So after, when he whispers, "You love me, real or not real?"
I tell him, "Real."
I only see the joy that consumes his face for a moment, after that moment we are locked together in what can only be described as love. I'm not using him to protect me, we aren't faking for the cameras, and I'm not trying to keep him alive by distracting him with affection. This time I will not hurt him, this time I acknowledge my love, and he knows he no longer has to be tentative. Peeta doesn't have to think about tomorrow's repercussions, the possibility that I will tell him it was all just an act, or the fear that Gale will walk through the door and steal my heart away with a dead squirrel.
That boat has long since sailed away, maybe once I had a future with Gale, but even then, it's highly debatable. I had met Peeta first, the Boy with the Bread, and he had saved me first, that impression never went away. Even if we had not been reaped in the 74th Hunger Games, I know Peeta would have manned up to speak to me, and in time, I would have realized he is who I belong with.
So as Peeta runs his hands through my hair, bringing me back to reality, he breaks the kiss, even though I yearn for more. In the dim light cast in from the hallway, through the slightly ajar bedroom door, of his house in the Victors Village, I can see the pure euphoria in his shining blue eyes. Still tentative, a result from years of my rejection, he lifts himself so he is raised on top of me. His prosthetic leg really is life-like now that he better knows how to use it. It can perform every motion a regular human leg can, as well as being the same weight. He doesn't even need to take it off; they fused his nerves and bones into the leg, so the only thing it truly lacks is skin.
"What are you thinking about?" he questions breathing nervously.
"You love me, real or not real?" I ask, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it, to know I'm not just dreaming, to know he's here and safe, and in love with me.
"Real", he says with the utmost assurance. How I got so lucky? I don't know. Haymitch was right; I could live 100 lifetimes and not deserve Peeta. I could live 500 and still, never will I truly deserve him.
"I was also thinking", I began, "do you remember that pearl you gave me?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, I would really like to get it made into something. Something I can keep with me forever to keep you close, even when I'm out hunting."
"I think that's a wonderful idea." He said rather simply.
Tired of suppressing the burning in my body, telling me I want more of Peeta, I give in and wrap my arms around his neck, raising myself up to gently kiss his lips. He apparently had the same idea, but was not intending to be so gentle about it. His lips searched mine hungrily, and that gave me confidence, it gave me the confidence needed to slip my tongue into his mouth, for the first time, without him having to initiate it. We stopped only to catch our breath, breathing while kissing just wasn't giving us enough oxygen. I felt strange, other parts of my body were reacting to this situation, making me hot, and want something I never imagined I would want, after all, I had decided I didn't want kids, hadn't I?
"Peeta", I whispered into his mouth.
He broke away to look at me, questioningly.
"Not tonight", I said generally, knowing he would know what I meant, he could see my physical arousal, bright cheeks, and feel areas flooded with blood. And I could very well see his; something I guess he had decided no longer had to be a secret. It didn't have to be, he wasn't scaring me away now. Automatically I feel his body tense, preparing for the emotional blows he's been subjected to by me, I hate myself for this.
"I'm not saying no", I take his hand and let him feel the warmth and arousal, "I'm just saying not tonight, I really don't want kids, we're only eighteen after all."
I feel him relax immediately and he lets out a breathy laugh, making me feel much better.
"Oh, I see what you mean… sounds like I'll have to make a trip to the market tomorrow." He says smiling.
"Actually, I have a better idea" I say. "I'm going to put a call in to my prep team, I'm sure the capitol had something far more effective that I can simply get a shot of."
I release him from my hold and kiss him again, deeply, melting into him, the way he has melted into objects by camouflaging. Now that I have acknowledged the stirring feeling, and embraced it, it does not leave me. That, I am grateful for. He kisses me back, cradling my face in his hand. He rolls off of me in one fluid movement, and beckons for me to lay against his chest, like we have done so many nights. He has bed sheets made of silk, orange silk, the color of the sunset, his favorite color, from the Capitol no doubt, and I pull them up around us, reveling in the cold air from the A/C. I'm happy we were able to keep our houses in the Victors Village, even after the revolution. It is but small repayment for what we have gone through. In fact, we can never be repaid. As long as Prim is dead, as long as we remember what we went through, and as long as we live, there is no way to repay a victor. But they will try.
Only a few weeks from now the reaping for the Capitols only Hunger Games will be underway. Peeta and I were chosen to be mentors for two of the tributes, the other district victors will be mentors for the other tributes. Another way they attempt to try and repay us. As this all runs through my mind I realize Peeta's breathing has evened out, signaling he is asleep. I decide to cast these thoughts from my mind and follow suit, drifting off into a land of dreams, dreams I can never be sure will offer me any sanctuary.