Mastering the Art of Sex

Chapter One

"Cato, you have a volunteer."

I look up from my paper work in surprise, shocked to find Katniss standing in the doorway, glasses perched on the end of her nose and lab coat hanging from her slim frame. I knew she was looking for volunteers for me but I never expected her to find a subject willing to do what I need once she'd explained it all. I know my work is unorthodox, I thought Katniss would be coming to me to say that no one had wanted to help.

"Someone's actually willing to work with me?" I ask in shock.

Katniss nods. She leans on the doorframe and smiles. "He says he thinks your idea is interesting, extremely innovative and he's very curious as to how you plan to achieve your goal."

Okay, so this unexpected. I sit up straighter. "Male or female?"

"Male."

Thank God. Not that I'm sexist but the research would be a lot easier with a male. If a girl had have volunteered, however, I wouldn't have turned her away. It would have just meant that I'd have to find another girl to work with us as well. Since it's a guy I can be actively involved myself. It means much less crowding, which is extremely helpful.

"Why was he on the subject list?" People are only considered for the subject list of volunteers if they have a certain attribute that may be useful in the scientific field. If I wanted, I could just take whoever has volunteered for my work myself but that would just be extremely selfish, especially if he was on the list for another reason.

"His blood is AB negative," Katniss says, waving the worry off. "Thought he might be useful for blood tests or something. He can be a part of your weird experiment."

"You say experiment like I'm going to probe him," I scoff. "It's research." I stand up and walk around my desk, meeting Katniss at the doorway. "I presume he's here? If we're going to work together I might as well introduce myself."

"He's in the lab," Katniss replies, gesturing down the hall. "I think you've struck gold with this one."

I laugh at her optimism. I had worried when she first discovered what my research entailed that she'd judge me harshly for my decision but she actually saw the science in it and was very eager to help. As I walk down the corridor I reflect on how far I'd come since I first realized the potential of this research. I have all the theory work finished but now I have to do the practical work. Which involves this subject volunteer.

When I reached the lab door, I actually felt excitement bubbling up in my chest. I've been working on this for six months now and the actual opportunity to begin to get results is so within reach I can't wait. My hand is practically trembling with anticipation as I open the door. I know it seems ridiculous but science is my life and results is the most important thing so, sue me, I'm excited. I keep telling myself that I don't care about what the subject looks like, that it's about the science and that's it, but as much as I try to convince myself of this a little part of myself does hope they're attractive. It would also contribute to making the work a lot easier as well as the fact that they're a boy.

I enter the room and force myself to hide how excited I am. A gorgeous boy sits on a medical bed, a packed bag sitting beside him. He doesn't immediately notice me and I take the moment to do a sweep inventory. He's got beautiful blonde hair and pale skin, a strong but petit body. I can tell he's on the short side because he's swinging his feet back and forth as they don't touch the floor.

The boy finally notices me and looks up. His eyes have to be the most striking thing I've ever seen. They're a deep cobalt blue and stand out the most against his fair skin. "Oh, hello," he says. "Are you Dr. Hadley?"

"Yes," I say, pushing any inappropriate thoughts about his beautiful eyes to the back of my head. I shut the door behind me and shake his hand. "What's your name?"

"Peeta."

Peeta. I like it. Short but sweet. "Katniss tells me you're interested in working with me in my latest research?" I sit beside him on the bed. I have to put a more casual air between us if this has any chance of working. If I start professional, it will continue being professional until the end and that will ruin the patterns of the results.

"I think so," Peeta answers. He picks at the loose threads in his bag strap, unable to hold eye contact with me. I smile. That's sweet. "I don't fully understand what's required but your research does sound interesting. I thought I would have ended up doing something regarding my blood but what you're doing sounds like it could be ground breaking."

"Do you want me to tell you more about it?" I ask. "You are in no way obligated to continue if you don't like what you hear."

"Okay," Peeta nods. It's a small gesture and he's still not meeting my gaze. "Tell me more."

"I want to research the components involved with having perfect sexual intercourse," I begin to explain. "Perfect same sex intercourse. People seem to be more than willing to talk about straight people being together and taking part in such activities but what I aim for is that if I get the results I'm hoping for, it will be like that for homosexuals as well. It won't be a glazed over topic anymore."

"Perfect sexual intercourse," Peeta repeated slowly. "Won't be glazed over. Sounds too good to be true, really."

"But wouldn't that make it all the better if we achieved it?" I ask.

"What do you need me to do?" asks Peeta.

"Well, you have to be willing to take part in many-and trust me, many is kind of an understatement-physical and intimate practical assessments with me," I explain. I try to put it in the best way than I can (how can you put basically screwing around in a better way? Physical and intimate practical assessments was the best it was going to get).

"You mean sex, don't you?" says Peeta. He doesn't sound severely bothered by it, which is relieving. "I suppose that doesn't sound too horrifying. There could be worse ways to be experimented on."

"It's not an experiment," I quickly correct. "I'm not going to tie you to a table and cut your innards out just for the sake of science. And you're free to leave whenever you wish." Peeta nods, understanding the difference. He smiles a little and finally meets my eyes. There's a part of me that wants to get out a pH indicator and try to decipher what shade of blue his eyes actually are. It's amazing how vivid they are. I almost forget that there's something I want to do before I take him back to my house, where he'll be staying over the duration of the research process. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Peeta nods again. "Sure."

I reach across him to grab my clipboard off the countertop in which I had left it. It's annoying having an office separate from my lab because I have to remember to not leave different things in different rooms. I'm lucky I even remembered to leave my clipboard here. I want to apologize for having to reach across from him because it's apparently rude or something but I can't because I get distracted by the way Peeta smells like cinnamon and musk. Actual cinnamon. It's the perfect mix of sweet cuteness and manly scent it throws me off.

I sit back and try not to think about it. Not right now anyway. "Full name?"

"Peeta Joshua Mellark."

It sounds even better in full. "Age?" I ask.

"Twenty."

Thank goodness, at least he isn't underage. "Sexual orientation?"

Peeta blushes a little with a tiny smile. "Gay," he answers. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't, right?"

His smile is contagious. It breaks out across my face like an infection. "Any medical conditions?"

"No."

"Last sexual encounter?"

If he was blushing before, his face was a tomato now. Any confidence he had before was completely gone and Peeta directed his eyes back to the floor. "Erm, New Year's Eve."

The answer actually takes me by surprise. New Year's Eve was seven months ago. He hadn't had sex in seven months. I find it hard to belief, since he's so . . . so . . . hot but something tells me that he's not lying either. Huh, interesting. "Are you clean? No STDs or infections?" I continue. I have to hide my shock or it'll probably make Peeta feel bad.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Peeta replies.

"Would you mind if I checked, just in case?" I ask.

"Oh . . . yeah, sure."

I stand up and collect together the apparatus required to test Peeta for STDs. Thank God for Finnick and his invention of blood STD tests. I know that my line of work is now going to involve being much more intimate with the boy in front of me than what's required from a standard STD examine but it feels like a bit much for a first encounter.

Moving his bag out of the way, I take Peeta's arm and find the vein in it. "You'll feel a little prick but it shouldn't be too bad." I prep the needle and inject it into his arm. Peeta winces with a little hiss of pain. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Peeta says. He glances at me through his hair, smiling in a small shy way that almost causes me to mess up. "It's not too bad."

Once the blood is out of him, I lift one of Finnick's STD indicators and drop the blood onto it. Instantly, a red line appears, meaning that he's clean. I'm much more relieved than I thought I would be. If he hadn't been clean then I could have just gotten Katniss to get me another subject. But there's something about this boy that already strikes me as different. I don't want to have to find someone else.

"Is the red line a good thing?" Peeta asks, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, it means you're clean," I reply. I write this down onto the clipboard. "Was there anything you'd like to ask me? About the research or the time we'll be spending together?"

"Um . . ." Peeta bit his fingernails as he thought about it. Cato watched him curiously, trying not to think about how he found the habit cute. He had to keep it professional. "I don't think so."

"All I need now is your signature at the very bottom." I pass Peeta the clipboard and pen. He doesn't even hesitate before signing his name which is a good sign. When he passes it back, I admire his penmanship. The lines are curled at some parts but a little scratchy in others. "I can't wait to be working with you Peeta." I hold my hand out to him. Peeta's hand is warm as he shakes it, sealing the deal and his and my fate for who knew how long.

Peeta brushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles that annoyingly pretty smile of his again. The excitement is now running rings inside of me. This has got to work. No. Wait. I have to be professional about this. It's all about the work and the patterns and the results it will hopefully produce. No emotions are supposed to be involved. It has to all stay strictly professional.

All of it.