Effie

[fundamentally]

Peeta had vanished and Effie had lost her bloody mind. Off the rails. They put the show on hiatus and he'd caught her home once changing her clothes and she'd been so high he wasn't even sure she recognized him. As painful as this was, John is certain he can't do anything. No one will step in and it's not as if she'll listen. He can only hope she comes round before she's a tragic death on the front page of the Darrow Daily, accidental drink and drug death...

He's come today as he comes every day to take care of Princess. He feeds her and plays with her and pets her. And yes, he wanders the flat and fusses with her pillows and dresses and wigs.

He misses her so much. So terribly much.

Comments

[smiles_on]

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.

[fundamentally]

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.

[smiles_on]

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.

[fundamentally]

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.

[smiles_on]

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."