A/N: This story was inspired by the song Midnight Confessions by The Grass Roots, and some lyrics have been incorporated into the story. Special thanks to Vondervogelweide & Titania522 for pre-reading, and betaing. Your comments and suggestions helped make a story out of a big mess. I'd like to give a big thank you hug to Ro Nordmann for another wonderful banner.
Lastly, a gigantic thank you to Streetlightlove1for spear-heading Smut2SaveLives and spreading the word about Hope for Caroline and DIPG, as well as to all the authors, artists, and fans who contributed to this wonderful cause!
"Squeeze my tits, Peeta!"
Katniss' sultry moan commands as she circles her hips and plunges down on my cock. I gladly comply, reaching up to cradle the soft mounds before tugging hard on her nipples, making her whimper and arch her back, pushing her heaving breasts further into my waiting hands. I bend my knees slightly and using the mattress for leverage I match her movements with eager thrusts of my own.
"Fuck, Peeta….I'm so close." She pants as she races towards her climax, with me following closely behind.
High pitched mewls pour from her throat, signaling her impending orgasm. My hands slide to her waist, holding her fast as I tilt my hips, pushing deeper and deeper until I hit the spot that never fails to send her over the edge.
"Peeta!" she screams as she comes, her walls fluttering madly around my cock. With one final thrust I join her, crying out in my own ecstasy.
"Katniss!" Her name rips from between my lips, and the hand wrapped around my softening cock slows its frantic movements as the high from my orgasm begins to ebb.
With a deep sigh I feel around for the towel I keep next to the bed for moments like this and use it to mop the rapidly cooling evidence of my release from where it has pooled on my stomach.
Sitting up I glance at the clock and see 12:00 am shining in neon blue numbers. Once again Katniss has woven her way into my thoughts; interrupting my circadian rhythm and enticing my body.
Wet dreams are nothing new, but when you keep baker's hours, being woken up every few days by lurid dreams four hours before your alarm is set to go off can have a detrimental effect on a man's psyche.
"Shit," I mutter as I stand and run my clean hand over my face then make my way to the bathroom to wash-up. I don't bother with the lights, or putting any clothing on; there's no one else in the apartment to see me walking around naked.
The light from the fridge is almost blinding as my sleepy eyes grow accustomed to the light, and I have to blink rapidly to regain focus. Reaching past the milk I pull out a bottle of Sam's and twist off the cap, tossing it into the trash as I take a long swig of the amber liquid and amble back to my lonely bedroom.
This isn't the first time I've found myself awake at midnight, cock in hand and thoughts of Katniss running through my head. She's been living in this building for a year now, and I don't think a week has passed that didn't find me wide awake after dreaming of her, longing to take her into my arms and make those dreams a reality; to hold her close to me in our bed at night and tell her how much I love her.
Unfortunately I don't see that happening, considering the fact that aside from a quick 'Hello' when we happen to be at the mailbox in the lobby at the same time we've never really spoken to one another. I want to talk to her; to introduce myself and get to know her, but she always seems so closed off with her ever present scowl serving as a warning to stay away. Despite her cool exterior, or perhaps because of it, I find her intriguing, like a puzzle box that once solved will open to reveal the most precious of treasures. Last week she was looking at something on the table in the lobby, and I tried to start a conversation with her, but was met with a steely glare that pierced my confidence like an arrow.
Instead I go back to watching her in silence, wishing for the day when she finally notices me and smiles instead of frowns.
It's only here, in the inky darkness of my lonely apartment, that I'm free to admit my feelings, to tell the world how I love Katniss Everdeen, to say the words that I want to so badly.
The beer goes down quickly, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake. I know from experience that sleep won't come easily after one of my Katniss-dreams, so instead I turn on the TV and prop myself up against the pillows to binge watch Law & Order: SVU until the sun comes up and I can get ready for work.
The next afternoon, as I'm picking up my mail, I feel a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Goosebumps rise along my forearms as the sound of her footsteps tells me that she's near. The beguiling scent of vanilla mixed with earthy notes of wood and musk swirling in the air confirms she's close and my pulse races at her proximity.
I steal glances at her out of the corner of my eye as she retrieves her mail from the shiny golden box. I try desperately to calm my body's instinctive response to hers as she carelessly flips through a small pile of letters, but I know I'm a goner when the bored expression on her face morphs into a warm, generous smile at the sight of a small pink envelope covered in flowery purple script.
With a squeal of joy she eagerly tears open the letter and pulls out the folded sheets with such force that they snag on the envelope, ripping a small corner of the delicate paper. Her stormy eyes fly back and forth as she reads the letter, laughing now and again at its contents. The sultry tones of her honeyed voice stir latent feelings deep in my gut.
It's rare to see her without the scowl, and I take it as a sign that maybe this time she won't shoot me down with one of her icy glares.
Before my brain can talk me out of it, my mouth opens and the words come tumbling out. "It must be a pretty funny letter."
She looks at me in shock, blinking as if she didn't realize I'd been standing next to her all this time. "Sorry?"
I gesture at the letter in her hand. "What you're reading. It must be pretty funny for you to laugh so hard."
Her eyes narrow to silver slits as she contemplates my face, and I wait for the inevitable brush off, like she's done so many times before. To my surprise, she actually answers.
"It's my sister. She's in nursing school, and she likes to send me funny stories about patients she's tended."
"Oh, well…that's cool." I trail off, my heart beating in my throat as I try not to show my excitement at having her actually talk to me.
Silence descends upon us, and I feel sweat start to trickle down the back of my neck from the intensity of her gaze. I decide enough progress has been made for one day and maybe it's best to cut my losses and get away before I embarrass myself any further.
"Ok, so I gotta go…"
"It's Peeta, right?" She interrupts, stunning me when she holds out her free hand. "I'm Katniss."
Seconds drag by before I'm able to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth to reply.
"Yeah, I'm Peeta. Peeta Mellark." I take her hand and feel a jolt of electricity shoot straight up my arm and explode throughout my body when we touch. I'm confident she feels it too by the way her eyes widen as she gasps slightly. "It's nice to meet you, Katniss."
A hesitant smile spreads across her face as we shake hands, and her eyes take on a strange sheen, almost as if she's relieved. "Nice to meet you, too, Peeta. Guess I'll see you around?"
Before I can answer she slips her hand from mine and starts to walk away, pausing at the front door to give me another small smile before exiting out into the cold winter air.
My mind races as I try to comprehend what just happened, and what the look in her eyes could mean. If it wasn't for the lingering scent of her perfume in the air I would think I'd imagined the whole scene. As it is I can't believe I spoke to her, let alone that she knew my name. With a lighter heart, I close my mailbox and bound up the stairs to my apartment feeling buoyant with renewed hope.
The foreign sound of a knock at the door later that evening startles me as I rarely have visitors. Opening it I am further shocked to find Katniss on the other side, looking beautiful as ever. Her hair, normally confined to a long braid, is loose and cascades down her back like a chocolate waterfall and my fingers itch to bury themselves deep in the silky tresses.
She's wearing snug black yoga pants and a pale grey pullover sweater that turns her eyes into pools of silver. Just a hint of lace from the camisole she's wearing underneath peeks out from the v-neck of the sweater, a tease of what lies beneath.
Her shy smile takes my breath away, as does the rosy flush creeping up her cheeks to give her tawny skin a warm, healthy glow.
"Hey…ah…sorry to bother you, but…um…some of your mail got mixed up with mine, so I thought I'd bring it over." I'm taken aback by her stammer, and the way she looks around nervously, avoiding my eyes.
My brain ceased functioning as soon as I opened the door, so it takes a moment for her words to register. I finally notice she's holding an envelope, which I take from outstretched hand, and for a split second our fingers touch. Again I feel a jolt that makes the hair on my arms stand at attention.
Katniss' blush spreads down her neck to the shadowy valley between her breasts. I can't help but imagine following that path with my lips then detour to take one of her sweet, pink nipples in my mouth and taste her glorious skin.
Her sharp intake of breath pulls my mind back from its wandering, saving me from an embarrassing situation in my sweatpants.
"Thanks for bringing this over." I rip open the envelope to give my hands something to do other than reaching for her. "I don't know if I would have survived without learning how to save 15% or more on car insurance."
She rewards me with an encore of her hearty laugh from earlier, causing a delicious tingle to spread throughout my body. I know without a doubt that her laugh is my most favorite sound on this planet and I want nothing more than to hear it all day, every day, for the rest of my life.
"Well then I'm glad I stopped by. I wouldn't want your demise to be on my conscience." She jokes, looking up at me from underneath a fringe of nearly-black lashes.
A not uncomfortable silence descends as we continue to stand in my doorway, smiling at one another. I can't tell if she's interested, or if she thinks I'm a lunatic, but I certainly hope for the former.
A ding from the kitchen tells me the timer has gone off on the oven, and instinctively my head turns toward the sound.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I won't keep you," Katniss apologizes, "I'll see you-"
"No!" My panicked shout echoes in the hallway. Embarrassed by my eagerness, I lower my voice. "I mean, you're not keeping me. In fact, if you don't mind, you can help me."
She eyes me curiously. "Help you? How?"
"I'm trying out a new recipe for cheese buns for my parent's bakery, and I could really use an unbiased opinion on them."
"You had me at cheese buns." Her answer comes without hesitation, and I give myself a mental fist bump.
"Great!"
I stand aside, taking in the sweetly exotic smell of her perfume as she walks past me into the living room. She stops in the middle of the room, and wraps her arms around her middle as she looks around.
'This has to be a dream,' I think to myself, 'There is no way she's really here, in my apartment right now.' I cross my arms and give myself a surreptitious pinch under the arm, hoping she doesn't notice and think I'm deranged or something. The sting of tears that pricks the back of my eyes confirms this is no dream.
"So, come on in the kitchen. I just need to take them out of the oven." I lead the way, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.
She takes a seat in one of the high stools at the counter and spins around to watch as I bend and remove the dark grey baking pan from the oven. Knowing her eyes are on me makes my hands tremble slightly and it's all I can do not to burn myself.
With a practiced air I slide the golden buns onto a waiting cooling rack covered by a sheet of parchment paper. Once they've all been transferred, I place the still hot pan on the burners to cool and shut off the oven. The enticing aroma of garlic, sharp cheddar and herbs fills the air, making my taste buds hum in anticipation.
An appreciative moan comes from behind me as Katniss inhales deeply. "Oh my God, Peeta. If those taste even half as good as they smell I may never leave!"
There's no way she can guess the effect her words have upon me, as that is what I want more than anything in the world. I school my features, trying to not make it totally obvious that I'm completely head over heels for her, and grab two plates, forks and napkins.
"Be careful, the cheese will be very hot." I warn as I place everything on the counter. Her eyes are trained on my face as she spins around in the chair. "What would you like to drink? I have water, juice, Sam's, and I think there might be some wine someplace."
She licks her lips as she considers the choices, her soft pink tongue worrying the corner of her mouth. I immediately envy that tongue for its ability to feel her ruby lips. "Sam's is fine, thanks."
I grab two from the fridge, stopping to pop them open, and take a seat next to her at the counter.
"I hope they meet your expectations." I tip my bottle up and take a swig, enjoying the tangy brew as it slides down my throat.
"Don't worry, I'm sure they will." She takes a drink of her own, emptying the bottle in two gulps.
If anyone had ever asked me if I thought watching someone eat was a turn-on, I would have laughed in their face; but now, watching Katniss, I have to say it is the most undeniably sensual experience I've ever had.
Ignoring the fork, she picks up the fluffy pastry with her fingers, the escaping steam curling around them like a ribbon. Her lips part as she brings the savory bun closer, ready to take the first salty bite. As she does, melted cheese oozes from the sides, only to be swept up by her agile tongue. Her eyelids flutter shut and her face wears a look of what can only be called supreme bliss. She alternates chewing with running her tongue along her lips, eager to catch every succulent flake.
When the moaning begins, I am powerless against the flood of desire that races through my veins to pool deep in my belly. I don't think she even knows she's making the sounds, but the sweatpants I'm wearing do nothing to conceal the fact that their effect on me is profound.
"Holy shit, Peeta," Katniss murmurs once she finally swallows, "That was the most amazing thing I've ever tasted."
"They're better than sex." My eyes close in embarrassment and I give myself a mental face palm. All of the blood rushing from my head has left my brain starved for oxygen, so of course it makes me say the most ridiculous thing possible.
"I guess we'll have to just wait and see, won't we." To say her response catches me off guard is an understatement. I damn near fall out of my chair as I spin towards her, my eyebrows nearly to the ceiling.
"Wh-what?" My voice sounds small and pathetic in its hopefulness.
She quirks her brow at me, and smiles serenely, as if she hadn't just said anything. "Are there any more of these?"
I nod dumbly and wait until she turns away to stand and plate the rest of the cheese buns. I manage to burn myself on some melted cheese, and the resulting pain goes a long way toward calming my raging erection.
When I finally calm down enough to face Katniss again, I find that she's moved into the living room. She sits in the corner of the couch with her legs pulled up underneath, and her arm rests along the pillowed back; her provocative body language silently inviting. Her fingers absently twirl a lock of hair as she gazes around the small, comfortable room.
My lungs release a shuddering sigh at the sight of her sitting there, and I quickly grab two more beers, the plate of cheese buns and join her on the couch. Her welcoming smile blankets me from head to toe with warmth. I don't know what it is about Katniss that affects me so deeply, but I do know I would do anything in my power to keep that beautiful smile on her face.
I settle myself on the couch, close enough to feel the heat emanating from her skin, and hold the plate out for her to take another bun. She selects one and proceeds to tear off pieces to pop into her waiting mouth, savoring every delicious bite. I'm happy just to watch her enjoy eating, so I set the plate on the coffee table and take up my beer for a long drink.
"So," she says between bites, "Tell me everything there is to know about you, Peeta Mellark."
Several hours, and beers, later, we're still on the couch, too comfortable to move and enjoying each other's company immensely.
I now know that her favorite color is the deep green of the trees in the forest near her childhood home. She knows that mine is the color of sunset, specifically the soft orange when it's streaked with fingers of yellow, red and purple.
She glows with pride when she tells me about her sister, Prim, who is studying pre-med at the University in the hopes of becoming a pediatrician. Love infuses every syllable and I find myself yearning for a day when she speaks about me the same way.
I regale her with humorous tales of growing up with two older brothers; how they teased me relentlessly about girls, our impromptu wrestling matches over who'd get the last of the unsellable stale cookies, and the trouble they caused that was ultimately blamed on me.
She tells me how much she loves her job with the Town Parks & Rec Department because it allows her to spend her time outdoors instead of cooped up in an office for eight hours a day. I tell her that working in a bakery is not all sugar cookie dreams and cup cake wishes, but really is a lot of hard work and long hours. I think she's suitably impressed when I tell her that I'm the one who does all of the decorating, and that I can craft just about anything you can imagine out of sugar or fondant.
I could spend the remainder of my days sitting on this couch getting to know every last detail there is to know about Katniss Everdeen and die an extremely happy man. A look at the clock brings it all to a screeching halt when I see it is once again midnight, even though it feels like only moments have passed since she knocked on my door. All of these late nights are slowly turning me into a zombie, especially when my alarm goes off like a klaxon at four a.m., but I just can't find it in me to care right now.
We lapse into silence, neither one of us wanting break the spell and say good-night. I glance at Katniss, who is worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. For the first time all evening she looks unsure, and a little nervous, which begins to make me nervous as well.
"Peeta," she starts then pauses. Her eyes dart towards the door then back over to me and I can see she's mulling something over in her mind.
The last thing I want is to rush her, or frighten her into bolting, so I keep still, my eyes glued to hers, and wait for her to make the next move. She stays quiet for so long that I startle when she speaks again.
"Peeta, I have a confession to make." The words are rushed, as if she's trying to get them out before losing her nerve.
"About what?" I ask her gently.
She tugs on her bottom lip again, the action unintentionally sexy. "I…lied about the letter. It wasn't in my mailbox; the postal carrier had left them all on the table in the lobby last week, and I took the one addressed to you."
Her eyes beg mine to understand, and I think I do, but I need to be sure. "Why?" My voice is barely a whisper as I try desperately not to jump to the conclusion I'm dying to hear.
She looks away again, and in a soft voice tells me, "Because I needed a reason to come to your apartment and finally meet you. When I saw the letters I figured it was a sign; but of course I chickened out and didn't do anything. Then when you asked me about Prim's letter this afternoon, I knew I just had to take a chance."
"I don't understand," I reply once I've found my voice, "Every time I tried to talk to you before, I was met with a scowl or a glare telling me to back off. What's changed?"
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip and pull the delicate skin, draining it of color temporarily. When she lets go, her lip has a swollen bee-stung appearance, making her even more delectable.
"I had a…rough childhood, basically raising my sister and myself from the time I was eleven. I'm so used to taking care of her, and making sure her needs were met that I never really stopped to worry about myself. I don't know how to relate to anyone but her, and you reaching out to me was…unexpected; Initially unwelcome, and kind of annoying at first, but then gradually I began to look forward to our awkward meetings at the mailbox. When you caught me looking at the letters, I was afraid you'd see me taking yours, so I kind of lashed out, I guess." A soft chuckle escapes my lips at that understatement.
From the uncertainty painted upon her features, it's easy to tell she's not big on words, and that this is huge effort for her.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you snuck up on me, Peeta Mellark. You refused to give up on trying to get through to me, no matter how rude I was to you, and that confused me. I wasn't used to people showing kindness to me, at least not without wanting something in return, so I tried to ignore you. At first it was easy to dismiss you as just some random guy who happens to live in the same building, but when I started putting on lip gloss before going to check my mail I realized there was something about you that made me...happy. That's something only Prim has ever been able to do, and I decided I wanted to feel that way all the time, so I kinda started stalking you, and well...here we are."
Her hopeful words hang in the air, stealing the very breath from my lungs. Our gazes collide as a new tension fills the air, ripe with anticipation that seeps from every pore, building with each tick of the clock on the wall. My pulse races as the seconds drag by, waiting for something, some sign from her to tell me what comes next.
It happens in an instant. Katniss' lips part slightly as she inhales, and her breath hitches. It's that movement, that subtle rise of her chest that finally breaks the dam and allows our pent up feelings to come rushing to the surface.
I'm not sure who reaches for whom first, but we meet in the middle of the couch; a whirlwind of lips, hands and arms reaching for the other with reckless abandon. Teeth collide in our haste; noses bump together, eliciting chuckles at our eagerness to finally be with one another.
My hands find their way into her luscious mane of hair to cradle the back of her head as my lips plunder hers. Katniss' small hands wrap around my forearms, using them as leverage to pull me impossibly close.
Katniss makes the most delicious mewls and sighs as we kiss, each one building on the one before. Her eager response warms me to my toes and the desire I've been keeping reigned in roars through my veins, making me feel like I'm on fire. Being near Katniss before had aroused me, but now, as her tongue strokes my lips, begging for entrance the heat pools deep in my groin, almost to the point of being painful. It's all I can do not to rip off her yoga pants and bury myself deep inside her waiting heat.
I compromise by wrapping one arm around her waist and drag her torso flush with mine, letting her feel every inch of my response to her. She gasps at the contact, her body melting into mine and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The tang of the beer she'd had earlier is tempered by the savory notes of the cheese bun on her palate, heightening the flavor of her kiss.
Her fingers weave into the waves at the back of my head, the short nails scratching my scalp as they explore, sending my pulse racing into a frenzy of need. Noises of appreciation rumble in my throat as I struggle to hold on, desperate to both speed up to the inevitable and slow down and fully enjoy the moment.
My restraint is seriously tested when Katniss reaches up and tugs firmly on the curls above my ears. An embarrassingly loud groan rips from my throat, momentarily breaking our kiss. We take the opportunity to drag breath into our straining lungs, trying to calm the swirling tempest before it consumes us.
Still breathing heavily, her hands slip from my hair to cup my jaw, her thumbs slowly tracing my cheekbones as she pins me with her silver stare.
"Peeta," she pants, her breath tickling my skin with each exhale, "There's something I've wanted to do for a while now."
It's impossible to miss the gleam in her eye that tells me whatever she has in mind will be immensely enjoyable for both of us. "Who's stopping you?"
Her answer is a sultry grin as she places her hands on my shoulders and pushes me into a sitting position. Katniss stands and pulls her sweater off, tossing it to the side. It's obvious she's not wearing a bra by the way her nipples are already hard and straining against the soft material, their shadowy darkness begging to be traced by the tip of my tongue. I swallow thickly at the sight, absently wondering what else she's neglected to put on before coming over.
She straddles my lap and guides my lips to hers, the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against my chest. Her lips slant against mine, dragging her tongue along the seam, begging for entry, which I earnestly grant. While she takes her time exploring my mouth, her hands blaze trails of their own, sending shivers of delight down my spine when her nails scrape against my flattened nipples before she pinches them between her fingers.
My head lolls against the back of the couch as I succumb completely to the pleasure and pain, giving Katniss the opportunity to plant hot open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, culminating in her suckling my earlobe between her luscious lips. Control is a thing of the past as my hips buck up against her and we both sigh at the contact. The heat of her arousal burns me through our layers of clothing, and it's all I can do not to grind against her until we reach our climax together.
Katniss must sense my thoughts as she pulls away, breaking the exquisite contact, and I whimper in protest.
"Not so fast," she admonishes, "I have bigger plans for you."
She pulls away, and tugs on my tee shirt, a not so subtle hint that she wants the offending garment out of the way. Grabbing the hem, I yank the soft cotton over my head and toss it to the side to join her sweater in our growing pile of clothing on the floor. Katniss leans forward, pressing soft kisses to my chest before finding her way to first one turgid nipple then the other, using her teeth and tongue to wage a pleasurable assault on my senses. I hiss, and my hips buck at the air between us, desperate to find a source of friction to ease the ache in my groin.
"Katniss, please…" I beg as the ache between my legs intensifies with every ministration.
Clearly enjoying my situation, Katniss stands and nudges my knees apart with hers before coming to stand between them as she slowly pulls off her camisole, letting it drop to the floor behind her. Her breasts leave me speechless in their perfection. Dusky nipples proudly stand at attention, rosy with a flush that spreads across them, the perfect contrast to her tanned skin. My mouth waters at the sight and I reach forward, eager to take them into my mouth the way she did me.
With a gentle push, Katniss taps my hands down and drops to her knees before me. The part of me that longs for her touch the most twitches at her proximity, swelling even more as her slender fingers creep along my inner thigh, ghosting close enough to the bulge in my sweatpants to make me rigid with need. Almost too soon, and yet not fast enough, my pants are gone, and sweet relief washes over me at finally being freed from the confines of the jersey material.
Katniss licks her lips as she takes in the sight my member, fully erect and weeping from the slit. One delicate hand wraps around the velvety shaft, pumping slowly once, twice, three times and my brain ceases all rational thought, giving over completely to sensation. Keeping her eyes locked with mine, she leans forward, and runs the flat of her tongue along the underside, paying special attention to the especially sensitive area just under the head. Finally feeling her warm mouth wrapped around me is better than I'd ever imagined, and I can already feel the tell-tale tingle at the base of my spine letting me know this won't last very long.
The sight of her pink lips wrapped around my cock, her dark hair spread across my thighs, is almost enough to make me come right then and there. A guttural moan escapes my throat when she takes me deep enough to hit the back of her throat. She slowly pulls her head back, twisting as she gently sucks in her cheeks, then plunges down again, and again, and again.
Her thumb and forefinger don't come anywhere near completely encircling my cock, but they still manage to apply enough pressure to keep me from spilling too soon. Her other hand caresses my balls, massaging them gently as she laps away with abandon.
I wrap her hair around my hand and pull just enough to elicit a moan from Katniss. Her eyelids flutter shut and her speed picks up, driving me closer to the edge.
An idea pops into my lust-hazed mind, and I place my hand on her shoulder to stop her movements. She looks up at me with a question in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" She asks as she lazily strokes my cock.
In answer I slide my hands under her arms and pull her into my lap, wasting no time in taking one perky nipple in my mouth to shower with attention. Switching to her other nipple, I work it until she's writhing and gasping in my arms, her hands holding my head firmly against her breasts.
My fingers skate down her ribcage, along the waist of her yoga pants and dip inside. I am thrilled to learn she's not wearing panties as my hand drops lower to drag along her slit, coating the digits with her slick moisture. Katniss grinds against them, eager for her own release, high-pitched whimpers pouring from her lips.
She whines when I pull my hand from her pants, turning to moans as I lick her essence from my fingers.
"Mmm. Sweet as candy." I tell her. "Do you trust me?" Katniss' eyes are wide, her pupils dilated with desire, turning them the dark stormy grey of a thundercloud as she nods her assent.
I stand, and set Katniss' feet on the ground, making sure she's steady before letting go. My hands rest once more on her hips, and I pull her to me, kissing her deeply as I grind my erection into her belly. Katniss moans and scrapes her nails down my back, most certainly leaving marks.
After scant moments of this, I fall to my knees and slowly slide her pants down to the floor. I keep my eyes on hers as I lift first one foot, then the other to remove them completely, kissing the dorsum of each foot before setting it down.
That done, my fingers ghost up the backs of her calves to cup her ass as I plant kisses along her belly. I can smell her musky arousal as it seeps down her thighs; intoxicating me to the point where all I want is to bury my tongue between her legs and lap up every glistening drop. My cock swells at the idea and I give myself a mental shake, willing my body to relax.
"Lower, Peeta, lower." Katniss chants as my tongue explores her navel.
Her hands are fisted in my hair, her short nails digging into my scalp hard enough to leave half-moon shaped indentations. Slowly I begin my descent to her core; her pants coming louder and faster as I approach. I wrap my arm around her waist as my tongue laps along her slit, drinking in her essence. My nose bumps against her greedy bundle of nerves and she jerks as if she's been shocked by electricity. A long, guttural moan is all the encouragement I need to do it again, this time suckling it with my lips.
Katniss' thighs tremble with the effort of staying upright as my lips continue their carnal assault. First one, then two fingers disappear inside of her, curling into her tight walls in search of the elusive sweet spot that will send her into oblivion.
I sense she's near when her walls begin to contract around my fingers, and I pull away, earning a murderous look from Katniss.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I stand and pull her against my body. I can feel her heart thrumming in time with mine. "I want us to finish together."
Color blooms across her lovely body as she catches my meaning, and she nods her acquiescence, a needy gleam in her eyes. I pick her up and place her on the couch, kissing her deeply as I lay next to her, my hands mapping her silken folds and setting her on fire once again. My fingers and mouth help her climb to the apex until she's balancing on the precipice, trembling with need, but rather than letting go, Katniss sits up and leans forward on her knees to take my aching cock in her mouth. A groan escapes my throat at the feel of her soft tongue and lips wrapped around my throbbing length.
Gently I tug on her hips, sliding my hand down one firm thigh, massaging gently as I go down to cradle her lower leg, and position her so that she's straddling my chest. I drink in the sight of her spread before me, moisture glistening in the soft lamplight. Her earthy scent stirs something deep inside, unleashing the primal instinct to pull her close to my waiting lips. She keens deep in her throat as I spread her folds run the flat of my tongue along them, before latching onto her clit, and I can feel the vibrations of her vocal cords against my cock, the sensation sending me rocketing towards my climax.
I insert one finger into her opening, twisting slightly as she thrusts back against my hand. I add another finger, curling them to stroke her inner walls as I suckle on her needy bundle of nerves, and it only takes moments for her to begin cresting the wave of her orgasm. My cock falls from her lips as she throws her head back, mewls of delight pouring out of her as she gives over to me completely, her walls contracting madly around my fingers. "Oh, oh PEETA!"
Just the sound of her husky voice moaning my name is enough for my balls to tighten and the tingling sensation begin at the base of my spine. Katniss must sense I'm close as she begins to slowly pump my swollen cock, squeezing with each pass as she envelopes me in the warmth of her mouth. I thrust into her hand, letting go of my restraint now that she's come. The warm suction of her mouth is what finally takes me to the promise-land and I come with a shout of her name, "Katniss!"
The faint drone of my alarm breaks through my sleep drugged mind, pulling me from the last vestiges of sleep. Regretfully I open my eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim glow provided by the lamp next to me and momentarily disoriented at being on the couch instead of in my bedroom.
In the blink of an eye the details from the night before come rushing back and I push myself up, looking for Katniss. The last thing I remember before sleep claimed my sated mind is cuddling her close to me after we'd come down from our orgasms, our cooling bodies wrapped around one another and her head upon my shoulder.
A hot ball of disappointment lodges in my throat at the realization that I was alone. Our empty beer bottles and the plate from the cheese buns were gone from the coffee table as well, further testament that it was once again a dream.
Disbelief flows through my veins. It had seemed so real, felt so real. Every detail stands out vividly in my mind; how she looked, how she smelled, the taste of her skin. I swear I can still taste her essence lingering on my tongue.
In frustration I kick the table, sending a pile of magazines sliding to the floor where they land in a heap. Ignoring them, and my now throbbing foot, I go into the bedroom and shut off the alarm, debating whether or not to just crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head in an effort to bring back the beautiful dream.
Running my hand through my sleep tousled curls I grab a towel and head into the bathroom in the hopes that a cold shower will help me shake the lingering disappointment.
As I pass through the living room, out of the corner of my eye I see something white sticking out from underneath the pile of magazines that fell from the coffee table. I feel a prickle at the back of my neck as I walk over and slowly extract it from its hiding spot.
With trembling hands I turn it over and suck in a disbelieving breath. Lying there in my hands is the envelope that Katniss brought over last night, the cartoon gecko insipidly smiling up at me.
Confusion dances around me like a ribbon caught on a vanilla scented breeze, faster and faster until only one thought remains: 'Real or not real?'