Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.
A Lovely Trick
Madge remembered her first kiss less than fondly. It was spontaneous, but not in a good way. Full of bitterness and anger, it had caused tears and a very distinct queasiness in her stomach. It had been such an unpleasant experience that some people, she'd decided, probably just didn't need to kiss.
Her second kiss had been spontaneous too. Out on the on the runway with Gale, it had been so sudden, so unexpected that she'd barely registered much more than that his lips were chapped. She'd run from him after that, stayed away for days before being forced to her senses.
It had been a good kiss, she later decided. A little hesitant, but gentle and hopeful as the look in his eyes when it ended.
Madge had been determined to be prepared for the next kiss, anticipating it at every turn once they'd landed in Two. His family was around, constantly bounding in and out, at their sides, and she was certain he was just waiting for them to have some time by themselves before he tried again.
They went on a walk the first evening, but nothing happened. The second evening, another walk, still nothing. He held her hand, ran his fingers through her hair, clung to her waist, traced his fingers along her spine, but made no indication he was considering kissing her again.
By the fourth night she was brimming with anxiety.
Maybe I'm just bad at it…
She'd also cried last time he'd kissed her. And run off. That, may have, she thought, had some bearing on his lack of action.
He was examining a tree, searching its branches for a nest he told her he was certain was there when she finally felt the little bubble burst in her.
"Gale?"
He turned back to her with a frown, the tone of her voice clearly worrying to him. His eyebrows rose.
Madge could feel her face warming, knew her cheeks were crimson at just the thought of her question.
"Do-was," her mouth had gone dry. He frowned, apparently he didn't speak 'terrified and crazy'.
She took another breath to steady herself.
"Do you want to kiss me?" She finally blurts out.
Gale's frown deepens, his gray eyes flicker uncertainly.
She'd bungled things so badly the first time, he'd been pulling her forward with her life, he didn't deserve to constantly be making the first move. Her mouth takes off before her mind can tell it to stop.
With a slight jump, she lands on him, arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level and crushing her lips to his. He'd put on chapstick, but she could still feel the roughness of them as they pressed to hers.
It started much the same as their kiss at the hoverport, gentle and unsure, and she's positive Gale is in as much shock as she had been that day when he'd kissed her.
As she's about to break it off, he isn't responding, and she's afraid she might've upset him or hurt his neck pulling him down, his arms wrap around her. He presses, bruising hard, as the kiss deepens, parting her lips.
He lifts her, fingers and hands gripping into her waist and hips, back and neck almost painfully. Gale's mouth wanders, to her cheeks, eyes, down to her jaw and neck, then back to her lips. The coarseness of the whiskers on his cheek scratching against her skin.
There's no hesitancy, no gentleness, in this kiss. It's all eagerness and force. When his eyes open briefly, look at her, they're dark, only the smallest bit of light from the now quietly watching moon reflects back at her from them.
It takes her a second to realize, to pinpoint his look. It isn't lust, though that's definitely in the mix, but his look, his hands, his lips are full of something she thinks is just as primal. It's a heartbreaking neediness.
Her back scrapes on something and she realizes they've stumbled back and into a tree.
"Omph," she groans into his mouth as she tries to wiggle from it.
The moment is broken, though, and his lips are less aggressive, his hands become softer against her curves. He put her down, gently letting her drop to her feet, but his hands don't leave her.
He leans down, pulls her close again, and nuzzles his face into her hair as he gently combs the tangles he'd created out.
"I didn't want to scare you off again.'
Madge feels her heart stop. It hadn't occurred to her just how badly her leaving him on the runway had probably affected him. How hard it had been for him, a person so use to being the hunter, the pursuer, to not chase after her, to let her choose to come back to him, she can't even imagine. He'd let her come to her own conclusion, though, and she's grateful for that.
He'd learned the lesson the hard way that chasing a person, no matter how true your intentions were, wasn't always the best way to their heart. It may not hurt the relationship, but it didn't guarantee you a permanent spot in their heart.
Gale, for all his accomplishments, had suffered losses, too many, Madge felt to be fair. She was determined not to be one of them.
She runs her hand along his jaw, tracing it, before pulling her eyes up to his.
His look is still tentative, worried what she's going to say.
"I'm not going anywhere."
She presses a quick kiss to his lips, a gentle promise. Gale's mouth slowly curves up, into a small grin that he quickly buries in her neck, pressing his lips to it.
Madge is done running, done hiding, and he needs to know that. It may be a slow walk to where they're going, but they're going together.