The muffled sounds he heard from below the sheets were indecipherable. "What? I can't understand what you're saying down there," Peeta asked impatiently and flipped the linens up over Katniss' head.
"I said that I finally sent in that name change, Mr. Mellark," Katniss repeated with a smirk. She hoped that her good faith effort in finally changing her name would improve the bad mood he'd been in for the past couple weeks. "Now, let me get back to work."
"You don't have to do that, Katniss."
She popped off again to answer, "But I want to. I want to officially be Mrs. Mellark. I owe you that." She opened her mouth to consume him once again when Peeta jerked away.
"No, I mean you don't have to work so hard to get me off. It's just not happening tonight, okay?"
Katniss sulked, frustrated and fatigued. She gazed at him from her place on the bed, reaching to grasp his chronically soft penis. "But it's been too long—I mean, all I want is for you to be satisfied."
"Enough!" Peeta snapped, propelling himself away from her to move up to his side of their bed. His head dropped in disgust. "I'm tired of being your project. It's only been a couple weeks anyway." He turned to look at Katniss, avoiding any direct contact with her steel-grey eyes. "You're making me more nervous."
She crawled up slowly behind him and pressed her naked body against his bare back. Her lips found his neck and made a trail up to the sensitive area behind his ear. "No more trying, okay? You let me know when you're ready." Her hands skimmed along the muscles of his broad shoulders as she hummed passionately at the sight of his skin pebbling under her touch. She wanted him so badly and thought of something that could benefit them both.
"Peeta?" she asked demurely. "I've missed your mouth on me. What do you say, hmm?" She lay back, her ebony hair fanning delicately onto the pillow. Her fingers walked down to her center as she spread her legs for him.
He knew she needed him and acknowledged to himself that his lack of intimacy had been affecting their relationship. He inhaled sharply and did his best to calm down. As he slowly exhaled, he pushed back the distracting thoughts that had been tormenting him lately.
"Okay, Mrs. Mellark, you convinced me," Peeta said with a sly grin as he turned and moved toward her sex. He opened her even wider and inhaled deeply, her aroma permeating his senses. With a quick movement, his tongue swiped along her entrance, then his lips suckled on her clit and dove back for more. He became intoxicated with her scent and continued his routine as she thrusted her pelvis toward his face, her fingers locking onto strands of his thick blond hair.
"Peeta, Peeta, Peeta..." she chanted reverently as her hips oscillated rhythmically under his ministrations. His enthusiasm grew as his tongue bathed every crevice of her most intimate area. She heard and felt him moaning, the vibrations from his breath causing her to keen in pleasure. She continued her litany as his hands moved to her bottom, pushing his face even deeper into her throbbing abyss.
He smiled against her as he felt his cock coming to life. Finally.
He grunted and bit at her lustily, having felt his virility return. His fingers found their way to her center, tickled the swollen labia, then filled her chasm as his tongue swirled and lapped up her moisture. He looked up and saw her head pushed back onto her pillow, her glorious lips parted in ecstasy as she continued to whisper his name. Coupled with a few choice words, hearing his name fall from her mouth repeatedly gave Peeta such a thrill.
He had become fully erect by the time her muscles tightened and the sparks shot through her closed eyes. "Oh, Peeta! I'm coming. I'm coming..." she whined blissfully as she soaked his face and the bed linens thoroughly. Her heart beat so fast that she felt it would come right out of her chest. She just lay there, her breath normalizing while Peeta went to retrieve a wet cloth from the bathroom.
He initially moved the warm, damp towel along Katniss' forehead, down her nose, and to her chin. He planted kisses on her cheeks as he wiped her neck and chest. Katniss noticed the obvious hard-on Peeta was sporting, but she didn't dare say a word for fear she would be chastised. Instead, she allowed him to take the lead. He washed between her legs, which felt so luxurious. Peeta had rarely doted on her like that, unless it was an act of foreplay.
He set the used washcloth to the side and lay next to Katniss. She turned to him and gazed lovingly into his deep blue eyes. "Thank you for that," she kissed his lips tenderly and traced the bit of light stubble covering his jawline. "Mrs. Mellark loves you."
He pulled her in closely, grasping on to the small of her back while doing so and muttered, "I love you too, Katniss. Look, I'm sorry about earlier, I just—"
"Shh," she interrupted, "no apologies. This is a difficult time of year for both of us."
"Yeah, it is." His tone sounded more defeated to Katniss than usual, but she attributed it to his recent sexual problems. He got up and opened the window, turned off the light, and removed his prosthetic before lying next to her.
Sleep came quickly for Katniss as Peeta's fingers combed through her hair gently. His steady arms enveloped her as she drifted off. Little did she know that Peeta felt far from steady and was doing everything in his power not to lose control.
Peeta should have been more excited about the renovation of the Mellark Bakery. It had taken over a year to get all the needed materials and supplies from the Capitol and then finding decent help for the labor was another issue altogether. Peeta was strong, but he needed more crew to get the job done. So after two years, the rebuilding of his family's bakery was complete.
Besides the general allowance the Capitol had provided to those wanting to rebuild their businesses in destroyed districts, Peeta obtained even more advanced equipment due to the known sacrifices he and Katniss had made for the rebellion. They sent him electric ovens, large refrigerators, and beautiful cabinetry all crafted to Capitol standards. It wasn't over-the-top, but to Peeta, it was such a special gift considering how many businesses and homes had been destroyed in the war.
They even sent technicians from District 3 to update the telephone lines and electricity so the current was stable and safe for the entire district. The new government of Panem wanted and encouraged inter-district communication, so establishing phone lines was one of the first priorities after the basic infrastructure had been rebuilt.
Peeta opened the glass doors of the bakery; the sign reading his family's name hung high above. His morning staff was already at work, having been there since four in the morning. That was one of the perks of being in charge: he could make his own hours. But Peeta, always the baker's son, never changed his internal time clock and woke up before the sun rose every day.
He greeted Aster and Margot, who were already filling the display cases with pastries and bread. The bakery had only been open a week, but they had enjoyed a steady influx of customers considering the small population. And with Effie being Effie, she had already submitted a special order for an upcoming Capitol engagement. Peeta was grateful to have some business to keep him occupied.
He had designed the new place similarly to how it was when he was growing up, with a few exceptions. The bakery, kitchen, and family room had been on the lower level, and the bedrooms had been upstairs. Now, however, he didn't need living quarters, so the bakery downstairs was larger with tables and chairs for eating inside. Upstairs, he had arranged for an employee break room, an office for himself, and a separate studio for his painting and artwork.
Most people in Panem would be elated by the grandeur of his new business, but for Peeta, it was bittersweet. This was the time of year that he and Katniss, along with all of the survivors of District 12, mourned for those lost in the firebombing after the Quarter Quell.
Several years had already passed, but the anniversary of his family's demise felt even closer to him as it occurred at the same time of the Mellark Bakery's reopening. And part of renovating the bakery, his former family home, was cleaning all the debris. The place had been leveled with only fragments of walls still standing; just the foundation and basement had been left fully intact after the Capitol's bombing. Peeta had ignored the boxes and files that had been stored in the basement. He left it to go through later as they had already built on top of the foundation, leaving the same entry points for access.
Peeta had handled the reconstruction well. He remembered the times he had spent in the kitchen with his father and held back his tears. He smiled wistfully as he recalled those wrestling matches he'd had with his brothers before his mother would whack them on the butts with her broom.
But it wasn't until two weeks ago that he'd started regressing. It had been late, after the workers had left for the day. Peeta had been putting finishing touches on the upstairs office when he'd thought he'd heard noises that reminded him of his brothers fighting, as they had often done long ago. Echoes of his family from childhood had pervaded the walls of the bakery, and Peeta's body had begun to quake.
Visions of fire, searing heat, and blood curdling wails had burned through his mind. He had braced himself against the back of the chair just to remain standing through the torment. When it'd finally passed, Peeta was dripping sweat, panting, and tremoring. His first instinct had been to call Katniss at home, to ask for her help with his unusual scare. But he had decided against it; he'd tightened his grip on the chair to remind himself where he was—what was actually real.
Peeta had remembered Dr. Aurelius recommending desensitization when he was faced with a fear. That meant he needed to figure out what had truly scared him and had caused him to see those horrific visions. Then he could determine a way to cope with that fear before allowing himself to be exposed again.
He'd had a pretty good idea what had caused his upset, and he had been avoiding it from the day he had come back to District 12. He had thought that rebuilding the bakery would be therapy enough, but he hadn't gotten to the core of his pain. The truth to his anxiety lived in the boxes below him. Those remnants were the only proof of his family's history, the only things that had survived from the bakery, save himself. So with slight hesitation, he'd put down his work and made his way down to the basement.
That first night, he'd opened only one box. His hands shook terribly as he pulled at the seams to open it. He found receipts from his father's business stuffed in that top box. Mr. Mellark had not kept the most detailed records, but reading some of the trades he'd made caused Peeta to laugh. Two squirrels for a loaf of bread... a basket of strawberries for a bag of cookies.
He'd decided that this could be therapeutic, indeed, and spent some time every night rummaging through the boxes—exposing himself bit by bit to those ghosts from the past that his mind had been fighting against. If Katniss were to discover what he had planned to do, she would have wanted to be there with him, but he needed to do it alone.
So for the last two weeks, after all the workers had left for the day, he had gone through one box at a time. Some items were boring papers that by anyone else's standards should have been chucked in the trash. To Peeta, however, they were like gold. His father's handwriting on a bill of sale had caused him to break down in tears one night as he realized that was the only evidence of his existence now—well, that and the bakery with his name branded on the front.
There was a box he had found with pictures of his family. The night he had unearthed that collection was one of intense turmoil for Peeta. He'd sat, seemingly unscathed, staring at the photographs. His only movements had been to trace the features of their faces and the background details. He'd sifted through the photos, one by one, from his hands back into the box.
Some had made him chuckle, like the one of the boys wrestling in the square. Wrestling was something they all had enjoyed because it was the only time they were allowed to fully be themselves, and it helped relieve them of their pent up anger and frustration. It had been a common sight for children making their way home from school to witness three blond boys all in a scuffle with dust billowing around them outside the bakery on any given day.
"Oh, Rye..." Peeta had sighed, trying desperately to keep it together that night. "Why did they have to get you and Emmer, too?" He had glanced away from the photograph so the tears that leaked wouldn't harm the paper. He'd really missed his brothers, and it didn't come to his mind so strongly until all those memories had been awakened. Even though he was the youngest, and his brothers had made him pay for it with constant welts and bruises, he knew they had loved him.
His mother, however, was another story. He didn't remember a time when he had felt truly loved by his mother. She had cared for him, kept him fed and clothed, but he never experienced a loving touch or a warm embrace from her. If she had ever complimented him, it had been a hard pat on the back and "it's about time." As he'd viewed the pictures over several nights, he'd skimmed past those of his mother. He preferred not to dwell on her death because he felt guilty about his lack of grief.
He had taken a few of his favorite pictures up to his office. He'd pinned them on the corkboard next to those of Katniss and himself. He didn't spend much time in his office during the day, as he liked to be involved in the actual baking and decorating. Plus Aster and Margot were still apprentices and needed to learn so much more before they could be completely independent. But when he did work in the office, he found himself gazing at the pictures, evoking those distraught memories once again.
Katniss had always provided him stability through the rough times, though. When he had gotten himself too upset, he would fix his glance at Katniss' image and all would be well again. Katniss was comfort. Katniss was home to Peeta.
Unfortunately, his emotional instability had followed him home. He'd never had a problem pleasing her in bed until he started exploring the basement in the bakery. And now Katniss had made a huge deal about his inability to perform. Well, she hadn't made a huge deal about it. In fact, she had only been trying to help, which made him even more self-conscious about his failure.
But last night was different. He was able to get an erection and was happy that Katniss hadn't mentioned anything. He knew she had seen it, and he had been fearful that as soon as she saw, she would want him to put it to good use. But she'd ignored it, and that pleased him greatly.
As it neared the end of his workday, Peeta planned to organize another box of memorabilia before going home to see his wife. He hoped that his body would cooperate once again so that he could salvage his manhood after all.
"You were right, Katniss. Look who's not so brainless after all," Johanna mocked over the telephone. "That outdoor shower makes a world of difference."
"I knew it would. How can you avoid water? It's everywhere," Katniss replied, so pleased that she was able to help her good friend with her bathing issue. "The outdoors will make you feel like it's rain. You said you could handle rain, so one thought led to the other."
Johanna laughed. "Now I need to get a heater out there, and it will be perfect." She gasped and continued, "That's it! That's what you and Peeta need!"
"An outdoor shower?"
"Maybe, but no. I mean something different. Like... sex in the shower, sex in the backyard. I don't know. You need to shake it up."
Katniss sighed. "I don't know if that's the problem, Johanna. I mean... it happened last night." She bit her bottom lip, afraid she'd shared too much with Johanna the last couple weeks about Peeta's and her sex life.
"You got fucked?" Johanna sounded way too excited for Katniss, who scowled as she heard the words come through the receiver.
"Well... um. Not quite the way you mean."
"There's only one way to get fucked. Wait. I take it back. There's definitely more than one way, but you didn't get the meat... the sausage... the big pepperoni?"
"Johanna—please!" Katniss' cheeks turned red just hearing her friend talk about Peeta that way. "This isn't a joke."
"Okay, I'll be quiet," Johanna offered. "Go on. I'll be good."
"We didn't have intercourse, but I noticed he got hard while he was going down on me." Katniss' grin crept onto her lips as she remembered how she had felt with Peeta's face between her legs after so many days without him. "I didn't utter a word once I saw him, though. I was afraid he would get mad."
"It sounds like you'll still get some use out of my surprise then," Johanna giggled as she spoke.
"What surprise?"
"You'll see. Maybe it will spark some interest under the covers. Or in the shower. Or in the backyard." Johanna's cackling made Katniss anxious as she could only imagine what type of surprise she might have sent. "It should be there any day now. Call and thank me once you've given it a try."
"Johanna..." Katniss implored, "you're not going to get me into more trouble, are you?"
"Of course not. Trust me. You'll love it. Now, don't worry," Johanna reassured. "I want to hear more about this hard-on. I've always thought that Peeta must be well-hung."
"Johanna Mason! You are my dear friend, but this is not a joking matter."
"Then why do I sense you smiling over the phone, my dear friend?"
It was true. Katniss was trying not to smile, but it kept reappearing because she knew how great their sex had been and could be if Peeta would just get out of his funk.
"How do you know me so well?" Katniss groaned. "Okay, yes. He's perfect and treats me so well, but lately... anyway... I know it's just a phase." She turned swiftly as she heard the door handle rattle. "Johanna, got to go. He's home."
"Okay, call me tomorrow with an update."
"Will do. Thanks for the chat," Katniss said and hung up as Peeta drug himself into the living room.
"Hey, Katniss," Peeta said with an exhale. "Talking to Johanna again?"
She nodded and got up to greet Peeta with a hug, which was returned, but then she heard the same words she had heard every night since their problems began.
"I'll eat some dinner then get to bed, okay?"
"Okay, I guess. But, we can talk while you eat, right?" Katniss put some food she had prepared onto two plates and set them down on the table. "I've been craving human attention today. The only interaction I've had has been with Johanna just now on the phone and Haymitch when his geese escaped earlier."
That earned a snicker from Peeta as Haymitch's geese were always managing to get out of his makeshift fence. Peeta shoveled one bite after the next, looking down at his plate while Katniss sat silently trying to think of something interesting to say.
"How was work today? Is Effie's order keeping you busy?"
Peeta shot a quick glance at Katniss then back down to his fork. "Yeah, it's keeping us occupied. That's all I can ask for right now, to be honest."
"Maybe I should come visit you soon. I haven't even met your new employees." She chewed on her lip and added, "I could bring you lunch one day."
He wiped his chin with his napkin and sat back for a moment contemplating the consequences of a visit from his wife. He nodded. "I'll allow it," he teased. The glimmer in his blue eyes was not lost on Katniss as she returned his grin happily.
She ate her dinner with more enthusiasm, gazing occasionally at her husband, trying to figure out what was going on inside that brain of his and what she could do to make him right again.
"Johanna liked my outdoor shower idea," Katniss blurted out when their conversation had turned into an awkward silence. "She said she wants to find a way to put in a heater, though."
Peeta shook his head, a frown framing his countenance. "I can't believe she can even step in water after what they put her through."
"We're all healing, Peeta." Katniss reached her hand out to touch his fingers with her own. He flinched at the unexpected contact, then let out a held breath and smiled gently as he latched onto her hand. He fidgeted with her pearl wedding ring, staring at it longingly.
"I'd thought I would never see you again after I'd given this to you in that dreadful arena. I'm so glad you kept it." Peeta's glossy stare affected Katniss more than she wanted to admit.
"Of course I kept it. It was my salvation—my only link to you," Katniss said as she fought back tears. "This pearl was you, and now that it holds residence on this finger, it's not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere."
She grasped both of his hands, giving them a hard squeeze. "But Peeta, I'm worried about you. There's something going on that you're refusing to share with me. I just know it."
He returned her gaze but quickly flitted his eyes back to their hands, muttering, "It's something I need to work through alone. Can you give me that space?"
"Have you at least been painting? That's always been a great release for you."
He shook his head. "Nah, not yet. But I will. It does help me." He slid his hands out from under hers and stood up, rebalancing himself as his prosthetic adjusted to his stance. "Listen, I'm tired. It's been a long day. I'm going to head to bed."
Katniss rolled her eyes and stood up with a huff, collecting the plates and loudly dumping them into the sink for washing. "Fine, Peeta. Goodnight," she sighed despondently as she cranked open the faucet to wash the dishes clean. She needed something to distract her from crying or yelling or running up to him and beating her fists against his chest.
Once the kitchen had been cleaned and the lights flicked off, Katniss made her way up the stairs wondering what she was going to do about Peeta. It wasn't about the sex; she was worried that he was changing, that something had happened between them that he wasn't willing to share. That made her nervous because they had always been honest with each other.
She heard Peeta in the bathroom, likely just showered, which was his routine before bed. Her fist rapped quietly on the door as she opened it slowly. He was completely nude, the beads of water threading their way through the blond hair scattered down his torso as he ruffled the towel on his head to dry his hair and his face. Her eyes scanned him hungrily, licking her lips as she took in the tempting view. She stepped closer to him as he draped the towel behind his back to catch the droplets there.
"Hey," she whispered, moving closer to his damp body.
"Hey," he returned, continuing to work the towel around his physique.
Her fingers raked through the inviting hair below his navel as her lips pressed firmly onto his chest. "I've missed you so much, Peeta," she breathed against him.
He dropped his head back and groaned in exasperation. "Katniss..."
Her hand skated down to grasp his balls and stroke his inner thigh. "Peeta, you don't need space. We need each other." She wrapped her hand around his soft member, caressing and fondling it, hoping it would awaken under her touch.
"Damn, Katniss!" Peeta yelled, pushing her hand away from him. "I do need space. Don't you understand? I'm working through some really difficult things, and I don't need to be constantly reminded how I can't get it up for you. Okay?!"
Peeta's uproar surprised and shocked Katniss. She stood mute, wide-eyed, and fought the torrent that was sitting behind the silvery dam of her eyes. "I don't know what to say, Peeta. I'll give you space, but this is new to me. I'm the one that clams up when I'm upset—not you!"
She stepped away, walking backwards toward the door. "You're always so open with me. You have that way with words, that special quality that makes me know everything will be okay. But I'm scared, Peeta. I thought you'd been upset because I hadn't changed my name, but now it's officially changed, and you're becoming even more distant. I don't know what to do."
"It's not always about you, alright?" Peeta replied gruffly. "I'm sorry, but I need time. I asked you for that at dinner earlier, and apparently you don't get it." He stalked closer to her, a predatory look masking his face. "When I'm done sorting this stuff out, and I'm good and ready to fuck you, I will. Okay?!"
Katniss shook from head to toe. She hadn't seen Peeta this aggressive in many years. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something, though. A flash in his eyes and a perk of something below his towel. Could the anger be helping him? She persisted in arguing out of sheer curiosity.
"Fine!" she hollered right back at him. "You tell me when you are good and ready to fuck me, and I'll let you know if I even want it anymore! Okay?" Wetness surged between her thighs as she saw him twitching more under that thick towel. But she didn't want to push it, so she tempered down and blew a cleansing breath before saying goodnight and retiring to bed.
Peeta noticed his hands' nervous tics as he held onto the photo of Katniss and himself. It had been taken at their wedding almost two years ago. He scrutinized the cheery faces reflected in the image and tried desperately to feel that joy once again. He was certain that it had only been a month ago when he had felt content and had been happily preparing the bakery for its reopening. But now, he felt empty, torn, and bruised.
"Katniss is my wife. We toasted together. She loves me. She would never hurt me," he mumbled under his breath. It had taken him too many wasted years to heal and become the man he was today to throw it all away. He couldn't deny the sadness and fear that had entered his consciousness since he opened the bakery. Peeta wasn't sure if it was due to the ghosts from the past triggering those memories or because he was faced with the anniversary of the destruction of his home and family. No matter what the cause, the voices persisted, the voices that had become a part of him so many years ago returned to haunt him.
"You can't trust her. She doesn't really love you," they whispered through the dismal fog of his thoughts. Peeta was familiar with the murmurs, as they'd come to visit him from time to time, but he fought them, shook them off, held himself stiff against a chair to let the episodes pass through his body. Now, however, he heard them daily and often.
His despair had caused him to lose his virility, but when he let the anger flow from his core, he felt his masculinity return. His power surged, the blood flowing as hot as his temper, reaching every single crevice of his body. He liked it. His rage gave him strength that had been dwindling away.
The light tap on his office door caused his fingers to jerk, dropping the photo onto his desk. "Come in," he said shakily. Aster, one of the teens that had survived the bombing years before, stuck his head through the crack in the door. "Mr. Mellark—"
"Peeta, please," he interjected but then exhaled and donned a smile. "Sorry, Aster. Come on in." He stood as the lanky boy positioned himself at the corner of the desk.
"We've finished the orders and wondered if we could get going. Um... we haven't seen you since lunch, so we weren't sure if you had planned to come down before closing time."
Peeta took a quick look out the window and realized the sun was setting. "Oh m-m-my," he stuttered. "Where has the day gone?" Peeta worried his lip, trying to account for his loss of time. "Yes, please head on home. I'll come down and lock up."
"Right, Mr. Mel... I mean, Peeta. Thank you. See you in the morning."
The sunset held Peeta's gaze as he absently muttered his goodbye to Aster. He roused himself to get downstairs to lock up and check on their work. After doing so, he went to the basement to continue his project. He had gone through so many of his family's records and only had a few boxes left. They comprised one stack of four that had been sitting in the corner and were tucked away the furthest when he had begun this endeavor.
He reached up for the highest box first, dusted the top with a rag, and read the markings.
Peeta's Artwork
He stared blankly for a moment, not understanding why his mother's scrawl would have written such words. Then he feverishly opened the lid, pulling one tab away from the other to expose the contents inside. Sure enough, it was filled with drawings and paintings, some torn, some faded with age or moisture.
"She kept them," he croaked, his voice caught in his throat. One page after another of memories. Drawings of friends, of animals, of the mockingjays, of the girl with two braids. Then memories of them being ripped away from him when he had brought them home from school. Not permitted to post them on his bedroom wall because he did not do his chores properly that day or he wasn't deserving of any happiness when she was around.
"She fucking kept them!" He jolted up and ran to the wall, pounding his fist into the concrete with a painful thud. "She never told me... never said anything." He turned and flopped into a boneless heap on top of the stack, guarding his bruised hand on the way down. Peeta had always thought she'd burned them all up, but his work still existed.
"That witch, that witch, that witch," he repeated hypnotically as he sprung up and went to the next box, heaving it over his head and crashing it to the ground. "Damn fucking witch of a mother! Is that how you treat your flesh and blood?!" He took the next box and threw it across the dank room, papers flying all around before he collapsed on the mess and sobbed through his pain.
Useless, unnecessary, mistake.
Those were the words of Peeta's childhood. He thought of all those paintings and drawings from class that he'd happily brought home only to have them snatched away before he could really enjoy them. He'd cried himself to sleep many nights back then assuming that his hard work had been destroyed. But knowing that his artwork, the tangible evidence of his young life and dreams, had been stored away in a dusty basement made him feel utterly worse.
His creations had apparently been just as useless and unnecessary as he was. The tears he shed while lying atop the piles of papers were not over losing his mother, nor were they about the abuse he suffered as a child. Peeta cried because he knew deep in his heart that he would never rid himself of those tortured memories. He would always feel somewhere deep within that he was a failure, and the artwork he found was living proof of that.
After what seemed like hours spent in that shadowed, musty room, Peeta picked himself up. He looked at the mess he'd caused and sighed. His body had given out, too emotionally and physically exhausted to clean it up. "Til tomorrow," he muttered gravely as he clicked off the light and locked his mess behind the door.
Katniss waited patiently for Peeta to come home. She had roasted a wild turkey from her hunt that morning, so she'd hoped she could show him how much she cared with food. She'd felt guilty for encouraging Peeta's irrational behavior the past few nights since her discovery in the bathroom. Sure, his anger helped get it up, but it hadn't benefited her as she wished. Each night, they had fought and gone to bed, just as sad and pitiful as they had been before the argument. She cooked the bird as a kind of peace offering to Peeta, hoping they could start anew.
Her hands were drenched in soapy water when she heard him enter. As she scrubbed a dish, she looked at the clock: 7:58. Shaking her head, she called out, "Peeta, honey, there's dinner ready for you." She dried off her hands to put on the oven mitts when she took a good look at his face. "Are you okay? It looks like you've been crying."
He shook his head, drifting his swollen eyes from her gaze to the plate in the oven. "I'm really hungry. Can I eat first then talk about my feelings?" he countered harshly.
Taken aback, Katniss pulled out the plate and lightly tossed it in front of him. "There you go. Eat up." She turned around, scowling and biting her tongue from lashing back at him. Keep calm. He's going through something, she tried to convince herself as she resumed sudsing the dishes.
She heard Peeta's chewing and chomping on the food, and each sound made her cringe. She knew it was because they were not getting along, but it was frightening to feel that way. They were supposed to be madly in love well into their marriage and here it had barely been two years since their toasting.
"What's this?" Peeta asked as he tapped on a box sitting on the chair next to his.
Katniss turned to look to what he was referring. "Oh that," she rolled her eyes. "Johanna's practical joke for me. She's so crazy."
Peeta wiped his hands on the napkin and peeked inside. "What the— Katniss?" His laugh was sinister, almost mocking. "Well, you're a real piece of work, aren't you?"
"Me?" she said, shrugging. "Johanna sent it. I knew nothing of it."
She heard Peeta's chair squeak as he pushed it back along the wooden floor to stand up. She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she waited for him to approach. She gripped the edge of the sink as his body moved tightly against her from behind, his warm breath wafting onto her neck as he leaned in to speak.
Through gritted teeth, Peeta spoke in her ear, "Why would Johanna think you need a toy resembling a phallus? I would hope that our personal struggles would remain here—in our home, Katniss. I can only imagine what she thinks of me now."
He held the toy and thwacked it in his hand a few times, causing Katniss to jerk with each sudden sound. She stayed quiet, not knowing what to say to settle him down.
"But maybe you'd rather have this... this... thing instead of a husband since all you seem to care about lately is when my dick gets hard! Isn't that right, Katniss?" He sneered again, continuing with his rant. "I've seen you. I've seen you look at me when it happens, and I'm reduced to a piece of meat. Is that all you want from me?"
She whipped back around, her eyes narrowing in anger. "Don't use that tone with me, Peeta Mellark. You know that's not true." She met his stare head on without flinching a muscle. "I have been so terribly sad and lonely. Sure, I look at you. Of course I want you. What kind of crazy notions are running through your head to think I would rather have that artificial cock than the real thing?" There was something she detected in the way his blue eyes flickered that spurred her on further. "You've been neglecting me, Peeta. Maybe that's why Johanna sent me that present. What are you going to do about it?"
Peeta closed in on her, his body pressing hers tightly against the cabinet. His gaze darkened, the cool blue irises pushed aside by the tempest raging inside of him. "You're feeling sad, Katniss?" he asked, chuckling sardonically. "So terribly lonely," he mimicked.
In the past few nights of arguing, she hadn't seen him quite like this. Her eyes widened, fearing she'd taken her taunting too far. Her features softened as she tried to calm him down, "Yes, Peeta, so terribly lonely." She reached up to stroke his cheek, but he quickly grabbed her wrist and pinned her hands to the edge of the sink.
"Maybe I'm lonely too," Peeta replied snidely, his sarcastic smirk intact. His tongue darted along his lips, and the way he surveyed her body caused her breath to hitch. "But it seems I can do something about it right now, doesn't it?" he murmured as his lips hovered over hers. His groin pushed onto her slight frame as he slid his hands under her blouse and his fingers worked the clasps on her bra.
Enraptured by his aggressiveness, Katniss became mute and still, save the trembling in her limbs. His odd behavior was frightening yet exciting at the same time. His thumbs massaged her breasts as he sucked the delicate skin on the curve of her neck. She remained focused on him, her mind under the spell of this dominant, forceful man who resembled her husband.
He pushed up her blouse from inside, but unable to bring it over her head, he tugged it open and watched the buttons scatter to the floor. He donned the most devilish smile as he removed her bra and dipped his head down toward her chest. Katniss sighed, clinging more tightly to the edge of the sink, as she felt his warm, wet tongue flitting over her nipples.
She gasped as he bit and sucked on her breasts, alternating quickly, savagely, as if he wanted to consume her whole. He pulled her closer, her chest at his eye level, and took a few steps back as he rested on the edge of the kitchen table. He exhaled in relief from his weary left leg but didn't relent in his ministrations as he deftly unzipped her pants and pushed them down to the floor.
Her left hand pulled on his hair with a tight grip as he worried his teeth all over her sensitive skin. The bites and sucks and grasps were rough, but her body responded favorably, as she felt herself becoming drenched under his touch. Wordless moans escaped their throats as he explored every inch of her body with his mouth. He pushed her panties to the side and felt her wetness. She was dripping so much that he laughed. He actually laughed.
"Seems you aren't feeling so neglected anymore, Katniss," Peeta said as he shoved two fingers inside. "Is this what you wanted?" he asked, any speck of compassion gone from his voice.
Katniss, in a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, closed her eyes and nodded. Her free hand slid down to check if he was still aroused. Her eyes burst open when she felt him as stiff as a rock in her hand. They shared a moment, grinning lustily at each other before Peeta quickly turned to push Katniss forward onto the table.
She yelped with the sudden movement but didn't fight or complain. Peeta stood behind her, relishing in her accommodating position as her ass faced him. He yanked off her panties, and kicked her garments off her feet so he could spread her legs wider.
She heard the clank of the metal unlatching his belt, the zing of the zipper making its way down as she arched her back, aching for him. She wasn't certain if it was obvious, but she felt her walls clenching and yearning to be filled. He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, dipping the tip in and out and relishing the sensation of her squeezing him so tightly.
"Still lonely, Katniss?" he asked as he thrusted himself in fully.
"Gaaah!" she cried at his rough insertion. She looked over her shoulder and goaded, "You think that is going to fix me, Peeta? You should know me better than that."
He emitted a low growl, placing his hands over hers on the table and driving into her repeatedly. The forceful attack caused Katniss to push back onto her elbows as she curved her bottom for better access. As his cock impaled her again and again, she countered by shoving herself toward him. She wasn't going to let him have all the control.
She got loose of his hold and crept her fingers down to her center so she could get herself off, but Peeta wouldn't allow it. He chided her with a click of his tongue as he took hold of her wrist, bringing both of her hands above, anchoring her by holding them tightly together under his own. He managed to keep them down with his left hand alone, his veins swelling from the pressure exerted to keep hers steady.
His right hand glided up her arm to her shoulder and scooped down to her breast where he cupped and palmed at her flesh. It was the most gentle he had been all night, and Katniss delighted in his exquisite touch. Her skin raised as he pinched her nipples, tweaking them until she whimpered as he slid himself in and out with long, hard strokes. His hand made a path down around her navel and then further to her needy clitoris. Peeta had always become aroused when he stimulated her with his fingers as he felt his cock moving inside. Feeling her body fill up with his length as he brought her to to the brink gave him such a powerful rush.
The dual sensation caused Katniss to buck her hips wildly, and with her arms still pinned above her on the table, she wrestled to free herself, but he overpowered her. As she struggled under Peeta's weight, she felt his sweat course along her skin, and she wailed the most intense cry of orgasm she'd ever experienced. Her body became limp and slumped onto the table as Peeta finished himself off inside of her. His hands found purchase on her waist as he recklessly pumped to his completion. Once he pulled out, he zipped up his pants and limped away from his still bent over wife.
"I'll see you upstairs," he said gruffly, then disappeared around the corner.
Katniss remained in her vulnerable position for a few minutes, not sure what to make of their heated sexual encounter. She pushed her naked body up from the table and surveyed her blemished skin. He had left marks everywhere, an obvious manifestation of his onslaught. The strange thing was that she liked it. Every bite, suck, and grab filled her with contentment. The corners of her lips turned up as she washed and finished the dishes.
Katniss picked up her clothes and slowly trudged upstairs to find Peeta sound asleep. She enjoyed watching him sleep. Even during the early days when they platonically shared a bed, she had gotten so much pleasure from simply staring at him as she did now. What had just been a thunderous storm downstairs was now calm as Peeta slept.
She readied herself for bed then cuddled in close, hoping that their lovemaking would become a regular occurrence again. Katniss had no idea what had gotten into Peeta and why he had been so forceful, but she knew that she wanted more. And if it took some needling to arouse him, then that's what she would have to do. Maybe Johanna had done them a favor after all.
As she rested her head on the pillow and admired her husband, she ran her fingers through his wavy strands, the blond hair in such contrast to her skin's olive hue. His eyes twitched and fluttered as he dreamt, accentuating the way his lashes flared out like a flaxen paintbrush on his cheeks. "My dandelion," she whispered, "showing your lion's teeth tonight, weren't you?" She giggled and kissed him lightly, murmuring, "Goodnight Mr. Mellark. Sweet dreams."
The sun was up; it was a new day. Katniss felt achy in her shoulders and lower back, but if that's all she suffered after last night's escapades, she could handle it. It had been almost a week since that first night when Peeta had come home and found that sex toy Johanna had sent. He'd actually become willing to try it out on Katniss two nights ago, but the double penetration had left her extremely sore so she hid it from him last night.
As much as their sex lives had sparked up again, Katniss worried that they were becoming more distant on a personal level. It seemed that they had developed a predictable routine. He'd come home. They would eat. They would argue. Then they'd fuck— violently. At first, she'd encouraged it. The way his eyes would become feral as he'd overtake her gave her such a jolt of adrenaline.
But their nights were devoid of cuddling, nurturing, talking, or sharing their lives with each other. She missed that part of their daily routine. She yearned for the loving piece of their relationship that had vanished as soon as the rough sex had come into the picture. Peeta hadn't been sleeping well either. His nights had been full of tumultuous, fitful sleeps as his nightmares woke him more regularly.
When he'd awakened from a bad dream, Katniss was unable to calm him as she had been able to in the past. It had taken some time for Peeta to realize where he was and who was sharing his bed. He'd even given Katniss looks of mistrust and... was it fear?
She was afraid she might be losing him. She had only seen that fretful look during his occasional episodes, but since it had been happening more regularly and had been influencing his dreams, she needed to take immediate action.
That's what gave her the idea to visit the Mellark Bakery that afternoon. She had promised Peeta not too long ago that she would bring him lunch one day at work. Since there was no better time than the present, Katniss opened the glass doors to the glorious smells of freshly baked goods, hoping to surprise her husband.
A young woman, about Katniss' age, greeted her from behind the counter. Her hair was short and asymmetrical, half magenta and half yellow. Not blonde, but yellow. The magenta side hung lower while the sunny side just dusted her ear. She wore translucent-framed glasses that magnified her beautiful green eyes.
"You must be Margot," Katniss said with a smile. "I've heard so much about you and Aster."
Margot's eyes opened in shock and she stammered as she tried to utter some words Katniss couldn't quite understand. "Oh my... oh my... I'm sorry, but you're Katniss Everdeen. I've seen the pictures in his office, and I knew you were... oh my. But yes, I'm Margot."
Katniss had never gotten used to people treating her like a celebrity. She often forgot she had been "the darling of the Capitol" at one time and then "The Mockingjay." She had tried her best to build as normal a life as possible since Peeta had come home after the war.
A shy blush warmed her face as she held her hand out to Margot, who had a distinct Capitol accent. "That's Katniss Mellark now. I'm official. It took forever to finally put in my change of name, but I did it, and as soon as my certificate comes from the Capitol, I'm sure Peeta will want a copy for his desk." Katniss looked hopefully up the stairs, thinking about how happy Peeta would be to see that.
Margot stood quietly awestruck as Katniss shifted around awkwardly. "So Margot, is Peeta around? I brought us lunch to share."
"Yes, he is. Um... let me see if he's upstairs or downstairs. Aster?" she called out toward the kitchen. "Where's Mr. Mellark?"
Katniss' lips upturned hearing a girl not much younger than herself refer to her husband so formally. "Doesn't he do work here, in the bakery with you two?"
A tall lanky young man took long strides from the kitchen, wiping flour from his hands onto an apron. He held his hand out to Katniss. "Hi, I'm Aster. Peeta is teaching me to be the main pastry chef here. He's been working on his project downstairs. I'll let him know you're here. I'm sure he'll want a break." Margot and Aster exchanged worried glances. "Oh... nice to meet you finally. You should come 'round more often. I think it would be good for him... you know, to see family."
Katniss nodded, perplexed by the nonverbal signs she was picking up. Once Aster walked away, she continued her conversation. "So Margot, I don't remember you from District 12, and your voice tells me you might be from the Capitol. Am I right? I didn't think people ever purposely moved here."
"I grew up in the Capitol, and during the war, I was separated from my family and hidden by some strangers in their coat closet so that I would survive. Unfortunately, my family did not. I had heard that District 12 was rebuilding, and I'd felt so sad about what'd happened after the Quell." Her glasses misted with impending tears. "I had no one, and I knew The Mockingjay was here, so it couldn't be all bad. So, not more than a year after the war, I asked to come with one of the clean-up crews to help. And now here I am."
Katniss stood still, impressed and in awe by this girl who'd had nothing but had come to someone else's home to help out. She tried to form words to say to Margot, something that would express the deep gratitude she felt toward her, but all she could say was, "Thank you, Margot. You are truly an inspiration."
Margot beamed at her sentiment, looking down shyly saying, "Thank you, Kat—"
"Katniss! What are you doing here?" Peeta's greeting was wary and confused. "Sorry, I didn't wash up. I've been going through some papers downstairs." He leaned forward to place a quick kiss on her cheek.
"I brought lunch," Katniss said as she lifted the basket. "Remember, I told you I wanted to meet your staff and come see the bakery now that it's all decorated." She looked around, amazed by the changes Peeta had made in the bakery.
"Okay," he nodded. "Um, let's take this corner table here. We'll be able to spread everything out."
"You don't want to eat upstairs in your big office?" She leaned in, whispering, "I thought we might be able to break it in." Katniss' smirk was lost on Peeta as he insisted on remaining in the cafe.
As they ate the picnic lunch Katniss had prepared for them, she couldn't help but notice changes in Peeta's appearance that she hadn't recognized in the dim lights at home. His eyes were pink-tinged as if he had been crying, and the blue shadows were usually a sign that he had not been sleeping. His body was thinner and more pale as if he spent most of his time inside and barely eating.
"Peeta, can I come visit you more often? Would that be too much of a burden?" she asked hesitantly, reaching for his hand.
He stared at his food, dragging each bite slowly to his mouth. He didn't push her hand away but let his stay limp on the table. "Sure, that might be nice," he muttered and worked his lips into a small grin.
"Peeta?" Katniss waited for him to look at her square in the face. His murky eyes fell onto hers as she suggested quietly, "No arguing tonight, okay?"
He nodded lazily. "Okay."
"I mean it. I won't allow it," she said with more vigor. "I love you Mr. Mellark, and I refuse to lose you again."
His eyes seemed to clear a bit at hearing her call him Mr. Mellark. "Okay, Mrs. Mellark. No fighting; I promise."
Katniss awoke with a start that night. Peeta was thrashing in bed and had knocked her chin in his sleep. His lids were closed, but she saw his eyes tracking side to side rapidly. He muttered indecipherable, terrified words.
"Peeta, Peeta," Katniss shook him by his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. "It's only a dream. It's only a dream." She continued to rock and shush him as he continued to fight against her embrace. She wasn't accustomed to Peeta being so active in his sleep. When he'd had a nightmare, he'd always said he would simply come to, paralyzed with terror. Katniss rarely knew when he'd had nightmares until he'd told her in the morning. But lately, he had become downright hostile.
"No!" he roared and rolled over, pushing her down onto the bed. He opened his eyes as he huffed in panic. He held her down with his body, wrapping his hand around her neck. "Why did you kill them? You— it was you that started that fire."
"Peeta! It's Katniss, your wife," she choked out, terrified by the savage glint in his eyes. "I didn't start any fire. Remember, Snow lied to you." The words barely slipped from her lips as she struggled under the weight of his body on hers. Her throat constricted and burned as she wriggled to loosen his hold.
She grimaced as he pressed down more firmly. "It's all lies. It's not real—listen to me!" she squeaked out, using as much force as she could muster. She freed her hands from under his chest and hooked her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to her. Her breathing was erratic, but she leaned in and kissed him fully on the mouth.
His grasp loosened as his wild eyes locked with hers. She looked right into his foggy blue pools of confusion and tried desperately to calm herself. If she was going to get out of this unscathed, she needed to show him that she was at ease. "Don't let that cruel excuse of a man take you from me again." She smiled hesitantly, furrowing her brow, and cupping his chin in her palm. "Remember, Peeta, we said no fighting tonight. Real or not real?"
His eyes flitted around, uncertainty veiling his face. "No fighting, no arguing. Real," he replied gruffly.
Katniss had felt his hardness press against her when he'd been clutching her neck. So she slowly moved her right hand between them and gripped his shaft through his pajama bottoms. His jaw fell slack as he gasped in pleasure. Her fist stroked slowly, deliberately, as she felt his body relent, allowing her to move underneath him.
"That's right, Mr. Mellark. No fighting in this house, only loving. You remembered," she cooed as she gently pressed on his chest to roll him onto his back.
She brushed a bit of blond hair from his forehead as he repeated softly, "I remembered."
"Yes, you did," she purred. "Mrs. Mellark loves you," her sultry voice soothed him as the fog cleared from his sapphire eyes.
"Katniss, what's going on?" he asked worriedly, obviously perplexed by what she was doing.
She stopped her movements and settled her hand on his chest. "There you are," she said, smiling, relieved that she had helped him break from his dangerous episode. "You had a nightmare." He sat up against the headboard as Katniss crossed her legs to sit facing him. "It was pretty bad—worst I've seen in a long time." She unknowingly caressed her fingers along her neck, and Peeta saw what he'd done.
"Katniss! What have I done to you?" He touched her throat, so delicate yet so red as he surveyed the fingerprints he'd left there.
She looked down, not knowing how to respond except to tell him what she had heard him say. "You were upset that I had killed people, that I had started the fire. You know, the same lies they fed you during your hijacking."
"Right, the fire." Peeta nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Katniss, I probably should tell you what I've been doing at the bakery and what I've found in the basement. I thought I needed to do it alone, but it's been so difficult."
Katniss listened attentively to everything Peeta told her about his discovery. So many emotions that he'd tucked away from her finally came out. She lay on his chest, comforting him through his retelling of the memories. When he was finished, she pushed up on her elbow to see him straight on.
"I'm so thankful you told me, but you should have never done that alone." Katniss fought back her tears, so sad to hear about the misery Peeta had been experiencing the last few weeks.
He shook his head and grimaced. "I'm a grown man, Katniss. I can't always rely on you to protect me."
Katniss moved to straddle him at the hips. Combing the golden curls off his forehead with her fingers, she reminded him, "That's what you and I do, protect each other." She framed his face in her palms, cherishing the solemn moment they had together, then placed a kiss on his lips.
His arms encircled her waist completely as he angled his mouth to accommodate her tongue's entry. Neither of them could remember the last time they had kissed like that. Their vicious coupling from the previous nights hadn't involved anything loving or soft. So when Peeta's fingertips slowly skimmed her skin, creating goosebumps along her side, her head tingled. And when Katniss took his earlobe gently between her lips and worried it until he blissfully moaned, Peeta felt himself come to life.
She felt it too but didn't say one word. Her focus was his whole body, doing whatever she could to pleasure him without pain. They'd experienced enough pain for a lifetime. She started with his arms, taking each one by one, brushing her lips along his biceps and then down to his wrists. The soft, golden hairs gracing his forearms stood on end as his hips pushed up from below. She moved down his chest, licking and tugging lightly at each nipple, watching them rise to small little peaks.
He caressed her cheek as she feasted on his body, nuzzling down to his abdomen. "Katniss, you're tormenting me," he sighed, watching her through hooded eyes. She relished the feel of his downy trail brushing against her chin, and as the fine hairs became coarser, she felt her mouth watering. She gingerly removed his pajama pants, pushing them down to his knees.
She wrapped her small hand around his cock and engulfed the tip in her mouth, moaning as she savored his taste. His hand found the back of her head and pushed her, encouraging her to take him fully. He bucked his hips reflexively, wanting more. She teased her tongue around the rim and along the thin skin stretching tightly on the underside. She finally gave him what he'd wanted and collapsed her mouth all the way down his length, milking him orally and manually until she suddenly popped off and pounced from the bed. She pulled his pants down completely before removing her own nightgown and underwear.
Peeta sat up on his elbows basking in the view of his wife, fully nude in front of him. That contentment he'd thought he'd never feel again was back, and he was so very thankful. "You're so beautiful, Mrs. Mellark. Come here," he said, patting his lap. "Let's see if you still know how to ride." She chewed her nail, a naughty grin forming on her lips, as she climbed atop his legs again. He fondled her breast with one hand as the other moved between her legs, but to his surprise, she was already slick and warm.
"Katniss, you do love me, don't you?"
"Yes, Mr. Mellark. I told you I will always love you," she mewled as she sank down onto him, his girth stretching her slowly, unlike the recent nights of such forceful entry. She moved languidly, rising up to his thick head, squeezing her pelvic muscles, then sliding back down to his darker patch of blond hair cushioning her descent. She performed this maneuver repeatedly until his legs began to tremor, and his cock spasmed inside her.
Everytime he tried to place his fingers on her sex, she'd moved his hand back to her waist so he could enjoy the sight of his erection disappearing inside of her as she pumped above him. She knew he reveled in the image of their connection and wanted to reinforce this moment in his memory. But now that she knew he was about to blow, she placed her finger on his lips. He sucked on it hungrily before she used that same digit to stroke herself off, his saliva serving as lubrication.
Peeta was teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his chest tight and breathing shallow as he took in the vision of his wife swirling the pads of her fingertips on her clitoris as his dick slid in and out. He knew he was about to erupt, but he felt her squeezing him so tightly, his eyes practically rolled back in his head. His mouth opened widely as he bellowed through his orgasm, cursing as the milky fluid shot into her.
Katniss leaned back, propping herself on one hand while deftly massaging her sensitive nub with the other. Her movements were swift as she pulsated around him. She couldn't see any more, her eyes shut so tightly that rays of multicolored light appeared before her. As her climax rocked within her body and the pleasure seeped out from her onto his groin, she released such a high pitched wail, one might have thought she was sobbing. Her physical release was matched by such intense emotions that she collapsed on top of his sturdy chest, whimpering as her breathing normalized.
"Shh," he whispered, lightly threading his fingers through her silky onyx mane. "It's okay. We're going to survive this."
She sensed his penis softening inside her but didn't want to let him go. "It's just that I was so scared I'd lost my dandelion for good. Promise me you'll share anything that's troubling you again, alright?"
"I promise," Peeta said, kissing her nose and grasping the clock when he saw a ray of light flash through Katniss' hair. "Five already?" he whined. "We've been up half the night, and now I need to get to the bakery."
Katniss scooted closer, frowning as he slipped out from her, and kissed him delicately. "I think you deserve a morning off, don't you?"
Peeta scooped her up into his arms so she would rest her head on his chest. She felt the vibrations as he laughed. "That sounds tempting. I'm so exhausted, and Aster was planning to come in early today."
"Then it's done," Katniss exclaimed, curling into his warm torso even more. "Peeta... did you really draw a picture of me when I was a little girl?"
"Yes, I did. Your two braids were swinging back and forth while you skipped home with Prim." Peeta smiled at the memory. "I tacked it up in my office."
Katniss beamed widely. "I'm so excited to see it. Let's get some sleep, have breakfast, and then I'll help you organize all those pictures and papers... together?"
"Together."