Chapter 13
Katniss woke up with her body covered in sweat, blood, and something else. Something leaking from her anus.
"Oh god! We didn't!" the girl cupped the river of cum on the bed in her dusk-colored hands. It was all over her legs, thighs, and hands. She was practically drowning in a river of it.
"We did. Well..almost," he laughed cruelly, cigar smoke filling her nostrils.
For all his faults he did enjoy the finer things in life. A quality which stemmed from having next to nothing in his youth. But he kept it all to himself because he figured that suffering is an unavoidable part of life, and who is he to argue with fate?
The Hunger Games, this marriage, his suffering. All of them were workings beyond his control in his eyes.
Snow next to her with his arm around her shoulders and she hacked like hell before he put his cigar in the crystal ashtray on his nightstand.
"Mm, it's been so long," he sounded perfectly content.
"I didn't even know that was possible. It hurt at first,"
"Everything is unpleasant at first. But you loved it," he grinned as he rubbed his white chest hair in an oddly seductive manner.
"I guess," Katniss shrugged.
"Have you ever thought positively of me my dear?" Snow frowned half jokingly.
"Well, you are good in bed," she laughed.
"Oh you've seen nothing yet. Anything else?" he looked at her.
"Well, the only other thing I can think of is your eyes. Are they natural?" Katniss asked. She knew it was probably a stupid question but everyone in the Capitol was so artificial that sometimes it was hard to distinguish who had gone through intensive surgery and who was natural.
But Snow was almost 100% human in the sense she was familiar with. He had hair in all the right places a man should, a surprisingly well built figure for a man who was old enough to be her grandfather, and he had those sea blue eyes that could only occur in nature.
The only thing that set him apart were a few spots where surgery had been done to get rid of some of ageing spots and a few scars, although you could still see them.
"I was born with these eyes. They were my mother's eyes," Snow pondered fondly.
"What was she like? You seemed to love her a lot," she looked at him.
"She was a mother. The woman who gave birth to me. What else do you want to know?" Snow looked hesitant to tell her anymore. He promised himself to never tell anyone about his true origins and he had already told her enough.
"You know you're really vague about pretty much everything," Katniss flatly stated, emitting a chuckle from the white-maned male.
"It is my job to keep you guessing my dear," he laughed.
She laughed softly along with him.
"You're beginning to laugh with me," he caressed her hips.
"Nervous habit I guess," she shrugged as her face turned red. As much as she hated to admit it, the older man was slowly growing on her. And she on him.
"Well, either way, we have a long day," he slid his aged yet lean body off the bed, looking darkly, perversely seductive.
"Public appearance? Interview?" Katniss was filled with dread.
"Neither, actually lunch with some of the most important people in the Capitol. Besides myself of course," Snow boasted as his chest puffed out proud like a peacock.
"Including an old schoolmate of my son's. You may know her," he buttoned up his black waistcoat.
"Is it one of my stylists?" Katniss asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh no. You'll see my dear," Snow winked. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs. We shall leave in an hour. I've set out quite the ensemble for you,"
Snow left the room and closed the door as his military boots clanked on the floor.
Katniss looked over to see a white ruffled blouse, a navy blue jacket and pant set, and sadly black high heels with panty hose stuffed inside of the shoes. The girl on fire hated high heels. That was the least of her worries though...
Not only had she found out that her future husband had a son that was probably old enough to be her father, but also the fact that cum was dripping off of her body and could have very well sunk into her womb in her sleep. She could be a mother in 9 months!
Katniss knew it would happen eventually but she wanted to wait a while before approaching motherhood. At least a year after her mandatory marriage to her worst enemy.
Her worst enemy who made her feel amazing in bed. Who made her want more. To go all the way and be owned completely.
As she got her outfit on, she realized that she may have become yet another piece in the Capitol's games.
"I can't believe that you're marrying an eighteen year old father!" a high-pitched yet masculine voice cried
"You don't think your old man's still got some game?" Snow grinned at his son Gus, offering him wine.
"I did not say that but, you're old enough to be her grandfather! If you have children will you even be around to see their children?!" Gus tried to reason with his father.
"My boy, I'll find a way. After all, new medical discoveries are being made everyday. I won't croak as soon as you wish me to," the older man smirked.
"Fine. At least tell me her name," Gus rolled his eyes.
"Katniss Everdeen," Snow disclosed, awaiting a reaction.
He was not disappointed. Gus spat out his drink and looked at his father.
"Jesus fucking Christ what is wrong with you dad?!" Gus demanded.
"You're not going to disown me like your sister did are you?" Snow's eyebrow raised.
"No father. I'm not," the younger Snow shrugged and sighed.
Both of them sat in silence, remembering how Alexandria Snow had run away from the Capitol at the age of 15 after finding out what the Hunger Games was.
She was horrified and neither Coriolanus nor his son saw her again. She was presumed dead after a lengthy search.
"Mr. President, Ms. Everdeen is ready sir," a petite Avox with brown hair and blue eyes wrote on her white board that had been provided for her.
"Thank you dear. Send her down," he nodded.
Heels clicked on the marble floors as Katniss made her way down the spiral staircase.
Both of the men sat with their eyes glued to her fit, sculpted form that had been shaped by years of exercise and physical activity as well as lack of food.
"You look marvelous," the man in his mid fourties who was the spitting image of his father except with brown eyes instead of blue and sand-blond hair instead of silver like his father.
"Thank you. And you are?" Katniss looked at him curiously.
"Augustus Marcellus Snow at your service," he bowed as Snow smiled with pride. He had taught his son well.
"You're Coriolanus's son aren't you?" she asked.
"Indeed I am," Gus nodded.
"We can get better acquainted at the luncheon," Snow eyed his pocket watch which was tucked cozily into his coat.