Trust Me
For Sweet Girl S2
No matter how many times you try to keep your head down, keep yourself shrouded in the shadows, someone will always find you. Someone will always see you, whether you like it or not.
Peeta had never been a party person. He didn't know why he was there at all. To make his parents happy, he supposed. They had been worrying about him over the past few months, thinking there was something wrong with him just because he didn't want to go outside as often as most people his age. He didn't interact with others very often and he prefered to be in his room reading over being out with friends. Not that he had friends to be out with anyway.
It was why he left early. That and that you can't concentrate on a book with Avcii pounding in your eyes.
The saying goes that you're not supposed to walk home late at night on your own. Call a parent, leave with friends, just never go alone. But it was very late and Peeta didn't want to wake any of his family up, nor did he have friends to walk home with, so he just went on his own. Besides, he always kept to himself, no one would be interested in murdering him in the night. There wouldn't be much to get from it.
Peeta guessed that he could disappear overnight and nobody would notice.
The only way back to his parents bakery was through an alleyway that was supposed to be abandoned but was a popular drinking spot for underage teens and late night partiers. Peeta had never been through it at night time but prayed that it was no different than during the day. Nervous fingers tightened around the edges of his book, clutching it to his chest as he walked through as quickly as he could. He took no notice of puddles and garbage debris, always having hated the alleyway and everything it represented.
A group of men were standing near the half-way point and the closer Peeta got, the stronger the alcohol scent got. He turned up his nose, steeling himself to pass them, only to be stopped by an arm blocking his path.
"Well, well, well, lookie what we have here," one of the men said, tipping a bottle of liqour back and swallowing a good portion of it.
Peeta breathed in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. "Excuse me sir, I need to get past," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. God, he had to learn to toughen up, the weaker he sounded, the more easier a piece of prey he was going to seem.
The men laughed at him. Peeta wondered what was so funny. He just wanted to get through. What was so amusing about that?
"He needs to get past," the man blocking his path said, his voice light as his teasing him. Peeta's heart sped but he tried not to show it on his face. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing out this late at night?"
"I was at a party," Peeta muttered, trying not to make these men laugh any more than they already had. They were all clearly intoxicated and he knew how easily offended drunk people could be. They could be very bi-polar people. "Now will you please let me past?"
"Did you have fun at the party?" another man said. This one was holding a metal flask, which he drank from few minutes.
"Not particulary, no," answered Peeta. He tried to crawl underneath the first man's arm but he was pushed back. Panic began to rise in the pit of his stomach. What did these people want with him? "That's why I'm trying to get home."
"Aw, pretty boy didn't have fun at the party," a third man's voice purred, this time right beside his ear. Peeta flinched, inching away fearfully. "Maybe we should show him what it's like to have a good time."
"That's not necessary," the young boy answered. "I just want to go home."
The man with the metal flask laughed and touched Peeta's face with grubby fingers. The touch was alarming and Peeta jerked his head away, shocked that they had the nerve to touch him at all. He knew confidence was key but confidence had always been something he never had. He cursed himself for being unable to remember anything he had been told when that woman had come to his school to talk about self defence.
"You don't know what we're going to do yet," the first man said. He roughly grabbed Peeta and pushed him against the nearest wall. Peeta's head hit the brickwork, making everything slid out of focus. He clutched his book desperately against his chest, terrified as to what was going to happen to him. As to what was going to be done to him. "You never know, you might enjoy it."
"I just want to go home," Peeta repeated.
"And you will," the third man leered. He prised Peeta's book out of his hands and dropped it onto the wet ground. "After we have some fun together."
The night was so lonely, no one was there to hear him scream.
~xXx~
Six months later:
Cato hated moving to a new school Not that he believed it was going to be like the movies portrayed it, that everyone was immediately going to have a distaste towards him and mock him for his imperfections (even though he didn't have freckles, glasses, braces, or any of the other cliche imperfections that apparently merited being bullied), he just honestly couldn't be bothered starting anew. Making new friends, new connections, making sure he made good impressions on the teachers. All of it had to be done again, all of it had to be repeated.
Normally, on a first day in a new school, Cato would spend some time on his own. Get the feel of the place, grow accustomed to his timetable, figure out who are the nice teachers and who are the ones to avoid at all costs. But this school was different, Capitol High didn't let new students wander around, they were given a guide.
"Look, I'm not that into the whole 'guide' thing. I only applied for a senior position because it would look good on my CV," the kid he was stuck with-his name was Marvel-explained. They were walking side by side down the seemingly endless corridor and every so often Cato's 'guide' would point out different rooms and the teachers inside of those rooms.
"I'm not too into it, either. I'm probably as happy as you are about it," Cato answered.
"Good, because I'm not going to be your fairy godmother, waving my wand and saving you from the bad kids if you get yourself in trouble," Marvel said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"I wouldn't expect you to," replied Cato. He wasn't planning on getting trouble with 'the big kids' but the need presented itself then he was extremely capable of looking after himself. Plus, Marvel looked about as helpful in a fight as a new born kitten.
"However, the senior badge does have perks," Marvel continued. "I have access to the staff room and the coffee machine in the canteen. Tragically only a select few of us can have the 'honour' of wearing the badge and the picking out is very, very selective."
"Can't be that selective, if someone who doesn't give a damn got a badge," Cato said. Marvel threw him a dirty look but it was like water off a duck's back for the amount of damns Cato gave. It was his first day, he wanted to get used to it alone, not be trollied around by some wanna-be senior prefect.
"Look dude, don't be difficult, I'm just doing what Prinicpal Snow told me to," Marvel replied. He stopped at a door in the middle of the hall. "That's Miss Trinket's room, your form class. I'll meet you here at break time to show you everywhere else. In the meantime, don't get yourself in any trouble, alright? Because I'll have to deal with it."
"Whatever you say, Fairy Godmother," Cato shrugged, leaving Marvel in the hallway contemplating whether he should have brought up the fairy godmother concept or should have just left it alone.
The class wasn't anything special. On your first day there's always a tiny expectancy that your class are going to be different. Like full of swots sitting up straight in their seats or not-giving-a-damn badass who constantly break the rules because they think it makes them awesome. Which it obviously doesn't. But Miss Trinket's class was just a bunch of kids, the room covered with fluttering conversation, like any class would on any oridinary Wednesday morning.
It was like she appeared out of thin air. One minute the space in front of him was empty, the next a blonde girl who's head only reached the top of his chest was smiling up at him. "Hi!" she said. "I'm Delly Cartwright. Are you the new guy Miss Trinket was talking about?"
Whoa, her smile was almost blinding.
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Cato replied.
Delly ginned, making her smile so blinding it could probably be seen from a satelitte in space. "I know you probably already have a guide but if you have any questions then my door is always open. My metaphorical door anyway."
"Delly, give the guy five minutes to breathe." A raven haired girl a little bit taller than Delly rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb over her shoulder at a group of kids gossiping at the back of the room. "Go back to your friends, they're talking about the kid who's mom had to come and give him pants the other day."
Delly scowled but the pull of gossip was too strong and she returned to her friends. The dark haired girl turned to Cato and grinned. "Sorry about her," she said. "She can be a bit much. Name's Clove."
"Cato," Cato replied. Clove nodded and turned around, waving around her hand around the room. "Alright, break down." She pointed at Delly's group of friends and announced, "Okay, you've got your gossipers. You don't want to hang around them because if you do and you confide in them, your secrets will be spread around the entire school by the end of the week."
Ugh, gossips. They really needed to get a life of their own.
Clove then pointed at a group of kids dressed in black. "Goths. If that's your sort of thing, go for it, but I wouldn't recommend it." Her finger drifted to five relatively normal looking girls. "Bitchs. They'll act like they like you and will rip you to pieces behind your back." She looked at Cato. "I hope you're taking all this down."
Cato tapped his temple. "Mentally," he said.
Clove pointed at table with two girls with blonde hair who were engaged in what looked like an avid debate. "That's Glimmer and Madge. My friends. If you want to survive here, stay with us."
"Right," Cato said slowly. Out of everyone he met so far, Clove seemed the most normal. And he did want to survive. "I'll stay with you then."
Clove winked. "Good choice. Follow me." She wove around the tables and stopped at the two blonde girls-Glimmer and Madge. "Guys, this is the new guy, Cato. He made the smart decision to come and sit with us instead of being bored to death with Delly and co."
"Hey Cato," both girls welcomed at once. Clove sat down on a seat to left and gestured at an empty one beside Madge for Cato.
"So, Cato, take a pew," she said, "and tell us why you decided to join our humble halls instead of one of the swanky grammar schools up the hall."
"Nothing interesting. My family just moved here on business," Cato answered. As boring as it sounded, that was the case. "And I really do not have the IQ for grammar schools."
"Ah, the not smart enough que," said Madge. "I get that."
"Everyone gets that," Glimmer huffed, propping her chin up on her hand. "We're all here because we aren't good enough for grammar."
"The people at those schools are pretentious assholes anyway," Clove muttered. She let her chin rest on the table and blew a tired raspberry. Cato thought of the kids he had saw at the bus stops, in their fancy blue uniforms with cravats and sensible shoes. They stood up straight and turned their noses up at any other kid at the stop who did not wear their uniform.
"Blue isn't really my colour, anyway," Cato added.
Clove laughed. "It isn't mine either."
Cato decided that he really wouldn't mind spending time with these girls. They weren't pushing or annoying and their company held a casual air. Like Cato's old friends back home. There isn't a specific thing you should be doing when together, you just talk about whatever. "Where do you guys fit in clique wise?" he asked.
"We're the weirdos," Madge whispered, as if it were a secret.
"And we don't just let anyone join so be honoured," Glimmer demanded.
"Oh, of course, I'm totally honoured," Cato replied. He scanned the room with curious eyes, from the gossipers, to the goths, to the bitches, back to the 'weirdos'. He had almost done a whole circuit of the room when his eyes landed on a blond boy sitting on his own. "Who's that?"
"Who?" Clove straightened up and looked to where he was pointing. "Oh, that's Peeta."
"Which group does he belong in?" Cato asked.
"A league of his own, really," Glimmer answered. "He doesn't talk to anyone, not since . . ."
"Not since what?"
"The biggest piece of gossip to hit the school since that girl ran away with her sugar daddy," Madge explained. When Cato quirked an eyebrow she lowered her voice and whispered, "We'll tell you later."
Cato looked back at the Peeta boy. He seemed to be sketching something, his shoulders bowed forward and his head lowered. It was like he wanted to seem as small as possible, so no one would notice him. Cato wondered what happened, what was so bad that he couldn't be told right up about it. He was extremely nosey it was a disease, he couldn't help it.
There were two classes before break-time, which were taken up with an interesting Science class where Clove nearly blew up the entire lab because she mixed the chemicals wrong. Once everything was tidied up, they went to Maths to collect Madge and Glimmer. Marvel didn't show up-which Cato was thankful for-so his new friends showed him the canteen before taking them to their usual eating spot: a bench underneath the trees behind the school.
Honestly, Cato almost forgot about the enigma question about the Peeta boy. This was surprising on its own because normally when there's something he wants to know, he grabs at the opportunity to find out. In fact, the four of them were engaged in a heated debate about one of the oldest questions in the book: what came first, the chicken or the egg during the break time. It had started as a conversation about food which lead to omlettes, which lead to eggs, which lead to the chicken or the egg question. It only took Cato noticing the lonely boy sitting under a tree on the other side of the grounds, still trying to be small and sketching something out.
"So, what's up with the Peeta boy?" he asked.
"Oh yes," Clove said. She sat up on the table, on her knees, and declared, "Story time children!"
"It's not really a children's story, Clove," Madge said. "And if it was, it would be one pretty fucked up kid's story."
Clove rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said. "Okay, here's what happened, the biggest piece of gossip to hit the school since sugar daddy runaway." As if all the energy drained out of her, she slumped a little and crossed her legs. "Six months ago, Peeta was coming home from Cashmere Sardick's birthday party when he was attacked by a bunch of men in an alleyway."
"It was all over the news," Glimmer said. "Attacked, raped, left to die."
Cato couldn't believe it. You hear about those stories about attacks and rapes but they always seem so far away. Not only across the football field sitting under a tree. "Seriously?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Madge. "He hasn't spoken to anyone since."
"Not that he did before anyway," Clove added. "He left on his own because he doesn't interact with people so he didn't have anyone to go home with. Bless his heart, I mean, I wish he would talk to someone. I mean, god, look at him."
The four of them looked back at the boy under the tree. Cato couldn't see his face properly because his blond hair was just long enough that it covered his face but couldn't be considered long. There was an air of insecurity that lingered around him, probably warding off many people.
"Well, maybe he just needs somene to talk to him," Cato replied.
Before any of the girls could protest, he slid off the bench and made his way over to the tree. The closer he got to the tree and the lonely boy, the quieter the atmosphere got. It was like he was passing through a bubble into a different world. From the exicted, giggly air of the school playing fields to the secluded area the blond boy frequented.
Cato stopped by the tree. "Hello," he said.
Peeta lifted his head, seeming confused to be actknowledged. Anything Cato had previously wanted to say dried up in his throat as his eyes fell upon what had to be the most beautiful face he had ever seen. "Hi?" he replied.
Forcing himself to find his voice, Cato swallowed and said, "My friends and I were wondering if you'd like to join us."
Peeta's eyes fell to the ground. He twirled his pencil between his fingers. "No, it's okay. I like it here under the tree," he answered, so quietly Cato almost didn't hear it.
"Are you sure, it's so lonely," said Cato. "Come on, it can't hurt. We don't bite. Well . . . Clove might . . ."
"I don't spend time with people," Peeta replied. He touched his page with the lead of his pencil and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. He glanced back up at Cato. His eyes were incredibly blue, so blue it was almost impossible to have a blue that pure. "I haven't seen you around here before."
"Uh, yeah, I'm new here," Cato explained.
Peeta stood up, hugging his sketchpad against his chest. "Nice to meet you Cato. I've . . . I've got to go." He left without saying anything else, walking with a small limp. Cato watched him go with wide eyes, unable to believe how so beautiful could exist. The boy was gorgeous.
Maybe that was what those who attacked him saw in him . . .
"I'd like to say I told you so," Clove said as Cato returned. "But . . . no, I'm going to do it anyway. I told you so."
Cato shook his head. "I'm not giving up," he replied.
Clove rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart. He doesn't talk to people Cato, it's just how he is."
"That's weird," Cato said. Clove narrowed her eyes and quirked a curious eyebrow, "because he spoke to me."
~xXx~
All Cato could do for the rest of the day was think about Peeta. The boy had engraved himself in his mind after only having said a few words. All he could think of was Peeta's blue eyes, Peeta's gorgeous blond hair, Peeta's voice, Peeta's everything . . . Cato tried to come up with ways he could talk to him again, ways he could approach him, ways he could spend time with him.
Walking home from school, Cato saw him. It was odd. Peeta was just standing there, staring into an alleyway. His satchel was gripped tight in one hand, nearly skimming the ground, and the free hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Cato slowed down, coming to a complete stop a few metres behind him.
"Are you alright?"
Peeta jumped, spinning around as quick as a flash, as if Cato had crept up behind him and electrocuted him. "What?" he asked, his blue eyes wide like a startled doe's.
"Are you okay?" Cato asked.
"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine," Peeta replied. He glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm just walking home."
"You look . . ." Cato couldn't put his finger on it. Peeta was pale, every ounce of colour drained from his face. When Cato spoke, the younger boy pulled his satchel onto his shoulder, faltering a little on the spot and staring at his shoes. Cato realized that he knew exactly how he looked and was just hoping that people didn't notice. "You look beautiful."
Peeta inhaled, his breath shaking a little. Cato could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile. He didn't want to frighten Peeta by bringing up that he looked scared, so the beautiful thing came out honestly instead. Cato moved to stand beside Peeta, staring into the alleyway which was so covered in shadows he could barely see inside.
"It's spooky down there, isn't there any other way you can get home?" asked Cato.
Peeta shook his head, the single word coming out in a rush, "No."
Cato frowned. Something down there was obviously upsetting him. "This is my way home too," he lied, "let's go together."
The younger boy glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. "I did say I like being on my own," he said.
"I know," said Cato. "And I don't believe it."
Peeta didn't protest. They set off through the alleyway together. Neither of them spoke. Cato felt aware of Peeta's presence the entire walk through. How his breathing sped up, how his hands shook, how he couldn't look anywhere other than his feet. When they came out on the other side, it was almost like stepping out of a dark closet into the bright light of day again.
"Thank you," Peeta said. He pointed at the bakery. "That's where I live."
Cato nodded. "Right," he said.
Peeta turned and started making his way to the bakery. He stopped at the rickety fence and looked over his shoulder at Cato. "Thank you," he repeated. "Really."
"No problem," said Cato. "Any time, seriously In fact-" he pulled a notepad from his backpack and jotted down his number-"call me anytime."
Peeta took the note unsurely. He nodded, his cheeks flushing pink. "Okay," he answered.
Long after he had disappeared into the bakery, Peeta was still on Cato's mind. That night, at home, Cato researched the attack six months ago. He realized, with horror, that the alleyway he had walked Peeta through was the alleyway the attack had taken place. So, Peeta had to walk through that alleyway every day to get to and from school? How difficult must that be, reliving the same thing over and over again. Wouldn't his family move away from there? Not necessarily far but far enough away that Peeta didn't have to walk through that alley anymore?
The next day Clove clarified. "His family didn't move away because the Mellark bakery has been in that exact spot for forty two years."
"So they care more about an established spot than their son's sanity?" asked Cato. "Clove, you didn't see him yesterday. He was scared."
Clove shrugged. "No one has the courage enough to look into it. We don't complain about things that aren't any of our business," she said. "Peeta hasn't ever wanted to talk about it so no one has ever pushed it."
"But why? Sometimes when someone says they don't want to talk about something it actually means that they do and are waiting for us to tell them it's okay," said Cato. Clove eyes darkened, as if she didn't like what he was saying. "Some of us just don't have the confidence to talk about it and that confidence has to come from the comfort of the people around us."
"Well then, good thing he's got you," Clove said.
What did she mean? Peeta didn't have him. All they did was talk for a bit and then he gave Peeta his number. Then again, maybe that was probably the most he had done with anyone in the past six months. Cato hadn't realized it, but maybe he was all Peeta had at this school. But then maybe if the others realized that all they needed to do was actually approach him, then they'd know there was nothing to be weary of. Peeta was just like everyone else, if they just stopped thinking of him as the boy who got attacked.
That night, the night after Cato had walked Peeta through the alley, he got a phone call. It was from an unknown number. It was late, around midnight. "Hello?" he asked after pressing the call button.
"Cato," a wobbly voice broke through on the other line, "I need you to come get me."
"Peeta?" Cato asked, propping himself up on his elbows on his bed. "What is it?"
"It's dark and I'm scared and I know it's late but you're the only person I can call and I know you don't know me very well but there's no one else and something's wrong and-" Peeta took a shaky breath-"I don't know. Please come help me."
"Where are you?" Cato was already out of bed, for reasons he couldn't understand, and was pulling on a pair of jeans and a jacket.
"I'm in the-" Another shaky breath and something that sounded like a sob-"I'm in the alleyway."
"The alleyway, what are you doing there?" Cato left his house, shutting the door as quickly as possible so he didn't alert his parents. Peeta didn't answer, all there was on the other line was heavy breathing. "Peeta, talk to me, what is it?" When he neared the alleyway, he stopped talking all together and plunged into the darkness.
He wasn't even half way through. Peeta was sitting against the wall, hunched over with his knees against his chest. He was rocking back and forth, the phone clutched in his hands, which were covered in dirt from the ground.
"Peeta, is everything alright?"
"I just want to go home," Peeta whispered. His eyes were wide, wild, scared, he looked at Cato as if he wasn't quite there. "Please."
Cato stepped forward and gently helped him up. "It's okay, I'll take you home," he said. Peeta nodded, tears cutting clean through the dirt on his face. He shook in Cato's arms, breathing shakily, his limp becoming more and more pronounced. "Are your parents home?" Cato asked when they reached the bakery door.
"They're out . . . Staying at my auntie's house," Peeta whispered. Cato nodded and helped into the house. For some reason, he didn't care that he barely knew this boy and yet he had jumped out of bed immediately to help him. That he was walking him through his house to his bedroom.
"What were you doing out this late?" Cato asked.
Peeta shook his head, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I go there sometimes, I don't know . . . I just think it would be easier each time . . . It's never been this bad. I'm sorry, you can go if you want to."
"Something obviously happened out there. What was it?"
"Aren't your parents going to worry about you?" Peeta wiped his face with a tissue, sitting down on his bed and staring at his hands.
"My parents barely notice me," Cato replied. "I can't leave you like this."
Peeta kicked off his shoes, wiped his face again. "Everytime I go in that alleyway, I have flashbacks . . ."
"Of the night you were attacked?" Cato said this gently, as not to scare him.
Peeta nodded, not seeming at all suprised that he knew about the attack. "Normally I can handle it but tonight . . . tonight it was just too hard." Tears welled up in his eyes and he cursed, wiping them away with his tissue. "I didn't have anyone else to call. I'm sorry for waking you up, I should be able to suck it up by now but . . ."
"You don't have to suck anything up," said Cato. He sat down beside Peeta and turned his face towards him. It should be a sin to still look beautiful with red eyes and a dirty face. But Peeta was. "And you can wake me up whenever you want."
"I barely know you," Peeta replied.
"It's fine," Cato said. "I am honoured that you trust me."
Resting his head on his thighs, Peeta mumbled, "I'm so tired."
"Then go to sleep."
Peeta shook his head. "They'll come back," he said. "In my dreams, they always come back."
Cato looked around the small room, his eyes falling on the floor. "I'll stay here," he said on a whim. "I'll stay here in case they come back. When do your parents come back tomorrow?"
"Not until I'm at school," Peeta mumbled. He lifted his head. "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine. I always am."
Cato didn't know what it was to drive him to do what he did next. Heart ache? Desire? Lust? A wish to comfort? Whatever it was, it was totally on impulse. He leaned forward and kissed Peeta's cheek. "I want to stay," he said. Why exactly he wanted to stay was unclear, but all he knew was that he couldn't leave this boy on his own. Peeta blinked and touched the spot where his lips had touched with his fingertips. He nodded nervously.
Peeta didn't fall asleep for hours. Cato sat with him the entire time, quite liking the idea of being a sort of guardian like character. At around three in the morning, Peeta finally drifted off, after downing some sleep pills and keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Cato watched him for a while, unable to put his finger on what exactly it was that attracted him to this boy so much. He was so broken but so strong at the exact same time. To be able to spend six months on his own after going through such an ordeal, never beathing a word about it . . . yes, Peeta was stronger than most.
Eventually, Cato would sleep, despite the fact he wanted to stay up and watch Peeta rest forever.
Cato woke up at around six o'clock, to find Peeta staring at him from his bed. "You're still here," the young boy stated.
"Of course I am," Cato replied.
"You didn't hurt me," Peeta said.
"I wouldn't dream of it," said Cato.
In that moment, Cato was blessed with a miracle. Peeta smiled at him. A genuine, honest to goodness, bright, gorgeous smile. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Anytime." Taking a risk, Cato reached out and touched Peeta's cheek. The younger boy flinched but the smile faltered a little. "What are friends for?"
"Friend," Peeta breathed, as if the word were scared.
The friends thing didn't last long. Bit by bit, the more time they spent together, the close the two boys got. A relationship didn't form at the click of the fingers, stuff like that doesn't just happen, especially with someone with a history like Peeta's. Cato gently brought Peeta into a more social scene, introducing him to Clove and Glimmer and Madge. He was still extremely shy, but the more comfortable he got around people, the more confident he got.
Their first kiss was in Cato's bedroom. It was completely spontaneous and both of them immediately knew that they had felt something. A whole year after meeting one another, a year and six months after Peeta's attack, they were finally able to take the next step with one another.
They discussed it thoroughly before hand, Cato insisting that if Peeta didn't want to, they didn't have to. The strange thing was, Peeta was the person who wanted to take the next step with Cato.
"I don't want to let what happened hang over my head for the rest of my life," Peeta said. He played with his fingers, letting his head fall on Cato's shoulder. "You're the only person I want to do it with."
"Only if you're sure," said Cato. He was certainly ready to take that step with him but he was also prepared to wait for Peeta, until he was ready for it. Cato cared too much about him to force anything like that on him.
"I'm sure," Peeta whispered. He hesitantly leaned up and kissed Cato's cheek, shrinking back a little and flushing in embarrassment. "I'm ready. As long as you promise to be gentle . . . of course . . ."
"I would never be anything less," Cato smiled. He leaned forward and captured Peeta's lips in a kiss. They had kissed quite a few times and each time was as amazing as the last. Over the past year, they had become insync with each other and were able to predict each other's moves before they did it.
Clothes were slowly peeled off, exposing skin to lips and curious fingers. Cato had never been as gentle with a partner as he was with Peeta. He held the younger boy in his arms as he carefully kissed and caressed him. Peeta moaned and made cute, tiny gasps of pleasure, returning the touches with tentative ones of his own.
When it came to being naked in front of each other, Peeta had to tell Cato to stop for a moment. Cato loomed over him, slowly letting his lips take care of the sweat on his neck while Peeta closed his eyes and sucked in the air around him. "I won't hurt you," Cato whispered.
"I know," Peeta breathed. "I'm ready."
The moment they joined together was explosive. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and passion, interupped with gasps of pleasure and groaned compliments. They sparked, popped and fizzled, matched each other's movements perfectly. They were expressing their feelings for each other with gentle caresses and soft strokes. They weren't just casually having sex, they were making love.
And afterward, the pain of Peeta's attack was forgotten. He didn't need to remember it anymore because he was finally able to trust again. All it had taken was someone to have the courage to let him in, the bravery to listen to and care for him. Peeta and Cato's relationship started as a confused, hasty, placement of trust, but that placement of trust was what saved the life of a boy who had been living in the dark, scared to come out. But not he was out.
Now they were both standing in the light.
And it felt good.
A/N: So, a smut scene was requested for this one-shot but I made it short because I didn't think that a story like this one should be revolved around that.
Please R&R? :)