fundamentally

She's cold. Incredibly cold. She's been shivering so long her muscles ache from it, and her jaw is clenched tight to try and keep her teeth from chattering which is making her head throb and pound. But she's almost home now and she keeps concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, one step and then another, all the way from the beach to her front door.

Effie has no idea how long she's been gone, no idea what day it is even, but it's been quite some time since that mattered to her. Still, her mind is clearer than it has been since Peeta had gone. Since Prim. Since she woke up and found out she was the only one left and couldn't breathe anymore around the panic of knowing she was next.

But that was before the water and before she understood things and now if she could just make it home, just make it back to John, she thinks maybe, maybe everything will be ok. She doesn't have her keys, doesn't have anything with her or even the memory of losing it all, so she knocks on the door and hopes as hard as she can that he's inside.

John hears it and bolts for the door and drinks in the sight of her. Where her wig has gone is a mystery. What make up she'd been wearing has run off, only remnants of it clinging in crevices around her eyes. She's gaunt and pale and wet. Sopping.

"Effie, darling," he exhales and reached for her to bring her inside. ":ove, it's been days. I've been out of my mind."

She tries to apologize for scaring him, but she's shaking too hard to get the words out and all she wants is for him to hold her. To get her warm. To not be angry with her.

It takes an enormous amount of effort to get her stiff fingers to move, but she somehow manages to cling to him. Grasping at his shirt, and feeling the heat of his body radiating into her ice cold hands.

"You're bloody freezing. My god, come on..." he says, slamming the door. He pulls her along...more like carrying her to the bathroom. He fussed with the taps and hot spray came down.

"Let me get you undressed and warmed up. That's first."

She could cry from how relieved she is to have him taking care of her, but she's cried enough for two lifetimes already and she's too worn out and emotionally exhausted for any more tears. Instead she just lets go, closes her eyes and lets him make this better.

The hot water stings at first, but only for a minute before it's replaced by a full body ache that is somewhere between pain and relief. She hasn't let go of him and she doesn't open her eyes but she finally manages to whisper "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted a hundred times over, darling," he says, soaking his own clothes as he holds her up naked in the shower. It will all dry and doesn't matter at all. He gently washes her- the make up, the dirt, the salt and sand, scrubs it from her hair and face and from every crevice of her until she is new and clean and heated through.

And then, there in the hot water, he lifts her chin and he kisses her so sweetly, so painfully slowly. His beard is wet and his lips are soft and warm.

The kiss thaws something deep in her chest she hadn't even realized was frozen and she wishes she could just melt into him. But she needs him to understand what's happened, what she's realized, because it's so important and she wants to make things better.

"I didn't mean to scare you, John. I'm so sorry I did." Her throat feels odd and her voice is hoarse and unused. She can't remember the last time she's said anything aloud. "I was at Peeta's. I don't...I don't know how long. I just wanted to feel close to him. But I'm sober now. I think. I feel sober. I wanted to come home."

"I think that's a very good idea, Effie. It's time to come home and stop all this," he says softly, his voice rough with raw emotion. He kisses her again, and again, then simply holds her close as the water slowly begins to lose its heat.

"You're right. I know you're right." Her head is still pounding but it's duller. Less demanding of her attention. She pushes it away and focuses instead on the feel of his arms around her, on the way his lips taste. All the things she's been missing.

It's a long, quiet moment before she starts speaking again. Her head resting against his shoulder, his body holding her weight. "I went down to the beach. I remember how the water always seemed to help Finnick. I thought...I don't know. I thought it might help. I think maybe it did."

He listens and nods, hums his agreement. But the water's getting colder by the moment and so he shuts it off and guides her out to wrap her in a towel, and one for her hair, too.

"Stand there, now. I just need to..." he says awkwardly as he tries to peel off his own wet clothes.

There isn't much she can do but let him put her where he wants her. She feels exhausted in every cell of her body. When he lets go of her she can barely stay on her feet, her hand grasping the edge of the sink to try and steady herself as she sways.

She watches him undress and it all feels odd somehow. Too real maybe after spending so long doing everything she could to avoid reality. She expects it to hurt the way it's been hurting every second since Peeta had gone but it doesn't. There's pain but it isn't the same now because the fear is gone.

He grabs another towel and wraps it round his waist after giving his arms and chest a quick scrub. Then he's back on her, all about her. He dries her hair so very carefully. Her face. Her neck and shoulders. Her skin was warm but rapidly cools.

"Let's put you to bed," he says then. "Tuck you in and I'll bring you some water and...and toast. And Princess has missed you, she'll want attention," he babbles, tugging her along to the plush bed.

She might be exhausted, but she knows what she wants. For the first time in a very long time she feels absolute sure of it and what she wants is for him to stay right there and never let her go. So she lets him lay her down but she grabs his arm when he tries to move away.

"No. Don't go." Her fingers tighten around his wrist but she doesn't pull at him. Just holds him in place. "I don't need food right now. I need for you to lay down with me. I need you to hold me. Will you do that?"

He doesn't even hesitate, doesn't think for a moment otherwise. He simply lets his towel fall and he crawls into bed next to her. Scrawny and cold now, but he warms quickly under the blankets. It's such a simple thing to gather her in his arms and hold her close.

"Oh, I've missed you," he says softly.

Breathing in the smell of him she wonders how she ever could have run away, even for a little while. How she could have tried so hard to numb herself that she turned away from him.

"I wish I hadn't hurt you, John. I didn't mean to. I was just scared and I didn't know how what else to do. I don't ever want it to happen again." Her hands still ache from cold as she presses them against his skin. Kissing his chest and curls in as close as she can.

He kisses her stringy, wet hair and suffers her icy fingers. Glad to have her. Glad to hold her.

"No more apologies, Effie, darling. Please. I'm only happy you've seen the light. That you've come home," he said, nuzzling in and slinging a leg over her to pull her that much closer.

She hadn't intended for this to become sexual, she just wanted to touch him. But now that her skin is pressed against his she can't help but want more of him. Hungry to feel something besides anger and fear and loss. Needing him to remind her that she's still here and that she's not alone. That's he's right here with her.

Hand in his hair she pulls his lips to hers and it's tongue and teeth and desperation. "I'm home," she says in between kisses. "I'm with you. Love you."

He groans as she pull his hair. It never hurts, it's too thick to really hurt, but there's a burn to the pull that shoots straight to his cock. John kisses her back, civil at first, comforting, but moments later it's open mouth, gasping her name, licking her tongue and feeling the shape of her teeth. He maps the curve of the roof of her mouth and can only think of the pleasure he gets when he thrusts the wet head of his cock against it- brilliant friction.

"Oh, fuck, Effie," he gasps, his hand finding her breast and kneading, squeezing, pinching her nipple and feeling her heartbeat through it all. "God, you give me a really big dick. I mean, you...god..."

There's no question of what she gives him because he's rutting the rigid length of himself against her, more her thigh than anything since he's not quite in the right spot.

She laughs into the kiss, feeling lighter than she has in so long. It's almost strange to her to be happy in such an uncomplicated way, she'd nearly forgotten what it was like.

"Ah, now I know why you missed me." The smile in her voice makes the teasing clear and she can barely stand the sharp shock of how much she loves him right then. Like a jolt straight to her chest that steals her breath and makes her have to open her eyes and really look at him. It makes her need to remind herself of how beautiful he is, how real he is.

He's all wiry strength and warm skin against her and it's exactly what she needs right now. Something honest and delicious. "Tell me you're still mine, John. Show me you're still mine."

"Always yours, Effie," John gasps as he kisses her, lips moving to the soft skin of her jaw. His beard is rough and burns her, burns a rough path along her jaw and down her neck. Fingers squeeze and pull and knead her flesh, the tight nub of her nipple tempting him to roughness.

"Always yours...and you're mine. Your mouth and your brows and your tits and your..."

He slides his fingers down and slides them into the heat of her cunt, finding her growing slick and sliding them to open her up.

"You're beautiful. My most beautiful...god, I love you," he gasps, then bites into her shoulder and sucks to leave a mark.

The pleasure of his fingers inside her combined with the pain of his teeth digging into her skin makes her lightheaded and whatever she was going to say next is lost in a breathy sigh. She's been trying for every second since Peeta was taken from her to find a way to stop thinking. To close her mind to every thought but the ones she allows herself to have. It used to be so easy, back in her old life, back in the Capitol. It was the only way she knew how to live. Now she can barely remember how it used to feel and there weren't enough drugs in this city to let her escape herself.

But somehow, with John, she finds something like the quiet she's been looking for. He drowns out everything but the physical and it's everything she's been needing. She never should have run from him. She should have known he was the answer. Or maybe she needed to run in order to recognize where her home was. And she does know now. Knows it like he's tattooing the truth of it into every bit of her skin that he touches.

He doesn't let go with his mouth until there's a livid mark on her pale skin. He licks it and kisses it and smiles against it because he may as well have scrawled his name- J O H N- big letters laying claim. But then his kisses move and his fingers, those long and talented and expressive fingers, they fill her and stretch her and his thumb finds her clit to spark pleasure through her.

"Oh, Effie, darling. My love. Oh, I l love you. You awful girl, I should spank you for scaring me. Take that beautiful arse of yours and turn it over my knee and give you a paddling..." he threatens, but its low and seductive and breathless and hardly a threat at all.

She shivers hard and her eyelids flutter and she would give him anything he wanted in this moment, let him take anything he wanted from her. Maybe she always would but there are times when she wants to play at fear and times when every cell in her body is yielding to him and she can't even remember what it is to be scared. Not of him. Not of anything. She's feeling that now, that kind of all encompassing calmness that comes over her when she gives everything to him. It's so close to what she felt when she walked into the water. When she let herself float away in it and stopped running. Like when she came to shore feeling certain of things again. He makes her certain of things.

Her skin is throbbing where he's bitten her, right there under the sting on her skin, and she digs her nails into his shoulders, giving him back a little of what he's giving to her. She doesn't trust herself to say anything, doesn't want to say anything, so instead she kisses him and pulls him closer, pressing as much of herself against his warm skin as she can.

John kisses her then, soft at first, introducing himself to her mouth as if it was new. But then deeper. Deeper. Tongue and breath and lips meeting teeth. He moves onto her and his fingers withdraw. Instaed his cock fits in against her, one long hard line of flesh to grind against the length of her slit.

Pushing in would mean he'd come and that would ruin everything. So instead he grinds the head of his cock against her clit and reaches for her leg to pull her hip close, her knee high, her body flush.

"You are the perfect fuck," he grins. "Everything about you, Effie, darling...perfect. You are my jewel. My star. Perfection."

She feels like she's trying to remember how to breathe again. Like she'd been suffocating for so long but hadn't realized the air was gone until now. Or maybe it's the way he says these things to her, the fact that he means them, that leaves her spinning. Effie spent her entire life being complimented and flattered, but she never knew what it was to be truly cared for until Peeta and Katniss. Certainly never knew what it was to be truly adored until John. And while they've gone, back to Panem, back to...she's still here with him and that's what matters now. He's what matters.

Her eyes dazed and pupils blown she looks at him, reminding herself of every inch of his face. The textures of him. Her body moving against his on instinct, on muscle memory. "No matter what happens I'll never stop being yours. I promise. For however long we have."

That stops him in a way. His hips still buck, sliding his cock through her slick gash to tease her clit. And his hands skim over her creamy soft skin. But he takes one arm and braces himself up over her so he can look down into her eyes.

"You are mine and I am undeniably yours, Effie, darling. My heart is yours, sure as if I'd taken it out and given it to you in a box with a fancy bow. My soul is sours sure as if I'd melted it to a ring and slipped it on your finger. My life is yours because without you I'll die, Effie. I'll wither and grieve and shrivel and die without you."

Her skin feels cold again as she looks up at him, her brows knit and her eyes searching his face like she expects to find the answers there to all her questions. She doesn't know what she's meant to feel when he says these things to her. Doesn't have the frame of reference for these kind of truths and that's what chills her. That she knows without a doubt he's telling her the truth and for a moment she wants him to take it back. Wants to tell him that she can't be all this to him because nothing here lasts and everyone goes away and because she's made all the wrong choices and he deserves better that to keep picking her up when she falls.

But the chill passes as quickly as it came and the confusion is replaced with a smile and eyes that burn with tears she refuses to let fall because she's done crying. She chose to come back, she's chosen to stay, and even if they both disappear tomorrow it won't change what either of them feels. She has to remember that. She has to keep remembering that. So she strokes his cheek and she kisses him softly and she urges him harder, stronger.

He hadn't really expected her to say anything. He's come to learn that Effie can talk and talk about things of little consequence but it takes quite a bit of her effort to discuss things like love and souls and that's alright. He doesn't need her words when he has her kiss, when he's licking into the warm cavern of her mouth and tasting her sweetness. Hands clutch at her and the rod of hs cock draws back and accidentally find the mark so when he tries to find her clit again, instead he sinks into her cunt.

"Oh, fuck," he groans. "Wrap your legs round, babe. Hold onto me."

She gasps when he fucks into her, the pleasure of it so sharp and so immediate she can't help but dig her nails into his back and let her eyes fall shut again. He fills her up like he was made just for her and she wraps herself around him just like he tells her to. Holds onto him just like he tells her to. And she whispers "always" against his ear before she nips at his skin.

Hand in his hair because she can never stay away from it, she pulls him closer, brings his lips to her neck. Needing to feel his mouth and his teeth and the heat of his breath. "I love you," she says because she doesn't know what else there is. Doesn't know if anything could be more true. "Only you."

"Mmm, you better," he says, smiling against her neck before licking the curve of it. "No matter who fucks you...no matter who has their tongue in your cunt...I'm the one you love, yeah? I'm the one you come home to. I knew you'd come back. I knew you wouldn't vanish. I'm sure you're needed back in Panem, sure you have a part to play...but, Effie? I need you here. I need...I need you here. The universe has to feel it. My love. My darling. My Effie..."

He's gasping, his hips snapping hard as he punctuates his tender words with a rough fuck he knows will ground her.

"I won't go back." She says it like she can make it true by refusing to allow for the possibility of any doubt. It's another skill she was forced to master in the life she'd chosen but this time it's one she clings to because it's the only way she can go forward. She will stay here because she refuses to recognize that any other option exists.

She needs it to hurt, she needs it to be real and he knows that. He always seems to know just what she needs and she scraping her nails across his scalp and taking it harder. And then just a little bit harder. Moaning and gasping around the words. "You keep me here. Love you. Always you."

"I'll not let you go. I'll chain you to the foot of the bed and keep you like a pet before I'll let any capricious whatever take you from me," he growls. He grabs her leg and hitches it higher so he can fuck into her hard and deep, shoving her up the mattress into the pillows and chasing her along.

"You're mine. You bloody hear me? I've made a decision. I've made a decision and you're mine. Mine and I'm keeping you."

Her heart is pounding in her chest and she can feel the blood pumping through her veins and for the first time in far too long she feels warm. Hot to the touch. Like he's fucked every last trace of ice from her body and there isn't even the ache of thawing. It's just them, and their skin, and her flesh in his hands and the sound of her harsh breathing and skin against skin. All the things he's saying wrapping themselves around her like he's tying her to this place and to him with words. She chooses to believe that he can.

She grabs his hands and tries to get him to hold her wrists. She wants him to hold her there. "Yours. Hold me down, John. Keep me here." And the harder he fucks her the more she can't keep quiet. Pants, and grunts, and harsh breath against his neck where she presses her lips against his skin and nips at the line of his jaw.

He grabs her roughly and pins her delicate wrists to the bed. Her stringy blonde hair tangles on the pillow and her eyes rimmed red are blown with lust and need.

"Fucking take it," he says roughly, fucking her harder. He's so focused on her he ignores the heat in his groin. He wants her to explode, wants her undone. "Fuck me back. Make it good. You know what you like you slutty little bitch," he purrs affectionately.

She arches her neck and pulls at his grip on her arms just to feel it tighten, to make him have to work to keep her down. His fingers are wrapped tight and she can feel the bruises forming and the bite of her nails digging into her own palms. It's exactly what she wanted.

Tipping her hips she does what he tells her to. Fucks him and takes him and gets him just to the right spot on every thrust and it's too much and it's just enough and it's the most clear and alive she's been since...everything. Nothing dulled, nothing blurred, just them. Right up against that edge and then over it until she's coming and clinging and empty of everything except him.

His hand moves from her wrist to take hold of her throat, controlling her rather than actually choking her. He speeds up then and drives in until he fills her with the pulsing of his release. Once spent all he can do is sink onto her and kiss her where he can reach.

"My love. My precious. My darling," he murmurs between kisses.

Still trembling, she wraps her arms around him, hand in his hair and holding him close. Her heart continues to flutter in her chest but she feels utterly calm down to her bones. Warm and relaxed and as safe as she can ever remember being. Her victors are gone and she's can't protect them now, but she trusts that Haymitch will do everything he can for them. She trusts them to protect each other. And she has to let that be enough because she's still here.

She's here, and John is here, and they have each other. She has to believe she's allowed some kind of peace with him. That she has the right to try and find happiness. "I'm home, sweetie. Everything is going to be ok now."

Effie

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