AUTHOR'S NOTE: So it's definitely M rated now: with explicit language and sexual situations in this chapter.

Paint Our Love

Chapter Six: Just Let My Love Adorn You

She was already in her room when he reached their allocated safe house, so he made his way straight to bed, stripping off his thick navy trousers and burgundy sweater- Capitol clothes- and climbing in to the coarse, barely-white-anymore sheets that were so different to the silk and satin and Egyptian cotton he was used to. He quite liked the simplicity of life here- though he knew it was a stupid thing to think; that these people had lived in squalor and that this simplicity was in fact luxury to them. He laid out on his back, staring blankly up at the concrete ceiling and his mind recalled the images Naisie had shown him and Johanna of the rebellion so far: the crumbled ruins of 13, the riots in 11 and 8, the destitution of 12 under the new harsher rules… his own upbringing, pre-Games, had been so much sweeter. He had a home, a loving family, a simple life of school and swimming at the beach with friends; there was always food on the table and clean clothes and bedsheets. For most people in District 4 life was pretty good. Would he have rebelled if he hadn't been reaped? He didn't know. He only knew that these people lived tough lives, and so had he – because of the Games, the Capitol, Snow… Johanna's words reverberated around his skull and he pressed his hands to his face, before running them through his hair and sitting up in a sudden panic.

What if she's gone?

He leapt out of bed, and practically sprinted through to her room, not bothering to knock on the door and barrelling through. He came to an abrupt halt when his eyes landed on her and his ears registered her shout: she was lying naked, front down on her bed, a book now dangling from her right hand as she had half-turned towards him, glaring furiously. Finnick stood dumbly, unable to stop his eyes drinking her in hungrily: his gaze drifted – finally- away from her toned bum and her long, slim legs, to take in her curved in waist, travelling up the planes of her back and shoulders and landing on her face. He noticed her flushed cheeks and, without meaning to, smirked.

"What the fuck!?" she demanded, glaring at him with dark eyes, but making no move to cover herself up at all. She didn't move at all in fact and Finnick struggled to keep his gaze on hers.

"Just checking in," he shrugged, eyes twinkling and trying to appear nonchalant, but his body was reacting to hers being so close. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to run over her smooth, creamy skin, so he crossed his arms over his chest and begged his cock to stay down, to not rear up and out to her.

She stared back at him, raised her eyebrows and said, "And you thought you'd just stand there staring huh?"

Finnick looked back at her closely, his eyes now happy to fixate on hers, trying to read her, when he realised there was no real bite in her tone and she still wasn't covering up. She wasn't shy about her body he knew, and he had seen her near-naked before, but there was something different about this deliberately maintained nakedness. He had a strange hope, and he grinned. "I've always liked to admire pieces of art Johanna."

It was the wrong joke to make- he regretted it instantly- for her eyes, twinkling before, dulled and she rolled them. "So go find a mirror. I'm not just to be looked at Finnick- even Crane knew that."

He flinched and moved forward; stopping a foot away from her and the bed, "Don't compare me to him Johanna. That's not what I meant."

"Then don't treat me like the rest of them." She turned her face away, her voice biting and she lifted her book back up onto the pillow.

"I'm sorry," Finnick whispered, "I could barely function seeing you like this… I thought you might have left and I…" she hadn't moved at all as he spoke, but he took this as a sign he could continue, "You're nothing like the rest of them. You never could be to me. I can't bear the thought of him touching you Johanna, of any of them, and I," his voice was failing him, his courage was failing him, and he ran a hand through his hair and crouched down right next to her bed. "You're special to me in every way Johanna."

She turned her head slowly towards him and locked her eyes on his. "Why are you saying this?"

He didn't miss a beat, "I'm in love with you. I love you."

There was a momentary pause where they simply looked at each other, until she said quietly, "I'm not going to say it back."

There was no harshness in her tone, no anger or malice, but Finnick's heart contracted painfully and he looked down from her, until he felt her hand reach around his nape and sink into his hair, pulling it – and him- up and towards her. He moved with her grip, his eyes back on hers, as he climbed up onto the bed and she moved her body, curling onto her back so he was half leant over her, supporting himself only with his elbows, either side of her face. They weren't quite touching yet, but he could feel the heat of her body under his and his skin prickled with desire. He said nothing, still unsure and hurt by her response, until she pulled his head down to hers, pushing up at the same time and kissed him softly and so longingly that he knew- he understood- that she would not say it, but that did not mean it wasn't felt at least a little bit. It took him moments to catalogue the feeling beyond her lips- finally- on his but his body reacted instantaneously as his mind registered that her breasts were pressed against him, her nipples hardening against his skin, her thighs- smooth and toned- were spreading apart under his hips and the hair between her legs rubbing against his stomach was hot and wet. He groaned into her mouth and slid one of his hands under her neck and held her nape, pressing her further into him. They kissed languidly at first but soon their bodies acted for them- Johanna's thighs came up around his waist, locking him between them, and Finnick's hands began to slide over her skin; gripping her waist and her hips and sliding up over her ribs. He pulled his head away from the kiss, and stared down at her in wonder. Her olive eyes were almost golden now too; the flecks of yellow in them sparkling, and her pretty lips were swollen, and curved into a smirk. He smirked back, dipping his head to kiss along her jawline and down her throat and neck, sucking every now and then and moving his hands just lightly over her breasts. He sat back up onto his heels, her legs unwrapping and falling either side of him and he stared down at her, his cock now rock-hard and straining against his boxer shorts. She raised an eyebrow teasingly, and he chuckled gruffly, moving his hands still feather-light over her breasts, and under them, around her waist and over her hipbones, gliding his fingers just through the tips of the dark hair at her cunt, before sliding them back up and bending down. One hand gripped at her waist as his head fell to her breasts, kissing and sucking and nipping at her flesh and nipples, his cock straining harder still as she gripped his hair in her hands and her breath became short little gasps.

He moved his mouth along both breasts, slowly sliding his hand down her waist, and up her neck again, pausing just over her lips once more as his hand reached her thighs, drawing small circles there with his fingers. He kissed her once, hard, then pulled back to look down at her, and she winked once, slowly, and he slid his fingers through her soft folds and sunk two knuckle-deep inside of her. She bit her lip as he used his thumb to press down and rub against her clit and he crooked his fingers inside of her, pushing them in and out softly and rhythmically. She lifted her head to his to kiss him again, before her head dropped back with a soft moan as his fingers found her g-spot and rubbed against it inside of her. He bent his head down to kiss her once before moving back down her neck and latching his mouth hotly onto her collarbone and along it to reach her breastbone. She gulped and gasped under his touch, her breasts rising and falling more rapidly under his mouth now, and he could the wetness inside of her seeping past his fingers and onto his palms. He continued his ministrations, hardly able to breath himself, his cock desperate and aching, his own desire merging with his elation to have her underneath him like this, wanting him, and letting him touch her like this… her cunt suddenly clenched around his fingers, but he did not stop moving them or his thumb, only looking up from her breasts to see her mouth fall open and hear- ever so softly- his name slip from her lips as her orgasm rippled through her. He slowed his movements as her inner walls spasmed and her body shook a little, his hand stopping when her body did. He pulled his fingers from her slowly, carefully, and grinned at their stickiness as she swallowed and opened her eyes under him. She caught sight of his smug face and before he had time to realise it was happening, she had flipped him onto his back and was straddling him; her wet and hot cunt pressing into his still-covered and erect cock. He was under her and at her mercy now, and she wriggled above and over him deliberately, torturously, her eyes twinkling as he groaned at the contact and the sight of her naked body sitting up over him. She leaned down and pressed herself into him and he thought briefly, with horror, that he might come then and there. In fact, there was no opportunity for that at all, as piercing through their lustful, hazy and intense paradise was an air-raid siren. District 11 was under attack.

They sat with their shoulders pressed together and knees up, in the tense silence of the Unity houses' underground safe house. The bombing had been surprisingly brief, and Finnick wondered if it had been a warning for them - televised and planned by the Capitol - instead of a full-scale assault. Naisie had been gone from the shelter for twenty minutes now, and some of the citizens were nervy and emotional. Finnick could barely get his head straight- only an hour ago he had been intertwined with Johanna and now they were shoddily dressed and sat in long silence. She had been avoiding his gaze and his main concern- beyond even the bombs- was that she regretted what had happened, that he had misread the moment for being more than perhaps an awful pity fuck.

The doors to the shelter suddenly begun beeping and people begun to murmur and cry out; some in fear and some in relief. Finnick ad Johanna stood simultaneously and moved forward, just in case it wasn't Naisie and her team. They both shouldered their guns with the door guards as it begun to slowly slide open. They raised their weapons, ready, when Naisie's voice called through. "We're clear. We're stable."

Nobody returned to their assigned huts that night; they were all now being held in the rebellion compound. Some of the area had been destroyed and some of the more hesitant citizens had died, so they no longer took any risk. The Capitol's bombing had been light and as Finnick had thought it had been a televised event; used as propaganda and supposedly for District 11's drug manufacture problem. They were becoming a scapegoat, for whilst the Capitol had bombed part of 11 and made that an open event; they had used that press coverage to hide their fire-bombing of 12 entirely. Finnick and Johanna were part of the control team who were in constant contact with 12's rebels as they evacuated. It was clear that the minute the Girl-on-Fire would arrive that 11 would be ready for war.

Thanks to MojeJo for reviewing- I probably should have said sooner that Annie just simply doesn't exist in this AU! x