fundamentally | Effie NYE

Effie NYE

Kagura mountain lodge was huge and offered many dark corners and empty hallways, especially on the upper floor. John had endured the party for as long as he could stand, watching Effie as she made her rounds through the crowd. She was so beautiful and the way she interacted with people was so effortless. John was truly jealous of her in that way.

But then the clock struck twelve and she was at his side, kissing him into the new year. Blood pounded in his ears and his groin and before John knew what he was doing he'd taken hold of her wrist and was dragging her off. Away from the crowd. Down a hallway, kissing her and touching her. Shoving her against the wall to ruck up her skirt and feel the bare flesh of her thigh above her stockings on the landing of the stairs leading downward.

"Effie," he gasped into her mouth. The single soft word echoed in the empty stairwell.

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Wet. Wet. Gushing wet and he laps it up. Fingers, tongue moaning into her cunt as he coaxes her through it to the other side. And as soon as she relaxes, as soon as the grip on his hair relents, John rises to his feet.

"I love your cunt," he rasps, and then he's on her. Grabbing her. Turning her. Pulling her ass so she has no choice but to offer it up so he can drive his cock into her, eager for his own release. He gives her no time to relax or recover and certainly no time to comprehend or protest before he's fucking her hard and fast.

She can hear the sound of her nails scraping down the wood of the door, the sound of his flesh against hers, the way he's breathing. She can feel how his fingertips are digging into her hips. All of it somehow initially louder and more intense than the feel of him fucking into her. Like her brain is focusing on the minor details before it can register the enormity of the main event. Not because she doesn't want it -- she desperately wants it -- but because the sensations are beyond overwhelming.

And then, between one heartbeat and the next, everything snaps into crystal clear focus and she makes a sound that's almost a growl. Pushing back against him, trying to find some way to reach him, to touch him. "I need...I need," she tries to get the words out but she can barely breathe around the pounding of her heart. "Your hands... skin...please."

He pulls her dress up higher and then his shirt up too so there can be more skin against skin. He's grunting with every push, his balls aching as they draw up. She's wet and hit and deep and perfect. Every time he draws back his cock chills just a fraction, making her all the more hot.

And then to add to it all he thrusts in and smacks her ass, knowing he's allowed. Knowing she's always eager for the pain. He might take care of details like her wig or her make up but when it comes to fucking her everything from the neck down is his to abuse and appreciate.

"Fuck, Effie. God...God, just a little...I'm going to come. I'm so...I'm going..."

Just a bit more. Harder. Faster. More.

The smack makes her gasp and flush, just the way she likes it. Always him giving it to her just the way she likes it and so she never says no. Never resists. It makes them fit so beautifully and she never looks at it, never examines the dynamics of it because she doesn't need to. Doesn't want to. He can give her pain and fear in measured doses. He controls it. And if he can control her pain and her fear then he can keep her safe and she needs him. Needs him to keep control because she doesn't know where the limits are anymore. She doesn't know if she ever did.

Pushing back she meets his every thrust, urging him on, squeezing around him, giving him everything she can to make it good. Better than good. She wants the fingertip bruises on her hips, the burn of the smack, she wants his sweat and his spit on her skin. She wants all of him on all of her until there is nothing left in her to think about tomorrow. Just this. Just now. "I love you. Fuck, I love you. Do it. Do it."

It doesn't take much more. Not at this pace. Not with her pushing back to meet him and all but begging. He drive in, in and in and hard and fast and when he comes he grips her hips so tight his fingernails bite crescents into her skin and he swears a string of profanity that begins in English and ends in French because one language isn't enough.

"You fucking brilliant, beautiful whore," he says in the most drunken and appreciative way. He stays there for a long moment until his cock begins to flag. Then without a thought he withdraws and sinks to his knees again to lick her clean, drinking his own come from her as if it's an honor.

It starts out so gently, just the slightest trembling in her hands, her arms. Then it moves down her body until she's shaking all over and at first she thinks it's just sensory overload. It would be far from the first time she's been left that way. The feel of his mouth on her cunt, his hands on her thighs, every inch of her over sensitized and wrung out.

But then it's something else entirely and it hits her so hard and so fast it steals the breath from her lungs. As though a bubble had burst and the water is rushing in, a freezing wave that's crashing over her and sucking her under. She loves him so fucking much and she's so fucking scared and no matter how hard she tries to block it out, it's there now. All that fear is there now and she doesn't know what to do to save herself from drowning.

She sucks in a desperate, gasping breath before she starts to cry. The trembling turning into shaking as her knees go out from under her.

It takes no time for it to register to him. She sobs once and he stops what he's doing immediately because while there may be no limits to what he can do to her he knows precisely when he's gone too far. He knows because he so rarely manages to go to any extreme. But there it is, she's crying and he's sure he's overstepped.

"Oh, no. No, no, Effie, darling," he says, rising and wiping off his face. "Come now. Come here. I've stopped. It's done, love."

And as he always is afterward, he's soft and gentle, offering her every bit of comfort and support. He's quite good at this part. The after care. This comes naturally.

The pain of the loss squeezes her heart to the point where she has to fight to breathe around it. As profound as the moment Peeta told her. Even through the drink and the drugs and John's arms around her and the time that's passed since they'd gone. It's fresh and raw and it aches down into her bones.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She isn't sure what she's apologizing for, maybe everything. Ruining the night, making him have to comfort her, not being able to stop crying. Not being stronger, maybe. "I just want them back, John. I want them back. I'm sorry."

She lays her head on his chest and closes her eyes. Desperate to try and find that numbness again that she'd worked so hard for.

He hears and he can only think of that day when they'd first realized people could vanish. And now her victor Katniss was gone and the other one- Finnick had been his name- they had vanished. He knew it had profoundly affected Effie. He'd seen how she stayed in bed too long, was high or drunk much more than ever...

"I'm so sorry, darling," he said softly as he kissed her temple. "If I could bring them back to you I would."

"I need this to be real, John. I need it to be real. Do you understand? I can't..."

Her voice is wet from tears and the words are broken by her breathing, but they're there. The fear so overwhelming she'll do anything to block it out. She knows he's heard it before, she knows he understands why she's scared, but that doesn't stop her from needing reassurance. It doesn't stop her from needing to hear him say it so she won't be alone.

"They've gone and I don't know where and I don't...I don't know if they...if they don't remember this I can't stand it, I can't stand this. Please just let this be real."

"It is. It is, love," he says, holding her tight and rubbing her slowly. He'd be lying if he said this caught him off guard. It did in that it was now, but he'd seen it coming. Seen it coming since Peeta had told her.

"It will be alright, Effie, darling," he says softly. There's nothing for it, he can do so little. She's drunk and high and emotional and he has to let her ride it out. "I'm here. We're...it's real. Very real. It's alright."

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Effie NYE

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