September 5th, 2011
Note: I apologize for the lack of a recent update. I was out of town for the week and didn't have the time to write. I tried to make this a long post for bearing with me and enduring the wait. The M rating comes back at the end, so be warned. As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated!
Shooting each dress is an event in itself. For me, specifically, it's a study in patience. As Octavia, Venia, and Flavius circle me like a pack of ravenous wild dogs, I learn of the hardships they have suffered since the Victory Tour. No seafood. No music chips. No ribbons. In my head, I translate the products to their corresponding districts, feeling my face pale as I count. Four, three, eight again. Venia tries to blame bad weather and shipping issues. I know better. The thought of the spreading rebellion brings bile and acid to my mouth. For a second, I smell the phantom scent of blood and roses and I want to gag. Forcing myself to breathe deeply, I manage to fight my roiling stomach, though I'm not convincing Octavia who mistakes my hyperventilation for bridal nerves.
"Oh, you poor dear," she coos, clutching my face between her green hands. "Don't worry, Peeta's going to adore you in this!"
Peeta's name doesn't bring me any relief. Instead, I feel ashamed that I wasn't worrying for his safety, although I've dragged him headfirst into this mess. And now, subjecting him to this pageantry, modeling bridal gowns in predetermined fairy tale settings, parading before him when he knows there's someone else I'd rather parade for. Thinking of Gale only makes me despair more.
I was numb for the first dress. I'm not really sure whether that was partially from the excessive body makeover I was subjected to, or if I was simply shutting down into "District mode" as Gale calls it to prevent myself from an embarrassing, and perhaps traitorous, outburst.
When my prep team falls away, revealing their second creation in the mirror, I blink, a little confused, because the girl staring back at me, I actually recognize this time. The simple strapless gown of ivory satin clings impossibly well to my body before flaring out just past my hips. My dark hair is pulled away from my face and cascades down my back in a shower of soft curls. A few stray strands delicately hang to frame my face. It's stunning, but my make-up is what impresses me the most.
Cinna's chosen a natural look for this dress and as I take in the prepared set, I can easily see why. Earthen tones on my eyelids serve to lighten the gray in my eyes and enhance the chestnut highlights of my hair. Much of the color palette is reflected in our made-over foyer that stands in as the shooting stage. Greenery surrounds me, creating the illusion of a forested glen. Cinna barks to someone to adjust the lighting, and as it dims, rays of golden light filter down to mimic the sun shining through the summer canopy. Muted shades of green, gold, and brown dance across the ivory fabric and my tan skin. I catch a glimpse of the full effect as the mirror is wheeled by and my mouth falls open. I look like a forest enchantress. If only he could see this…
The thought is formed before I fully comprehend that the he I am thinking of is not the he Octavia reassured me about. A twinge of guilt lodges in the pit of my stomach. I'm trying not to think of the uncomfortable truce both Gale and Peeta have somehow agreed to over the past week. In my moment of weakness, I duck my eyes and barely hear Cinna's command to hold that pose. He later tells me that I nailed that look of demure innocence, a perfect contrast to the immediate wildness of the set. Right now, I try to block the vision of a wooded wedding, but the more I fight it, the more excruciatingly clear the details become.
Somehow I manage to smile when I'm asked – feel the gentle warm summer evening breeze – be wistful when they suggest – small hands folded into his, rough and capable – be serious and stern when they command – the stormy passion clouding his beautiful gray eyes – be alluring because I'm thinking of him – his not-so-subtle smirk promising not-so-subtle things…
The rest of the shoot drags on and I'm only vaguely aware of the following four dresses I'm molded into. The creamy lace and rose set are too merchant and charming for a Seam girl like me. The heavy silk with long sleeves, dramatic make-up, and complicated hairstyle are much too Capitol. The sheath of diamonds sparkling underneath the faux moonlit set lights draw sighs of admiration from my mother and Prim. The growing anxiety twists and chafes inside me. By the last dress, I'm so claustrophobic and desperate for release, I'm practically crawling the walls for a way out. The need to see Gale is completely irrational and entirely consuming, I'm aching inside.
I feel truly like a girl on fire when Cinna snaps me back into reality with a cold cloth on my face. I jump visibly.
"Sorry," he says, gently dabbing and erasing the make-up from my face. "Coldness helps rejuvenate the skin after all that powder."
I nod, mutely, relishing the sharp contrast of the cool compresses compared to the rest of my body. Shifting restlessly, the fire in my core flares in mockery. I no longer see the words of Effie's note that I hold in the hands. It's already showing signs of wear because of my unfolding and rereading and refolding. I feel sick at the thought of the Capitol intruding into my private life as well. The whole week had been a whirlwind of prep and workers in and out of the house. I had snapped at Haymitch when he caught me trying to sneak out for a moment of peace, for a moment with Gale.
"Are you alright?" Cinna sets down the cloth, his eyes searching my face.
"I… I'm just thinking about… something."
"Peeta?" he asks, and by the way he asks it I know it's because it's the question he should ask, not the one he wants to ask.
I don't reply.
"Ah, I see," Cinna says. He takes a step back, crossing one arm over his chest, the other holding his chin. "The handsome cousin?"
Heat blossoms over my neck and cheeks immediately. My ears burn. I wince at the phrase even though it's said with compassion and sympathy, not with the malice and foreboding that my mind replays in perfect detail. Cinna's expression draws out my confirmation.
"I need to see him," I whisper. I hate the way it sounds like a sin.
Cinna studies me for a moment before saying, "Wait here." He turns to leave the room and returns almost instantly carrying a small garment bag and a palette of makeup. I eye him warily, though I don't protest. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I say, with only a hint of hesitation.
Cinna smiles, opening the makeup kit and selecting a brush I don't know the name of but I recognize is meant for eyes. "Don't worry, you'll still look like you."
I watch Cinna go to work then, quickly and confidently selecting colors that he blends around my eyes. The combination of browns and grays soften and intensify the colors in my eyes. The gel he massages into my hair relaxes the intense curls of my last updo into long flowing waves. Cinna worries my tresses with his fingers, artfully teasing them into a messy texture that he then smoothes with a finishing serum. Somehow he's captured perfectly how my hair looks after I release it from my braid. He steps aside to let me take it all in.
He's recreating that forest enchantress but with a more subdued quality. It takes me another few seconds to realize that he's showcasing me.
"Cinna," I breathe. "Thank you."
He beams, unzipping the garment bag with a knowing grin. "One more thing." Delicately he takes out two thin pieces of a black shimmery material. My face erupts with crimson when he holds them up for me to see.
A black lacy bra and matching panties. They're incredibly beautiful and incredibly sultry at the same time. He drops them into my hands and I bashfully whisper thanks, running my fingers over the silky fabric. It's sheer and slightly reflective. Probably some creative ingenuity Cinna added to achieve some special effect.
"I was supposed to save this for after the wedding, but I wonder if you might be able to put them to use sooner." He fixes me with a pointed look and friendly smile, which only leaves me stuttering , flustered and embarrassed.
"Cinna… I… Thanks… I mean…"
"Oh go change already you worthless thing!" he laughs, shooing me out of the room.
I am almost to Gale's house when I begin to feel completely ridiculous. A thin strand of smoke rises from the house chimney and only one of the small windows is still illuminated. I hope Gale is still up, because if he's not and Hazelle answers the door, this could be awkward.
My mother asked me where I was headed as I pulled on my thick wool coat. I had this great story of staying up at our house in the Seam to get a head start for hunting tomorrow. I'd have to rise much earlier if I left from the Victor's Village. Instead, I stumbled all over my rehearsed response, and though, she didn't object, I could tell by her face that she suspected another reason.
Hazelle does answer the door, but I see Gale rise quickly behind her so I don't feel too badly.
"Katniss," she says, surprised. "Come in, come in." She ushers me inside their cramped family room. My mouth goes dry when I catch Gale's eyes.
"Is everything alright?" Hazelle asks, breaking into our staring contest.
I swallow cotton and nod. "Yeah, um… I just needed to get out of the house for a bit." Hazelle accepts this instantly, but Gale raises an eyebrow, and I know he doesn't buy my explanation entirely. "I was also thinking I would stay up at my house tonight to be closer to the woods…"
"Surely, you're not staying by yourself!" Hazelle wrings her hands in front of her, a nervous habit I've seen many times. "I know you can take care of yourself but…" She looks from me to Gale, and I can see the thought forming before she voices it. "Gale, you should go. Stay with her, just in case."
Gale's bewilderment is short-lived, but he recovers quickly.
"I'll get my stuff," he says.
Gale returns with his hunting bag loaded with his overnight things just as I'm insisting to Hazelle that we don't need any food.
"We'll check the snare line tomorrow and see if anything's around to hunt," Gale says. "I'm not sure when we'll be back." He still hasn't taken his eyes off me, and I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I can do this.
"I don't worry about you two together as much as when either of you go alone," Hazelle says. She smiles and gently touches my hair. "But be careful."
Gale and I say our goodnights, stepping out into the cold night. The minute the door shuts, I can feel the energy zing between us. The sudden urge to touch Gale is overwhelming, but I set my jaw and start walking, hearing him fall into pace beside me. I'm practically stomping through the snow, my hands balled determinedly at my sides, my breath puffing in front of me in quick bursts. It reminds me of the dragons father told me about when I was little. I feel like I understand what it must be like to breathe fire.
Gale doesn't say anything, even when I fumble with the keys in the lock. He covers my hands with one of his, and I pull back, as if stung, because his touch is like electricity. I stare at him and try to remember that slamming him into the door and growling to just forget the damn keys! is not part of the plan. Gale opens the door, gestures for me to go first. Somehow I manage to walk by him. Barely.
In the darkness, I hear Gale set down his bag, feel him shuffle towards me. When he closes his arms around me, I lean into his solid warm strength. "What's wrong, Katniss?" he whispers against my hair.
I look up to find his eyes, feeling my nose brush against his chin and lips, our faces are so close. I can just make out how they flicker between mine, searching, worried. My hand finds the back of his head, pulling him down to me.
"I need you," I say, kissing him deeply, slowly, savoring the contact and the control. I pull away after a long moment, and he leans in for another kiss, but I press fingers to his lips and shake my head. "…to start a fire."
I wish I could see his expression, or maybe I wish that he could see mine. That kiss has already eased the desperation a bit and I feel less frayed and unraveled. But Gale is still Gale, and he's not willing to play my game so easily.
His mouth finds the soft skin below my ear and he reels me in, asking, "Haven't I already?"
Yes, I think, yielding to his come on. But I force myself to go rigid, though it's immensely more difficult than I expect. Gale pulls back, studying me, a frown on his face I'm sure. I smile as a huff of frustration escapes him.
"Trust me, it'll be worth your while."
I disentangle myself from him because if he decides to override my orders a second time, I won't win the battle to resist again. He watches me turn away – I can practically feel the heat of his gaze against my back—but I shrug out of my wool coat and start pulling sheets from my hunting bag. Even in my Gale-induced yearning, I'd remembered to be practical.
Gale gets the fire to catch on the first strike of the flint, and I smile, amused. With a little motivation, he can get anything on the first try. As I tuck the sheets around the mattress, I allow myself glances over, admiring the graceful pull of his tunic across his back with each log he adds. Soon, the hearth is roaring and he turns, rising with his hands on his hips.
"Okay, now what?" Gale asks, arrogantly smirking at me. I don't think he intends to be ordered around more, but I'm nowhere near done with him. The fact that I won the first round has only fueled my confidence and I'm a little dizzy with the intoxication of my power over him. I point to the bed beside me.
"Sit," I command. "Boots off."
He doesn't move. I grit my teeth against his stubborn maleness and decide to play dirty. I don't smile at him and ask again. I glare, stepping out of my own boots, stripping off my socks, and finally shimmying out of my pants, hoping he catches a glimpse of the black lace. His face changes instantly from smugness to astonishment, assuring me he did. Good.
I point again the bed, and manage not to laugh as Gale all but trips over himself to get there. His boots drop to the floor with a thunk. His eyes never leave my face as I slink toward him. His hands reach for me and I grab them, squeezing gently and sliding my hands up his arms and across his shoulders to the top button of his shirt. I check to see if I still have his attention. I do.
Button by button, I work my way down his front, moving slowly, resolutely. Shamelessly, my hands rove up his abdomen and chest, and I brush his shirt off his broad shoulders. When it falls behind him, I toss it to the floor. I want to touch every inch of him, he's so beautiful. Later, I think. Now it's your turn. I reach for the bottom of my sleep shirt, inching it higher over my legs, my stomach, before disposing of it with a sweep over my head.
Gale's trying hard to keep his breathing steady and even, but it hitches a little each time his eyes rake down my body, now clad only in the black lace. He is completely mesmerized and I glance down not quite believing I'm having this kind of effect.
"Oh…" I gasp. The translucence I noticed back in the bedroom is clearly evident in the firelit room, but for a different reason. Reds and oranges flicker across the black lacy surface and once again, Cinna has created the girl on fire. But it's not an overbearing blaze of fury, he's managed to capture the slow smolder of passion.
Gale's fingers are under my chin, forcing me to look up. "You're right," he breathes against my lips. "It was worth my while."
"I'm not even done yet." I smile down at him, pressing him back on the bed. My hair hangs to one side in a dark curtain, my hands and legs straddling him like a human bridge. I dip my head for a long lingering kiss, letting my chest graze his, when he groans, releasing my mouth to wreak havoc on his neck. I alternate, wetly kissing and lightly touching, across the muscles of his chest and abdomen. I am fascinated by the faces he makes. The way his eyes flutter when I draw the backs of my fingers across the ridges of his stomach. The slight parting of his mouth when I lick the lines defining each muscle. I like it even better when I suddenly sit up, resting partially on his stomach, letting him feel the moistness between my legs, and he says my name in a long throaty moan.
It gives the boost I need to do what I had planned next. When I swing my leg over, I pretend I don't hear him protest, a protest that is silenced when I hook my fingers into the waistband of his pants. I wait for him to lift his hips – he does quickly—and I yank both them and his undershorts down, working them off his legs entirely. Slithering back up him, I pause before slowly closing my hands around him, steeling myself to be braver, bolder.
My stomach is doing flip-flops when I place a gentle kiss on the tip of him, starting a little when he gasps loudly. Looking up, I see Gale has propped himself on his elbows, watching me intently. His scrutiny makes me self-conscious and I can't help myself.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" he says, a little too quickly. I narrow my eyes at him. "No, that was… good."
The smile breaks across my face and I give him a quick stroke that makes his head snap back. I kiss again and again, until I finally get the nerve to taste him fully. The strangled cry would have unnerved me if I didn't recognize it. The sound is exactly the same one I made when he worked his magic within me. I continue licking, and kissing, and sucking, and sliding—it's easy to tell when I do something well based on the sounds he makes—until suddenly Gale's hands frantically tug at my hair.
"Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, stop!"
I freeze, releasing him instantly. His eyes are shut tight and there's a light sheen on his forehead. Gale lets out a shaky breath and I panic.
"What? Gale? I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, opening his eyes. "No, it's not like that… I…" He looks away embarrassed. "You were just… doing a very good job."
My hammering heart slows down a half a tick when I finally understand. I nod and crawl back up to kiss him reverently. I've never seen Gale flushed but I wish it was a sight I'd seen more often. Suddenly, I feel a lump form in my throat when I think that I don't see him often enough. As if sensing the change in my mood, his hand comes to find my cheek, his thumb passing beneath my eye.
"Hey," he says.
I feel the burn low in my stomach, and the burn flare in my chest, as I stare into his searching eyes. The want slams into me full force and I feel my body involuntarily grind against him, my lace panties soaked through.
"Make me yours," I whisper. "I don't want to be theirs anymore."
Gale doesn't have to ask me to know who I meant. There's a flash of anger in his eyes, in the way his jaw sets determinedly, in the way he flips us over, trapping me beneath him. His kisses and touches are rough and desperate. I can feel the marks he leaves, and that's okay, because they're his. I start to slide the strap of my bra off when he rids me of the black lace below, but he stills my hand.
"Leave it," he growls. The harshness of his command makes my core twist with desire. I can feel him, hard and heavy, against my thigh. He locks eyes with me, mouths a silent "I love you" and drives forward. We come together with audible cries, my arms clenching around his neck as the force of his thrust slides me a few inches up the mattress.
Gale's relishing a little too long for my patience and I rock my hips, surprised by the purring rumble that leaves the back of my throat. He bucks involuntarily in response and groans my name again. I could listen to him do that all day.
He lets me set a rhythm but I welcome the chance to relieve the throbbing in me. He feels wonderful but I increase my pace searching for that something more. I'm starting to get frustrated all over, when Gale grips my waist and stops me from moving. He shifts, sliding out of me, and I whimper pathetically.
"Please, Gale." I'll even beg, I'm such a wreck.
He smirks, tipping my waist up a little, and presses back in. The slight adjustment leaves me seeing white behind my lids and I'm not sure if the noise I make was meant to be a word or just an incomprehensible moan. He moves twice more when I feel more wetness pool between my legs and Gale grunts in satisfaction. Our bodies slide effortlessly together, slick with sweat, the smell of desire a heady addition to the woodsy scent unique to Gale. I don't know if it's the anticipation of knowing what's coming but when I fall apart, I think it's even better than before.
I scream as the spasms tear my inside out and a moment later, I'm rewarded when Gale bucks sharply.
"Katniss," he groans, his body shaking in shuddering tremors. He collapses, burying his face into my neck, spent, and I stroke his back, savoring the warmth flooding throughout me. When he rolls off, I snuggle up to him, my head resting on his chest. The steady thud, thud, thud of his heart lulls me towards oblivion and I give in willingly.
~Fin