Hello, friends! I've been a longtime shipper of the Cato x Katniss pairing, and although I've written only very minimal smut, I think this came out pretty well! At least, it gets the point across ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy my little fic here, and please leave comments, questions, reviews, critiques, or anything else you feel inclined to share! Happy reading~~

ANIMALS

A Catoniss Oneshot

They let me out of my cage for the day.

To my complete embarrassment, the Training Center has been stressing me out to the point where I've been vomiting every three hours. On the hour. Everywhere I go to practice my pathetic knife-throwing skills, everyone who wants to make small talk or alliances – it's all too much.

Not to mention neither of these activities have helped me escape the fact that I'll be entering the Games soon. Of course, this ties in with the other unavoidable fact that I will likely be dead soon. Sharp-eyed tributes to my left, bloodthirsty tributes to my right, and around every corner a mentor who's too liquored up to pay me any sound advice.

Two days ago, when the male tribute from District 10 was sparring with little Rue, he slammed her face-first into the steel floor with calculating ruthlessness, and I raced from the room like my life depended on it, knowing I'd be sick (yet again) if I was forced to keep watching. The day-to-day violence frightens me, but not because it's so vicious. It's because I can easily picture myself eliminating enemies in order to survive – no remorse, no second thoughts.

So the very next morning I told Haymitch that if he didn't find a way to get me free, I would claw my own eyes out.

Evidently he took me seriously, which – I've got to tell you – is a major relief. It's not like I could've forced them into doing what I wanted. Here, I have no power.

On the outskirts of the Capitol are small areas of vegetation. Very, very small, diminished to the point of nonexistence, which is why not many people know about them.

A President Snow-approved hovercraft let me down in a field of yellow sunflowers and red peonies with a warning: be in this exact spot three hours from now or there will be hell to pay. The meadow can't be more than a mile or two wide; from the center I can see the faint outlines of Capitol buildings in all directions.

But the meadow reminds me of home, and only here can I attain some peace and quiet…before the storm that is the Hunger Games arrives.

I lay down on my back, my tight Training Center shirt pulling up over my hips. Pieces of grass stick to my skinny black stretch pants. My strict uniform and matching combat books send a clear message: I don't belong here. In the meadow, among these flowers, surrounded by nature – I am property of the Capitol now. Panem owns me.

I swallow and shift my position, trying to get comfortable. These thoughts need to stop. I came here to distract myself from my impending doom. But evidently it's not enough. Maybe if Snow had sent me home, to my real forest, I might be able to completely lose myself in the sights and sounds. But here, in this fake field, I feel wrong. This isn't real.

I shut my eyes, squeeze them tightly against the bright blue sky and blazing sun. Now that I'm actually here, I don't think it was a good idea to come. In fact, I'm feeling far worse than when I arrived.

"Nice job, Katniss," I mutter, knowing I've ruined my own day out.

I'm reaching for the emergency button Haymitch gave me when a sound to my right jolts me from my thoughts. A hovercraft has just taken flight again; it flies low to the ground for several feet before rising and disappearing between the buildings in the distance. Confused, I stare after it. I must've been so steeped in my own despair I didn't hear it approach.

My mouth is dry, and as I'm deciding whether to go investigate, I see movement. Someone is approaching. Immediately my heartrate jacks up to near bursting, but before I can climb to my feet and prepare a defense or something, they've drawn near enough for me to identify them.

Cato. The District 2 tribute. A Career.

My heart flutters at the sight of him – those brawny muscles, that lean body, the blue eyes and tousled blonde hair. He's like a supermodel. A really dangerous, lethal-looking supermodel, but still.

Prior to whatever's about to happen now, we've only exchanged pleasantries twice before. The first time was the first day of training. All twenty-four tributes were waiting in a large circle for the head trainer to appear, and I caught him staring at me. He said, "This'll be easy," but refused to elaborate, even when his dainty district partner Clove badgered him for details.

The second time we were just passing each other in a tenth-floor hallway. I'd scooted to the far side, pressing myself flat against the wall, but Cato had seemed entirely at ease. With a dark look, he told me, "You have no idea what I want to do to you."

Both times the insinuation was clear: I'm going to kill you, and it's not going to be pleasant.

"Katniss Everdeen," he calls now, striding quickly toward me. He's wearing a feral smile.

I remain frozen on the ground, not sure what's going on. Why is he here, of all places? What does he want with me?

"Cato," I start, alarmed, but then he's grabbing my hand and yanking me up against him. His hands capture my waist in a steely grip. Hot to the touch, his fingers brush against the exposed sliver of skin above the waistband of my pants.

"They told me I could find you here," he says, eyes burning.

"Well, they were right," I reply, more than a little confused.

His thumbs rub tantalizing patterns on my skin, and I find it increasingly hard to focus.

"I hope you don't mind the interruption," he adds, eyes focusing on my lips. "I have something different planned for today."

I open my mouth to ask what he means and why exactly he's here, but his mouth crushes down on mine with no warning. I suck in a gasp, and the taste of him floods me – heat and berries and spice and something else, some other indefinable element that drives me wild. His hold on my waist tightens, and I know I'll have massive bruises there tomorrow.

I don't mind.

One hand snakes up to my braid and yanks my head back. The kiss deepens, and I moan as his tongue sweeps through my willing mouth. He is glorious, and I find myself wanting to touch every inch of him. My hands run up his chest, exploring the hard muscles there. But a second later Cato grabs them and pins them at my sides.

"No touching," he says roughly, "not for you."

I don't understand until he shoves me to the ground, keeping my hands pinned near my head now. Then – Oh! He wants control. He wants to be, in all sense of the word, on top of the situation.

His previous comments in the Training Center are suddenly making sense.

My hips buck, and I feel a huge hardness between his thighs when our bodies meet. I squirm, knowing what this means and wanting it so bad I may scream, but Cato pulls his lips from mine and bites my bottom lip, then my neck, with a wildness that hurts. I whimper.

"Not yet, Katniss," he murmurs, yanking a piece of twine from somewhere in his pants. (Wow, he's come prepared, hasn't he?) With quick, efficient movements, he ties my wrists together above my head. "I'm going to take you, but in my own time, in my own way. You're going to lay there like a good girl."

I nod, my breath coming out in short, desperate pants. I have no idea where this sudden tidal wave of emotion has come from, but I know that if he doesn't continue touching me I will explode. My skin burns for him.

"Touch me," I beg.

"Oh, I'll do more than that." His voice is low and rough, and the sound of it drives cold tingles up and down my spine. Somehow his mouth has found its way back to my neck, and each time he bites the tender skin there I cry out.

Cato's hands rub up, up, up my stomach, sweeping my shirt out of the way. When he reaches the undersides of my breasts, he flicks my shirt over my head in one smooth motion. Instead of tearing my flimsy bra aside, he cups his hands around the fabric and pushes his face between my breasts. I feel his tongue tracing the outline of them, and I twist, furious with him for confining me but so overcome with desire I can't spare thought for anything else.

His kisses are long and lingering, but I'd rather have them back on my mouth.

"Cato," I hiss, "faster!"

I can feel a laugh rumble through him. "Impatient, are we?" But he obliges, ripping my bra from my body with ease. His muscles ripple, and my mouth waters in response. Absurd, but I want to lick them, taste the salty sweat coating his skin.

Cato allows more of his weight to press on me, leaving me little room for resistance. One hand winds under my neck while the other cups my right breast. He lowers his mouth and lets the very tip of his tongue touch my very erect nipple, and my back arches. Cato accepts my invitation and pulls my nipple all the way into his mouth, then sucks hard.

I moan so loud and so long, it's a wonder I don't flush beet red from embarrassment. Never before have I heard myself make such a sound. It's kind of refreshing to let loose.

He switches back and forth between my nipples as I grind my hips against him, searching in vain for the bulge between his thighs. Squeezing my breasts together, he then licks the tops in slow, languid sweeps, tasting my skin. I'm shaking and whimpering and trying to quell my squirming. My muscles coil and quiver with anticipation.

"Hold still, baby," he murmurs, and pulls on the waistband of my stretch pants.

They peel down my legs with some resistance; my sweat has stuck them to my skin like glue. But Cato is patient, and it doesn't take long for him to whip them, and my boots, all the way off. He tosses them aside with an undramatic flick of his wrist, and then he's kissing his way back up my legs, starting at my ankles and working his way up to the backs of my knees and finally to my glistening inner thighs. He presses a single feather-light kiss at the apex, and an orgasm threatens to tear me apart. But before it can crest, Cato moves away and the torturous orgasm simmers back down to a slow boil.

In yet another quick motion Cato whips his own shirt off and shucks his pants and identical black boots into a pile to our right. My arms strain towards him, fingers itching to trace the contours of his stomach and back, the rigid lines of his broad shoulders. But I know Cato prefers to have me helpless and totally at his command, so I only groan my agitation and gaze up at him, my eyes wide and a little glassy.

"Soon," he promises, and for the first time I can tell he's breathless. I'm actually affecting him, too! The idea that I can actually elicit such feelings from him makes me smile.

Cato lies down on me again, carefully maneuvering so that his hardness stays clear of my thighs, and winds my braid around one of his hands. He yanks on it just a little, and my head jerks back, leaving my throat exposed.

I stare at him, trying to say with my eyes, Take me, take me, take me! I don't care how!

My prayers are answered immediately.

Cato grips my neck. His hand is so massive that his fingers overlap, and a slight squeeze sets me gasping. His mouth hovers above mine, and every time I exhale our lips just faintly brush.

"Oh, god," I moan, loving his hands on me.

"That's right," he purrs, caressing the tender skin of my throat. "I'll have you screaming loud enough to wake all the gods very soon."

"Fuck me already!" I demand, knowing I can't last much longer.

The hand entwined in my hair tightens, and a hiss of pain escapes my clenched teeth.

"Now, now," Cato scolds, his voice low. "We're doing this my way, remember? I wouldn't say you're in any position to make demands."

"Yes," I gasp, knowing that he wants agreement, even if I don't truly mean it.

All at once the tight grip on my hair loosens, and Cato slowly pulls away, just a little, leaving enough room for a small breeze to waft between us. I shiver, the sweat on my skin a big contrast to the chilly afternoon air.

Cato plants a hard, bruising kiss on my mouth and holds it for a solid five seconds. Before releasing my throat, he squeezes one more time, hard enough to leave me light-headed. Letting me know who's boss, apparently.

It shamelessly turns me on.

Cato twists so that he's momentarily off me completely, and I cry out for him, wishing I could grab his throat and leave him dizzier than he's left me. But then I feel hands on my waist, and suddenly I'm being flipped over onto my stomach, my arms limply following suit above my head. I can't see him now, and my chest tightens into knots. Is he leaving? No, he can't be leaving, that would be wrong on so many levels. Right?

But I still maintain some doubts until I feel his hands reclaim my waist a moment later. Relief pours through me. Thank god. It seems I don't respond well to being abandoned mid-fuck. Who knew?

Yanking my hips back toward him, I'm dragged to my knees while the rest of my body splays across the grassy field. His hands rub gently over my bottom, and then he's slowly spreading me open…and that's when I feel the heat of him. It's only a subtle indication of what's to come before he slams into me, all the way to the hilt.

A scream bursts from my lips as my back arches. My head whips up and I'm staring at the cloudless blue sky and every part of me is taut as a bowstring and he is so heavy and so hot and he's thrusting into me with powerful pumps of his hips and everything is blazing with color and light and fire, fire, fire –!

Cato shudders, and a split-second later an orgasm rips through me. I scream again, the pleasure so intense I fear I might faint on the spot. But I hold it together, if only because the thought of missing out on any of this makes my chest ache.

Releasing his grip on my hips, Cato sucks in a loud lungful of air, and I slump back to the ground, my eyes fluttering. A moment later he's lying on top of me again, his legs entangled with mine, his stomach pressed against the small of my back. He nuzzles then presses a kiss to the back of my neck. His hands dig into the ground next to my shoulders, a maneuver that lets me know he doesn't want to accidentally crush me. Not that I would notice; I am so tired and sated that the detonation of a bomb five feet away would not move me to action.

"You are perfect," Cato says huskily. "So fucking perfect."

I shiver at the tone of his voice. He sounds totally overcome with...well, what exactly? Lust? Definitely. Desire? Of course. Love? Maybe. I wouldn't bet on it though. He's obviously a ladies' man, and he's used to getting what he wants. I don't think it would be a stretch to say he probably wants this most of the time.

After another two minutes of rest, Cato shifts off me again, and I grudgingly take this as my cue. Looks like the fun is over.

I move as if to turn myself over, but Cato plants a hand in the center of my back, forcing me back on my stomach. My face mushes into the ground, and instead of fighting back I just blink, surprised.

"Oh, we're not done," he says, his voice rough again. "Not by a long shot." Leaning close, so that his lips brush my ear, he adds darkly, "I haven't had my fill of you yet."

My chest expands – I'm relieved. I didn't want it to end like that, with the two of us going our separate ways, maybe even pretending like none of this ever happened. That would've been much worse, I think. That would've torn me apart.

Cato flips me over so that I'm once again on my back. I grin up at him, feeling cheeky.

He sees it and grins back, expression feral. "There's my girl. There's my kinky little slut."

"Slut!" I exclaim, my mouth audibly popping open in surprise.

A laugh bursts from Cato's lips. I've surprised him. "Yes," he says, stroking my hips. "But don't worry. You're still mine."

"Your slut," I repeat, musing. "Well, I guess that's okay."

"It better be," he growls, and leans down to nip my earlobe. "My slut. All mine."

"Aren't you possessive," I tease, licking my lips. Some of my energy is returning. Verbally sparring with Cato is getting easier by the second.

His eyes darken to a smoky blue-gray. "You have no idea."

The threat in his voice makes me instantly wet, and anything else I want to say disappears from my mind like confetti in a high wind. Cato snakes his way up my body, eyes on mine. He holds himself above me for an excruciating minute before slowly, slowly lowering himself down. His tip penetrates my opening, and a soft moan escapes my lips. A smile flickers at the corners of Cato's mouth.

He pushes his way in, all the way in, and already, embarrassingly, I'm gasping. Still staring into my eyes, he slides with excruciating slowness in and out…in and out…in and out, and twice more until I physically can't take it for a single second more.

My legs wrap around his waist and tighten, keeping him immobile and inside me. My arms, unfairly restrained, come up and surround his neck. I pull him to me, mashing our lips together with indelicate grace. I sweep the inside of his mouth with my tongue and suck his bottom lip with increasing fervor. Although I momentarily stalled him, Cato picks up his rhythm again, moving quicker this time.

I moan his name, over and over, and Cato presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck in response. He thrusts into me, faster, faster, faster.

Gasping, I open my eyes (initially unaware that I have them closed) and find him gazing at me. Here, in this moment, his emotions are laid bare. I see passion and love and heartbreaking tenderness in his brilliant blue eyes, and it's all I can do to keep my ridiculous tears at bay. Love! I can't believe it.

I nip his chin and he moans, deep in his throat. My eyelids lower and flutter shut, but my lips part in ecstasy. Cato traces the outline of my lips with his tongue, his breath coming in shallow pants. He's thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, and a second orgasm tears through me. I groan into Cato's mouth, and he responds by licking the inside of mine.

It goes on and on – the sweet, sweet pain, the insurmountable pleasure, our bucking hips. I rip my mouth away and clutch him for all I'm worth. His hands, spread across my sweaty back, hold me to him like letting me go again isn't even a possibility, in this world or any other.

"Fuck," he says hoarsely, and the sound of his voice pushes me over the edge. Biting his shoulder, I ride out a third orgasm.

This is the last straw for Cato; a massive shudder rolls through him and he finally comes, his whole body coiling with the release. He brings me up with him, and I'm sobbing his name as he growls mine through tightly gritted teeth. Yes, yes, yes! I think, filled with a pure, frenzied delight. Finally!

We collapse together, our bodies intertwined. He pillows his head on my breasts, his hands stroking my sides. I'm still, frustratingly, tied wrist-to-wrist, but I dance my fingers lightly over his back, gentle, soothing, reminding him I'm right here.

Off in the distance, a loud noise rips though the air. A siren. Which means a hovercraft has exited the gates of the Capitol and is on its way.

I groan.

"No more of that," Cato chides, finally untying my restraints. "You turn me on again, we won't have enough time before the hovercraft gets here."

He has a point.

Cato climbs to his feet in one gloriously smooth motion, and he grabs my hands and yanks me up too. He smiles, kisses my nose, and goes to gather up our disposed clothing. I watch him pull on the black pants, marveling at his extraordinary physique. He is so fucking handsome, I think, and am surprised at the intensity of my emotions.

Maybe I sorta, kinda like him too.

Oh, who am I trying to fool? Of course I do.

Cato turns and throws over my Training Center uniform, which I catch easily and without giving away the fact that I'm still recovering from my sex-induced stupor. I manage to pull the shirt and pants on and smooth out most of the wrinkles before I feel a hand on my waist.

"Here, let me get those."

Suppressing my astonishment, I allow Cato to kneel before me and slip on my combat boots one at a time. I grip his shoulder tightly, thankful he's there to keep me balanced.

The hovercraft approaches rapidly, and I sigh, wishing with all my heart that the day could continue forever. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and today is no exception.

Hmm. Sex has made me strangely poetic. Weird.

"He's here for me," Cato says, one arm still wrapped around my waist. I only now realize that he's been gazing at me for some time. My cheeks heat. "We arrived separately, and that's how we'll be expected to return."

"Of course," I agree, staring back at him. God, what I wouldn't do to feel him on top of me again. To feel him inside me.

The hovercraft lands several dozen feet away, and Cato begins to unwrap his arm from around me. But I don't want him to go just yet, not after what we've shared, so I grip his shirt in one fist and raise my free hand to his lightly stubbled cheek. I give him a slow, tantalizing kiss.

"I'll miss you," I say, then immediately feel stupid and embarrassed.

But the heat in his gaze is enough to dispel any insecurities.

Tilting his head, Cato lets his eyes slowly rake up and down my body, and before he leaves me as he found me – alone, in the meadow – he fixes a possessive kiss to my throat and promises in a silky purr, "Next time I'll go slow."

As always, feedback is appreciated. I hope you liked it! Also, if anyone is interested I do have a very long Catoniss fanfic titled Allurement that's still in progress (which can be found on my page, of course). Thanks for reading!