Hey guys! This is my first multiple-chapter fanfiction. Friendly reminder that there will be sexual/violent content in this fanfiction, so please keep this in mind before deciding to read. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy it :)
Out of the tips of Peeta's fingers blossom elaborate fondant lilies, beautiful sugar peonies, and intricate frosting tulips. Ribbons of icing decorate the cupcakes he's spent most of the day laboring over. The tiniest of blueberries adorn the icing, placed in the most aesthetically appealing locations. The frosting is colored expertly. He has airbrushed most of it, fading the blue perfectly into the green perfectly into the yellow. His brow is furrowed now and his tongue slips out the corner of his mouth in concentration as he pipes tiny golden rosettes onto the border of a cupcake.
Briefly I look down at my own pitiful creations. The flowers look wilted and deformed. Childishly unblended smudges of red and orange streak over the top of the cupcake. The blueberries are stuck in an uninspired pattern in the icing. No doubt Peeta is worlds more talented than I am at anything artistic or creative; his cakes and decorations are just so extravagant, so ornate.
While Peeta is busy concentrating on his golden rosettes, I slyly gouge my finger into my cupcake, destroying it, not that it matters because of how ugly it is anyway. I make sure there is a good bit of frosting and cake on my finger, as well as a blueberry. Quietly, while I know he's not paying any attention to me, I stretch my finger back and fling the entire sugary chunk right at his face.
It hits him right in the eye, just like where I strike my game when I hunt. A perfect shot. He looks startled at first, not realizing what's happened, and chokes out, "Katniss, what the hell?"
Before I can respond, before I even know what's happening, he's already torn his beautiful cupcake in half and thrown it at my face. "Two can play this game," he says playfully. But it doesn't matter. The unfrosted bottom portion is what hits my face. The rest falls into my lap and smears onto my clothes, but at least my face is unmarred.
"Too bad only one can win." I grab the half-cupcake as fast as I can and throw it back at him, smearing more frosting onto his face.
Peeta knows he has been defeated. He peels some of the icing off of his face and eats it, scoots his chair closer to mine, pulls me in for a kiss, and then transfers the remaining frosting from his face to mine by nuzzling his cheek against me.
"You're just the worst, aren't you?" I moan. My face is sticky with frosting now.
"You started it," he whispers into my ear. He starts kissing my face where he smeared the icing, pulls my body onto his, and embraces me securely.
As much as I hate him, I love him so.
It has taken a long time for us to get to this point. I was extremely mentally ill for a long while. So was Peeta. I shudder when I look back and think of how I spent my first few months after the war. I didn't move. I didn't bathe. I didn't talk to anyone except Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. I ignored the phone calls from Dr. Aurelius and the letters from my mother. It was only Peeta who had finally brought me out of my catatonic stupor when he planted primroses along the side of my house
Now, it has been over a year since the war. I try not to think about how much time has passed and instead just work on taking everything day by day. I'd like to say that now that I finally have some semblance of safety, stability, and freedom, I live my life to the fullest in honor of those who died to build a better life for the citizens of Panem—Prim, Cinna, Finnick, Rue, Boggs—but that's not completely true. I try, but I mainly focus on my mental and physical recovery. Although I'm unrecognizably healthier now than I was right after the war, I'm definitely not mentally well now. Neither is Peeta.
But some days are better than others, and today was a good day. I try to spend a few hours with Peeta each day and then sleep with him whenever our mental health permits, whether it be at my house or his. It took ages for us to embrace again. Ages for us to sleep in the same bed again. Ages for us to kiss again. And yet, we have recovered to the point where we can laugh together and joke together like today.
At the end of the day, I slip into bed with Peeta as we had been doing most nights for weeks now. Embracing, kissing, holding each one close to the other. As much as we had tried to deny it, we need each other. For both of us, the nightmares never stop. And the flashbacks during the day are even worse. No one could truly ever understand what we had gone through. Not my mother. Certainly not Gale. No, what we had gone through over the past two years is something so inexplicable, so unfathomable, so incomprehensible, not a single person understands me like Peeta does. And not a single person understands Peeta like I do.
I lay my head in the crook of Peeta's arm, my hand across his chest, stroking it softly. Peeta's arm cradles me with such warmth and strength. I take in his intoxicating scent and sigh.
"You know, sometimes when I'm with you, I forget that all of this has ever happened," I say.
"How so?" replies Peeta.
"I just want to forget. I want to forget about all of it. And the closest I can ever get to truly forgetting is when I'm with you."
Peeta pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. "I feel the same way. Living in 12 kills me every single day, but I don't know where else I would go. My family's bodies are buried not too far away from here." I try to look into his eyes but he turns away, a look of pain and suffering on his face that will never truly leave. I let him have his moment in peace. He turns back to me and lays his icy blue gaze straight into my eyes. "But Katniss… When I'm with you, it's almost like none of what happened is real. I can pretend. I can forget. I lose myself in you."
With that, he kisses me again, this time more passionately. I love kissing Peeta more than anything. Getting lost in his scent, feeling his strong arms wrapped around me, so loving and protective. I know much better than to think I'll ever be truly safe—I'm no fool—but I almost feel safe when I'm with Peeta. Almost.
His hand brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face and his fingers rake through my hair, resting on the back of my head, pulling me closer. I respond in full, pressing my body against his and feel his soft, warm lips pressing against mine, his tongue parting my lips. I sigh in pleasure as he moves his kisses from my mouth to my jawline to right on my neck, sucking gently as I move my hips closer to him. His hands brush over my breasts and move to my waist to pull me closer. This is what I live for. I'll never be truly happy, but this is the closest I'll ever get. I bury my face in his golden curls as he continues to kiss my neck.
Peeta's hands slowly move down from my waist to between my legs. Instantly, I gasp and freeze up.
Of course I've thought about it many times. Peeta and I have shared a bed more times than I can count. We shared a bed quite often when we were in the Capitol before the seventy-fifth Hunger Games. I saw him naked when I saved his life in the arena and tended to his wounds. I slept alongside him in my sleeping bag when we were in the cave. When he drifted off to sleep while I lay awake, I could feel his hardness pressing up against me. He couldn't help it, of course. It gave me so many mixed feelings at the time. And now, after sleeping in the same bed as him countless times, I should be comfortable enough for him to touch me like he's doing now. But I'm not. I'm still the same squeamish, uncomfortable girl I was when Peeta made fun of me for feeling awkward about his nudity in the arena. I'm still the same prude girl that blushed when Johanna stripped naked in front of Peeta, who in turn laughed at me for being "just so… pure."
"Is this okay, Katniss?" Peeta whispers to me, eyes filled with concern.
I hold my eye contact with him for a few seconds, still nervous, then close my eyes, bury my face in his chest, push my hips towards him, and respond with a simple "Yes." Peeta kisses my forehead and softly, gently, slowly continues to stroke me through my underwear.
Pleasure begins to build as I rock my hips to match the movement in his hands. I softly sigh and moan with every stroke. I have never touched myself before. All of these feelings are new to me. But it just feels… good. And right. Peeta continues kissing my neck as I tilt my head back and allow small sounds and gasps of pleasure to escape my lips. Carefully, he slips his hand into my underwear and begins rubbing me again, this time with no clothing between us. My moans get more intense as he rubs and strokes my clit softly, teasing me.
His fingers inch further back, waiting at the entrance of my hole. I'm soaking wet, I can feel it. Feeling much less nervous than I was just a few minutes ago, I buck my hips towards him, silently giving him permission to slip his fingers inside me. And he does. He slides his middle finger inside of me, met with no resistance because of how wet I am. He thrusts his fingers in and out, rubbing the front wall, and then takes his fingers out to stroke my clit again, only to dip back into me to coat his fingers in my wetness once more. I'm moaning much harder now, my fingernails digging into his body, pressing myself into him as much as I can.
Finally, he stops after several minutes of this. My skin is hot to the touch and perspiration dots my forehead and cheeks. I open my eyes again; he's already staring at me, waiting for me to say something.
"That was… nice," I say awkwardly. Nice doesn't even begin to describe it.
"Did you like it?" Peeta responds.
"You know what… I did," I say. "I've never been touched like that before, you know. That was all new to me."
Peeta lets out a laugh and says, "Oh, believe me, I know, Katniss. You really are just as squeamish about this sort of thing as you were when I first met you. Not so pure anymore now though, are you?"
I'm grateful for the fact that my face is fully flushed with pleasure so that Peeta can't tell that I'm blushing. "Hey! I was never that pure in the first place!"
"Oh, you were, Katniss. Still are." Peeta laughs again. I often find that I feel myself so naked around him. Not just in a sexual way, but because he can always see right through me, emotionally. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the situation. Right now, it's a bad thing.
"Shush, you," I retort and give him a kiss on the lips to silence him. Once my heart stops beating so fast, I roll over to be spooned by Peeta. I can feel his hardness pressing against me like I have many times in the past, but have ignored. The both of us are clearly very aroused, but that will have to wait. Not today. Peeta wraps his arm over my waist, my breathing slows down, and I steadily drift off to sleep.