Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/477847.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Hunger_Games_Series_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Haymitch_Abernathy/Katniss_Everdeen, Gale_Hawthorne/Madge_Undersee,
      Katniss_Everdeen/Peeta_Mellark, Gale_Hawthorne/_Mrs_Everdeen, Johanna
      Mason/Finnick_Odair, Various_Relationships, Katniss_Everdeen/_Cray, Effie
      Trinket/_Snow
  Character:
      Finnick_Odair, Katniss_Everdeen, Haymitch_Abernathy, Gale_Hawthorne,
      Madge_Undersee, Peeta_Mellark, Mrs_Everdeen, Johanna_Mason, Delly
      Cartwright
  Additional Tags:
      multi-pairing, Dubious_Consent, Underage_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-04 Completed: 2012-10-05 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 7834
****** Stories of Panem ******
by BubblyGreenBubbles
Summary
     This is a piece written as a part of the PTB S-university workshop.
     It's has multiple pairings. You don't have to be a part of the
     workshop to understand what is happening in the story. Collection of
     One Shots.
Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Ficology- The
     Human/Vampire Reproductive System.
***** Lesson 1 *****
At first they find it sweet that you’re so naïve; the sweet little district boy
who barely knows what to do with a woman. Then after the first dozen or so you
learn more.
You learn to tell what a client may enjoy after the first look at them –the
first conversation. That cuts out the awkward foreplay. You always find it
easier to take requests (demands) from them. But in the end it's obvious at
this point your naivety is gone and that they've started to shape you.
After so long they can't even fathom that you were once a naïve young boy. No,
not this handsome man who makes them feel things their spouses can't even
comprehend. Well, some can, but they pay extra for the couple's package.
Sometimes you long for the feel of un-treated skin. To run your fingers through
long soft (black) hair; not to have to look at the stiff, colored wigs they all
favor. The body modifications disgust you –the pierced skin, split tongues.
You've no idea why people find this attractive.
But more often than not you need them to look less than human. Because it helps
you feel as though it isn't happening. Makes it seem like some twisted
nightmare. But it's a nightmare that still happens when you're awake.
"I can't believe Daddy bought me you for my birthday. All my friends are going
to be jealous when I tell them I got you first." Her voice makes her sound 15,
but that could have been changed – however the make-up that's covering every
inch of her face makes her look at least 30.
"I'm sure you're used to making people jealous,” you whisper in her ear. You
need to make it seem like you want her. Pushing your erection against her
stomach causes her to let out a giggle. You hate the sound. It's so light and
innocent and it makes you think of her.
"Oh Finnick, take me, make me yours.” Her voice has a sigh in it. The more she
talks the younger she seems. The girl has clearly been reading too many of
those romance novels the ladies of the Capitol rave about.
Like every other victor they have under their thumb, you have a specialty move
or thing that defines you from the rest. One has her teeth that can bite
through anything; another specializes in discipline, if that's what you’re
into.
'The Trident', that's what they all want from you. They all think you take them
this way as some sort of throwback about how you won. They like that. They like
knowing what happened in that arena will be with you forever. Your trade mark,
your signature.
You do it like this so you don't have to look at them. Don't really have to
feel them. It makes it easier. It makes it worse. You can never decide.
You lay the naked girl against the silk sheets, again she's giggling, you're
sure she shouldn't be doing this.
Lying next to her, you mumble, "Get on."
Moving quickly, the girl straddles you. "Turn around."
She looks confused for a moment, but then realizes what you're going to do to
her.
"Lie along my legs, hands on my ankles. Nice and straight." You can feel her
heat against you, her soft stomach against your legs. If you look at the
ceiling during the act you can imagine it's someone else (Annie).
Letting out a long moan you can't be sure is fake or not, she pushes her hips
into your hand as you get her ready.
"Oh, please, Finnick, now. NOW!" She screams the last words as you part her
legs which lie along each side of your head and push into her slowly.
"Move your hips, you'll enjoy it more.” You try not to talk too much during. It
means you have to pay more attention.
The woman lying above you makes the most ridiculous sounds, suppose you are
too.
"Do you like that, hun, fucking me? Oh I know you like it." She's trying to
look around at you, but it's impossible in this position. It's how you want it.
"Yes." (No)
You stay like this for a while, until you know she's gotten her monies worth.
Then you let yourself spill inside her. Throughout your orgasm you feel empty.
(Sometimes you feel empty with her as well.)
***** Lesson 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: The non-
     gratuitous lemon
The fabric of his bed sheets is rough against my bare back; you can easily tell
they haven't been washed in months, but since it's him that doesn't surprise me
at all.
As his lips move along my neck, pressing hard, I find myself looking out the
window towards the house with one light on. I wonder if he can hear everything
happening in here. The sad thing is, if he can, I don't think he can bring
himself to care anymore.
I feel sick as I roll us over and push his shoulders against the bed. I lean in
and kiss him, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I can't help but moan
at the way it feels. Inside I wish I could just scream instead.
His body is different from what I'm used to. It's softer, but rougher, and that
makes it all the easier to tell myself this is wrong.
As I run my hands along his chest and stomach, I try to imagine hard, defined
muscles under my fingertips. His breathing gets harder and louder as I move
down his body. The smell of him fills the room, his room, the wrong room.
Pulling his pants off him, I throw them to the corner of the room. It doesn't
matter where they land, it's all mess, and I'm still not used to it.
I remember the first time I took a man into my mouth. It was awkward, but I was
so determined for it to be good for him; for me to be good at it. At the time I
knew he was fighting himself to not weave his fingers through my hair and push
into my mouth. He's always a gentleman I guess.
But this is different. He pulls roughly at my hair and it hurts. And I need it
to hurt. I need to be punished, but it feels so good.
He isn't gentle. He's never gentle. We're not gentle. He uses his leverage with
my hair to push me further onto him, till I gag, till I can't breathe; I love
it so much.
Letting go of my hair, he pushes me off him; I land on the floor, and he gets
off the bed, walks towards me and wraps his arm around my waist.
We stand silently at the edge of the bed. His chest pressed against my back and
his hands upon my breasts. He brings his left hand up to the back of my head to
pull it to the side so he can put his mouth at my neck. His other large hand
completely covers between my thighs. I know it isn't there to please me, just
to see if I can take him yet.
Sometimes he likes to remind me that the sooner I'm honest with everyone, the
sooner he'll give me everything. But he doesn't get it. Half the appeal of
sleeping with him now is the punishment of never really getting off. I don't
deserve that blissful and rough passion that makes me want to scream his name.
The wrong name.
He pushes his way inside me slowly but pulls out quickly. I can tell he's angry
tonight. He's setting a pace that's all for him, a pace that means he's not
going to last long.
As he gets what he wants from me, I just bury my face into the rough sheets and
try to think of what it would be like if this was happening in the other house,
with the right person.
I know that everyone knows what happens here. But they're all just waiting for
me to say it, to confirm or deny. But I can't, I need this to be all mine. For
the guilt to be all mine. So for now it's the worst kept secret in the
district.
When he's spent himself he collapses beside me and I roll over and look at his
face. He's looking at the ceiling. He never looks at me afterwards. I know he
feels the pain and the guilt too; the burden of our secret. It wouldn't be so
bad to keep it between us, in our relationship, but that won't work since there
are really three people in this relationship.
"Are you ever going to tell the boy, sweetheart?"
***** Lesson 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Writing a virgin
     scene.
His hands were clumsy as he undid the buttons on the front of her dress. Gale’s
big, strong hands trying to handle the small, delicate clips in Madge’s hair,
letting the long blonde strands fall to cover her pale breasts, was a sight to
see. He was worried he was going to rip the expensive fabric of her panties
when he pulled them from her hips.
The sound of her soft giggle filled the room. Her laughing was not the
motivation he needed right then.
“Sorry, it’s just that you’re normally so calm and collected. You always have
an air about you that tells people around you –you know what you’re doing. But
right now you look like you’re going to pass out.” She had tried to reassure
him, but the smile still played on her lips. He couldn’t help but smile as
well, sure he looked utterly ridiculous.
“Sorry, I’m trying, but this is the first time I’ve done this much.” He
couldn’t look at her when he admitted this. He knew most girls in District 12
assumed that he’d already been with girls at the slag heap. At least the ones
that didn’t assume him and Katniss had already been together.
But he refused to think about her in that moment; he knew she wasn’t thinking
about him.
He wouldn’t think about how he should have been running his fingers through her
long braid, pulling dirty hunting pants off of her olive legs. They’d be in the
forest, not on pale pink sheets.
“Well what have you done then?” He could tell by the tone of her voice and the
look in her eyes that she was worried she may not be experienced enough to
please him.
“Just some of the normal things up at the slag heap, you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, Auron gave me a blow job once.” He’d had thought about the petite
brunette girl on her knees in front of him, and her rage when he had cum saying
the wrong name.
“Did you enjoy it?”
He was sure it was a trick question. Of course he’d enjoyed it. He had no idea
what answer she wanted.
“Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Do you want another?” It was definitely a trick question.
Before he could answer her, she’d got on her knees in front of him, running her
palm against him, feeling him strain against his pants. He groaned when his
cock was freed from his pants as she pulled them down to his ankles.
Her hand was warm and soft - she’d clearly never worked a day in her life- as
she wrapped it around him. Her movements were slow and tentative and her faced
showed how unsure of herself she was. Her features changed to a look of
determination as she took him into her mouth for the first time.
With his head thrown back, he gripped her shoulders. Looking down he could see
that she was having trouble taking him, but then she swirled her tongue around
and his eyes rolled back for a moment.
He’d saw grey eyes looking up at him, her plump lips kissing him. He’d always
wanted to know what it would be like to shut her smart mouth like this, to make
her yield to him.
With gentle hands he moved her off of him and brought her face to his, kissing
her deeply before pushing her against the sheets. Since she was so new to
having someone’s hands on her, some of his touches would make her giggle. Madge
was ticklish it turned out.
He tried to make it good for her, tried to get her ready, but he just couldn’t
wait. He felt if he didn’t get inside of her he was going to explode.
She almost stopped the whole thing when he pushed inside her that first time.
Maybe he should have waited longer, pleased her more, and asked if she was
ready.
Instead he just closed his eyes as he moved. He wanted so badly for it to be
Katniss’s body underneath him –to run his hands along her toned legs, her firm
waist, wrapping her long hair in his fists as he moved in her.
It was all too much too soon; he wasn’t ready for the feeling, the emotions. It
all overwhelmed him.
And just like with Auron, he said the wrong name.
That had been weeks ago and Madge never said anything about it. He didn’t
either when Katniss returned.
“No Catnip, I’d been too busy worrying about you to get up to anything while
you were gone.”
***** Lesson 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Jerking Off
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” My pale hand strokes her soft olive cheek.
Her small, soft hand grasps mine and pulls it from against her face to the
underside of her breast. She takes my grip from her hip and moves it to mirror
my other hand.
“Oh, touch me Peeta. Please, please touch me.” Her voice is soft, but her
longing for me evident.
Her flesh is soft and warm in my hands; I love the weight of her resting
against my palms as I knead my hands against her.
The sound of her moans fills the air around us, and goes straight to my growing
problem. She sounds so soft and needy.
Her hands are on me, on either side of my face pulling me towards her lips.
I’ve imagined kissing her lips a thousand times. To feel them move against
mine, to feel them part and lead to something deeper. Thoughts like these had
kept me company on so many nights. But now I have the real thing. In the
unlikely circumstance of being in the middle of the games, in a cave I have
finally gotten what I’d spent years dreaming about.
Lying against her body I can feel her heat against my skin. My hands dip lower,
along her waist, against her hips.
“Stop, Peeta.” Her voice is quiet and forceful.
“I’m sorry. I knew it was too much.”
“It’s not that. I do want this, Peeta. I really do. But I want to touch you
too. I want to make you feel like you make me feel.” With her hands on my
shoulders she pushes me onto my back, reversing our positions.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you, Peeta. How I’ve dreamed of feeling
your hands on me. I’ve touched myself, you know, thinking about it.”
“Can you show me?”
“What?” Her voice seems so meek.
“Show me what you do when you think about me.” I try to sound confident.
She goes to move from on top of me, but I grasp both her thighs moving her to
straddle me. As I lift her, her leg knocks over the meal Haymitch sent -dried
plums and the orange flakes- we had for breakfast.
Her left hand moves her underwear to the side, her right hand dips between her
legs as she throws her head back.
“P…P… Please Peeta. Put your hands on me.”
Well who am I to deny her? Her fingers move faster between her legs as I lean
up and bring the tip of her breast into my mouth.
Her frantic hand brushes against my stomach; an amazing feeling shoots straight
to my groin as she cries out above me. Her screaming my name is the most
beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. She collapses against me, my hands stroking
her back.
The only sounds that fill the cave now are the rain outside and our breathing.
I feel her hand slowly move down toward my cock.
“Oh… oh… that is so…” Her firm grip is moving up and down and it brings me to a
loss of words. A small smile plays on her lips at this. I want to kiss her so
badly.
I don’t know where to look at her face, which is staring so intently at what
she is doing, or to where her hand is around me.
But the moment I feel her mouth on me it doesn’t matter it becomes too much for
me to keep my eyes open. The tension that had been building up inside me
finally let’s go.
And I open my eyes to find Katniss on her lying on her side, still out cold,
and with my own hand gripping me.
It didn’t matter if I was alone in the bedroom I shared with my brothers above
the bakery, or in a cave in the middle of the games were everything is
televised. Her effect on me is still the same.
And it makes me feel so pathetic.
***** Lesson 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Realism
I've no idea how it happened and I've no idea why I want it to happen again.
I'd only gone over there to see Katniss. Nothing more, I swear it was nothing
more.
I didn't think anything was wrong or different when she invited me into the
victor home. I'd been here a dozen times before with her daughter.
I thought she was just being polite when she took my hunting jacket from me,
and when she sat next to me at the table in the main room as we drank dandelion
tea.
But the moment I felt her hand on my knee I knew something was different. At
first I was too surprised to do anything. But when her hand started moving
further up my thigh I had to ask, I had to know what she was doing. She said
nothing, her hand moving up closer and closer till…
"Eilian, Mrs Everdeen, what... what are you doing?" I'd moved to the other side
of the large room in a matter of seconds. She couldn't have been doing… that.
"You take such good care of me and the girls." –Please don't mention your
children now. — "I just wanted to thank you." She looks sincere as she speaks
and I almost forget why I'd moved so far away from her in the first place.
"How?" I already know that answer but a part of my mind is clinging to the hope
I'm wrong. But another part isn't.
She walks towards me and even though I know what's going to happen, she looks
no different. The small part of me that doesn't want this to happen, wants her
to seem different. To look different, act different, for her to be anything
other than my best friend's mother.
She doesn't say anything just walks over to me and places her hands against my
shoulders and brings her mouth up to mine. As her lips move against mine I
gently touch her waist. She's softer than other girls I've been with. That's
because she's not some doe eyed girl down at the slag heap.
She pulls away from me, taking my hand and leads me up the stairs and past her
daughters' bedrooms into hers. The curtains are drawn and it smells like that
perfume my mother liked to wear back when dad was alive and we could afford it.
I sit on the edge of her bed and she kneels in front of me. I didn't think Mrs
Everdeen would do something like that. But then she just starts talking off my
hunting boots for me and stands up.
Standing before me she removes her plain, frayed, dress. It falls around her
feet as I look at her body. She looks nothing like the other ones I've been
with, her bodies softer. Not as firm. She skin is different. Not as tight.
She's still beautiful, but in a worn out way.
I take her in my arms again, kissing her, it'll feel right soon. I hope.
Straddling my lap is my best friend's mother. A woman who is the same age as my
mother and a woman I've known since I was 14, barely 14.
Without me even realising it she's removed my shirt and started on my pants.
She on top of me again and I stroke her thighs moving to her hips, up her
waist, to her breasts. All of it's so different. She's supple, I'm used to
toned.
After removing her underwear she pushes me back against the plush mattress.
It's nothing like the threadbare one at my small home in The Seam. Nothing
about this bed is like mine back home, the lavish sheets, over stuffed pillows.
We've one pillow in my home between the five of us. Mother and Posey have it.
Don't think about Mother. Or Posey.
Mrs Everdeen, Eilian, is moving above me. It feels amazing; I'm not going to
last long.
Don't say her daughter's name, whatever you do don't.
What would Katniss think if she knew what I was doing? She'd shoot me.
She's moving faster and it's almost too much. It is too much and the only sound
that fills the quite room is my grunts as I cum.
She stops moving, still above me. I can see the disappointment in her eyes. She
was expecting more. After getting off me she starts getting dressed again.
"Don't worry Gale; I know you'll be better next time." She isn't looking at me.
Next time? Do I want a next time? Yes.
Before I get a chance to respond I can hear Katniss and Prim coming into the
house. Mrs Everdeen leaves the room, fully dressed, to see them.
By the time I make it down stairs all three are sitting at the table. Prim
talking a mile a minute. And the moment I make eye contact with her I swear
Katniss knows.
"What were you doing upstairs, Gale?"
***** Lesson 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Dirty Talk
My hand grips the phone receiver tighter. I'm sure my knuckles have gone white.
One hand, this will never work. I settle the phone back into its cradle putting
the machine on speaker. Hands free, better, easier. I place my hands against my
thighs just as her voice fills the room.
"I've been waiting for your call all day." I love the unimpressed tone in her
voice. She's never pleased. Well almost never pleased. As my hands brush
against my thighs moving higher and higher, I imagine her sitting there a
noncommittal look on her face, legs crossed, the hem of her dress moving higher
and higher.
But I stop, my hands and my thoughts, when I hear him reply.
"I'd apologies but I'm not sorry. I just wanted to build you anticipation." His
voice sounds just like it does television. Just as playful, just as
charismatic, and just as scripted.
"Well it worked. I've been thinking about this all day. This morning when I was
in the shower and before when I was out in the forest where nobody could hear
me scream out your name." I bit my lip to hold back the groan I feel at her
words. I don't want to disturb them. It's better when you all act like it's
only the two of them.
"And what did you think about me doing that had you screaming hmm?"
"I was thinking about the last time we were together. Remember that Finnick?"
He's silent, thinking it over. I lean towards the phone. I need to know what
happened. It's obvious they fucked. But I want, need, details.
"Yes." Is that it? I push back into my chair. I did not pay for this.
"When I was in the shower I was thinking about when you tried to teach me to
swim in the training centre pool. But instead we just ended up fucking in the
shallow end." Her voice has gotten low, as if telling a secret. As if she hopes
I won't hear. Of course I'll hear.
"I thought about how you pushed up against the cold tile and kissed me as hard
as you could. You were so frustrated that I wasn't doing as I was told."
Do you ever? I think.
"Do you ever?" I can hear the smile in his voice.
"So when I leaned against the cold tile of the shower I imagined it was the
pool and slipped my hand between my legs. I thought about how much I enjoy
defying you."
Now were getting somewhere. I unbutton my pants, pushing them down towards my
ankles along with my underwear.
"Just a second Johanna." The rustling sound of his clothes being removed comes
out of the speaker.
"Take off your panties and then tell me about what you did in the woods." We're
all silent as we wait for her to fill his request. The only thing I can hear is
my own laboured breathing. They're so close to giving me what I want.
"But the once in the shower wasn't enough. Then again the once in the pool
wasn't either."
"Naa of course not." His voice it strained.
"Have you got a hold of your cock?"
"Yes."
"Good. I've got my fingers in pussy. Imagining it's you. Remembering what it
felt like…" She stops her breathes getting heavier, her words slower and less
thought-out.
My hand has moved to the apex of my legs. Moving in a way that makes my eyes
roll into the back of my head and a loud groan leave my mouth. If they hear it,
they chose to ignore it.
I wonder how many other people have heard this story. Who cares.
She starts talking again, "What it felt like when you bent me over the table in
your Capitol room, where you punished me for being naughty, again."
"Felt good didn't it? I love feeling you wrapped around me as I fuck you."
My left hand grips the arm rest of my seat. While my right moves more frantic
as I get closer to my release.
"Keep doing it Jo. I want to hear you scream my name like you did on top of
that table."
They both stop talking all I can hear are the sounds of their moaning, nothing
else. I don't need more. I'm getting so close. I know hearing one of them cum
would finish me. Just a little bit more.
Then I hear another voice, a third voice, come through the speaker.
"Thank you for choosing Capitol selective entertainment. If you would like to
buy more minutes for our Victor VIP service please contact your nearest Escort.
And again thank you"
***** Lesson 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. Beta: Pigy190. Workshop lesson: Teenage Sex Gods
She can't tell what hurts more: the hunger pains that almost permanently fill
her hollow stomach, or the winter winds that beat against her making her feel
like a thousand pins are being pressed into her exposed skin.
She borrowed a pair of shoes from her mother and a dress from Hazel. She told
the each of them it was for the other.
Trying not to catch the eyes of the other desperate girls waiting, she casts
her gaze towards the dim street lamp five houses down.
Mellark Bakery
The paint making up the words is peeling off of the aged wood that made the
front of the store. Seeing a single light on in a room on the second floor of
the bakery makes her wonder if it is the boy who saved her life long enough to
get her to this point.
A part of her hates him for it. Right now all she can think of is how he
prolonged her suffering.
Her attention is drawn away when the door to the home she stands in front of
opens. The frame of the large peacekeeper fills the doorway. His red, sweating
face looks over the girls and she feels more nervous when his gaze falls on
her. He jerks his head back in a gesture for her to get inside the house.
It takes her moment to get past the nerves and actually move, but once she's
inside the door closes behind her with a loud thud.
"Turn around." His voice is rough and he's slurring. Clearly he's already
started on the while liquor for the night. This scares her.
"Turn round then." He's getting impatient.
She holds her breath and straightens her back as she turns to face him. She can
do this, she has to do this. There is no other way.
"Well if it isn't little Katniss Everdeen. I'd been wondering how long it'd be
before you'd be knocking on my door." The smile on his face sends shivers down
her spine.
"How… how much?" Her voice breaks as she speaks to him. She just wants to get
the night over and done with, so she never has to think about it again.
"Eager are we. I like that. I like that a lot," His lips are right against her
ear as her speaks to her, and his figure is domineering over hers. "Thirty
coins for the night."
Only thirty coins. She thought it would be more. She needs it to be more. But
she needs to take what she can get. It will have to do.
"Okay. How do we do this?"
His booming laugh fills the room, "What do you mean 'how do we do this'? You
mean to tell you never done this before"
"I meant do you pay me before or after. But now that you ask, no, I haven't
done this. Nothing like this, I'm a virgin."
Her nerves gave way to anger. How dare he laugh at her?
Before she has a chance to leave, or to let her anger get the best of her, he
pushes her against the wall. His mouth moves hard against hers. She's sure
there will be a notable bruise on her face in the morning.
His large hands move roughly against her legs bringing Hazels dress to her
waist, then further, over her head. He stood back from her then, taking in her
bare form.
He leads her through the house to the bedroom.
"Sit down. On the edge," he instructs her while pulling his pants down.
He stands in front of her, pants off, his cock at her eye level.
"Give me your hand." She reaches up to him and he grabs her wrist bringing her
hand to his hardness. Covering her hand in his own, he moves them both up and
down.
"Just keep doing that till I tell ya to stop," He mumbles at her.
Her wrist hurts from the repetitive movement. But she knows better than to
stop. He leans in closer to her.
Once her hand is off him; he pushes her back against the bed. Every muscle in
her body tightens in fear, as he parts her legs.
She can't help the cry that slips out of her when he pushes inside her. The
smile pulling at his lips tells her he enjoys that. He enjoys the proof that
he's truly defiled her.
She feels her body tremble as he moves against her –inside her, and she's
powerless to stop it. Head to the side, and away from his view, she lets her
first tears of the night fall. The only sounds filling the room are the sounds
from the bed, his grunts and her sobs.
His pace gets faster, pushing in and out of her at an erratic pace before he
suddenly stills; dropping all his weight against her with a final grunt. She
welcomes the ache between her legs when he pulls out for the final time.
The now constant pain between her legs made it difficult to get dressed. He
hands her a bag of coins at the door and tells her to come back for more as she
leaves.
She knows he's sitting back laughing to himself over his drink when she makes
it halfway home and looks in to the bag.
Ten coins.
***** Lesson 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Unresolved Sexual
     Tension
The paint on the tip of my brush glides across the canvas. The whole painting
is really starting to come together. Each stroke perfect, at least they were
until I was startled by a noise downstairs. Immediately I think it's Haymitch.
Looking around for his back up stash of liquor, but the footsteps are to quiet.
Greasy Sae maybe, but she doesn't often leave her home anymore.
I never suspected it was Katniss. Since my return to District Twelve nearly 2
years ago we'd only ever meet at her house, or Haymitchs. Or on one of the few
times she ventured out that far, in the recently rebuilt town square, but never
in my house.
But that isn't what surprises me the most. After standing in my living room
just staring at each other for several moments she confidently strides over to
me. With one hand on either side of my face she brings me down to her.
It's been so long since I've kissed her. Since I've felt her lips move against
mine. Through my surprise she manages to pull a moan from me. One of my hands
has a light hold of her braid and my other has a tight grip on her hip. I feel
like my knees are going to buckle the moment she deepens the kiss and her
tongue starts to move against mine.
Once I feel her hands move into my hair and gently tug I pull away. This is too
good to be true. Either this is a dream or Katniss is in one of her emotional
states, although I've never seen her act this way during one.
"What's wrong?" Her voice is so small. She thinks I'm rejecting her. As if I
ever could.
"I should be asking you that."
A look of confusion spreads across her face.
"Why are you acting like this Katniss?" I try to keep my voice as even and calm
as possible, not letting my nerves show, I can't scare her anymore then she
already is.
Panic fills me as she backs away. I just wanted to be sure she wanted this. I
didn't want her to feel rejected and hate me for it.
"I'm just tired of it Peeta. I want it to stop." I would be worried by her
words if it wasn't for the light tone to her voice. Now it's my turn to be
confused as a smile pulls across her lips. "I'm tired of not getting what I
want. For nearly as long as I can remember I've put everyone before me and
never bothered to really think about what I want and what would make me happy.
And then when I finally got the chance to decide who I wanted when I was
finally given a choice it ended up being no choice at all. But that stops now.
Now I get what I want."
Before I get a chance to ask her what she wants her lips are on mine again, her
hands in my hair, and she's pushing us towards the wall furthest the window.
I feel her hands leave my hair as I dip my head down to kiss her neck. Just as
I suck at the skin just below her ear I feel her undoing the buttons of my
shirt.
A deep moan leaves me as I feel her nails scrape across the skin of my chest.
Tracing the scars, putting to memory every mark that's on me and I don't feel
self-conscious at all.
My fingers move from her hips to her stomach, right under the hem of her shirt.
I feel every raised scar on her beautiful skin as I slowly bring the bottom of
her shirt higher and higher.
Her shirt falls to the floor and she tries to shy away and cover herself from
me.
I take her hands in mine and hold them at our sides, giving me a full view of
her.
"I've spent years imagining what you would feel like under my hands, what you
would look like. And I was wrong all this time."
I pause for a moment, just so I can continue looking at her.
"I've imagined your skin would be so soft to touch and flawless without a mark
on you. I've spent years wanting to kiss every inch of you and to just look at
you because I could. Now that I finally have that chance I know everything I've
pictured over the years has been wrong."
I feel her trying to pull her hands from me. Trying to get away but I won't let
her. Not until I'm finished.
"You are so much more beautiful than I ever imagined. I don't care about the
scars. They don't make you ugly. They show how strong you are. So don't ever
hide them from me. I don't want to kiss every inch of you. I want to love every
inch of like you deserve. And I don't want to look at you because I can. I look
at you because I can't look away."
I let go of her hands, expecting her to run away. Instead she wraps her arms
around my shoulders and kisses me again. This kiss isn't like the ones we
started with. This one is slow and thoughtful and makes my knees want to buckle
for a whole other reason. This kiss isn't out of lust. It's out of love and I
never want her to stop.
***** Lesson 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Dialogue during sex
     scenes.
"I heard that the butcher is looking for an apprentice." She sounded so hopeful
that I couldn't tell her that he'd never take me. I couldn't crush her hope.
"Yeah, I'll ask around about it about when we head into town tomorrow." My
fingers played with the ends of her hair. She always wore it down. She looked
so beautiful.
"If he chose you then you wouldn't have to go to the mines." I wanted to kiss
the small smile playing across her face. Kiss it and make it go away.
"Maybe after a year or so. If I take in some laundry and we save. Really save.
We could move from the seam. Raise our kids better than what we had." Of course
at the time I agreed with her. I never could deny her anything. Never tried.
"Maybe." We were lying on her bed. In the small room she shared with her
sisters. They were at school.
"Will you ask him before or after the reaping?"
"After. Just in case."
Her smile left her face then along with a lot of the light in her beautiful
eyes.
"Don't say that. Don't." Her voice was so small. I took her into my arms.
"Don't worry about it. They'd never pick me." If I only I knew at the time how
big a lie that was.
She didn't look at me. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
I lifted her chin to face me again bringing her mouth to mine.
She felt as though she hardly weighed a thing when I gently pushed her down
against the thin mattress. The too old springs of the bed had groaned in
protest.
"Haymitch, not now." Her voice had a sigh to it. She didn't really mean it and
I knew that but I still asked, "why not?"
My voice had been muffled because I was kissing along her neck.
'What if my parents came home?' It was the same thing she said every time we
moved past hand holding. Which was a lot.
I still think about how beautiful the giggle she let out sounded when I said,
"as if they don't already know. There is a reason after all as to why your
father is always holding the wood axe when he answers the door for me."
"I don't know why he bothers."
Before I could reply she'd turned us over.
My girl liked to act innocent. But I knew better. I was the only one who knew
better.
Her grey dress, covered in patches rode up her olive toned thighs as she
straddled me.
My hands ran down her back undoing the buttons of her dress and then ran back
up stroking her skin.
"Take it off." She always was bossy.
She'd sat back up so I could take the dress off of her. She'd tried to lean
back down, kiss me again. I didn't let her.
"No. Just let me look at you."
She did. I'll never forget that image.
"You know it doesn't matter where we live or what we do to make a living it'll
be perfect as long as you're there every day with me." Every word of it was
true.
"As long as you promise to stay with me every day too."
Like she had to ask. I didn't answer her.
I just pulled her against me and kissed her until we couldn't hold our breath
anymore.
Every time we'd been together had been on that bed. Then was no exception.
The whole time she moved above me she was telling me how much she loved me and
I told her the same.
She told me about how once we were ineligible for reaping we could start a
family.
Boys. She wanted lots of them. I wouldn't deny her. I told her we would need at
least six boys before we had one daughter.
"Why?" It came out as a pant as she moved faster.
"Because if our daughter is even a quarter as beautiful as you then I'm gonna
need all the help I can get."
It was true.
We talked the whole way through. She liked it when we did that.
For two reasons she said.
Made it more intimate. Both our bodies and our minds. I laughed.
Also because apparently when we spoke like this I said the first thing that
came to mind. Never lied.
Afterwards we just lay together. Still talking.
"Promise you'll go talk to the butcher. Please?"
"Yeah, right after the reaping."
I think about that afternoon every day now. I think about how I never did end
up seeing the butcher. I think about how the next time I saw her lying in that
bed waiting for me, the sheets were stained red and her throat was wide open.
Another message from the Capitol to its newest victor.
***** Lesson 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is my first attempt at a The Hunger Games fic. Each chapter is
     getting written as a part of a writers workshop and will be around
     700 -900 words long. Various characters and pairings. All chapters
     have adult content. No Beta. Workshop lesson: Orgasm me to bits and
     then the end.
Being an escort is a very sought after position, no matter how low the
district, so certain procedures have been put in place to sort out undesirable
influences on the tributes.
They must be tested for background. Can't have any rebellious sympathizers this
close to the games. Could be disastrous. Proper upbringings are required for
all escorts. Good breeding is paramount after all.
Then public image, can't have some boorish brut representing the superiority of
The Capitol to the Districts.
After that, compliance. If it's expected of our victors it's expected of our
escorts.
If the Victors are made to entertain the higher persons of Panem then their
escorts are expected to do the same.
These are things every escort knows, and these are things Effie Trinket is
about to learn.
Effie sat calm and collected as she waited in one of the many halls of the
mansion. She would let no one see her nervousness. She would be the perfect
lady.
She hadn't understood why she'd been called to meet the President. Her family
background check had been impeccable, as one would expect of a Trinket.
She and her family held a well respect image among their class in the
community. So it couldn't be about that.
Effie Trinket was truly baffled.
But she started to understand when Snow asked her about how she would publicize
a Victor to the Capitol. He did not like her answer and gave her the correct
one in return.
"With yourself, Miss Trinket."
Of course she had heard rumours about what a Victor and Escort must do. But she
thought them nothing more than just silly rumours spoken around the champagne
bottle at parties.
So when he asked if she knew what he meant she so desperately wanted to deny
any knowledge in the hope that ignorance is in fact bliss. But she knew better
then to lie to him. So when she said yes, yes she knew. He replied.
"Show me. Prove to me you do"
Naturally Effie prided herself on being a lady of the highest standard. So
needless to say she never felt more humiliated and degraded in her life then in
the moment she sank to her knees before him.
It was difficult for her to bring her hand up towards the growing bludge in his
pants. It seemed as though her mind knew what she had to do but her body was
just unwilling.
Just this once. You just have to prove it to him once. And better to prove it
on your knees then on your back, she told herself.
It didn't help.
As she took her President into her hand she resolved that her attitude in the
hallway would be required in this office as well.
Show no one how nervous you really are.
She is after all the perfect lady. No matter what the situation.
She did not react nor did she falter at his jab that if her intention was to
only ever use her hands a lot of her tributes would end up dead because she
would never get a sponsor like that.
She would need to fix her lip make up after taking him in her mouth. She can
only hope no one can guess why it's smeared on her face.
She thought all in all at this point the interview is going quite well. He
didn't seem angry with her at all. Rather the opposite truth be told.
His hand moved to the back of her neck. Changing her pace. It sent chills down
her spine.
She could hear the leather on the arm rest of his chair groan under the
pressure of his other hand clutching it.
The sound of both their breathing filled the room.
His deep and expectant. Waiting for the end.
Hers quick and shallow. Begging for the end.
After he came down her throat he dismissed her from the room with just a wave
of his hand.
It wasn't until Miss Trinket was at the door that he said anything to her.
"Well done Miss Trinket. Most escorts don't handle the first one with such
grace."
Oh dear. The 'first one' she did not like the sound of that.
"You may have District 12"
After all that all she got was 12.
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