a/n: My story takes place during Catching Fire. I don't own anything regarding The Hunger Games, it all belongs to Suzanne Collins. Just a one-shot tromp into lemony fluff-land. Rated M and I mean it.
Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not for long," I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman tranforming into the rodent.
"Want to talk about it?" he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven't even fought yet already haunt me.
When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It's the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he's offered me any sort of affection. He's been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. 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.
So I cling to him, rooted to the spot in my stubbornness and another feeling that's been building since our time together in the cave during the first Games. I'm not experienced with the word but I've heard it tossed around. Desire. For what exactly I'm not sure, but his lips press more firmly against the juncture between my neck and shoulder, hot and moist. He's rewarded with a quiet moan and I'm surprised. Where did that come from?
I expect him to pull away, to apologize and leave the room. Instead, his grip tightens around my waist and I feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin. I can barely breathe, wondering where this is going, where I want it to go. His mouth parts slightly, giving way to his teeth sinking slightly into my sensitive neck and another moan escapes me. A different kind of hunger game, that's what he's after. He's testing me now to see if I'll play. I don't quit easily. This is a different side to the generally mild-mannered, pensive, smoldering Peeta I've come to know. Of course I knew now that he loved me but thinking of being with him never really crossed my mind. He's still working at the apex of my shoulder, eliciting soft noises from my throat which seem to be spurring him on because he isn't letting up and I'm definitely a girl on fire now.
My legs begin to quake a little at the excitement of it all, making it difficult to continue standing and I want to get out of this common area before anyone comes along to interrupt what has barely begun. I thread my fingers through his blonde curls and pull his head up to look at me. His crystal eyes are pools, dark and deep with, what's that word again? Desire, that's it. For me. It's almost too much to take at this moment.
"What is it?" he asks and again I'm afraid I've ruined something. Afraid he thinks I want to stop.
"Shouldn't we take this somewhere else?" I ask, my voice rougher than I've ever heard it. He grins and takes my hand, leading me down the hall to my room. I fumble with the door but he makes it more difficult pressing against me with his hands on my hips, fingers drawing lazy circles that send shivers through my core. Finally the door complies and we stumble in. Immediately I turn around in his embrace and our lips crash together. Everything else melts away and all I can do is think about how soft his kisses are, how gentle his tongue is probing mine, his hands in my hair, cupping the sides of my face, my shoulders, running down my back. He ventures further down and squeezes my backside which pushes me against the length of him.
"Katniss…" he groans out.
The sound of my name coming from him like this is enough to undo me. I'm no longer just a piece in this game. I'm an active and willing participant. His excitement propels me forward and I push him towards my bed, backing against it and falling in a tangle of arms, legs. I grab at Peeta, pulling him down on top of me and thrusting my hips up to meet his, making that delicious sound come from his throat again. His hands are at the hem of my shirt, frantically tugging up, trying to free what he's sure will be a prize. He is not disappointed from the look on his face once my shirt clears my torso, chest, head.
He sits back on his haunches, taking in my breasts. He licks his lips, moistening them and then he's leaning over me, brushing those very lips over my nipples. They immediately go hard, which isn't a new sensation but has never been caused like this, and has never been as pleasurable. I place my hands on both sides of his head, playing with his hair as he discovers this newly revealed part of me. He suckles, nips, and kisses every inch of my chest, as if this is the main course. I should've expected such thoroughness from him but while I'm enjoying the foreplay I'm looking for a little more. I cup his chin and lead his face up to mine. He latches onto my mouth again and tantalizingly rubs his hands over my hips and thighs, not daring to go too far without my permission. I roll my hips upwards seeking his fingers and he responds in kind, brushing over the very core of me.
"Peeta, I want this. I want you." I manage to gasp out as he's teasing me.
Apparently this is the key phrase he's been waiting for, because immediately his lips are on mine and his hands are tugging my pants down. Once I'm down to my underwear he pulls himself off me, removing his shirt in the process. I find I'm staring as his smooth chest, firm from all those long days at the Bakery but yielding and compliant when I reach for him, run my hands all over him. Peeta returns to kissing me and I'm kissing back with equal fervor when he possessively grabs my hip and pulls it over his, then presses himself against the source of all this fire. I'm grinding against him now, a woman abandoned and our groans and gasps fill the room. Why we've never tried this before I'm not sure but I make a mental promise to not let so much time go between this session and the next.
One of his hands slides up my body, caressing my side, my breasts, my collarbone, my neck, and then down my arm. He laces his fingers through mine and grips tightly, then begins raising my arm over my head. Once he's pinned it above us he does the same with my other arm, all the while still pushing against me, making my need to have him entirely almost unbearable.
"I want you to keep your hands where I've put them.", he tells me in a voice rough with lust. My eyes search his questioningly and my mind is already protesting. I don't want to stop touching him. That's part of the fun for me, finally learning his body. "If you move them, this…" his hips roll into mine "stops." I gasp at the feeling of pleasure and at the idea that he would end this. I lick my lips and nod my head, not trusting my voice and wondering what I've gotten myself into. This is a side of Peeta I would've never guessed existed.
His hands snake back down my arms and find my breasts again, rubbing his thumbs across my nipples, occasionally bending his head to suckle at one. He's propped up on his forearms to give better access and so he can watch my face. I'm gripping the sheets above my head, trying to figure out his next move. Once a player in the games, always a player. I can't just stop my mind and allow anyone to control me, even if it's to make love to me. This is different though, because Peeta keeps me guessing in a way I don't mind…in fact, I find I'm enjoying this a little too much, and I finally decide to give up and allow my body to relish in all the feelings he's causing. He pauses one more time to lift himself off me and starts to remove his pants. I like watching him undress. It gives me time to take him all in and really appreciate his form. Once he's void of any clothing he straddles me and begins working at the final layer between us – my underwear.
Peeta's blue eyes meet mine and it's like he's asking if I'm sure, if this is okay. I give him a slight nod and just like that, the clothing is removed and he's on top of me and I feel everything. The warmth of him, the size of him, his silken skin. He's hard and pressing against my opening and my hips spread wider, allowing him to settle between them. My hands let go of the sheets and travel down to caress his back but he stops, takes my hands and places them above me.
"I meant what I said." He growls out. I smile up at him. "You don't. You want to feel my touch as much as I'm willing to give it." I grip his hands above us and roll my hips up, grinding against the length of him. Two can play at his little game. He moans loudly and with this momentary distraction I release one of his hands and reach between our bodies, guiding him to push inside of me. When the tip of his girth feels how warm and wet I am, he captures my lips and slides deeply into me, not willing to tease and play any longer. We both groan, and once he's pushed to the hilt he stops to allow my body to stretch and accommodate him. Then our hips take up a sweet, slow rhythm that feels so good, so incredibly good, that I don't ever want it to stop.
It doesn't take long until I feel a pressure building inside me, spreading and growing with every thrust. Peeta seems skilled at this, but I don't bother wasting time to figure out where he's learned his talents. There's always time for that later. He pumps into me harder, faster, and I can tell he's reaching a point of release. We both are. I wrap my arms around his neck and find his earlobe, biting gently. He bucks a little at the sensation, making him push deeper into me.
"Peeta, don't stop. Don't ever stop." I whisper into his ear. The implications behind my words – don't stop making me feel this good, don't stop loving me the way he does are his undoing. He presses his face against my neck and gives a few more deep thrusts and I feel myself splitting in two. The sensation is so great; I cry out over and over as each wave hits. Peeta, not to be outdone, is just as vocal as I am. We ride out our climax together and then he collapses on top of me, his full weight against my frame. I relish the feel of him and my hands find his back, my fingers lazily tracing over him.
After a few moments he pushes up and kisses me. When he pulls back, that sweet smile that I've come to know and love is being offered to me. I smile in return and push his sweaty hair off his forehead. "No matter what happens, I'm glad we had this." He murmurs. My heart pangs at the thought that all of this could be taken away in a matter of a few short days, but I push those from my mind, rolling with him when he lifts himself off me, laying my head on his chest, and settling in for a dreamless sleep.