FIC: ST RPS -- Tribute (2/2)
Title: Tribute (2/2)
Author: the_deep_magic
Artist: temporalranger (see all art here)
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: NC-17
For warnings and more notes, please see part one
As torturously long as the day had been, that night seemed terrifyingly short. He and Risa were awakened early, even though the interviews weren’t until the evening. Spengler rambled on during breakfast about the importance of representing District 4 to the country, but Chris could see even Spengler didn’t really care about what he was saying.
It seemed they’d been rushed through breakfast just to hurry up and wait to be escorted down to their prep teams. Chris found himself on the sofa next to Risa, and when he looked at her, he felt a sharp pang of guilt for ignoring her so completely. She hadn’t sought him out, probably for the same reasons he’d avoided her, but Chris had no idea if she had had anyone to talk to these past few days.
“Hey, Risa,” he said, as casually as possible. “You see Spengler’s face when the servers brought him that plateful of tuna sashimi?”
She looked at him skeptically. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”
“Mostly I’m trying to distract myself,” he said honestly. “Hoping it’ll do the same for you.”
It took a moment, but slowly Risa began to smile. “And he couldn’t send it back because it was the really expensive kind, so he ate every bite of it.”
“Ah, so that’s why he actually ate it. I was wondering.”
Risa nodded. “My mom butchers and sells bluefin back home. I can pretty much tell the price just from the smell.”
She looked like such a brave little thing, talking about home so easily. Maybe it helped her, or maybe she was in denial. Chris decided not to ask about her family. “You nervous about the interview?”
Risa gave him the same look as Katie did when he said something particularly boneheaded. Did all girls learn that look in school or something? “Okay,” he backpedaled, “stupid question.”
“Mags was pretty helpful,” Risa said, then leaned in to whisper, “a lot more than I thought. She’s smart, but she’s so…”
“Old,” Chris finished for her. “I think she might have actually invented the fishhook.”
That got a small giggle out of Risa, and Chris was once again struck by the fear of getting to know this girl. But he decided that if he refused to comfort a terrified 13-year-old girl, then these fucking Games had already sucked the humanity out of him.
They made slightly awkward small talk. Risa’s stylist, Agathena, had been at her job for years, but Risa had struck up a sort of friendship with a younger member of her prep team. Chris was glad for that small mercy - at least Risa hadn’t been completely alone these last few days.
“Do you like Zach?” she asked with a mischievous grin. “He’s cute.”
Chris’ heart began to beat faster. He had no idea if he had given himself away, or what she had been told about men who liked other men. He decided to go the comic route to try to cover up his nerves. “He’s not cute, he’s dreamy,” Chris said, fluttering his eyelashes.
“Glad you see it, too,” Risa replied, and Chris knew that she had figured out something was going on. But she didn’t push it or ask questions or try to embarrass him. He had the momentary and horrifying thought that she’d try to use it against him in some way, in the interview or in the arena, but when he looked at Risa, he couldn’t find it in himself to be that cynical.
Maybe that was a weakness.
But before he could give it too much thought, their respective prep teams arrived, minus the stylists, to whisk them away. Chris had never bathed so frequently or so vigorously in his life - not a lot of time or fresh water to spare for anything more than very basic hygiene while out at sea - and he was pretty sure he was starting to lose layers of skin at this point.
John’s job was done by now, so Chris was first turned over to Rachel, who seemed horrified at the fact that he had split a fingernail during training; Chris hadn’t even noticed, his hands were so used to aching and cracking and bleeding. But she was able to use some kind of glue and a file to make it look “almost as good as new,” just in case the cameras should, god forbid, pick up on a tiny physical flaw and ruin Chris’ chances in the arena as well as his prep team’s reputation. But Chris held his tongue and let her work - she was just doing her job, and his nail did hurt a bit less once mended.
She chattered as she did his makeup - “just so you won’t look shiny on camera, I swear” - and though Chris couldn’t care less about what the stylist for District 8 had to say about the ban on decorative skin coloration for the tributes, the noise was almost soothing, and he obviously wasn’t expected to participate. When Rachel had finished, she gave his face one last, critical look, then to Chris’ great surprise, gave him a quick kiss at his hairline, so as not to disturb his makeup. “Good luck,” she said, squeezing his hand and bustling out of the room.
Zoe followed right after her. “Well, I see you’ve still got both your ears. Rachel didn’t manage to talk them off?”
Chris grinned. “Wasn’t for lack of trying.”
“Thanks for humoring her. She’s nervous. It’s her first year working the Games - she’s fantastic, but she doesn’t quite know how to act around the tributes,” Zoe said, digging out combs and brushes and bottles of hair product. “She means well.”
When Zoe’s back was turned, Chris shut his eyes and sighed quietly. Everyone meant well, from the prep teams and stylists to the cooks and servants. Didn’t mean they could do a damn thing about Chris taking an arrow to the chest when the time came. He wondered what it must be like, growing up in the Capitol without the fear of a bad season that couldn’t provide for the year ahead, of a storm that could destroy your entire livelihood. Hell, without fear of the reaping itself.
At least they’re trying, Chris thought. At least to them I’m not just another animal getting hunted down. They would watch the Games, just like everyone else in Panem, and Chris knew they’d mourn him if he died. Maybe not for long, but John, Zoe, and even Rachel seemed like the kind of people that would at least remember his name.
It wasn’t until Zoe announced that she was done that Chris realized he’d zoned out completely. He looked at himself in the mirror and almost laughed - his hair looked almost like it did when he rolled out of bed in the morning, except with a kind of indefinable art to it. Well, at the very least, Zoe was good.
“Not too much of a talker, huh,” Zoe said, admiring her own work. “Hope you’ve got a good strategy for the interview. But you might not need it. Just give the audience one of those smiles of yours and they’ll be eating out of your hand.”
“Thanks, Zoe,” Chris said. “Any advice?”
He’d been referring to the interview, but Zoe’s face went deadly serious for a moment, and Chris had the fleeting thought that she’d be a terrifying threat in the arena. “Don’t let your guard down. Don’t hesitate. And don’t leave someone wounded. I know you think you aren’t a killer, but you aren’t doing them a favor, and it could save your life later on. If you need to take someone down, make sure you take them out.”
Chris’ throat was suddenly too dry to swallow. “O-okay.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry this happened to you. No one deserves it, not even the kids that train and volunteer for it. If it makes you feel any better, your odds are… unofficially very, very good.”
Chris took a deep breath and figured he’d better get his head back in interview mode. “Hypothetically, of course,” he said with a weak smile. “I mean, it’s not like you guys are allowed to bet on me or anything.”
Zoe winked at him. “Of course not. Just - hypothetically speaking - you’d better get your ass out of there alive if I want to eat for the next year.”
Chris couldn’t quite manage a laugh at that, but Zoe looked like she understood. “I’ll see you just before you go onstage to make sure Zach hasn’t fucked around with your hair between now and then. Right, I forgot to mention: don’t let Zach fuck around with your hair.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll go get him.”
“No need,” Chris heard a familiar voice say, and he turned around to see Zach coming in with a garment bag. Chris’ heart immediately shot into his throat, but if Zoe noticed, she didn’t draw attention to it.
“Remember what I said,” Zoe said on her way out, and Chris couldn’t tell if she was referring to his hair or… the other thing.
And then he was alone with Zach. Well, not precisely alone. He was pretty sure the prep rooms weren’t directly monitored, not if Zoe had felt comfortable bringing up the betting pool, but nor did the doors lock, and anyone could walk in…
But Zach was unzipping the garment bag, looking excited, and Chris tried to push everything else out of his mind. What elaborate get-up had Zach concocted for him? A suit with working sprinklers attached? A tuxedo made out of tarpaulin?
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Chris said when the clothes were revealed. The pants were simple cargos, and the shirt was… “Plaid?”
Zach just grinned. “When was the last time you wore a formal suit?”
It took Chris a minute to think. “At my Granddad’s funeral.”
“Exactly. I send you out there in a suit, you’re going to be uncomfortable as hell and, worse, look uncomfortable as hell. Obviously, this is a little more casual than most, but at least try it on before you make up your mind.”
Chris did, so shocked that he thought nothing of stripping in front of Zach to put the clothes on. The pants fit him perfectly, loose enough to be comfortable, but just tight enough to show the shape of his ass. Chris almost rolled his eyes at that.
And the shirt… yes, it was plaid, but it wasn’t the rough, heavy flannel he lived in back home. He couldn’t identify the material - it was soft as cashmere, and even looked touchable. And woven into the plaid - which was a slightly muted blue that made his eyes look like the ocean itself - was some kind of glistening fiber that just barely caught the light when he moved.
Zach looked like he was suppressing a grin at his own genius. “I went understated on purpose. I’m trusting you to provide the charm.”
“Um, thanks?”
“Though I did give some thought to putting you in a wetsuit…”
“No, this is great. Excellent. Really, really… Oh god, I’m going to fuck this up so bad.”
“Chris,” Zach said, stepping closer, his voice going soft. “You’ve got this. Worst case scenario, you say something embarrassing and you blush. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are when you blush? You might want to flub up on purpose.”
“Don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Chris said, unsure if his thrumming heart was a result of nerves or Zach’s close proximity.
Zach’s long, dark eyelashes dipped and his lip quirked up in a small smile. “The people already love you. I can honestly say I have never told a single one of my clients this, but… just be yourself.”
Chris couldn’t stifle a groan. “That’s all you’ve got? ‘Be yourself’? I’m screwed.”
“And this,” Zach said, leaning in and pressing his lips to Chris’.
Chris was too shocked to react - Zach’s tongue was sweeping lightly against Chris’ lower lip and then his mouth was gone. No, not gone, trailing hot breath up to Chris’ ear, where Zach whispered, “For luck.”
“I, um…” Chris babbled. “Could I have a little more luck, please?”
Zach chuckled, his nose still pressed lightly to Chris’ cheek. “After. I promise.”
&&&
&&&
After Zach left, Chris had just enough time before his interview to will his hard-on away. But the prospect of more, of getting to kiss Zach again, stuck with him, kept his energy high. Afterwards, he couldn’t recall a single thing he’d said to Flickerman, apart from an accidental curse. It was mild enough that it wouldn’t be censored on the broadcast, but Chris didn’t try to stop himself from blushing. He could have sworn he heard sighs from the audience - although he couldn’t see a thing, not with all the lights pointed at him.
The backstage area was a zoo, prep teams and chaperones and tributes coming and going, all crammed into too small a space. Though there were still sixteen tributes left to interview, Chris never got so much as a glimpse of Zach. He thought he saw Rachel once and tried to fight through the crowd to get to her, but by that time, the interviews were over and everyone was being herded back toward the elevators.
When Chris got back to the District 4 suite, Zach was waiting for him - as were Mags, Spengler, and Agathena, though, so Chris could hardly hold Zach to his promise. Dinner had already been laid out, and Chris had to force himself to eat. Risa had nearly burst into tears during her interview when asked about her family, and she still looked mere moments away from breaking down, so he tried not to look in her direction too often. No one seemed to have much to say, save for Agathena’s opinions on every other stylist’s work, few of which were positive.
The stylists were the ones who would take Chris and Risa to the arena early the next morning, so they had to say their goodbyes to Mags and Spengler that night. Getting rid of Spengler took merely a gruff handshake, but Mags looked like she was struggling to say something important. She took Chris’ hand and he waited patiently.
“Trust your instincts,” she said at last. “Just like you’d do on the water. I’ll do my best to get you sponsors. I’ll do…”
She seemed to lose the words, but frowned for a moment and nodded with finality at Chris, as though she had gotten across what she wanted to say. “I know you will,” Chris said, putting his arms around the tiny old woman and kissing her cheek. “Thank you. And I think Risa could use some support right about now.”
Mags nodded and went to go comfort the shaking girl. Chris’ motives in sending Mags to see to Risa hadn’t been entirely altruistic, but when he looked around, it seemed like both Zach and Agathena had already left. He hadn’t even seen them go. Chris tamped down hard on his disappointment and said, to no one in particular, “I think I’ll go ahead and get ready for bed.”
It was still relatively early and Chris wasn’t sure he was going to be able to sleep anyway, but he had to at least try. He scrubbed the makeup from his face and brushed his teeth but decided to forgo the pajamas. They were silk and no doubt very expensive, but something about them felt too slick, too foreign. He’d just ended up taking them off in the middle of the night the past few nights anyway.
As he slid into bed in just his boxers, he wished for the millionth time since he got here that he had a book with him. Back in Four, he had been hustled onto the train with literally nothing but the clothes on his back, and even those had been taken from him after his first day. There was a vid screen in his room, but even if he’d wanted to watch it, all that would be on were replays of the interviews or highlights from past Games. There were no drawers in the room - what would they hold? Certainly nothing to read. Not a single scrap of writing in the entire suite. He didn’t even know if it was allowed, but he should have asked Spengler for a book or a newspaper; at least then the man would have proved himself good for something.
So Chris lay in bed with the lights dimmed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember a poem, a passage from a favorite book, something to occupy his mind. The faces of his family kept swimming up into his consciousness, but he couldn’t think about them, not right now. If he went down that road, he knew he’d never sleep, and god only knew when the next chance he would get for real sleep would be. Since from tomorrow on he’d be closing his eyes with the knowledge that there were 23 other people out to kill him, that chance might never come. He didn’t know how he’d sleep in the arena.
Hell, he didn’t know how he was going to get to sleep now. He was still too wired from the interview, body still too primed by Zach’s promise, now never to be delivered on. He was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any privacy tomorrow morning. God, Zach… Even with everything that was about to happen, the horror he was about to face, all Chris could feel was petulant anger that he’d never get to feel Zach’s lips on his again.
He was drifting in the twilight between slumber and consciousness when his door slid open. There were no locks on the bedroom doors either - couldn’t have tributes locking themselves in - and Chris shot upright in his bed, half expecting Mags to wander in with some suddenly-remembered advice.
But even in the dim light, Chris recognized Zach’s figure. He held a finger over his lips as he pulled the door shut - a useless gesture, since Chris couldn’t force a single word out of his mouth. He was caught between the desire to go right to Zach and the instinct to hide his near-nakedness under the covers - as though Zach hadn’t seen him in the same state just hours before.
Zach was sitting on the edge of the bed when Chris found his voice again. “What…? How did you…?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Zach said. “I made you a promise, remember?”
As though Chris could possibly forget. He was already scrambling out from under the covers as he asked, “Did anyone see you come in? Could you get in trouble for this?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Zach repeated, reaching out and resting his hands on Chris’ shoulders. “Now do you want that kiss or-”
Chris didn’t give him the chance to finish the sentence, just threw himself artlessly against Zach. He was sure it was crude, the way he licked into Zach’s mouth without any warning, but Zach just opened to him, swaying with the force of Chris’ lunge like an experienced seaman rocking with the waves. He stroked Chris’ hair and let Chris explore his mouth, all tongue and heat and no finesse at all. Kissing Anton had been nothing like this - it had been hot and secret and good, but with none of this all-encompassing want that Chris was powerless to control.
When Chris finally had to break away to breathe, Zach barely gave him a moment before pressing their mouths together again, this time tangling his tongue with Chris’. Chris let him take the lead this time, show him how to kiss and suck and lick until Chris’ lips felt swollen and tingly. Chris moaned against Zach’s mouth, suddenly realizing he’d actually managed to wrap his arms and legs around Zach’s body, clinging to him desperately. And Chris was so hard, pressing shamelessly against Zach’s lower belly, and then rocking down to feel that Zach was well on his way to the same.
“Chris,” Zach whispered, continuing to kiss him but backing off a little. “I know you’ve never… And this has to be the worst possible time. But if you don’t want me to-”
“No!” Chris cried, only belatedly worrying how loud he’d been. “I know… I know it’s probably wrong, and it could get you in trouble, and I don’t know if you even want-”
“I do,” Zach murmured breathlessly and Chris had to stop talking to kiss him again.
“Whatever you want, Chris,” Zach gasped. “Whatever I can give you.”
Chris couldn’t think more than one step ahead. “Off,” he said, clawing at Zach’s clothes. “Take these off.”
Zach divested himself of the simple black shirt and black jeans with such ease that Chris momentarily wondered how many times Zach had done this - more specifically, if he’d ever done so with his previous tributes. Whether Chris was anything special at all. But then he remembered Zach’s words on the rooftop: “Just you.”
And it hardly mattered when Zach’s clothes - all of Zach’s clothes - had come off. Chris couldn’t decide what to touch first, but as he knelt up on the bed, his hands landed on Zach’s chest for balance and his fingers buried themselves in Zach’s chest hair. It was so much softer than it looked, certainly much more impressive than the pale, pathetic down on Chris’ own chest, and he couldn’t help but press his face to it, feel the warmth of Zach’s skin and the rasp of Zach’s hair against his cheek.
He didn’t even think to be self-conscious about it until he heard Zach chuckle softly, felt Zach’s hands rest gently on his head. Chris looked up at him, cheeks flushed, but Zach’s smile was warm. “What do you want, Chris?”
“Um,” Chris swallowed loudly. “Everything?”
Zach chuckled again, his eyes bright with mischief. “Tell you what, lie back down, okay?”
Chris nodded and quickly scooted back to his original position on the bed. Zach was already crawling towards him, and Chris carelessly yanked down his own boxers, yelping softly when his hardening cock caught briefly in the waistband and slapped back against his stomach.
“Slow down a little,” Zach said, helping Chris pull the offending garment all the way off. “We’ve got some time as long as we’re quiet. Well,” Zach said with a grin, “relatively quiet.”
Chris stifled a moan with the back of his hand as Zach moved over him, lowering slowly until his body covered Chris’. The sensation of Zach’s cock pressed next to Chris’ own robbed Chris of all thought and speech; he could do little more than shiver and whimper at the sheer perfection of the feeling.
“This okay?” Zach asked, so close his breath brushed Chris’ lips, and Chris managed to nod. Up close, Zach’s eyes looked huge and dark, wide black pupils ringed with deep amber. Even without the eyeliner, they were captivating, and he kept them open as he began to kiss Chris again, slow but deep. Chris held his own eyes open as long as he could, but lust was racing through his veins so fast that they began to roll back in his head.
Zach’s weight remained a steady pressure against Chris’ body, but Chris soon found that he couldn’t stop his hips from rocking up, seeking friction for his already-aching cock. He could feel Zach hardening further against him, but Zach wasn’t moving, dammit, nothing but his mouth, which continued its leisurely plunder of Chris’ own.
Without thinking, Chris reached down and grabbed Zach’s ass as he thrust up, gasping half at the sensation and half at his own boldness. Zach’s mouth drew back and Chris could feel a smile against his lips. “Ready for more?” Zach whispered, nipping teasingly at Chris’ lower lip.
“Yes,” Chris groaned, not even sure what he was agreeing to, only that he wanted whatever Zach was offering.
Turned out Zach’s plan wasn’t all that hard to determine. His mouth descended in a firm line of kisses down Chris’ neck, the center of his chest - pausing briefly to flick a tongue across each nipple - down his belly. Chris was nearly hyperventilating by the time Zach reached his destination, Chris practically grinding his teeth with frustration because he knew he wouldn’t last a second once Zach got his mouth on him.
But Zach gave Chris a moment to catch his breath, nuzzling into the crease of his hips, mouthing gently - oh god - at Chris’ balls. It didn’t slow Chris’ racing pulse one bit - though maybe that was never Zach’s intention. “Zach, please,” Chris said in a hoarse whisper, embarrassed at his impatience but unable to take any more.
The first touch of Zach’s tongue to the tip of Chris’ cock had Chris shoving his hand in his mouth to keep from screaming. His hips would have been a foot in the air if Zach hadn’t been firmly holding them down. Zach sucked lightly at the tip, tasting the fluid already beading there, and Chris shut his eyes and bit down on his finger to try to hold off for a few more seconds.
Without any warning, Chris suddenly felt his cock engulfed in wet, sucking heat, a sensation so divine he wailed around the fingers in his mouth. His eyes flew open to see Zach staring up at him, and as their eyes locked, Chris was gone, body spasming with such force that he forgot to breathe. Zach seemed to swallow him down easily, a sight that only intensified the jolts of pleasure wracking Chris’ body.
It was over too soon; far, far too soon. Chris hadn’t even realized that he’d propped himself up on his elbows to watch until his arms gave out and he collapsed back to the bed. He felt himself flush with shame that he’d come so quickly, but Zach didn’t seem to mind, gently releasing his spent cock to lavish kisses on his stomach, which was still heaving with each breath.
The next few minutes must have been lost in a post-orgasmic haze, because the next thing Chris knew, Zach’s head was up on the pillow, his body warm and lean and hard against Chris’. Zach tilted Chris face toward him with two fingers, and Chris forced his eyes to focus. “Good?” Zach asked.
By way of answer, Chris rolled into Zach’s embrace, kissing him hard and wanton, more than a little amazed at the taste of himself in Zach’s mouth. He locked a hand around the back of Zach’s neck, fully intending to keep him right where he was for all of time, the rest of the world be damned. Zach moaned softly and tugged at Chris’ lower back, pulling them flush together from shoulders to thighs, and Chris felt that Zach was still hard.
And that his own cock was starting to fill out once more.
“Oh my god,” Chris groaned, reaching down to grasp himself. He gasped - he was still too sensitive - but his knuckles bumped Zach’s dick, which Chris realized he had yet to touch. When he took Zach in a firm grip, he could tell he genuinely surprised the other man. Grinning, Chris eagerly explored the texture and dimensions of Zach’s cock, reveling in victory when Zach’s eyes slammed shut and he moaned brokenly.
Just as Chris had begun to get a real rhythm going, Zach grabbed his wrist hard. “W-wait. Please. There’s more. If… if you want it.”
Chris jaw dropped as Zach released him and went back across the bed to search for his pants. Chris hadn’t dared hope… Well, he hadn’t dared hope for any of it, but this, for he and Zach to… His brain couldn’t even form the thought, not even as Zach returned with a condom and a small packet that had to contain lube.
“We’re going to fuck,” Chris stammered, rendered utterly stupid at the thought. “You’re going to fuck me.”
“No.”
Chris froze. The thought of Zach opening him up, pushing inside him had already gotten Chris hard again. Did Zach want him to beg? He’d beg. He’d beg all night if he had to. “Please, Zach. Please, I want you to fuck me.”
“No,” Zach said, shaking his head. “You’ll be too sore tomorrow, and as much as I don’t want to think about tomorrow, you can’t afford to be sore. I’m sorry.”
Then a slow grin began to spread across his lips. “You’re going to fuck me.”
Chris was pretty sure his heart stopped.
“Wh-seriously? I can…? You’d let me…?”
“Let you?” Zach asked with a laugh, manhandling Chris until their positions were reversed and Zach lay on his back on the bed. “I’d totally beg you for it. Y’know, if that were my style.”
By the time Chris could once again form a coherent sentence, Zach had stuffed a pillow under his hips, opened the lube, and was fingering himself. “Do you want some, uh, help… with the…?” Chris asked awkwardly. Okay, so maybe not the most coherent sentence…
“No, I got it,” Zach said, grunting softly as he worked a second finger into himself. “You just work on that.” He used his free hand to flick the condom at Chris.
Chris nodded, immensely relieved, as he could freely admit that he had no idea what the hell he was doing. His hands shook as he tore open the packet and attempted not to drop the condom. He tried unsuccessfully to roll it on inside out first, but fortunately Zach didn’t seem to notice.
By the time Chris had gotten the condom on, Zach was fucking himself on three fingers and rubbing his dick against his belly with the flat of his palm. “Just another minute,” Zach gasped. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a lot of you to take.”
Chris nodded dumbly, unsure of what to do in the meantime. “Should I, uh…”
“Come up here,” Zach said. “Kiss me.”
That, Chris could handle. He slid up beside Zach and their mouths met, softer this time, less frantic. Chris let his hand rest on Zach’s chest, sliding through the dark hair to feel Zach’s racing heartbeat. He could also feel the motion of Zach’s arm as he fingered himself, and it made Chris’ cock twitch in anticipation. Zach barely had the chance to ask “Ready?” before Chris was breathing out yes against his lips.
Then Chris was kneeling between Zach’s spread legs, spreading the last of the lube over his sheathed cock and lining himself up. He tried to hide his trembling, but Zach reached down to hold his wrist and rub it reassuringly. “Go slow if you can, yeah?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t do things this way very often.”
Chris nodded and locked eyes with Zach as he pushed forward. There was resistance, and even without looking he could feel Zach bearing down, trying to take Chris in until suddenly the head of his cock slid inside and Chris doubled over with pleasure. So hot, so tight. Chris squeezed his eyes shut, already fearing for his stamina despite his earlier orgasm. But he wanted so badly to make it last this time, to make it good for Zach if it was the last thing he ever did. Because it might be the last thing he ever did.
When Chris opened his eyes, Zach was gazing up at him with glassy eyes. “More, Chris. Give me more.”
Chris slid forward another inch and stopped, gasping. “Am I-? Is this-?”
“Perfect,” Zach said, arching his back to take a little more of Chris inside. He roughly fisted his own cock, and Chris could see sweat starting to break out on his temples.
It went like that, inch by agonizing inch, until Chris was buried completely in Zach’s body. Chris dropped his head to Zach’s chest and moaned, his every sense torn between the perfection of Zach’s heat and the overwhelming need to thrust.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Zach moaned. “You can start moving any time you-”
Zach didn’t even have to get the words out before Chris was pulling back for a stuttering, hesitant thrust that forced the breath from his lungs. Once it started, though, his body seemed to know what to do, though Chris tried with all his might to keep it slow, relish every second.
Zach pushed himself up further, his hips almost completely off the pillow beneath, and on one deep stroke he grunted and tugged hard at himself. Chris tried to keep the angle, to find that spot again, and though he couldn’t hit the mark consistently, he felt like shouting with triumph whenever he was able to draw that particular desperate sound from Zach’s lips.
Without meaning to, he began to piston his hips harder, and Zach groaned but lifted a leg to twine around Chris’ hip and urge him on. “Just like that. C’mon, let go.”
Given permission to focus on his own voracious need, Chris planted his hands by Zach’s shoulders and thrust recklessly into Zach’s body. He felt that delicious tension begin to coil in the pit of his stomach again, and Zach’s rhythmic groans drove Chris’ pleasure ever higher. He was sobbing with it, his whole body racing unstoppably toward climax, and Zach was saying his name, whispering it like a secret and touching Chris’ face with his hands, and Chris shuddered hard and let go. He crumpled down to land against Zach’s chest and Zach held him tight through every ecstatic pulse as Chris muffled his cries against the other man’s shoulder.
He was able to get his senses back much quicker this time, feeling Zach’s hand work its way between their bodies to start to tug at his cock. God, Zach was still hard after all this time. Chris fought the exhaustion weakening his limbs to push up on one elbow and reach down, too. Zach took Chris’ hand and wrapped it around his cock, keeping his own hand clutched around Chris’ as he showed Chris how fast, how tight he needed to be stroked. It didn’t take long before Zach was bucking and gasping, body clenching hard around Chris’ cock still deep in his body.
The aftermath was distinctly awkward, in no small part due to the fact that Chris’ body was telling him that it was time for sleep, now. But Zach helped him through the cleanup, getting a towel from the bathroom and disposing of the condom. Chris had a fleeting worry about someone finding it in the trash before remembering that it didn’t matter one fucking bit come morning.
Chris fought his fatigue long enough to crawl under the covers - well, at least he was sure he’d sleep tonight. He reached out to Zach, the gesture feeling painfully childlike but essential. “Can you stay?”
Zach glanced at the door and as worry creased his features for a split second, Chris’ heart sank. But then Zach turned back to the bed, his expression smoothing into a soft smile. “Yeah, of course. I’m the one who’s supposed to come get you in the morning anyway. It’ll save me a trip.”
And if Zach had any problems with Chris clinging to him beneath the blanket, he kept them to himself. Chris had only intended to hug Zach briefly, but when his fingers found the warmth of Zach’s skin and the scent of sweat and sex and Zach filled his lungs, he found himself clutching the other man jealously. Zach wrapped his own arms around Chris, helping him settle his head against Zach’s chest, and as Chris finally surrendered to the exhaustion, he realized that he was smiling.
&&&
Chris. Chris, it’s time to wake up.
No, couldn’t be. Chris had only been asleep for a few minutes. He could swear it was only moments ago that he closed his eyes, curled into the warmth of Zach’s body, and-
“Chris. C’mon, you gotta get up. I’m sorry, but it’s time.”
Even the press of Zach’s lips to his temple couldn’t prevent the chill that ran down Chris’ spine when he remembered where he was, and what he had to do.
Zach was already dressed, somehow looking immaculate as always, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand combing through Chris’ hair. “I let you sleep as long as I could. But you need to get up and get dressed. It’s time to go.”
Bile rose in Chris’ throat, and he had one fleeting moment to wonder what would happen if he didn’t move, if he pulled Zach down to the bed and shoved his hands under Zach’s shirt and just refused to let go. He knew exactly what would happen: Zach would wrap his arms around Chris’ waist and hang on until the Peacekeepers came to physically pry them apart. Chris would get sent into the arena anyway and Zach… if they let Zach live, it wouldn’t be without a heavy, heavy price, one Chris couldn’t even bear to think about.
Chris was able to force himself out of bed, and Zach handed him his clothes and ushered him into the bathroom to change, giving him at least that little bit of privacy. Zach hadn’t had a hand in designing these clothes - all the tributes wore the same thing. Along with boots, a belt, and a jacket, it was pretty much a basic black bodysuit, but if Chris wasn’t mistaken, it was at least partially made of neoprene. Neoprene might mean an abundance of water, which might mean Chris stood a chance. He wasn’t sure if he should try to feel optimistic or not.
As he squirmed into the suit, he realized he was sore, abs and thighs burning a little from the unfamiliar exertion the night before. That he could deal with, but Zach had probably been right about… the other. Chris couldn’t let his mind go down that road, the fact that he would never get to feel… no. He stopped himself there.
When Chris stepped out of the bathroom, Zach looked him up and down - and, to Chris’ great surprise, grinned. “I’m sorry,” Zach said, not sounding sorry in the least. “This is probably not the time to tell you how utterly hot you look.”
Amazingly, Chris felt his own lips start to curl up into a smile. “No, actually this is the perfect time to tell me how hot I look. Please, extemporize on my hotness at length.”
Zach laughed and held out his arms, drawing Chris in until their foreheads rested together. “You look gorgeous,” Zach whispered, his eyes a huge, dark blur in Chris’ vision. “Ridiculously sexy. Never seen anything better.”
Chris was kissing him then, soft and easy as Zach bundled him tighter into his arms. Then a buzzer near the door went off and Zach pulled his mouth away, but kept Chris close for the moment. “This is how it’s going to go: the Peacekeepers will take us down to the hovercraft and ride with us to the arena. But they can’t go into the Launch Room. That’ll be just you and me, okay?”
Chris nodded; so these weren’t his last moments alone with Zach. Okay. He could handle that. Zach reluctantly let Chris go, his expression inscrutable as he lifted his hand to cup Chris’ chin, draw his thumb over Chris’ lower lip. Chris shut his eyes and just tried not to shake. He knew what Zach wasn’t saying - when we step out of this room, we’re nothing but tribute and stylist again. Their lives probably depended on it.
Chris’ eyes remained closed as Zach dropped his hand and went to the door first. This wasn’t it for him and Zach; they weren’t quite done yet, and that was the only thing keeping Chris together as he opened his eyes, took a huge gulp of air, and strode out of the room after Zach. After getting a Tracker injected in his arm, Chris followed Zach up the ladder to the hovercraft.
Zach attempted to keep up an amiable chat with the Peacekeepers - not exactly the easiest thing to do when Chris was pretty sure that getting a stick shoved up your ass was Day One of Peacekeeper training. But even they couldn’t resist Zach’s charm, and he soon had them talking about some new recreational center in the Capitol. Chris was desperately grateful - it kept the Peacekeepers’ attention off of him and, to some extent, his attention off Zach. Otherwise, he’d be grabbing for Zach’s hand in a second.
The windows went dark soon after they left the Capitol so that no one got a glimpse of the arena before the Games began. Chris just stared at the blackness. The ride of the hovercraft was unnaturally smooth; nothing like a boat at all, no rhythm to rock with. Maybe that was for the best, but it didn’t stop him from thinking of home anyway. His parents and his sister - what were they going through right now?
No. If Chris was going to think about his family, his last thoughts of them needed to be of them, of their lives together. His dad shouting instructions across the deck as they hauled in a pot, whooping with joy and slapping Chris a little too hard on the back if it was full of crab. His sister standing close behind him on the docks, hand wrapped around his on the spear as she showed him how to aim. His mom always waiting for them whenever they came into port, sure to throw her arms around Chris as soon as he got off the boat - then tell him how badly he needed a haircut.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t step in that arena - he’d be killed in seconds. There had to be some kind of way out, some escape. Chris broke out into a cold sweat as he glanced frantically around the small hovercraft. How high did these things fly? Could you bail out of them? There had to be emergency parachutes, at least for the Peacekeepers. Could he get to one before he got shot? Would it be preferable to just get shot now and get it over with? At least he wouldn’t die alone in the wilderness or at the hand of some bloodthirsty Career tribute.
He was breathing so hard he didn’t hear someone calling his name, and when he did, it was as though the voice was miles away. It wasn’t until a warm body slid into the seat next to him and a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder that Chris came back from wherever he’d gone. Zach was sitting next to him, one hand on Chris’ shoulder and the other gripping his bicep firmly, grounding him. “Chris. Chris. You need to calm down. We’re almost there. Okay? Just a little while longer.”
Again, he heard what Zach was telling him without the words - just a little while longer and we’ll be alone together. Past that… He couldn’t think past that or he wouldn’t make it out of the hovercraft alive. He just had to hold on until they got the Launch Room. That was all. Just until the Peacekeepers left them.
The Peacekeepers - shit. But when he looked at them, they were pointedly looking down. Zach wasn’t doing anything inappropriate that would give them away; it just looked like he was trying to keep a scared kid from having a panic attack. Which, funnily enough, was exactly what he was doing.
Slowly, Chris got his breathing under control until he didn’t feel quite so lightheaded. “Good,” Zach said, his shaky smile so full of concern that it was probably a good thing the Peacekeepers couldn’t see it. “You’re doing great, Chris.”
Chris nodded, still not quite able to speak, and tipped his head back against the seat. He clamped down hard on a sound of protest as Zach let go of him and moved away, but then the hovercraft was lurching slightly as it docked and Chris had to use all his focus to get himself to his feet and make them move.
He and Zach walked side by side through the labyrinthine catacombs beneath the arena, one Peacekeeper ahead of them and one behind. Chris walked like a wind-up toy, just one foot in front of the other, not looking around, not thinking, just one step, then the next, then the next. It almost surprised him when they came to a halt in front of a heavily-secured door. The Peacekeeper ahead of them used some kind of complicated-looking key to open it, and then Chris and Zach were alone again.
Chris turned to face Zach, wanting badly to simply throw himself into Zach’s arms, but he was frozen to the spot. “How much time do we have?”
“Half an hour, maybe,” Zach said, and it looked like he was stopping himself from reaching for Chris. “But you need to eat.”
There had been food on the hovercraft, but Chris had been too upset to even think about it. He wasn’t particularly hungry now, but Zach was right; he needed something in his stomach, even if he was half-certain he’d lose it the moment he stepped into the arena.
“Sit,” Zach said, gesturing toward the couch. “I’ll get you something.” He came back with a small bowl of warm stew and a glass of water, and Chris was surprisingly grateful that Zach hadn’t brought him any seafood - he didn’t think he could handle it right now.
“Um,” Chris began, between bites of the stew. “Are there… are there any cameras in here? I know they don’t broadcast the tributes in the Launch Rooms, but is anyone watching?”
“No,” Zach said simply, sliding closer on the couch, and Chris set the water down on the table and the bowl in his lap so he could grip Zach’s hand with his free one.
He was focused so hard on eating, on swallowing each mouthful, that he was actually surprised when his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. He stared at it idiotically until Zach gently took it from him. Chris had no idea how much time had gone by, or what to do with what he had left of it.
Zach urged him to finish the water, then took both of Chris’ hands in his. “I’d ask how you were doing, but that seems like an immensely stupid question right now.”
Chris managed a humorless laugh. “No, y’know, that’s fine. I’m… still breathing, which is good. Just a heads up: I’m probably going to start crying here in a minute. I’ll try to keep the snot to a minimum, but no promises.”
“It’s all good. I wore my snot-proof shirt today.”
For fuck’s sake, they were talking about snot when Chris was about to… He had to stop that train of thought - he wasn’t spending his last moments outside the arena with his head already in there - and the quickest way to do it was to lift his hands to Zach’s cheeks. The light scratch of stubble was surprisingly soft under his fingers as he traced the shape of Zach’s jaw, trying to memorize it.
Zach sat very still, and it took Chris a few moments to realize that Zach was waiting for him to make the first move. He pulled Zach close, lips hovering just a hairsbreadth away from Zach’s, wanting to feel the warmth of Zach’s breath, and maybe wanting Zach to close that last bit of distance so Chris would know beyond a doubt that Zach wanted this, too.
He waited for the space of one heartbeat, then two, and then Zach’s mouth was covering his, slow and heartbreakingly gentle. Chris pulled Zach as tight against him as he could, wanting nothing more than to crawl into Zach and hide there. When he tried to hasten the kiss, Zach kept the pace slow, but let Chris push as deep as he wanted, fingers stroking firmly over the back of Chris’ neck.
When they finally parted, Zach’s face was wet, and it took Chris a few moments to realize those were his own tears on Zach’s cheeks. Sniffling ashamedly, he wiped Zach’s face with his thumbs, but Zach just caught his hands and pressed a kiss to each palm.
Chris thought for sure he’d break, kept waiting to collapse into ugly sobs, but the tears remained a slow, steady flow. Without a word, he rested his head on Zach’s shoulder and Zach put his arms around Chris. Not speaking, not rubbing his back; just holding him close as the tears ran their course, and then after, until all Chris could feel was Zach’s heartbeat, Zach’s breath.
This was what he would take with him. This was what would keep him sane when thoughts of family and the future were too much to bear. Just Zach’s arms around him, warm and solid.
It couldn’t last, of course. Eventually, he heard the announcement: Tributes have one minute to take their places. One minute.
Zach had to help lift him up and guide him over to the launch plate that would take him up and into the arena. Standing on the plate, Chris was looking down into Zach’s eyes, which had gone hard and bright. “I’ll be here,” he said firmly. “When you get back, I’ll be right here to patch your gorgeous ass up.”
“I’ll try not to damage it too badly,” Chris said, face actually cracking into a smile. He wanted Zach to remember him like this: smiling.
“Better not,” Zach mumbled, pressing his face against Chris’ hand.
Tributes have thirty seconds to take their places.
Chris tried desperately to think of something to say, something to encourage Zach, if it was the last kind act he could do. But all that he could think were the three words that might break Zach’s heart. Was it more selfish to say them or to keep them to himself?
In the end, he couldn’t leave them unsaid. And Zach didn’t look the least bit surprised.
Fifteen seconds.
Zach had to let go of Chris’ hand as the clear tube slid down around him. Chris pressed his hand up against the glass and Zach’s came up to match it.
Ten seconds.
The glass wasn’t quite soundproof, and before the machinery started up that would lift the launch plate, he could just barely hear Zach’s muffled voice returning those same words.
Five
The plate started to lift, pushing Chris toward the darkness that would engulf him before he emerged into the arena.
Four
Their hands slid away from each other on the glass, but Chris held Zach’s gaze for as long as he could.
Three
The last thing Chris saw before the darkness swallowed him were Zach’s burning dark eyes, and a quick nod that told him he could do this. He could survive.
Two
One
A/N II: Since I practically baited you, I might as well tell you: yes, there will be a sequel. I can’t promise you when, but it’s in the works.