The arena was a blood-soaked hell of pine and rock, but right now the only thing on my mind was her cunt. I shoved the tribute girl—call her Lila—against the nearest tree, her back scraping bark as I yanked her pants down to her knees. She was already dripping, the Games sponsors probably watching every second on their fancy screens. "You want to live through the night?" I growled, fingers jamming straight into her slick hole. "Spread those legs and take my cock."
She nodded fast, eyes wild, and kicked her pants the rest of the way off. No slow romance here. The clock was ticking and the other tributes would smell blood or sex soon enough. I freed my dick, thick and already leaking, and slammed it home in one thrust. Her pussy clenched like a fist around me, hot and tight from the adrenaline. Lila moaned loud enough to echo, but I clapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet, slut.
You want the Careers to find us while I'm balls-deep?"
I fucked her hard and fast, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with the forest sounds. Every thrust shoved her up the tree trunk. Her tits bounced under the torn shirt, nipples hard from the chill and the rough treatment. I reached up, pinched one viciously, and she bucked harder on my shaft. "That's it, take it," I snarled. "Your hungry little cunt was made for this. Sponsors love a good show."
She came quick and dirty, walls fluttering, juices running down my balls. I didn't stop. Pulled out, spun her around, and bent her over a fallen log. Her ass cheeks spread wide as I drove back in from behind, deeper this time, hitting that spot that made her legs shake. One hand fisted her hair, the other reached around to rub her swollen clit in rough circles. "Beg for it," I ordered. "Tell me how bad you need my load."
"Please," she gasped, voice raw. "Fill me up. Fuck me like you own me." The words hit like a drug. I pounded faster, the log creaking under us, until my balls tightened and I unloaded deep inside her—thick ropes of cum pumping into that greedy pussy. She milked every drop, pushing back against me.
We didn't get a breather. A cannon boomed somewhere in the distance, but we stayed locked together, my cock still twitching inside her. Lila reached back, grabbed my ass, and pulled me tighter. "Again," she demanded. "They want more. We give them more or we die."
I flipped her onto the ground this time, pine needles digging into her bare ass. Spread her thighs wide and shoved back in, cum already leaking out around my shaft. This round was slower but no less filthy—long, grinding strokes while I sucked marks onto her neck and tits. She clawed my back bloody, legs locked around my waist. "Harder," she hissed. "Make it hurt. Make them pay to watch."
Sweat slicked us both. I hooked her knees over my shoulders and folded her in half, pounding straight down into her core. Her second orgasm hit like a storm, pussy squirting around me, soaking my thighs and the dirt. I followed right after, another hot flood filling her until it overflowed. We stayed joined, panting, my softening cock still buried as we listened for footsteps.
The night stretched on like that. We took turns—her riding me reverse, grinding her ass against my hips while I slapped her cheeks red. Me on my back while she sucked my cock clean, then climbed on and fucked herself stupid on it, tits bouncing in my face. Every position raw and urgent. Her mouth tasted like blood and lust when we kissed between rounds. "This is the real Hunger Games," she whispered once, voice hoarse from moaning. "Not arrows. Just how many times you can make me come before they kill us."
By dawn we were wrecked—covered in cum, scratches, and pine sap—but alive. Another cannon. We cleaned up just enough to move, her hand already stroking me hard again as we slipped into the trees. The arena cameras kept rolling. The sponsors kept paying. And we kept fucking like our lives depended on it—because they did.
