Indulging in sleep is not something I've been privileged too, at least, not since the Victory Tour. That was the last time I shared a bed with Peeta. Surely we're on the same train now. I can't imagine the Capitol to have many trains that will go all the way to District 12. District 12, my home that I'll never see again. I've gotten over the unfairness of this all, but that doesn't take away the bitterness. I tried to give them the Star Crossed Lovers that they craved. I even agreed to married Peeta. If I had to married someone, I was ok with it being him. But now, I'll never know. I'll die in the arena, that's all I want now, to protect Peeta and maybe he'll know what it's like to marry someone who loves him as much as he loves me.

How can he love me so much? I wouldn't love me if I were him. I'm stubborn and confused, having no idea what I truly want. I've missed his affections that ceased to exist these past few weeks of training. That's why, when he hugged me tonight and I felt his lips barely touching my neck, I melted into his touch. I want to feel him again. I won't be able to for much longer.

His room is a few down from mine. The train is quiet, Effie having taken her magical sleeping drugs and Haymitch drinking himself into a stupor. Peeta's door is unlocked and I see him sleeping on his belly. I can't help but feel jealous at his stolen moment of sleep. When I climb in next to him he surprises me pulling me towards him. I don't put up and fight and let him wrap his strong arms around me. He kisses the top of my head and runs his hand through my hair once before returning to sleep.

The next sensation I'm aware of is Peeta, hard and thick against my bottom. It feels good and I find myself squeezing my legs together tighter. His hand lays on my chest right above my breast. I wonder how his baker hands would feel on my soft skin, against my bare nipple. I'm certain his hand would cover my entire breast; they're not big at all. I wonder if that disappoints Peeta. I've seen merchant girls with much larger breasts. When he pushes himself against my bottom again, my chest instinctively rises, and his hand falls lower onto my breast. I feel relief wash over me. Now I'll never have to wonder what his hands on me would feel like. I can feel them now, and it's good, so good.

His palm is clenching open and close and I find myself pushing my hips into him. We haven't said a word up until this point and I wonder if he's even awake. As if reading my mind, he whispers my name into my ear, making me shiver. The sounds coming out my mouth are now soft mewls as he takes his thumb and forefinger and pinches my nipple through my night shirt. I throw my head backward and when I turn it to the side, I'm given easy access to his neck. It prickles my nose and is rough against my lips, but I like it. I know I'll feel this sensation on my lips long after we're done.

What are we even doing here? We've never done something like this before. Why the hell not? It feels so good. How much time have I wasted not giving in to these indulgences? I never wanted sex before but I was never in such a close proximity to a boy, or man, I should say. Peeta is all man, with his stubbled neck and muscled arms. His voice has deepened and his smell can only be described as one of a man.

His taste lingers on my lips as I try to find a patch of his neck I haven't already tasted. He turns his head down towards mine and captures my lip with his as his hand makes a trail across my chest to fiddle with my other breast. My sounds of pleasure allow his tongue to enter my mouth, stroking my tongue back and forth. I'm having a hard time focusing on what I like the most, his tongue, his hand, or his dick. His dick is something I've never felt before so I try to focus on that. It's as if my bottom is perfectly in line with him. I can move up and down and feel him slide against me. I've never been so thankful for such thin clothes. I can distinctly feel the ridge of his head as it teases my bottom. A gush of hot wetness flows between my legs, and I fight the urge to stick my hand inside my shorts to feel my wetness. I've never touched myself like that before and don't know if Peeta would find me touching myself strange.

Without warning, he pushes me onto my back. His arms frame my face and we take this brief moment to smile at one another. But I'm greedy and I want more, so I purse my lips and lift my chin as an invitation to kiss me. He doesn't disappoint as he begins tracing my lips with his tongue. I want to return the favor and when I'm done tracing my path we're both slick with each other's saliva.

He then pushes my legs apart with his knees and begins gyrating between me. My arms are trapped because of his arm placement so my hands have few places to go. His ass seems like a good option so I let them rest on his ample rounds. Another first. I've found myself wondering what they would feel like beneath my hands. His bottom looked so much better than most boys at school. Would it be hard like a muscle or soft like dough? It's a mixture of both and I'm satisfied I now know.

He stops moving and I groan my protest.

"Get on your knees," he tells me in a husky voice. I wonder what for but don't question him and do as he asks. Once on all fours, his stomach lays against my back, his arms once again engulfing me. The speed at which he move picks up pace and I wonder if we'll take that next step of removing our clothes. Maybe he's waiting for me to make a move. I'll admit, I'm waiting for him. I've never been naked with a boy but if it feels this good to touch intimately with clothes on, I can't imagine how good it would feel with them off.

His hand comes to rest between the juncture on my thighs and I let out a noise so high I'm sure everyone on the train heard. He doesn't venture under my clothes, but starts to make tight circles with his hand, all while pushing his manhood against my bottom. I'm moving my hips back and am shocked when I realize our motions mimic that of animals I've seen in the wild. My cheeks redden and I'm slightly embarrassed but how good it feels keeps me from stopping. I push back harder and harder and his fingers move quicker and quicker and I'm shouting his name as I feel something building deep inside of me. He must feel an urge too because he's shouting my name over and over and over.

And then I feel it, his hands on my shoulders shaking me lightly, begging me to wake up. I shove him away from me, confused and if I have to admit it, aroused.

"Katniss? What happened in your dream?" he questions tenderly.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," I say as I turn my back to him.

"You were saving my name a lot. Did I hurt you?" I can hear the sadness in his voice. Why am I always hurting him?

"Yes, yes you did. You hurt me." Because I'm horrible, that's why.

"I'll go lay in the parlor then, give you some space," he says as he moves to leave the bed. I close my eyes so I don't have to see the look on his face. "Katniss, I hope you know I'd never hurt you," he says once he's at the door.

I don't respond, until he's left the room. Then I'm mumbling I know, I know, I know, over and over and over again.

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