Self-gratuitous (literally) porn with a little bit of plot. Originally written April 2015 for the Peeta Mellark Masturbation Series, the beautiful brainchild of muttpeeta and peetasbunmyoven over on tumblr.
WARNING: RATED E for some serious smut to include masturbation. If that's not your thing, don't read.
Katniss,
When I woke up a few days ago, I rolled over, looking for you. Of course, you weren't there, and I know that's my fault.
I know you think it's a weakness, not standing up to my mother or telling her off when she pushes too far. I wish I could say that I disagree. The problem is, it's more a feeling of being powerless in her presence. Nothing I say or do will change her or her thoughts about me or my being with you. So I just let her talk and try to make her words roll off my shoulders.
Guess that wasn't enough.
Please, know that nothing she says could ever change the way I feel for you. I love you. I think I've been in love with you almost since the first moment I saw you. And I thought that if I ever had the chance to be with you, I'd do anything to keep you.
I'm so sorry I messed that up. I had no idea her words were affecting you almost as much as they did me.
I've told you before, but I'll repeat it now. I don't care what she thinks; I would've waited forever, forgone marriage completely, if that's what you wanted. As long as I had your love, I was happy. The rest was just extra toppings.
I know it won't fix anything between us, and it won't bring you back. You were pretty clear when you left that this was it for us, and I promise to respect that. But I did tell her off. Finally. Told her that I love you, Katniss, and that I wouldn't tolerate her venomous comments about you anymore. Too little, too late. I know it is.
Of everything I've faced in life, her wrath and losing you are by far the worst. Losing you wins, though.
The other morning, when I searched for you, I was pretty upset, at first. Then I realized your pillow doesn't smell like your shampoo anymore. Such a small thing. It felt like having my heart ripped out all over again. You are my heart, Katniss. Without you, I've got nothing. I am nothing.
You needed me to stand up for you, and I didn't realize that. You've always been so strong. I just assumed you were far stronger than me and could take it and not be bothered. I'm sorry I didn't ask. I'm sorry I didn't know. And I'm sorry I didn't protect you when I should have.
Always yours,
Peeta
He stares at the letter as the clock ticks on the wall. Tick tock. Tick tock.
His fucking mother ruined everything, as usual. Her snide comments about Katniss being trash, the worst sort of woman, the kind who trapped young men in sinful relationships, had driven a wedge between them and sparked a fight. A fight that grew out of hand until she'd left their apartment in a flurry of angry words and slamming doors.
Since then, Peeta had felt empty. Lost.
This letter is meant as therapy. Ordered by Dr. Aurelius, whom he's been seeing since he turned twenty to sort through the nonsense and vitriol about himself that his mother had planted in his head throughout his childhood. Dr. A is a big fan of writing letters that never get sent.
Crumpling the paper into a ball, Peeta throws it into the trash can next to the desk. He'll never send it to Katniss. He's not allowed to burden her with his feelings when she's already cut all ties. It only took three days after their fight for her to start blocking his calls. A week before she sent Johanna to their apartment to pack some things and deliver the message.
It's over.
For a few days, Peeta didn't believe it. He didn't want to. But three weeks and four visits from Johanna later, he's accepting the fact that Katniss really meant it. And it hurts like hell.
After a solitary dinner, Peeta settles on the couch with a beer and a book. He needs to immerse himself in other worlds. He can't focus, though, and is grateful for the friendly knock that interrupts his evening. Until he opens the door…
"Hey there, Bread Head. I have a list this time," Johanna brandishes a piece of paper. He glances at it, noting Katniss' neat scrawl on the lines, as well as the empty boxes folded under Johanna's arms.
"How is she?" he asks after swallowing the lump that's formed in his throat. Johanna rolls her eyes and pushes her way past him into the apartment.
"Are we really gonna do this song and dance every time?" Johanna calls over her shoulder as she heads for the study. "You got any packing tape?"
"Top desk drawer," he says, flopping back on the couch and channel surfing to drown out the noises of Johanna packing more of Katniss' things. He takes deep, calming breaths, trying not to let the finality of it overwhelm him.
When he can't stand it anymore, he walks into the study. Johanna kneels on the floor in front of a full but open box, squinting at a piece of paper.
"I'll help carry the boxes to your car," Peeta says.
Jerking her head up, Johanna crumples the paper and tosses it in the box, then tapes the thing shut while Peeta takes in the small stack of boxes and the gaping holes on their bookshelves where Katniss' books used to reside. There's a similar hole in their closet. He just couldn't bring himself to spread out his hangers to fill the vacant spots she left when Johanna took all her clothes.
"Thanks. Just these today."
Peeta nods and hefts a box into his arms. Once all the boxes are tucked in Johanna's trunk, she slams it shut and then appraises Peeta.
"You look like shit," she tells him and he laughs bitterly.
"I feel like shit," Peeta admits. "Probably because I haven't been sleeping worth shit."
"She's gonna be fine, Peeta," Johanna says in response. "May take awhile, but she's gonna be just fine."
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at the pavement, sparkling in the lights of the parking lot. "I know she is," he whispers. "I want her to be…to be happy. That's all."
Then he turns and heads back upstairs, waving over his shoulder when Johanna yells after him to go get a fucking drink and screw someone already. He's got no intention of taking her advice. Except maybe the drink part.
"Peeta," Katniss gasps softly, her fist yanking down on the collar of his t-shirt as she rolls onto her back, cutting short the loving kisses he'd been peppering over her back. "Touch me," she pleads.
Skimming his hand over her naked body, he lifts her leg, draping the bent limb over his hip as he whispers words of love and then seeks out her heat, massaging flesh and eliciting sighs until she's wet and pushing her hips up into his hand, brushing against his hard length with impatience in her voice. Joining her is a slow torture. He spreads her with his fingers, slick with her desire and slides in by small degrees, working his shaft deeper as she gasps in quiet bursts. Her hand winds under the pillows to bury in his hair, heightening his own need with the tingles her actions send skittering down his spine.
He loves mornings like this. Lazy weekends when neither of them has to rush to work, but still they wake early, both trained by jobs and school from early ages to rise with the sun. He loves greeting mornings like this with kisses and soft touches, the luxury of exploring Katniss' body although he has every curve, every freckle, and every sweet spot that makes her mewl his name memorized. He still loves finding them again in the cozy light of a weekend morning.
He rocks his hips into her slowly, inhaling the last traces of her perfume from last night as it mingles with her own natural musk. His lips trail over her neck, feeling the vibrations of her moans under his lips. Her heel digs into his buttocks, pulling him deeper into her and they both sigh with the exquisite burn as they ignite. Peeta clings to her thigh and they rock together on the cool sheets, in no hurry to chase release, but rather, delighting in the warmth of the flames and the sounds of quiet entreaties, gasping moans in the still morning air.
Her walls flutter slightly, and he knows she's getting close. Peeta drops a hand back to her core, fingers searching until they light upon her clit and rub slow circles.
"Peeta," she moans again, but something is wrong. Her voice is too soft and echoes a little. The sensations of her flesh beneath his palm begin to recede. Desperately, Peeta clings to the scents, but soon, he surfaces anyway.
He wakes on his stomach to the pattering of rain on the windows and his hips still rocking into the mattress, seeking release for his erection. His arms are sprawled wide and his right hand fumbles around to confirm what he already knows.
Katniss isn't there.
Peeta delays opening his eyes, orders his aching dick to calm the fuck down. He's had some luck distracting himself from thoughts of her during the day, but at night, his subconscious and body have control, and they seem to rejoice in taking Peeta on a vivid trip down memory lane with Katniss as the star of the show.
Peeling himself from the mattress, he sits on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and blinks a few times.
What the hell happened last night?
He's still dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt. He remembers Johanna and the boxes, and then he had a few drinks and tried to read again. Looking around, he finds his book dropped on the floor and leans over to pick it up, tossing it carelessly on the nightstand. He must have fallen asleep while reading. Another riveting Friday night for newly single Peeta Mellark, he thinks viciously.
Elbows propped on his knees, he runs his hands through his hair a few times and waits for his erection to deflate. He tries to think of something to help, but his dream keeps intruding with an erotic gasp from Katniss or the flickering memory of how tight and wet she always felt around him.
Flopping back on the bed, Peeta groans into the quiet of their…his…apartment. This is exactly the kind of morning they would have spent lingering in bed, making love to the soundtrack of rain on the windows. He misses her. Everything about her, really, but right now, it's her body and the way they were together that he misses most. How it never felt tawdry or cheap, but like something almost divine.
"You're an idiot, Mellark," he says to the ceiling and closes his eyes. Memories of Katniss assault him immediately and before he realizes what he's doing, he starts rubbing himself over his jeans. Fuck! He's so hard for her. He feels like a teenager all over again, unable to control his raging hormones. And it feels so good, rubbing himself like this with a mental image of Katniss, naked and splendid, spread wide for him to taste.
She's ruined him for anyone else, he knows that because ever since they started dating, her eyes and body and voice were the only thing he could picture when he touched himself. Anyone else just didn't work for him anymore.
Just once, he tells himself. He'll do this just once more and then he'll behave. After this, he will stop using her to jerk off and face the fact that she's gone. He no longer has the privilege of saying her name when he comes. He commands his brain to remember that promise as he pulls his shirt over his head and flings it aside.
Eyes closed, he pictures her rolling and stretching in their bed, the sheets barely covering her nude form and her hair rumpled from sleep. He continues massaging himself over the stiff denim, picturing the sleepy smiles she used to give him on waking. Once he's straining painfully against the material and can't stand it anymore, he slowly undoes his belt and the fastenings, sliding a hand into the opening to stroke himself over his boxer briefs. He draws in a tight breath at the added sensation as he imagines peeling back those sheets, finding silken, olive toned skin and soft sighs.
He wants to kiss her, to taste her slowly, a gift to be savored, not torn into, and pictures his hands sliding over her, pulling her to him. Peeta licks his lips while thinking about licking her nipples and sucking on the dusky buds until she spears her hands in his hair and gasps out his
name.
His hand tightens over his dick and his hips jerk at the added friction. He moves his hands, pulling himself free as he kneads the turgid flesh and groans, wishing it was her hand and not his. Lifting his hips, he slides his jeans and underwear down until they fall to the floor with a soft thud, pooled around his ankles since he's too keyed up to bother with removing them completely. He keeps his feet on the floor, a futile attempt to keep himself somewhat grounded. Then he fumbles in his nightstand and pulls out the bottle of lubricant stashed there, squirting a small amount in his palm before tossing the bottle aside.
Taking himself in hand again, he whines a little at the cool lube against his fevered skin. As he strokes himself, warming the lube, he imagines sliding into her wet heat, capturing her moans with his tongue. He wants to watch her intoxicating grey eyes grow dark and hazy with pleasure meant only for him. With one hand, Peeta strokes the base of his shaft, slowly. Agonizingly slow. He curls his other arm up and grips the back of his head, remembering how much she loved to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull on the strands, how crazy it drove him when she did that.
His ab muscles twitch and flex as he imagines her, remembers her, straddling him and riding his cock, her nails digging into his scalp and his chest.
"Oh fuck," he groans as his thumb and forefinger catch on the head. He focuses there a few seconds, feeling her thighs press into his body and the noises of demand she'd make when he'd pause to thrust shallowly, so only his tip teased her folds.
When Peeta's hips join the dance of their own volition, he resumes stroking his entire length, pausing to twist his wrist near the head before plunging back down. His skull begins to buzz as Katniss pants urgently over him, her hips rolling and breasts bouncing in time with his hand. Pulling his fingers from his hair, he grips his balls, tugging down gently to prolong the pleasure.
His breath catches as he thinks about pumping into her, his hand mimicking the action until he's panting harshly into the quiet of his lonely bedroom. The visions behind his eyelids merge together into a tapestry of skin and a melody of erotic feminine sounds. He squeezes his cock tighter and pumps faster, bracing his toes on the floor to push his hips up as he thrusts into his own touch.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he pants at the lightning sparking behind his eyes and between his legs as his other hand reflexively squeezes and pushes his balls upwards. His movements pick up speed, until he's softly moaning with the exquisite agony, the sensuous pictures his mind conjures of Katniss writhing over his body.
Peeta lifts his head a moment to look down at his hands on himself. It's a poor substitute, but god does it feel good to release all of the pent up desire that's been raging through his blood for the better part of a month. He briefly thinks he sees her, but convinced it's a hallucination, a product of his fantasy, he closes his eyes once more, his head dropping back to the bed, his neck and back arching, tensing as he strains towards release. His pants morph into moaning grunts as he imagines her face contorting with her own orgasm. His arm starts to shake and his calves are beginning to burn with the effort of thrusting up. When his balls tighten in his grip and his spine begins to tingle, he loses himself in the moment and allows her name to slip past his lips.
"Katniss."
He grits his teeth and cups his hand over himself to catch his semen as it spurts out of him, his other hand now moving to stroke his pulsing cock and milk out his release. "Fuck me," he draws out the words in a stuttering moan while the lightning behind his eyes dances out of control and through his limbs, and sweet endorphins flood his blood.
Without caring about the mess, Peeta gives himself a couple more lazy passes with both hands twisting around his cock, tugging on the head and sending a series of shudders through his body, spurred on by the sticky warmth of his release spread over sensitive skin. He then cups one soiled hand over himself and flings the other arm up over his eyes while he tries to catch his breath and stop the room from spinning around him. He's tingling all over and feels dirty and wonderful all at once.
"You're a fucking pervert, Mellark. You can't keep jerking off to thoughts of your ex-girlfriend. This cannot happen again," he chastises himself out loud, his voice hoarse and strained.
"Why not?" Katniss' sultry voice calls from the general vicinity of the bedroom door. His arm flies off his face as he sits up, keeping his softening cock hidden with his hand, although he has no idea why. She's seen it before. Mortified, Peeta finds her, leaning against the doorway and tapping a folded piece of paper against her lips, a satisfied smirk on her face.
"Katniss," he gasps as she pushes off the door frame and walks through the bedroom and into their bathroom. He can't move. Can't think. She comes back with a warm wash cloth and hands it to him, the strangely satisfied smile still lingering. Embarrassed, Peeta takes the cloth and cleans himself off. Before he can stand, she plucks the cloth from his hand and tosses it in the sink. He uses the time while her back is turned to cover himself with the sheet and kick aside the clothes still caught around his ankles. His cheeks burn in humiliation. He sees her toes on the floor but can't bring himself to look at her face.
"Katniss, I'm sorry. I can explain."
"Shut up, Peeta. I'm going to ask a few questions and you are going to give me silent 'yes' or 'no' answers. Understood?" she says and holds the folded paper below his nose after he nods. "Did you plan on sending this to me?"
He examines it, noting that it has been crumpled then flattened and looks up at her in confusion. She unfolds it and his eyes skim the writing. His writing. Peeta's eyes go wide and he shakes his head. How'd she end up with that? He trashed it.
"Johanna brought it with my books last night," she says and Peeta flushes with anger and humiliation as he realizes what Johanna was reading last night when he walked into the study. "Did you know she had it?"
Again, Peeta shakes his head.
"That's what Johanna said, too." There's a pause and Peeta thinks he's dying. He can't breath and there's a splintering feeling near his heart. And then her voice softens. "Did you write it for Dr. Aurelius?"
This time, Peeta nods slowly, and Katniss tips his chin up to look at her again.
"Did you mean it? What you said in the letter?"
"Every word," he whispers, hoping he doesn't look pathetic.
Katniss straddles him, tossing the letter on the nightstand and then runs her fingers through his hair. He's sure he's dreaming. It's just another hallucination, but then her lips are on his and no dream could compare to the taste of her, the feel and the warmth of her as her lips meld with his. They still fit together perfectly, he muses before her tongue traces his lips, demanding entrance. His hands grip the bed sheets, until his knuckles ache. He can't stand the pain if she walks out again and so he keeps his lips shut.
"Touch me, Peeta," she whispers as she sits back and draws her shirt over her head. "I know you still want me. You can't hide that it was my name you whispered while you came."
Her hands flatten on his chest and she pushes him back on the bed and removes her bra, instantly drawing his eyes to her breasts. Still, he tries to resist.
"I saw the whole thing," she admits, kissing the hollow of his throat and down towards his pectorals. He should push her away, tell her to go before she smashes him to pieces, leaving nothing in her wake. But Peeta's always had a weakness when it came to Katniss Everdeen, so he lets her lips roam over him and pulls ragged breaths into his lungs. "And now, you're going to return the favor. So touch me. Peeta, please."
Peeta groans. She knows he can't deny her when she says it like that. His hands grip her hips and he flips them over, settling her in the center of the bed. She undoes her pants and he pulls them along with her cotton panties down her legs, their motions hurried and desperate, neither willing to break whatever suspended reality this is.
Then she's spread before him, a glistening, sensual feast. He devours her with his eyes. Katniss shifts her legs slightly, a move meant to beckon him forward. His gut pulls towards her and he caresses up her legs until his mouth hovers over her. She sucks in a breath in anticipation and he looks up to meet her eyes, silver with want.
"I don't think I can ever forget the way you smell when you're this turned on," he whispers, making her whimper with the delay. "Your taste, your smell, your sexy little sounds. They haunt my dreams, Katniss. My every waking moment. You have no idea how badly I've been craving you." He really should stop now, but her scent calls to him and he lowers his mouth to her.
Peeta feasts on her, greedy and hot, knowing exactly how to push her high and fast towards her peak. He moans into her, savoring her flavor, despite his hurried pace. She twists and writhes underneath him, struggling to break the hold he has on her thighs. He listens to her sounds, the erotic symphony stirring his groin and fuck! How is he already getting hard again?
He pushes the thought away and focuses on teasing her right to the edge before backing off, slowing down. He wants to make her beg for it. To make her need it. He wants to hear her scream the words in ecstasy one last time before he lets her go for good. Peeta watches her back bow off the mattress with pleasure and groans when she tangles one hand in his hair to hold him to her, the other hand buried in her own hair.
"Damnit, Peeta. Let me come!" She yells in frustration at one point and he grins, lifting his head and moving to kiss along her belly. She's not the only one in a position to demand things right now. After all, she did watch him uninvited.
"No," he says, and she whines loudly, yanking on his hair, pushing on his skull to get him back where she wants him. "You know what I want," he murmurs against her skin before returning to her core and slowly licking at her until she's close once more. He can feel it, he can feel her tensing in anticipation of it, her feet curling into the bed beside him. And just as he starts to let back up…
"FUCK! Peeta, I need you," she shouts. "Please!"
She drags the word out in a squealing noise because he's already giving her what she wants, what she needs to lose herself in the heat and pulsing of her orgasm. He slides his fingers inside her, desperate to feel her clenching him, flattens his tongue to her clit and drinks her scent as she flutters against him. Peeta pulls his fingers from her as the tremors taper off, licking her from them, trying not to whine his desperation for more, for always.
"Oh god," she moans lowly as she comes back down from her high. "Oh god, Peeta. I needed that."
He sits back on his knees, watching her body writhe through the last currents of release, her skin beautifully flushed and her chest heaving for air. Then Peeta swallows thickly and stands with the sheet held around his waist, to leave the room, to give her whatever privacy she wants before she goes.
"Peeta," she says, halting him. She struggles up and reaches out, taking the linen from his hand and slowly pulling it free. "We aren't done here yet."
His traitorous cock jumps at her words as he tries to remember why he should leave the room. There is a reason. But she's so incredibly beautiful, radiant in her post coital glow, that he can't seem to tear his eyes away or get his feet to move.
The sheet falls to the floor and Katniss cups him in her hand, pulling a soft moan from his chest and she grins at the response before pumping him a few times. His hips thrust into her hand, disobeying his will to not respond to her.
"Is this what you were thinking of? Or was it my mouth?"
"No," he shakes his head and grabs onto her hips. "You were on top of me."
Katniss grins and then yanks on his shoulders, pulling him back onto the bed. "Even better."
Dazed, Peeta looks for answers on the ceiling as Katniss climbs over him, her hand gripping him as she positions herself.
"Wait," Peeta says frantically. "What happens after…?"
His hands scramble for hers, to stop her or slow her down, he hasn't decided, because while his heart wants her back, his mind knows he can't take losing her again, and his dick is not helping the situation at all.
Katniss snatches his hands and slams his arms to the bed over his head. Peeta's eyes go wide and she smiles down at him.
"Do you still want me?" And if he hadn't spent years studying Katniss Everdeen's every expression, searching for some hint that she loved him as deeply as he loved her, he would not have seen the flash of vulnerability in her eyes nor have heard it in her voice. Peeta swallows and nods, hoping she knows he needs it to. "And I…I still want you, too, Peeta."
He relaxes under her, lets her sink down onto him, slowly, lubricating his length with her arousal as she goes. Peeta curses at the amazing feel of her sheathing him.
His hands clench into fists over his head as he searches for something to hold onto while she starts moving over him. A waltz of want as her hips roll over his and her head falls back, her mouth releasing soft sighs of pleasure. Her hands rest on his abs, fingers curled around his sides as she brings his fantasy to life.
Slow and lazy, not it any rush to reach the end. As rain sluices down the window panes, Peeta watches Katniss take her pleasure of him. Rolling her hips then sliding up and down his cock, back to rolling, making him grunt and moan her name, admit how badly he's missed her. And not just for this. He thinks he might be starved for her, admits that too as she rocks, rocks and moans over him, chasing fire and satisfaction while he revels in the gradually mounting pleasure.
He watches as she rolls her head, her hair falls loose about her shoulders, falling to cover part of her face. Peeta loves watching her like this, as she loses herself in the feelings roiling through her, and eventually, he can't keep his hands off of her, running them over her legs and hips, up her torso to play with her breasts and tweak her nipples. Katniss squeals and squirms, grabbing his hands, lacing their fingers together, and planting their joined hands firmly above his head. He grins at the new view, watching her breasts sway over his face as she rolls back onto his shaft.
"You always did like control," he whispers hotly and she shivers above him.
"I…Peeta, I…" Her eyes close and she bites her lips, then she lets go his hands, planting one hand firmly on his chest as her hips start to snap. Peeta grips her hips, and pulls on them a little, helping her keep the pace. Her hair brushes over his face, a dark curtain shielding him from reality, and he closes his eyes, forgets their fight, and focuses on the feel of her sliding over him, the tickling of her hair and the faint smell of her shampoo. He smiles at all the memories the scent evokes, combined with that of their sex, he's suddenly almost there with her. Peeta bites his lip, listening to her desperate sounds and fighting to hold back.
He doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want Katniss to go.
"Peeta," she stutters as her walls clench his cock and he almost loses the fight. Her torso drops to his, her breasts mashed to his chest and he whispers her name before she kisses him, her breath coming in hot pants over his cheek as she sends currents of lightning and need through him with the heat and insistence of her mouth on his. And still, her hips rock in short motions, her thighs quaking beside his as her hands hold his face in a tight grip, as though she too is afraid he'll slip away after they're done.
Gradually, lips sealed to his, Katniss slows, and Peeta basks in the sensuality of this kiss, her hands moving to tangle in his hair and tug on it while he caresses her back, her neck, everywhere he can reach, reminding himself of what he's already stored away in memory. Solidifying it for the long future of deprivation stretching before him.
When Katniss falls still, they continue kissing, her hair completely hiding their faces from the rest of the room. Peeta throbs inside of her, aching for another release, but he waits patiently for Katniss to catch her breath, to recover.
Finally she pulls away slightly, opening her eyes to look into his. He's missed this look of smoke and flickering flames, the steady heat that comes after almost as intoxicating as the scorching inferno that precedes their love. He could get drunk on it every day and never mind the burns.
Her eyes flutter shut as she rests her forehead on his, their noses brushing and mouths so close to kissing, his lips yearn for the soft brush of her cupid's bow. She breathes heavily, her body shivering sporadically. When his cock twitches inside her once more, she chuckles, a grin spreading over her lips.
"You want more?" she asks huskily.
"With you…Always," Peeta whispers, throwing caution aside in favor of passion. If she leaves now, he'll already be broken. Might as well risk it all to the wreckage.
"I'm not going anywhere," she says softly. Taking that as an invitation, Peeta rolls them over, tearing at the tangled sheet when it gets in the way and he slips from her. He flings it aside as Katniss laughs, settles back into the pillow with her hair fanned out over the light blue expanse. He wants the sheets to smell of her again. To reek of her desire and her release. Hovering over her, Peeta grins wickedly. Then he lowers his weight to rest lightly on her, holding her breasts in his palms, he feasts on those too. She makes small noises and thrusts her chest up into his face, gratifying him with her pleasure. He's hard and ready to burst, but he wants it all today. He pulls one nipple into his mouth and sucks, rolls it between his teeth and keeps going until she moans loudly and he pulls back, tugging the stiff peak with him and releasing it with a soft suck and does the same to the other.
"Are you ready for me?" Peeta asks and Katniss nods, jutting her hips up towards his. He seizes her mouth in a languid kiss, massaging her tongue as he reaches down with one hand and guides himself back into her. "Fucking hell, Katniss," he groans and paints kisses over her neck. "I swear I was made to fit you."
She only moans wordlessly as he halts, buried in her and fighting the faint tingling in his spine. He refuses to let this end just yet. Bracing his hands on the bed, he lifts his torso away from her, letting his hips sink into hers as she wraps her legs around his hips.
"Then fuck me, Peeta. Fuck me now, please," she whispers, her harsh words stunning him a little. Over their years together, she's gotten more vocal, but this…this phrase is something new from her lips. He blinks and starts to move, thrusting in a slow, easy rhythm that allows him to watch her every expression. Pleasure and desire and love swirl in his veins, ratchet through his body at every pass of his length through her folds. Her body grips at him and she moans softly, bites her lip and arches her neck. Peeta lowers his head to kiss her again, her hands grab onto his arms, fingers slide through the perspiration there and grip his flexing muscles.
"I don't wanna fuck you, Katniss. I wanna love you," he whispers to her parted lips.
Katniss whimpers and he risks a look at her face. She's panting again, her pupils wide and her eyes hazed with desire. Her hips have started to meet his, pushing him deeper inside.
"Love me harder," she whines and he chuckles a little, driving into her with more force, but keeping the slow tempo. "Oh-oh!" She cries out as the bed shudders with their motions and he has to bite back his own cry of pleased astonishment.
"Like that, Katniss?"
"Yes," she groans, shifting her hands to dig her nails into his chest and abdomen. "I need you to pound me into the bed, Peeta."
He complies and her body arches into his, a high pitched hiccuping sob torn from her throat as fire lances through his body. He does it again and kisses that throat, bringing a hand up to cradle her arched neck. Again and his lips are up to her chin; he welcomes the flames. Once more and they're heated mouth to heated mouth. Katniss bites down gently on his lower lip, whining again as he plunges into her.
She brings a hand up to his hair, to hold their mouths joined, same as their hips, as Peeta pounds her slowly into the mattress and into oblivion. Tips of fire, her fingers trail down his ribs around to his back and when he thrusts into her again, she scorches his skin with her nails, his mouth with her muffled cries of ecstasy. It's softer this time, although he hopes just as pleasurable for Katniss. Her walls spasm and clench, and he commands his body to maintain the slow pace until she stops squeezing him. His motions become a little clumsy as he tries to hold back and their mouths slip apart.
"Peeta," Katniss moans. "Let go and come with me."
He groans and leverages his hips to move faster. She clings to his hair with both hands and starts to almost scream with each thrust. He's already close, the fire spreading faster, raging in his blood and between his thighs and behind his eyes.
"Katniss, Katniss," he chants her name in his own erotic song.
The fire dances down his spine as he feels the tightening and then the spurting release. Peeta stops thrusting, instead rolling his hips over hers in a figure eight, allowing the fire to burn him alive. He vaguely feels her walls squeezing him again and groans at the incredible feeling of being sucked dry by her.
"Peeta," Katniss says in an awed voice and he kisses her, pouring all his hurt and misery of the past few weeks into her mouth, hoping she tastes the desperate edge he feels and decides to forgive him. He knows it would be a miracle if she did. Some rational part of his brain remembers that this is probably good-bye sex.
Katniss cups her hand around the back of his neck as he kisses her, toys with the hairs at his nape. Her legs slide sinuously down his and she sighs almost happily into the kiss. His heart is breaking all over as he finally pulls away and rolls off of her, covering his face with his hands because he can't bear to watch her leave again, but he knows he can't keep her forever.
Feather light touches trace over his chest, trail down the patch of hair leading from his navel down, down and Peeta uncovers his eyes to find Katniss smiling beatifically at him.
Then she scoots closer, tangling their legs together and wrapping an arm around him, holding him close, her eyes sliding shut. Peeta sorts through the events of the morning, trying to reconcile this cuddling with what he thought was happening. She yawns, but she's still smiling when she speaks.
"I'm sorry, too, Peeta. I should have talked to you about your mother before I started yelling. And I should never have walked out like that. Or at least not blocked your calls. I was just so mad at her."
He trails his fingers delicately over her dewy skin, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand, Katniss. What are we doing here?"
"Cuddling after incredible sex, Peeta," she states as though he's dense or missed something.
"I figured you'd be gone again by now," he whispers and her eyes fly open.
"You thought…" Katniss trails off and then climbs onto him and wrapping her entire body around him. She places kisses over his chest and shoulders, his neck and ears and cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. She kisses him everywhere and murmurs softly. "I made a mess of things. I made such a mess of things. I said I wasn't going anywhere. Don't you believe me? I love you, Peeta. I'm so sorry I don't say it enough for you to believe me."
Joy courses through his body as understanding brightens his world and he clutches her to him, accepting and returning her kisses.
"I love you," she murmurs into their kisses. "I just want you to feel as strong as I know you are. To never doubt how much I need you."
"I'll try to remember that, if you try not to shut me out so fast. To talk to me first and yell later. I won't ask you to promise not to yell at all," Peeta says, then tickles her. "You're too much flame and fire to keep that promise."
She scowls playfully and swats at his hands before she curls into him. Rain traces winding patterns down the windows as they talk softly. Whispered confessions and promises to do better. To be more careful with each other.
They lay with hands clasped and hearts beating against the other's chest when she finally lifts her head again to look down at him, worry creasing her brow.
"After all that work she did, Johanna's gonna be pissed at me for moving back in with you," Katniss says.
Peeta laughs and pulls Katniss towards his lips. But before they meet in a scorching kiss, he wipes her worries away. "She'll get over it. Besides, her stealing that letter is what brought you here today. I'll buy all her drinks for the next year if that's what it takes to keep her happy."