I do not own The Hunger Games.

Trigger warnings: Gadge outtake, light BDSM (spanking, bondage), power exchange, and M content

GNO 38: Cupid's Arrow (Gadge Outtake)

Madge sinks her toes into the plush carpeting of the room she's reserved at the Westin Bonaventure, breathes deeply and releases a sigh. She isn't sure what it is about luxury hotels, but the air is sweeter and quieter than anywhere else on earth. The anticipation of crisp, high thread count sheets, room service continental breakfast, and, most importantly, a bathroom that she doesn't have to share with an entire dorm floor restores her equilibrium after the crazy day she's had. Competing in a Scottish games isn't exactly the relaxing day she had planned leading up to tonight, even if she and her friends had won.

Now that she's here, she takes another deep breath as she places her bag carefully on the king size bed, which has already been turned down invitingly. Just as she requested, there's champagne and strawberries chilling along with two flutes on the small table by the window. A single orchid graces the tray. She knows it will have no scent but puts her nose to it anyway. She's pleased that the hotel heeded her instructions: no roses. Nothing so plebeian for her Kitten.

She muses that there's not much her mother's credit card won't pay for, no request that her father's name won't fulfill. And the best part is that her mom won't say a word, even when the statement comes in bearing charges she never authorized for a hotel three thousand miles away. Madge wonders if her mother even reads the statements. Does she authorize payment before or after the first of her pills for the day? Madge would lay money on the fact that it's after, despite the impression her father has that her mother only uses pills to round out the rough spots. Madge knows it goes deeper than that. Either that, or her mother's soft life has a lot of hidden rough spots.

She pushes the thought away with a shove: tonight is for her, and for Gale. It has nothing to do with the likelihood that she'll be cleaning vomit off her mother in less than a week.

A cleansing drink of champagne is what she needs, she decides. The bubbles cut the sweetness of the strawberry she bites, and she swallows her favorite indulgence with her eyes closed. She thrusts aside all thoughts of her probable summer and replaces them with images of what she has planned for tonight. Gale doesn't really like champagne, so sipping it is her little rebellion. She figures she owes it to herself to splurge a little as payback for watching him and Katniss earlier in the day. And as for Gale's complaints, she's sure showing him how bubbles can tease and heighten sensation will work in her favor. Besides, he always appreciates her planning and forethought. For all his bluster and apparent temper, Gale is much more into strategizing than she ever imagined. She's glad it's something they have in common.

She tries to hold on to the memory of the first time they were together like this. Gale had willingly abdicated control, and the sight of his tall, lean frame draped over the bed, legs spread, had been beyond her wildest imaginings. He had trembled as her lips and hands stroked him long before the resounding crack of the first spank. Everything about that night had gotten her off for weeks afterward: the little hitches in his breath that highlighted his self-control; his low, pleading moans at the contact; the rush of complete control at the idea of his surrender. Somehow, tonight, that image skitters away before she can grasp it in both hands and bend it to her will.

She's placing her implements lovingly on the table she's moved next to the bed when the knock comes.

"Enter." She waits until Gale uses his key card before she adds without looking up, "You're late. I told you thirty minutes and it's been thirty five. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He's contrite as he rubs a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sorry, Madge. I lost track of time. I'll just take a quick shower-"

She cocks her eyebrow as she strides to his side. "What did you call me?" Her voice is soft but unyielding, velvet over steel.

Gale catches on quickly, although he's surprised at her aggressive stance. He's not sure if it's despite it or because of it that he's already half-hard. "M-Madge. I called you Madge."

"Yes, you did. And was I unclear as to the time I expected you?"

"No."

She cocks a perfectly shaped brow. "No, what?"

"No, Princess."

She pats his chest, noticing that his black t-shirt is, indeed, dusty and sweaty, as is the kilt he still wears. She'd much rather he be comfortable and clean for what's coming, but she knows that she can't let this little infraction go unpunished. She leans forward so she can watch as his pupils dilate slightly as the lace of her lingerie brushes against his chest. "Show me that you can follow directions, Kitten. Kneel on the bed."

He takes a moment to unlace his shoes and kick them under the bed before pulling off his shirt as well. She's thankful for his forethought, although they're both additional infractions. After all, they'll be sleeping on that bed later, and she doesn't want it dirty. She waits until he's kneeling on all fours to cross to him and stand between his legs.

"Do you know why you're being punished?" She says it quietly, but there is steel to her tone. Steel and impatience.

Her take-charge tone quickens his blood. "Yes. I called you something other than Princess. And I was late."

"…And?"

He feels a breezy movement rather than sees it, but he knows she's picked up…something…from the table. It distracts him. "And?"

She clucks her tongue at him. "And, Kitten, you removed your shoes and shirt without my permission." His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as she strikes her own palm with a smack that sounds louder than normal. "You've been a bad boy, especially since you didn't even realize everything you've done. How many spankings will help you remember for next time? Hmm?"

He feels cool, smooth wood against the back of his thighs and jerks away from the threatening hardness in surprise. Is that a paddle? It's heftier than a wooden spoon or a ping-pong paddle. Plus, it doesn't seem to have grips. Fear joins the rush of anticipation in his gut as he tries to puzzle out Madge's game. "Ten? Ten spankings, Princess."

"Oh, dear. You see, perhaps that would be enough just for the time you kept me waiting. But for all of those other things? Twenty-five, I think."

"Twenty-five?" Gale's voice actually cracks on the word. That's more than she has ever dealt him before. And given how he generally reacts to her…enthusiasm…he isn't sure if he can hold still for that long. This game of theirs has always been foreplay, not an end-game.

"Twenty-five. You'll need to count out loud as well. Lose count and we'll have to start over." Madge gently rubs her hands up the backs of his thighs, moving his kilt out of the way and exposing him to the cool air. He arches into her hands as they caress his naked backside, especially when one slips between his thighs to grasp him briefly. She smiles as he pushes into her hand as she fondles him.

His cock is mine.

Madge sighs as she strokes him once from base to tip. She doesn't often even think that word, but she like the freedom that courses through her when she does. She feels like a bad girl: it's the same charge she gets out of eating the last of the chocolate cake, or charging a hotel room to her mother's credit card, or, during Tuesday dinner just last week, when she told Gale she wanted oral in the bathroom of the frat house while their friends talked and laughed fifteen feet away.

Her fingernails dig into the tender skin at the apex of his thighs, roughly pinching and scraping until she knows there will be little red marks later. She doesn't notice that his shoulders tense, preoccupied by the fact that this time she'll be using something besides her hand. She's almost more nervous than aroused by what she has in mind. She wishes she could stop stressing about going home for the summer. If she can't let go and really enjoy herself tonight, with Gale, three thousand miles from home, how miserable is she going to be once she gets there?

The first smack lands with more force that Madge intends. Gale lurches toward the headboard and draws in a hasty breath that has her wondering if she's gone too far. She waits for him to use their safe word or to slip out of the scene some other way, but he does neither.

Instead, he draws himself back to his stance on all fours. "One."

She sighs in relief and rubs the redness like an apology. The second swat has the same force.

"Two." His voice remains firm.

Madge has to admit by the tenth hit that there's no way Gale can take much more punishment. He's redder than a lobster already, his body is clenched tight even between impacts and his voice sounds like this is something to get through rather than enjoy with each count he utters. She's not sure what exactly she's done wrong to prevent any sort of endorphin rush for either of them, but she's ready to admit defeat. She's especially sorry when she rubs his skin again with a smooth hand and realizes how hot and tender it is. One cheek sports a welt so red that she's pretty sure she's broken the skin.

"Gale, I'm so sorry." She grabs a handful of ice from the champagne bucket and rubs it on the area, wincing when he flinches even from her lightest touches. "Why didn't you use the safe word?" She doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she strides into the bathroom and turns on the tub faucet.

-o—

What the hell just happened?

Gale's not sure where Madge disappeared to: it's not like her to take a breather in the middle of a spanking. Though as much as he doesn't want to admit that his ass needs a break, it does. The pain isn't enough to utter what would ultimately call a stop to the whole night, but a five minute time-out sounds great. Besides, he knows that Madge needs the release that being in control gives her: she's been wound tighter than an eight day clock since before finals. What's a little discomfort when compared to her happiness?

He swears under his breath when she doesn't quickly return and he hears something that sounds suspiciously like a muffled sob coming from the bathroom. He finds her sitting on the toilet with her hands covering her face while the tub fills. Her shoulders shake. He crosses to her, sitting on his haunches so they're the same height and only wincing a little at the tenderness. "Madge? What's wrong, Princess?"

"Don't…Don't call me that." She sniffles, "I hurt you!"

"Come on, Madge, it's nothing. I'm just a little raw, that's all." He assesses her as she sits quietly. "Talk to me."

She doesn't meet his eyes. "We were completely out of synch out there. You're never going to trust me again."

He takes a deep breath, reveling in the smell of vanilla that he's come to associate with Madge and the underlying tang of Lysol in the room that he associates with home. His carefully keeps his voice level, like he might with an animal that startles easily. "I already trust you. Do you think I would bend over for just anyone? So my ass is a little sore. I didn't use the safe word because I know you need this. Tonight is for us." He's rewarded with a half-sniffle, half-snort in response. "Will you tell me what this is really about?"

That gets her attention. Her eyes find his as she snaps, "I compromised your safety." She continues as he shuts off the water, "It wasn't good for you."

He rubs his hands over his eyes before he straightens and laughs, tugging her so she stands in front of him. "God, Madge. Is that what you think? Look at you: how could I be anything but into it?" He runs a hand over the delicate strap of her lingerie until it rests just between her breasts. "Having you here is like a dream I never thought I could have. Every minute we spend together just shows me how lucky I am to have you." He nuzzles behind her ear. "And being completely uninterrupted? Knowing that you're here, wearing this, and paying all this attention to me?...It more than makes up for being a little bruised." He considers her quietly for a minute. "You know that I'll help you with your mom, right? If that's what's worrying you, I swear that you'll never have to deal with her by yourself again. Just don't shut me out."

Madge sends him a grateful look, then wipes at the eyeliner Gale knows she assumes is running down her face. She stands at her full height and waves her hand dismissively as she pulls herself together. "I'm just being silly. Let's get you into the tub."

Gale sends her a brooding glance. "Madge-"

"Really, I'll be fine." Her gaze is steady and cool.

Gale knows enough not to argue, especially when there are other ways to get Madge to open up. He stands, tugs her gently to her feet and brushes his lips against her soft, pink ones. His hands caress lightly up and down her spine in a gesture meant as much to comfort as to incite goose bumps.

"Come take a bath with me. We'll relax and you can tell me what's really bugging you." It takes half a second for Gale to step out of his kilt and into the warm water. When Madge shakes her head like she still feels too guilty to oblige, he grabs her anyway. Careful to keep the water that sloshes onto the floor to a minimum – housekeeping already has a tough enough job - he holds her wriggling body against his and sinks into the tub.

"Gale! I'm still dressed!"

Gale takes in her taut nipples, framed by the wet scarlet lace. His gaze drops lower, past her stomach, to linger on the matching scrap of now-diaphanous fabric. "You know, Madge, I didn't think it was possible for you to get any sexier." He scoops her hair off her neck and pulls her in for a hard kiss. "And don't even tell me that you think I'm kidding. You're gorgeous. And tonight, you're mine."

Some time later, Madge runs a soapy washcloth across his chest. Gale loves the scrape of the rough, hotel cloth and the pressure of her hands as they trace over him. He groans when she hits a particularly tender spot. "Today was brutal. Are you as sore as I am?" He frowns as Madge's hand pauses almost imperceptibly.

"No, I think I'm fine." She dunks the already sodden cloth into the water. "Katniss looked great, though. That was really wonderful shooting."

Gale's hand darts out to grab hers as his steely gray eyes clash with her stormy violet ones. "Is that what's got you so upset? Katniss?"

Madge drops the cloth and pushes off of him, hoisting herself out of the tub heedless of the water splashing over the edge of the tub.

"Damn it, Madge! Don't run away!" Gale almost trips over the lingerie puddled on the floor, grabs a towel from the rack, and sends a silent apology heavenward for the mess as he chases her into the bedroom. He stops short when he sees the silhouette of her shivering body gazing at the downtown L.A. skyline framed in the window. He can make out her goose bumps in the low light of the bedside lamp. Her hair, just beginning to curl on the ends from dampness, curves against her neck and shoulders and frames her face in gilt. Her beauty is a punch in the gut. He pushes the thought to the side and moves carefully behind her to slide his towel over her shoulders.

"I don't want her." He rubs her arms as much to hold onto her as to warm her up.

Madge snorts in response.

A gentle tug pulls her against him so he can loop his arms around her waist. It isn't lost on him that her spine remains rigid. "I'm serious, Madge. Today was about friendship and showing what she could do."

She tosses her head, sending damp strands whipping across his face. "And you just had to be part of that, didn't you? She could have won that match without you. Blindfolded, I might add, if your never-ending praise for her is even half-true. But you had to make it as much about you as about her." She whirls around to face him, making him stumble backward. "But it wasn't enough to win, was it?" She points a manicured finger at his chest. "You needed to be right there in the middle of it. Today wasn't about her. It was about you. She was just a means to an end. It might as well have been you holding the bow. You wanted it to be you holding that bow."

Gale's voice shakes. "Is that what you think? That my ego is so huge that I would use one of my oldest friends like that? Yes, I like to come out on top." He gestures angrily to the hairbrush and paddle that lay where she discarded them on the table next to the bed. "Given the games you like to play, I thought we had that in common."

The whip of her hand through the air meets the solidity of his palm instead of his face. Their eyes collide. "Get out."

"No. Because I'm serious - I don't know what's behind this, but I don't want her, and I'm not leaving here until you understand that." Madge actually struggles with him for a minute before the fight leaves her in a rush and she puts her head into the damp crook of his neck. He can feel her pants as they dissolve into something deeper. Something like sobs.

Her voice hitches. "I'll never be that for you. Daphne to your Apollo—"

"I hope not. Weren't they brother and sister?"

She pinches him on the arm. "That's Diana and Apollo. Daphne was the love of his life, but she ran from him afraid. Eventually, her father turns her into a tree. What I'm getting at is that Katniss is more than a friend – she's an extension of your arm. The physical manifestation of your intent. Part of you. That's why I couldn't get close to you tonight: I could no more compete with that than cut out a piece of your beating heart."

Gale shakes his head even before she finishes speaking. "Not my heart, Madge. Maybe my head, but never my heart." He frames her naked hips with his hands before sliding them up her spine, gathering her closer and dropping a chaste kiss on her shoulder. "My heart belongs to you and there is no competition for it."

"I don't believe you." She sounds resigned.

That's worse than broken, in Gale's book. Madge would never be broken: never allow her caring for someone to prevent her from going on. But resigned means that she's stopped fighting for him. For them. And he can't bear that loss. He angles her chin so that she meets his eyes. "I've only ever opened myself to you this way. And tonight, I'm going to show you how I can't stop thinking about you: how much you're in my blood; how much you mean to me." He tugs the curtain tie-back free with one hand and loops it over her wrists in a complicated knot. He steps back to survey his handiwork and brings her bound hands up to his mouth so he can drop a kiss on her palm before leading her a few feet to the large, full-length mirror next to the dresser and looping her hands over the top corner.

"Gale, what are you doin—"Her eyes widen in shock, but her pupils give her away. She's not frightened, no. If anything, their burgeoning darkness hints at a secret craving for just this. They're more alike than he ever suspected.

"I like to serve you, Madge." His voice is husky. He drops a kiss on her nape, moving her hair out of the way. "Maybe, if you watch, you'll understand how much." He takes his time tracing the length of her spine with his tongue, pausing to linger at her waist, scraping his teeth across her hip. "I want you to understand what it's like for me when I have your undivided attention." He thinks he hears a whimper when he digs his fingers into her hip bones for a moment before sliding his hands between her legs and pushing them apart authoritatively.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Princess." Gale slipped his long, lean body under her, facing away from the mirror. "Your pleasure is my pleasure. Remember that."

-o-

Madge registers that Gale's head is at the perfect height for what she's sure he intends. She clenches for it, drawing her hips forward ever so slightly toward the mirror and his reflection. After all, she's exposed to his gaze and primed for it. But that's not what he does first. She gasps as his strong hands knead her calves, first one and then the other. She groans softly when he takes his time rubbing his thumbs into a knotted muscle. The more he touches her, the more heavily she leans on her arms and the silken cord that binds her wrists. By the time he massages her thighs, she feels like Jell-O.

It's when her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back in enjoyment that she feels him shift suddenly. There's no time to gasp or moan before his lips and tongue are on her, thumbs spreading her apart so his entire mouth is engaged. This isn't like when they've had oral sex before: not that Gale is about tentative licks or anything like that. But he's certainly not feasted on her quite like this. If the leg massage left her more relaxed than aroused, his tongue swiping across her quickly overtakes her. She has no choice but to lose herself in him.

The thought is liberating.

The knobby thickness of Gale's thumb as he slides it inside her is maddening. It's not deep enough to give her what she wants, especially when Gale draws his head away slightly every time she moves her hips toward him. Like he wants to torment her.

"Gale…" she half-commands, half-whines, glaring at his reflection.

He pulls his mouth off of her long enough to say, "Call me Kitten." Then he's on her again like a starving man and she's his last meal.

A shudder goes through her at his determination and her own vulnerability. "Kit-kitten, I want you inside me."

"No. Not yet." He replaces his thumb with a long finger and the slow penetration has her trembling. He takes two or three long strokes, the kind he knows she likes. "And, Princess, no coming, either."

She knows what he's doing – she uses the technique on him all the time. He says it just makes it all the more intense to know that he shouldn't finish. And now that the tables are turned, it's absolutely true that she's gone from the possibility of orgasm to teetering right on the brink at those words. She's so close. It makes her do something she never thought possible.

"Please, Kitten. Please," she begs.

Gale withdraws from her completely, stands behind her, and meets her eyes in the mirror while he strokes her soft skin. Periodically, his hands dip lower and tease her just enough to keep her legs wobbly. She knows he's hard, can feel him brushing against her and she just can't understand why he's withholding what they both need. She arches into him. He runs a hand around her front – she hopes to steady her while he takes the hint – but all he does is skim up to her breast. His callouses abrade her already sensitive skin.

She's sure she's got him, especially when he reaches above her head, pulls her bindings free of the top edge of the mirror, and rocks her against him. They're exactly aligned. One twist of his hips and he'll be embedded dee—

The sting of the first smack takes her by surprise.

The second leaves her breathless and clenching at nothing, vibrating with need.

The third has more bite than the others, the way eating too many cinnamon bears leaves her mouth overly warm and tingly until she drinks something to cool it off.

By the fourth, she's arching into him in a totally different way. She welcomes the sting. She needs it.

He takes a moment to rub his left hand in circles where her skin burns. It's cool and soothing. "Do you know why I'm spanking you, Princess?"

Madge shakes her head. Honestly, she can barely remember her name.

"You don't beg, not ever, not even with me. You're better than that." His finger takes a detour between her legs where he toys just inside her. "You want me here?"

"Yes!" She flips her hair over her shoulder. It's practically a moan. If her hands were untied, she would scratch at his thighs and scrape at his skin until his he had no choice but to give in. As it is, she just wants something to grab onto or bite.

Gale rolls a desk chair over in front of the mirror and takes a seat before tugging her hips closer. When he meets her eyes in the mirror and gives a little nod while rubbing himself along her sensitive flesh, she knows he's going to give in. A minute later, he's exactly where she wants him. It's so, so good that she has to take shallow breathes to keep herself from letting go right.

"Easy, Princess." He's as out of breath as she is. He moves her legs so they're draped over the arms of the chair and grips the silken cord around her wrists in his left hand. He coaxes, "Open your eyes."

Her inner muscles contract around him as she takes in the sight of their joined bodies visible in the mirror. She's spread so wide that there's nothing left to the imagination. It's like watching a porn where the actress looks like her, only she can feel him move inside her. And he does. He's hunching his hips subtly and it gives him exactly the right angle to make her want to scream.

"Remember, Princess. No coming." Gale moves their tangled hands up to her breasts to hold her in place as his other moves to touch her. It's wet and intense. Hard. Insistent. Like the chair arms that hold her open to him and dig into the backs of her thighs. The heat and tingling of his touch meld together with the burning of her skin from the spanking until she can't tell them apart. Her vision narrows to his hand as it strokes her from her center to where he's buried. She wants to burrow into him. Grind until they are both shimmering powder and there's nothing left of either of them. She's so exposed she can't even breathe except in shallow gasps.

She thinks she says his name.

His lips murmur in her ear "Shhh, Princess. Not yet."

Is he grinding his teeth? She can't be sure that he's as close as she is. But the way his fingers are circling and rubbing, and the feel of his hips straining slightly under her sore butt give her a hint that he is. That, and his flush that's plainly visible in the mirror.

"Do you see that? There's only us. Feel us together. Do you understand how you make me feel now?"

Madge fights watching. It's too intense to see what his hands are doing to her while his eyes burn into her. She's afraid she'll burn him back, the way her body burns everywhere they touch. Her bound hands clench his like a lifeline as she swears burning embers flicker behind her eyelids. Her breath comes in stuttering huffs.

"There has only ever been us, Madge. We are unbreakable." He drops a kiss on her sweat-dampened forehead and whispers, "Now."

And then he's moving and she's moving and someone is sobbing. Everything comes at her in a golden rush as they burn together.


A/N:

This was a bear of a chapter. It was so important for me to handle the subject matter tastefully and with accuracy, so I did a bunch of research. I'll admit most of it didn't make it into the final product, but I will be posting some of my resources to this story's Tumblr page (Johannaismyspiritguide dot tumblr dot com) if anyone is interested. I will post one link here as I found it interesting and useful. Take out the "dots" and replace them: www dot rosecoloredasses dot com / sirreal / bdsmscience dot htm

As always, mistakes in the subject matter are mine and mine alone. No disrespect is intended in my portrayal of this material.

Special thanks to Doc and chele20035 for cheerleading and helping with many searches. I had some amazing pre-reading support: Chele20035, honeylime08, polarpi, nursekelly0429, oywiththepeetaalready, buttercupisbrainless, and damndonnergirls all provided feedback, caught spelling mistakes, and had a great sense of humor about every bad typo and staging issue in the scene.

Ladies, I can't thank you enough. Your frank critiques helped me tweak this to be exactly what I needed it to be to give us a glimpse of GNO!Gadge.

Doc, you deserve an award for your patience and an extra one for reviewing this on vacation. Sonic shakes are on me tomorrow.