I don't own any characters at all.
"No one really needs me." He says. And he means it.
She looks down and then back at him, her grey eyes full of what looks like so much sadness. "I do," she says. "I need you."
His heart cracks. He wants that to be true so much, but it kills him. Is she playing? Is she fucking with his head? It doesn't matter. He takes a deep breath, ready to make her understand. Her death would really be a death sentence for them both. Why can't she see that? It's possible that she has feelings for him, but he has so many doubts. He has that blind spot, where he believes what he wants to. He wants to believe that she cares about him, but he can't bring himself to believe that she loves anyone but him.
She had no idea what it had done to him, seeing her asleep at that table with Gale, her fingers wrapped in his. She loves him. It was written all over them both. He'd watched them for a long time. Watched her stir and tighten her fingers in his in her sleep. She and Haymitch had their secret language, finally one of the messages was for him. It was louder than thunder, and it had shattered his heart. Broken him into so many pieces. It was nothing new for him. For them. It changed nothing but his hope. He still loved her and nothing would change that. He still loves her, he still wants her to have what she deserves. A life with her family, a family with Gale.
It is infuriating. Why can't she see? But before he can voice any of this, her lips are on his. He tries not to give in. But it feels so insanely good, he'd almost made himself forget how good. It was so good. But he has to- oh, so soft. Make her- what is she doing with her tongue? That's new. See- She swings herself around and wraps those legs around him. FUCK IT. She's kissing him with her whole body now. He can feel everything she's doing from her toes to her fingertips, she's engulfing him, taking him over. Whatever self control he had is gone, erased by her hips and her lips. They're in their underclothes, and they have been since the fog. His body responds to her-there's no other word for it, it's hunger-with intensity. She's devouring him molecule by molecule. He feels the familiar rush of blood to his groin. She feels it too, she arches her back and makes a sound that only sends more blood straight from his heart to his erection. Every movement, every touch seems to make her hunger more. She can't touch him enough, can't feel him enough, can't- ooooh. One of her hands slides deliberately down between them into his shorts and it's everything he can do to keep from screaming and pouring his heart out to her through his mouth and his - oh sweet fuck, what is she doing now? Her hands are crossing her belly, they rise quickly and take her top with them. He could feel her hardening nipples through the fabric before but now he's looking at the dusky circles on circles on circles and feeling her velvet skin on his. He takes one to his mouth and the other in his hand, nipping and tasting and rubbing them against his cheek. Her hand on his erection has been still, content to feel what he has to give her but now she's using the clear bead of liquid forming on his head to stroke him excruciatingly slowly, her hips grinding in rhythm against his thighs. He feels moisture on his leg where she touches him, she's making her own fluid now.
"Stop. Stop, stop." He says.
"You don't like it?" She purrs into his mouth. He nearly loses it right there, right between them. She can feel him twitching, feel his scrotum tighten. She doesn't know what that means? Maybe, but probably not.
"Too much. I like it," he gasps, "too much." He takes both her hands in his and holds them to his chest. "Let me touch you." He's begging now. Pleading. He wants so much, and they have so little time.
She obliges by rolling off him, laying back in the sand, slipping her underwear to the side. The sight of it almost makes him cry. No crying, he tells himself. The whole country is watching. That thought that nearly sobers him, but he only gives it enough power to keep him from taking her right there, spending himself and hopefully giving her what she needs, what she is hungry for. But he needs to know for sure that she will get that, so he starts slowly, lightly. With his tongue. He makes his way up her thighs, up to her belly, to her breasts, and back down. He's only heard of this from his brothers, but they were very specific. He brushes her inner thighs with his lips, he licks her up and down, kisses each lip before spreading her open and finding the tight bundle of nerves he knows will do what he needs it to. What she needs it to. His tongue lingers for a minute but he remembers that they don't have much time. He wants to taste her, wants to explore the depths. He allows himself a small amount of time to let himself go there, to devour her back from the inside out. She rewards him with her hands in his hair and quiet sounds that he's never heard before and hopes to hear for the rest of his life. However long that may be. He sneaks a look up, her arms are crushing her breasts together, she's opening her legs to him as far as she can. The image is making him crazy. He returns to the swollen pink button, sucking gently, rhythmically, while he flicks it back and forth with his tongue. He slips a finger into her and feels the muscles in her legs tense, her whole body arch and pull like a bow string. She lets go finally, spending all the stored energy, all her hunger finally sated.
Well, maybe not all. She sighs and pulls him up to her, wrapping her legs around his middle, willing him to feel her ride out the effects of him on her body.
He can't take anymore, and she knows it because she grabs him gently and guides him to her entrance, then pulls on his hips with her legs, her feet locked together. She wants him to let go as much as she wanted to let go herself. He makes absolutely no argument. She's so wet her body offers no counter argument; he slides in to the hilt on the first thrust.
"I'm not sure how long I can-"
"Do it. Come for me, Peeta." And he can do nothing else. He finishes furiously, it doesn't take long. He collapses, still hard inside her.
"I love you." He can't stop the words. Blood is rushing through his ears, he can't hear what she has to say back. Any answer she gives him could shatter all his resolve, all his control. So he kisses her, and keeps kissing her until the lightning strike the tree. He never hears the words she whispered back to him.