Hi guys, sorry for the disappearance, *blah blah excuses excuses* but I'm back now! This is a little one shot (maybe will be a two shot one day) that I deleted from my story The Art of Blending because I wanted to keep the rating down. I hope you enjoy it. For those of you who read Art of Blending, this takes place shortly after Veeta and Belle are initiated.

Warnings: This is a sex chapter specifically edited out of a T rated story for being too sexy. It contains swearing and descriptive sexual encounters. It also contains lesbian content, so if that's a problem for you wellllllll... that's none of my business, but you may not want to read on. Any homophobic or hateful comments will be reported to website administration.

Copyright Info: The setting of this story (the world of Divergent) belongs to Veronica Roth. Veeta and Belle belong to me. Don't steal original work, 'kay? Don't steal mine, don't steal V-Roth's.

The fields were dark, with only the moon to brighten them. In the shadows of the warehouse Belle couldn't see the face of the Dauntless boy standing above her. She couldn't remember his name, or maybe he had never given it. She wondered how long she had been kneeling here, her knees were sore and her jaw was starting to ache. The faceless, nameless man finally finished up, letting out a strangled groan. He pat Belle on the head and muttered "Thanks, babe." Belle just wiped her mouth and stood, her joints protesting the movement.

When he was gone, Belle heard a giggle. Belle turned and saw Veeta watching her.

"He fucking pat you on the head." Veeta chuckled.

"How long have you been spying on me?" Belle asked.

"I wasn't spying, I was having my own fun. You should be thanking me, I sent her around the other way so she wouldn't see you."

"And you had to stay and stand guard?"

"Of course," Veeta assured her, "I had to make sure he didn't hurt you."

"Well, I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."

"What you need is a good fuck."

"And what do you call what you just watched?"

"A selfish Dauntless taking what he wants and leaving you to fend for yourself."

Veeta had moved in close by now, her toes and Belle's practically touching.

"Fend for myself? What are you talking about?" Belle stammered.

"Or, take care of yourself. Finish yourself off so to say." Veeta turned and flopped back against the wall of the warehouse. "If it makes you feel better, what's her name did the same to me."

"You don't remember her name?"

"As if you remember his." Belle could vaguely make out the smirk on Veeta's face. She caught the movement of Veeta's arm, and realized that Veeta's hand was down her pants.

"Veeta!" Belle gasped. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Belle blushed, Veeta was very confident, of course, but this was bold even for her.

"You know," Veeta purred, "we could just take care of each other."

Belle's resolve fell and she sprung at Veeta, their lips clashing. Hands groped and tugged at clothes and hair and bodies. Belle's hand replaced Veeta's in the taller girl's pants, and moments later she felt Veeta's nimble fingers slipping up her skirt. Veeta's years of practice showed through in the deftness of her movements. It could not have been five minutes before Belle was seeing stars behind her eyes and her voice was fighting to escape the seal of her lips against Veeta's. She hadn't felt anything like this since she was with Xavier. She wasn't sure how long they had been there together; it must have been a while, because Belle's legs were aching and her panties were soaked.

Veeta went home with Belle that night, and held her while they slept. When Bloom ran into the bedroom late the next morning, happily shrieking "Lala! Kitty!" Veeta made them all breakfast and did the little girl's hair. It made Belle wonder what it could be like to be with Veeta forever, to have someone always here with her. She had never imagined being with only one person all her life. She still didn't really like the idea, but if it had to be anyone, Veeta would be a good partner. No, that was crazy, Veeta would never be okay being with only one person. It was better to just let it go. Last night was a one-time thing, it wouldn't happen again.