Disclaimer: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark and The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins. I do not claim any ownership over them, I'm merely borrowing them for a little while to have some fun. Other than the first two lines in italics, which are direct quotes from Catching Fire, all other words are my own. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction. Like, ever. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, but please be gentle to my fragile ego. :)
"Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go."
And I'm not. After a few moments, I feel Peeta start to pull away from me, and I stop him, holding him tight against me. As he cranes his head to look at me, I can see the question behind his eyes-there are no cameras here, what's going on? And I answer him the best way that I can, by gently kissing his neck in return. Our time is limited, our lives behind us, and even though we've been training relentlessly, the odds are not in our favor. I doubt that Snow has any intentions of allowing us to make it out of the arena this time around.
I hear Peeta inhale sharply, and exhale my name. His voice, barely a whisper against my ear, sends a tingle down my spine. "Katniss," he says louder, more firmly, as he pulls away, holding me at arm's length. I'm about to protest when I realize that Peeta spotted the Capitol attendant silently placing what I ordered on the floor by the door. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he says chagrined before quickly exiting. Crossing the room, Peeta picks up the tray and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Always a gentleman, he pours me a mug of warm milk first before serving himself.
"Are you planning on staying awhile, or heading back to your room?" he asks. With my eyes closed, I rub my forehead and sigh. "I know were supposed to be training, but I don't think I can stand to watch another Hunger Games right now," I answer. "Can we just sit awhile?"
"Sure, Katniss," Peeta says, patting the seat next to him. I curl up near him, my feet almost touching his leg, cradling the mug of warm milk in my hands. There's silence as Peeta looks at me, and I stare into my mug, trying to make sense of what I'm feeling. The announcement of the Quell was a death sentence. I've accepted that I will not be returning to District 12, that there's no other chance to explore other possibilities if I wanted to. And I'm not even sure if I do. Or did.
I know what I'm feeling, but the stubbornness is my won't allow me to say it. Instead, I blurt out "I've missed you," a little louder and more forceful than I've intended to. It's only partially true, but it's the best that I can get out now. "Missed me?" Peeta asks bemused. "We've been training together non-stop since they announced the Quell."
"I know. But...I..." I'm not sure what to say. What can I say? That even though I made up my mind and chose Gale, I never stopped thinking about Peeta? That since my time on Panem is limited to the next few days, and since Peeta is the one I'm with, I want him? Okay, so maybe I don't know how I feel exactly. I just know that his touch left me wanting more.
"I want you," I say decidedly. "Katniss," he starts to say with apprehension, but as I set the milk down and move towards him, he stops. "I miss you, and I want you," and to emphasize my point, I kiss him. Slowly, gently, and unlike most of our other staged ones, I'm enjoying this. I don't feel fake or guilty. Peeta opens his mouth slightly, and I do the same, allowing his tongue to gently slip into mine. With a low moan, he pulls away from me, looking pointedly around the room, and nods his head toward the door. Silently I take his hand and we slip down the hall into my compartment.
I hang my robe on the back of the door and he follows suit. As he turns back around, I fling my arms around him and whisper into his ear, "Please don't leave me. I know things haven't exactly been easy between us these past few months. And I know that it's been my fault. I can't put into words how I feel like you do. I just know that I've missed you. Not the intense trainer that you've been, but the you that only I got to see; the you that was there for the nightmare. I've missed you, and I've missed your touch. I know that it's not enough, but those feelings are real."
"Shh," he says, while slowly rubbing my back. "I know, Katniss, or at least, I've hoped. I don't doubt you. But I don't want you to feel like you have to say or do anything just because we're not both going to make it out of the arena-" I cut him off with a kiss. I may be terrible at expressing how I feel with words, but maybe I can make him understand like this. I slowly begin to unbutton my nightgown. "No, Katniss, I mean it." I ignore him and slide my nightgown off of my shoulders. The only light in the compartment is coming from the moon and the starts streaming through the window, but I still feel exposed in the dim lighting. My nerves begin to set in, so I step back and sit down on the bed, unable to look at him directly.
"Oh," he gasps. "You're so beautiful." He tosses his shirt on the floor as he comes to sit next to me. His lips trace a path up and down my neck that makes me moan. Emboldened, he reaches up and begins to touch my arm, my shoulder, stroking my chest. I start to rub his leg when I feel something hard, and pause. Did I cause that to happen? An unexpected sense of pride wells up inside of me. Everything that we're doing is new to me though, and it dawns on me that perhaps it's not new for Peeta, which sets off a wave of butterflies in my stomach. I sit up suddenly, startling Peeta. "I'm sorry, I'll stop."
"No, I don't want you to stop. I just...am nervous. I don't know what I'm doing." I stare down at my hands folded on my lap, unsure of how to proceed. "Please don't be nervous with me Katniss. I...like you. I more than like you. You know that. And I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do. I don't want to do anything that is going to make you uncomfortable. If you want to stop now, we can just curl up and get some sleep." But that's not what I want. I want to touch me again. I want some relief for the feelings the throbbing in between my legs.
Timidly, I ask, "Have you ever done this before?" But I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer. "If you're asking if I've ever had sex before, the answer is no. I'm technically a virgin, too." What does that mean? What does technically include having done? I don't think that I really want to know the answer to that though, so all I say is, "Oh." I'm still staring at my lap when Peeta's hand touches my cheek. We don't have to do this now. If you're not ready, it's okay. I'm not sure if I'm ready, either. How about this? Just lat back and let me make you feel good." I wish I could make up my mind right now, but I'm feeling so many different things. There's a fire burning in the pit of my stomach, but since I'm completely experienced when it comes to any of this, I'm not sure if it's fueled by fear or longing. I start to lay back.
"If something feels good to you, just tell me. If I'm doing something that doesn't, just let me know and I'll stop immediately. Roll over." Confused, I hesitate. "Come on, if you can trust me with you life, you can trust me with this," he says with a smile. I roll over and he straddles my behind. I can feel how hard he is, and I stiffen up. "Katniss," he says, "just relax. I only want you make you feel good." He begins to rub my shoulders. He massages and stretches my neck in each direction, and then works his way down my spine. His years of experience kneading bread translate amazingly into rubbing the knots out of my back.
After rubbing my arms, he starts to work on my behind, taking my panties off in the process. I'm wet, without him touching me there at all. "Peeta," I moan. "What you're doing feels amazing." That statement earns me a kiss on my cheek. He continues to massage his way down my body, and I can't help but let out another moan. When he's finished rubbing my feet, he tells me to turn over, and I do, without pause this time. He starts to massage my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. As he's doing that, he dips his head down to my chest and begins to work kisses down my belly. He's working his way lower and lower, when I stop him. "Trust me?"
He dips his head down between my legs; as he begins to lick at me, I start to feel something building inside that I've never felt before and I let out a loud moan. It's getting more and more intense, and my breathing is getting quicker. I'm feeling dizzy and light headed, and this tightness inside that just keeps building. He's continuing to lick at me when I feel him slowly press a finger inside. He adds a second, and it's too much, but a wonderful too much, and I experience something I've never felt before.
I gasp loudly, crying out his name and he slows down his movements to a complete stop, which is perfect because I've never felt this sensitive before. I just lay here, feeling like perfect, languid, happy jelly. Peeta likes down next to me in bed, and comments that he can hear my heart pounding. I grin, not knowing what else to do. He's slowly rubbing circles up and down my arm, grinning, too.
After a few minutes it begins to fade. I turn to him, press my hand against his chest and explain, "I want to make you feel good, too, but I'm not sure what to do." He takes my hand in his, and brings it to his lips kissing each of my fingertips. He slides our hands down his body. "I'm sure whatever you do will feel good."
I pause for a minute, my fingers tickling his curls. "I...please Peeta? I really..." I feel my face get hot, embarrassed because I really have no idea what I should-or shouldn't-be doing. He picks my hand back up, brings it to his mouth, and kisses my palm. "Don't be grossed out by this, but I'm going to spit into your hand, okay?" Now I'm really confused. "Are we making a deal?"
"No, it'll just feel better when you touch me if you hand is wet. Otherwise it might start to chafe." Peeta spits on my hand and then places it over his member. He tightens his hand around mine, harder than I would've expected, and begins to slowly move it up and down. After a moment he lets go and explains, "That's really all you have to do. Be firm, but don't squeeze too hard. Just keep moving up and down, and make sure that you go all the way up. But what you're doing now feels great."
I continue what I'm doing while looking at Peeta's face. He's focused on watching what my hand is doing, and his breathing is heavy. I can't help but look at him and think that his is truly effulgent. And then I feel a pang in my heart, because I remember that it was a spelling word that Prim had to memorize not so long ago, and had me help her with. "Faster," Peeta says, thankfully breaking my train of thoughts, "and just a little harder." After a minute Peeta groans. "Katniss, just keep doing what you're doing. I'm going to come." And just like that, I feel warm liquid start to run over my fingers. I'm glad, because my arm was starting to get sore, but I was determined to do this for him.
"Do you have any tissues or a rag or something to clean this up?" He asks. I get up and cross the compartment to the dresser, pulling out a camisole. I wipe my hand on it, before tossing it back to Peeta. I crawl back into bed and lay down stiffly next to him. What have I just done? What does this mean for us now? Peeta leans over and gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. Thank you for that. Are you...was it...is everything okay? I can hear the fear in his voice.
No. Nothing is okay. In a couple weeks I will be dead, and who knows? He might be, too, but I can't say that. Relaxing slightly, I turn on my side to face him. "Everything is amazing," I complete my lie with a kiss and a smile, "Now let's get some sleep while we can."
As we curl together and get comfortable, I realize that even though I'm planning on sacrificing myself for my boy with the bread, I don't want to. At this moment, what I want is for us to somehow, impossibly, live happily ever after. I whisper, "I love you, Peeta," but the only response I get is his steady heartbeat and his tranquil breathing.