IT WAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS and Eliot and I had gotten in our first fight ever.

Sure, I said some things I shouldn't have, as did he. But for the first time, maybe ever, Eliot didn't apologize.

It begun with a simple conversation over dinner leading to him commenting on how warm meals are much better than what I must be used to—leading to me being defensive—leading to a heated argument that caused me to walk out and leave.

Now, I'd been drunk in an alleyway.

Warm alcohol scorched the back of my throat and I hated it.

I hated it but it washed away my worries and with each swig of the bottle against my lips, the beer pouring down the walls of my mouth, I felt just a little bit better. Each time.

I was a sloppy drunk, sure, there was no secret about it. But right now, I'd been dragging my feet in one of the alleyways of the Capitol and I was okay with it because I wasn't feeling unsafe.

In my old neighborhood, I'd never step foot outside after sunset but here, in the same neighborhood as Coriolanus and my parents, I'd been in the richest part of the Capitol and I no longer had to worry about what was going on around me.

If I wanted to get drunk at two in the morning I could.

If I wanted to be standing on my ex-boyfriends doorstep with a half-empty bottle of $4 beer, I could.

And I was.

The blue door opens and on the other side I'm met with Coriolanus.

His left eye is squinted but his other, it's blue and confused and everything I want.

Coriolanus is—always has been—everything I've wanted, I've just never been drunk enough to act on it.

"Mare?" He asks, his voice laced in pure confusion as he rubs his eye. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

I don't respond. Hell, I don't even think. My mind is on fire and it's fuzzy and  I could hardly remember what I was thinking just a second ago. But, for some reason, I kissed Coriolanus.

I fucking kissed Coriolanus Snow. And I liked it. I craved it.

And you'd think it'd be a sobering moment for me, something to make me snap into reality and realize just how fucking wrong that was, but it wasn't.

I wanted—needed more.

My hand roughly grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down against my lips.

They're soft and molded perfectly against mine and the electrifying thrill it sends down my spine is everything.

His hands grab my hips and snake around my waist, holding me close to him as our mouths move together as one.

Both eager, neither of us say a word, or take a breath.

He closes the door behind me and a certain crave comes over me and it's like I've been deprived of Coriolanus for months, and I have.

I haven't felt his body up against mine in nearly a year and it's been hell.

His hands grasp the back of my thighs, lifting me up and giving me perfect capability to straddle my legs around his waist and support myself up as he pins me against the door.

He's the only one who can kiss away my pain. He's the only one who understands my pain and the only one who can better it.

I want him to kiss away my pain.

And he does.

His breath is hot against mine as he pulls away and it's obvious that he's just as hungry for me as I am for him.

But there's a furrow deep between his brows, almost as if it physically pains him to pull his, now swollen, lips from mine. "Mare," his voice is rough and deprived. "we can't do this."

I know it's wrong but I don't care. I don't care because he is the one fix. The only fix to my ills.

"You—you're drunk—"

I cut him off with the rough clashing of my lips back against his, my hips beginning to move in a friction that caused him to groan into my mouth, his nails digging deep into my hips now.

It was obvious he wasn't expecting it, and neither was I.

There's a devil on my shoulder pleading for me to do unspeakable things with Coriolanus tonight, and another, an Angel on my shoulder begging me to stop. That I'll ruin everything if I do this.

I can't quite depict whether this is real life or nor do I know if I want it to be.

Coriolanus's hands fall to my ass as he begins carrying me to one of the many rooms in this penthouse, but the door he opens is a blurred mess of grey and white. As are the walls inside.

He's gotten an upgrade on this entire room but his bed is still the same. A twin-sized frame for a twin-sized mattress that creaks and moves with every given movement.

The sound of it coursing into the wall as he dropped me onto the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, a wicked grin playing on my face as I looked up at him.

His blonde hair was a frayed mess from my hands running through it and his shirt was untucked and hardly staying on his shoulders.

My chipped black-painted nails reached the hem of my blue t-shirt and I tossed it over my head.

But something unfamiliar flashed behind Coriolanus' eyes.

"Mare," he froze, and I could just barely make out his frown in the moonlight peering through the window. "I—are you sure?"

No, but, I was drunk and my actions spoke for themselves without my mind giving a single thought.

I shifted my position, now with my body propped up on it's knees as I looked up at him with a lust-filled gaze.

My fingertips reached his red striped tie and began undoing it and I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as my finger grazed against the bare skin of his neck.

Once the tie was undone, I simply grabbed the edge of it and pulled him to me.

I didn't care about circumstances. I was tired of living a poor life without anything to strive for. But this, this was worth striving for.

His torso pressed against my breasts cupped by my bra and as his tongue swiped against my bottom lip, my entire body ached with pleasure.

I needed him. All of him.

My hands began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt with urgency and obligation and once all 6 of them were out of their respective holes, off went his shirt.

His arms were no longer thin and scrawny. No, now, he had strong biceps that I could grab with my hand and shoulder blades that peeked through his back as he pressed further between my legs.

He was stiffened beneath his pants and I could feel it pressed against the zipper of my jeans.

Neither of us said a word, we didn't have to.

We both understood the situation at hand, and tended to it mindlessly.

Everything was so fast-paced. My hand movements, his kisses against my jawline—the moans escaping past my lips.

I unzip my pants and he unzips his, but our lips don't part.

I don't open my eyes because I wouldn't be able to see anything, anyhow. It's pitch black in this room and the only thing I can see are his eyes when they're right in front of mine.

Before I know it, my wet panties are around my ankles and my bra is at the foot of the bed and my head is pressing into his pillows.

He asks me something but I no longer remember what it was, nor how I responded, but I do know that when I feel him thrust inside of me it's like a sobering flash of light.

A warm tear slides down my cheek and it's like I'm suddenly conscious. Aware of my surroundings and what the fuck I've just done. Something I can never undo and never speak aloud.

"Stop," I beg, my voice light and breathy, and I hardly even feel myself speaking. "Coriolanus, stop."

He does, he pulls out of me and I think  he asks me if I'm okay but I'm not sure because my ears are ringing and I'm horror-stricken with what I've done.

He plops down on the bed beside me and his voice is faint and a distant sound in my ears but all I can focus on is the beating of my heart. The one that once beat for Coriolanus Snow. And the one that's beating for him now. Regretfully.

The mattress bounces with his body's movement and sinks as he does.

I'm left to stare up at the ceiling with nothing inhumane guilt consuming me.

I blink and I've forgotten how long it's been silent for. The ringing in my ears has to come to a stop and the bed is no longer moving beneath me.

"Why do I keep doing this to myself?" I whisper to the darkness, wondering but only to myself.

"Hmm?" Coriolanus hums from beside me, he's watching me intently but I don't bother meeting his gaze. I can't bear to.

Without another thought, I sit up and begin gathering each one of my articles of clothing. I tug my shirt over my head and pretend the feeling of my hair beneath my shirt against my bare back doesn't bother me.

"You're leaving?" He asks me, almost as if it wasn't already obvious.

I open his bedroom door, allowing just enough light to peer in from the hallway, but I don't face him. I'm merely only frozen in his doorway. "I can't... see you again."

BLAKELY SPEAKS !

don't you just hate when you get in a fight with your soon-to-be fiancee and then get drunk and go to your baby daddy's house and sleep with him ??? 😜