One-Shot: Don't Masturbate In Front of Me

I am in the middle of my interview with Caesar Flickerman when I see it. The studio cameras panning out to capture various other people's reactions to my answers. At one point, the camera's gaze falls on Cato, the blond boy from District 2...

With his hands down his pants. Furiously pumping the contents within.

My mouth falls open for a fraction of a second, and there is the ever-so-slightest pause as I try to recover from my shock and continue conversing with Caesar. I don't even think the audience noticed any of it. But, I cannot unsee the image in my mind. That brute! How dare he masturbate to my picture in front of me! I have never considered myself pretty or attractive enough to warrant such blatant sexual attention, but even so!

My anger is still simmering after I get off the stage. While my district partner, Peeta Mellark, is being interviewed, I stalk through the wings until I finally find Cato. Yanking him by the arm, I drag him into a darkened corner and pin him to the wall. He laughs through the whole thing, an interested laugh as he wonders whether he's about to get some. How arrogant of him.

"I like 'em fiery!" he snarls - no doubt a reference to my new nickname, the Girl on Fire.

But I am in no mood for chitchat. "Listen, you animal! Where do you get the gall? If you were a real man, you wouldn't masturbate to me! You'd try to court me with some humility! Or at least ask to kiss me, good and proper!" At least, that's how I've seen gentlemen do it in District 12.

I should not have rambled on so. I have only given Cato encouragement. Slapping the arm that is pinning him away, he suddenly drags me close, right up against his body and slams his lips to mine in a slobbery kiss.

"MMMMM!" I squeal in outraged shock, and I try to beat on his chest with my fists, even as Cato forces his tongue down my throat and begins to gyrate his hips into my center. But I can't pry my mouth or tongue free from his.

And, shockingly, as the seconds pass - one second, then two - my resistance begins to fade. I become used to the sensation of a Career tribute kissing me, however rough he might be.

Until before I know it, I am sloppily and violently kissing him back. I drape my arms around Cato's neck and close my eyes. Cato gropes my ass hard, eventually raising my leg to his waist, so that the hem of my red dress rides high up my thigh. Cato then hoists me up the wall and begins to dry-hump me. We are full-blown making out now, kissing with tongue over an attraction that only just blasted out into the open and that I had never realized was there.

We are so busy kissing, that I don't even hear Peeta Mellark confess his love for me on national television. And even if I cared or was flattered or heard him, it is too late. Someone else - another tribute - has gotten to me first...