Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games
Warning: This Chapter is rated M for sexual content.
Chapter 40: Torn
Blaine's POV
The feeling of being watched woke me up as I slowly opened my eyes to stare at green orbs. Slowly remembering what happened last night, and stiffened. The Quells were read, and the tributes were being pulled from the victors and…. Cinna and I had sex. I remained still, taking a deep breath, and continued to stare at Cinna, who seemed lost in thought.
"Good morning," he breathed, tucking a strand of hair off my face.
"Mornin'," I sighed, closing my eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired," I mumbled, listening to his breathing. "And wishing for a shooting star."
"Why's that?" he asked, entwining our fingers and bringing them to his lips.
"Cause I need a wish right now."
"And what do you wish?" he kissed my knuckles.
"That the Quells were different," I choked.
Cinna stopped his kissing and held my cheek in one hand. "Are you going to volunteer?"
"No…." I sobbed, letting a lone tear fall. "I'm letting fate decide."
"You mean Effie's hands," Cinna pointed out.
A chuckle came out of his correction that I couldn't retain. Of course, fate in District 12 was the overly manicured nails of Effie Trinket. A little laugh helped me some, though it didn't change the fact that all tributes for this year's game shall be the victors. Cinna sat up and adjusted our position, so I cried in his arms again. I don't want to go back into the Arena. When I'm in the Arena, I lose myself and become something darker. Once I was able to calm down, Cinna kissed the tears off my cheek.
"Everything will be okay." He assured me. "Trust me."
"There's nothing you can do," I whispered.
A small smile graced his lips as if he knew something I didn't know. I hated it when he did that, but I let it slide, for what's the point. His green eyes linger on my face before going down my body. I looked down and blushed, covering my chest. Cinna's hands grabbed my arms, pulling them down.
"There's nothing to hide, Blaine." He murmured. "You're beautiful."
I didn't know how to respond to that. All the clients said how beautiful I was. All thanks to the remake. However, this felt different…as if he looked past my vessel and into my soul. Yet my soul was not beautiful. It was dark, broken, and evil. For I have done things that I can't take back. For there was blood on my hands.
But last night was different.
"Last night…I haven't felt like that in a long time," I tried to explain. "If not ever."
Something in his eyes changed. If I had to decipher something, I would suspect it was gratitude and honor. Last night was amazing in my hurt and how Cinna comforted me gently. How he touched and caressed me like lovers do in romance novels. Yes, we had sex, but it wasn't fucking or deviant. It was something I had longed for. What I wished my first time was about. Cinna made sure I felt pleasure instead of pain. He made sure I came and there was comfort and consent. He didn't test boundaries. Yes, he took the lead but made sure I had a say.
The thoughts about last night riled my senses. I could feel our bodily fluids on my privates while my core ached for more. There is a chance of me being Reaped. Deep down, I know I will not survive in the Arena. I might make it to the final five, but I am nothing against the Careers. So, I will be selfish and get as much from my lover.
I glanced down, seeing his erect member.
Despite crying not long ago and being conflicted, I adjusted our position so he was lying on his back while straddling his waist. His green eyes stared at me curiously while I took hold of his member, which caused him to groan.
"Tell me to stop," I murmured, using his words.
"Never," he replied.
I nodded, moving closer to his hips and rubbing my folds against his member. Cinna groaned, resulting in his hands grabbing my thighs and slithering up to my hips. He squeezed and kneaded, bending his legs up for support.
For once, it felt nice to have control. To be on top and have an equal partner supporting me.
I placed my hands on his chest, rolling my hips back and forth as our genitals rubbed against one another. Stimulating our sensitive nerves, grinding on each other. I leaned forward burying my face along his jaw, kissing it while listening to his breathing. Witnessing his control falter and showing his emotions. His hands squeezed tightly on my ass.
"Blaine," he groaned.
I nipped his earlobe, "Touch me."
A groan near growl erupted from his lips as his hands swarmed around as I sat up straight. His crafty fingers reached my breasts and took hold of each nipple. He twists and rolls the buds till they are raised. I groaned, biting my lower lips, feeling them swollen and erect while still grinding against him.
And then his dominant hand let go of my breast, dipping further down to the apex of my thighs. I stopped what I was doing, being wet and wanting more. His fingers slid upon my slit, exploring until reaching my clit and rubbing against it. I moaned, closing my eyes.
"Like a work of art," he murmured.
Suddenly he adjusted himself so his back was against the headboard bringing him closer to me. I leaned forward and kissed him. I slid my tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting him while he dipped his finger inside me. A moan rolled through me that made him smirk.
Even though I was on top, he manipulated me like he does with his fabric.
Our lips locked together while he pushed his finger inside me deep. Curling the appendage along my walls, primarily the g-spot. I cursed, bowing my head on his shoulder, panting while he continued to pet that specific spot. I was moaning, grinding harder on his member.
"Lean back," he murmured.
I sat up, leaning back so his lips claimed my flesh. A trail of gentle bites, nips, and sucks decorated my chest as he took advantage of the new angle. His finger continues to move inside me before adding a second one pumping it further.
I groaned, "Cinna."
I squirm on top of him. Gripping his shoulders to find some stability. My walls fluttered around his fingers, my clit pressing against his palm. Nearly reaching my pinnacle.
Cinna could feel it as he pulled back from my breasts and claimed my lips, whispering, "Let go."
Unable to hold it anymore, I cried out and came.
My nails are digging into his flesh, feeling my orgasm.'
Once I came back to reality, I panted, staring at Cinna, who watched me with a sincere smile. I smiled in return, taking his hand and withdrawing his fingers slowly. Not wanting him to wait too long, I adjusted ourselves by taking hold of his member. He groaned from my touch. I tried hard not to smirk as I locked my gaze onto his face seeing lust and longing in his eyes.
Glancing down to our privates, I guided his member to my core, rubbing the swollen tip between the folds. A groan escaped him as he closed his eyes. His chest heaving heavily, his gaze unfocused, and his brows tightened.
"Blaine," he pleaded.
I leaned into his ear, "What do you want?"
"You," he ground out. "Only you."
I kissed his cheek before pulling back and slowly eased down. Inch by inch until he was hitch inside me. We both moaned, being one again. How I felt full as my walls tightened around him. We remained still getting used to the feeling. We panted, staring at each other until we took claim of one another. His hands secured my waist, digging into my skin, gesturing me to go. I obliged, rocking my hips back and forth. His member slid in and out of me under the pace I made.
It felt so good.
All of it, as if I was tasting ambrosia and the warmth it brings. To make love with someone I trusted. To act as equals and not as client and prostitute.. His lips and his body fold and stitch me to pure ecstasy.
A part of me wished for more.
More than this moment.
And yet, I only have this moment and whatever moments I have left until the reaping.
I continue to ride him. I rode him like there was no tomorrow. For all I want is him. He keeps bringing me pleasure, my comfort. Now it was time to give him his. So, I moved faster and harder, squeezing my walls upon his member. Cinna groaned from that, embracing me in his tight hold as he began to thrust. I gasped, hugging him tightly, meeting his thrust until he finally came. Feeling him spilling his seeds inside me.
However, he was not done; through his orgasm, he continued to thrust inside me. Shooting his load while taking a hand down between us, rubbing my clit. I gasped, rocking my hips, clinging to him for dear life until reaching my pinnacle and joining him.
We panted a sweaty mess.
Still in the embrace, I looked down at his back to notice more faint scars and a tattoo. Pulling back slightly, I examined his body, noting how defined it was yet held imperfections. Nothing like a Capitol Citizen who has the resources to remove all scars. Hell, even alter it to different colors and plastic surgery. But Cinna's body reminded me of someone from the districts. There were no alterations on him. His copper hair seemed natural, with no traces of dyes. The same with his eyes. The only thing he does is add golden eyeliner.
I traced his chest until spotting a scar on the side of his rib near his chest. It did not look like a cut or laceration scar. Not even a dent. No…it was a brand mark. It appeared to be some crest, but the years of picking at it and time made the crest unidentifiable.
"Who burned you?" I asked, placing my hand on the burn.
Cinna inhaled sharply, then sighed, "It was in the past. Not my fondness moments at the university."
I stared at him, baffled by this.
Cinna took my hand, kissing it, before carefully maneuvering me off of him. He got out of bed, fetching his clothes. I sighed, slightly disappointed though concerned. Someone had hurt him in a way that was not normal. His scars sort of reminded me of beating and possibly torture. As he moved around to collect his pants, I stared at the tattoo on his body. A silhouette of a blackbird. It was hard to tell its species, but it was a blackbird in flight.
The blackbird reminded me of the ones in the letters from JJ.
"Cinna," I gulped.
"Yes," he replied, putting on his briefs.
"Did you, by any chance, send me sunflowers in the past several months?" I asked, hoping he would say yes.
"No," Cinna answered, eyeing the desk.
I followed his gaze to realize there was a new bouquet of flowers. On the desk was a vase with seven sunflowers in them. Instantly I jumped out of bed to find the card to see the same insignia with another message.
Exile the Jabberjay,
and yet they continued onward.
What the hell does that supposed to mean, Exile the Jabberjays, and yet they continued onward? Whoever is giving me these flowers is someone who knows me and likes to provide riddles. The first person that comes to mind is Xavier Varick, but that's impossible, for I killed him. But he is the only one who spoke of freedom and gave me sunflowers. It had to be somebody, a close friend of Varick, to know this.
"Is everything alright?" Cinna asked, wrapping his arms around my naked form and taking the card out of hand. "Seems you got yourself an admirer?"
"Not what you're thinking," I breathed, leaning into his form. "Does 4-17-7 remind you of anything?"
"No, but it sounds familiar," Cinna said, kissing my neck. I shivered a little, still new to the intimate side of a relationship. "You don't regret anything, do you?"
I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck, "No, I don't regret it."
Cinna smiled, kissing my brow, tracing his fingers over the Canary tattoo on my thigh. He scowled when tracing the shackles the little yellow bird wore. Back home in the mines, the Canaries were used as a barometer for air quality. However, the mines still give connotations of testing and self-sacrifice. Although they symbolized freedom and intellect, they were prisoners till the end, which is why the canary has shackles. For even though I had liberty, I'll forever be unhappy. Everyone in the Profit Circle has one; for example, Finnick with his shark entangled in a net. We wear these sad images to remind ourselves that freedom is limited.
"Why the shackles?" Cinna asked.
"Just because," I breathed, grabbing a silk robe and putting it on.
No doubt I needed to shower and pick some modest clothes since there were hickeys all over my neck and chest.
Cinna noticed this and smirked, though his amusement faded as he asked, "When are you heading back to District Twelve?"
"I think so. Maybe in a week or two, depending on the concert and whatever Effie has planned for me."
Cinna sighed, as did I. I am not allowed to stay in the Capitol. President Snow says only when I married a Capitol man can I stay. But I wasn't going to tell Cinna that. Our relationship is still fresh. Let alone the chances that I'll be reaped. However, I need to go back to Twelve. I need to spend as much time as I have with Haymitch and the Covey.
Cinna came over, wrapping me in his arms, and kissed the top of my head. "I understand."
I hugged him back, "I'm sorry."
"I know," he murmured.
I nodded, resting my head on his chest. So many emotions were stirring. I wanted to be angry. I want to hurt the Capitol like they had hurt me and everyone in Panem. Most of all, I wanted to be spiteful to President Snow.
And then I thought of an idea. There was one song President Snow didn't like. I played it at my first concert, and the next day, President Snow ordered me never to play that song again.
"Cinna," I started.
Cinna pulled back at me, "Yes, Blaine?"
"Can you recreate the dress I wore during my reaping or the outfit in my first concert?"
He raised a brow, "When do you need it?"
"For my final concert," I replied. "I'm going to give my last encore."
It took Cinna a moment before he gave his signature madman smile.
Now I need to convince Simon to play that specific song.
"Should I be afraid," he teased.
"Maybe," I countered, then sighed.
I know what I am planning will have repercussions. But this is my way of stirring the Capitol's emotions about the Quarter Quells. Just thinking about the Quells had me questioning Cinna. He is friends with Katniss.
"Cinna," I started but stopped.
He softly cradles my face, "Yes?"
"What are your thoughts about this…the Quells. You and Katniss are friends…and there is us…."
He took a deep breath, "I'm at a stalemate. For I do not want to lose you. However, I also don't want to lose Katniss."
I frowned, knowing Cinna and Katniss are friends compared to our secretive relationship. He created the Girl on Fire while I'm the Lady of Ashes. Fire and ash can never be the same in the story, for fire gets the attention while the ashes get the blame. A sad sigh escaped letting go of Cinna, unsure how things would be during the reaping. Will he be committed to his protégé or to his…lover? The ache in my heart hurt with the doubt from the thought.
Unable to take the possibilities, I turned around and left to shower. I need to freshen up and dress before checking on Miya. We have an album to make together. Probably our last album.
.o0o.
"Stop, stop," Simon chastised the sound booth glaring at Miya and me.
We somehow weren't satisfying him on the song. The song contained harmony, which seemed insufficient for Miya and me. However, we can't be in sync when the announcement of the Quarter Quells. This year's tributes will be selected by the surviving victors. It doesn't help anyone, for all we want is to survive.
When I woke Miya up this morning, she was curled up against Shiloh. The cat was soothing her, licking her hand while purring. It took some time to get Miya up. She started to cry again, in which I comforted her and told her to stay strong. Once she got her bearings, I led her back to District 10's floor and helped her prepare for the day. Cinna had left before Miya left the spare room. The last thing we need is someone catching us.
After Miya got dressed, we went to the record Studio where Simon was waiting. Although, as we drove, I took a moment to message another Victor. It was time to put pride aside and allow someone a chance to shine.
So here we are, being chewed out by Simon in trying to get the harmony needed for a song for Miya's first album. A song called Run Daddy Run. It held a country twang, similar to the Covey songs. Miya was determined to sing songs from her district, and I will support her no matter what it takes. Yet the style Simon wants is not putting our voices in harmony. We needed a third voice between Miya and me to create harmony.
Simon should get the stick out of his ass and understand that Miya and I weren't in a pleasant mood. All of us were trying to be professional. No doubt Miya preferred to be home right now with her family. The same with me checking on Haymitch and Peeta. I should have called them last night or this morning, except I got sidetracked. I need to do so after this recording.
"The song's not working," Simon spoke into the microphone. "We need something more captivating."
"We need a third singer," I suggested.
Simon gave an irritated expression, "Oh really, and who do you recommend under short notice?"
"She should be here soon," I assured.
"Who?" he asked, obviously annoyed.
Simon can be a little bit of a control freak. Especially when it came to music.
"Cashmere," I answered.
Simon opened his mouth to protest but stopped. Cashmere always wanted to sing. She had a decent voice. However, the Capitol kept dragging her into modeling. When she did try to sing, she was given a song that did not fit her range. Now here was her chance.
The Silver man was about to argue, then sighed, "We'll see."
It took a while when Cashmere arrived. Her eyes were slightly puffy, no doubt crying after being given the news about the Quarter Quells. There were many female victors in District One. Careers, either Tribute or Victor, are proud to be in the games. However, seeing Cashmere's condition, she didn't want to go. The worse situation would be if she had to compete against her brother. Similar to the situation if I had to compete against Haymitch.
She stared at us with caution, "Um…I was invited."
I exited the booth, "I'm glad you could make it."
Cashmere was on guard, not expecting me to invite her from all people.
Miya came over, "We need a third person for this song."
Cashmere stared at and nodded, giving a small smile, "Okay."
Simon clapped his hands, getting our attention, "All right then, let's get back to work. "
We did some more warm-ups and went over the lyrics again. Now that Cashmere was in the mix, we also wanted to make sure she had lines. It took a few hours, but we managed to get what we needed before recording.
Entering the sound room and sitting beside me as the atmosphere changed completely. Cashmere and I never got along very well since Lapis was her cousin, who I, unfortunately, killed to survive during the sixty-ninth annual Hunger Games. Since that day, we have held a rivalry for attention with different perspectives. I don't want attention, unlike my career. Not this glamorous life with dark secrets.
Either way, this is the life we live in.
Simon had his people start the music, hearing the instrument. (A/N Blaine, Miya, Cashmere, and Together.)
Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run.
o
All the songs you used to sing to me
Would rock birds to sleep
I need you now so please somehow
Put rockets on your feet
o
Oh oh oh oh
o
Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run.
o
Saw that dark cloud coming from a million miles away.
Oh how I've dreaded this God-forsaken day.
o
Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run.
o
Mama's been crying in the kitchen
Sister's been afraid of the dark.
I've been gathering the pieces of all these shattered hearts.
And I don't care where you go to
And I don't care where you land
But just get out of there daddy as fast as you can
o
Oh, oh, oh, oh
o
Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run.
o
Run daddy run,
Run daddy run.
Run daddy run,
Run daddy run.
We all stopped realizing that tears clouded our eyes as I looked at Cashmere. She looked at me, and I could read her expression of regret and apologies that went on between us. Unable to say a coherent word, we hugged each other in apology, followed by Miya joining us. This was our redemption from the past years we had been through until judgment day.
"Beautiful. Absolutely splendid girls," Simon spoke out through the speakers, "Now let's take it from the top."
After a few rounds of singing, Simon announced that was all he needed for the month and shall contact us for more information. However, I pulled Simon aside, asking him to get a song for Cashmere to sing. Have to get at least one single. Simon grumbled, reviewing the next album song lists before pulling out a set of lyrics and the sample.
Cashmere was shocked by this, "Are you sure?"
I nodded, "Have at least one song."
Cashmere nodded as she looked at the lyrics. It was a song called Dead Air. It fits since the song was sung in a soprano and higher pitch. Simon told Cashmere she got a few days to go over the lyrics and to come back for the recording.
"Thank you," Cashmere said.
Simon nodded, then looked at me, hoping I was doing the right thing. I nodded, for I needed to make amends instead of enemies. Even if Cashmere and I get Reap, hopefully, it will give me a quicker death.
Once we were done, Cashmere, Miya, and I were escorted to the limo, where Hermes waited. We all got in and buckled up as the driver took us back to the Training Center.
Unable to form words, Miya, Cashmere, and I stared out the window until the Career spoke. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Miya asked, confused.
"She doesn't mean you, Miya," I corrected and stared at Cashmere. "Why now after five years?"
Cashmere took a deep breath, unsure how she would explain why she decided to apologize on a subject she had no control over. Lapis's death was inevitable, for it was kill or be killed, which the career would understand. Gloss knew that since the beginning, yet Cashmere has held a grudge against me since the victory tour.
"Are you planning on volunteering for the Quarter Quells?" I asked.
Cashmere sighed, "I don't know. A part of me does and proves to be the most victorious."
"You can't be serious," I said bitterly, fisting my hand till my knuckles were white.
"You'll die," Miya added in dismay.
"No, I won't because I'm going to win this," Cashmere arrogantly assured. "But there's a chance…"
"A chance that Gloss either volunteers or reaps as well," I finished for her. "Are you willing to kill your own brother?"
"Don't go there," The career snapped.
"If Haymitch and I were in the games, I couldn't or wouldn't dare stab my father in the back. Are you with Gloss?"
Miya stayed quiet, unsure if she should continue to join this conversation. Cashmere remained stern, holding onto the concept of the volunteer while reality struck on the idea of Gloss, and she was in the Quells. Would she be able to kill her own twin brother? What about her friendship with Enobaria and Brutus? Can she really kill her friends and career allies, or will she remember her past during her games when her career is an ally until the final eight?
"A Career is going to win this game," Cashmere warned. "We always have."
And that is when I knew it had become a war on all districts for the Quarter Quells, the Careers against the underdogs. History will never change.
Another major change in this chapter.
I hope you all are enjoying these changes.
Songs:
Run Daddy Run by Pistol Annie
Dead Air by CHVRCHES
Thanks for reading and please leave a review!