and then leaned against the counter to watch her, his arms folded across his chest, a challenging expression on his face.

"Haymitch." she half-warned, half-sighed.

She wasn't as comfortable with her body as she used to. The war, the imprisonment, the scars… She had grown to be okay with him seeing her naked in their bedroom or in the relative darkness of night but in the morning light? In the middle of his very well lit kitchen? On purpose?

And then he said the magic words…

"I dare you."

She pursed her lips at him because she had never refused a dare in her life and he was well aware of it. But, in the end, it was the obvious fondness on his features that decided her, the softness in his gaze…

"Very well…" she huffed, grabbing the hem of the borrowed shirt and lifting it up slowly.

He licked his lips, fighting off a smirk. "Now, sweetheart… This ain't a show I ever mind…"

She swayed her hips a little, following her own inner rhythm, raised the fabric only to let it fall… She did that a few times and eventually slipped it over her head and tossed it on a nearby chair.

She had to resist the urge to cover herself as his eyes slowly swept all over her. She wasn't the type to cover herself no matter how insecure she felt nowadays…

He stepped toward her and she bit down on her bottom lip.

"What about breakfast?" she teased.

His hands found her waist, lifted her up so she was sitting on the table…

"It's been served." he joked, sucking on her neck.

As it turned out, she wasn't the only one who very much enjoyed to have the other in their birthday suit…