A/N: I forced myself to write something because school doesn't start for another two weeks. I'm not a hundred percent happy with the story, but it was worth a shot. The text in italics were lifted from the last few pages of Chapter 24 of Catching Fire. Enjoy reading!
This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
I throw everything I feel at the moment into the kisses, yet the hunger persists. When the air in my lungs becomes scarce and my back starts to hurt, I pull away just a fraction of an inch. The break is much needed; Peeta and I are both gasping into each other's mouths. I keep my eyes shut as I shift my body closer to his, but I can only do so much to bridge the gap between us.
"I need you," I repeat, and the warm feeling inside me pulses even more intensely after I say it. His cold, rough hands stroke my cheeks in reply. When I open my eyes, I find that his are tightly closed.
"Say something," I whisper.
When his eyes bolt open, they're a shade darker than the usual blue. I pride myself in being able to read Peeta's face like an open book, but right now, he's looking at me with a brand new, unreadable expression. That, and his silence, is a little unsettling. He always finds the right words to say even during the most nerve-racking and awkward situations. And this here certainly counts as one of those situations.
I turn my gaze to the pale moon in the sky, thinking of what to do to diffuse the tension. Peeta, however, does not give me the chance to speak. He tilts my head back to his line of sight, and then his lips collide with mine again. I back away from him slightly, but he climbs over me.
"Katniss," he begins. The way he says it stokes the fire deep in me, the one that is uncontrollable and sensual, the one that is winning over my worries. "Please don't lie to me," he adds.
Instinct tells me to push him away, to resent him for letting his doubts take over and thinking that I would lie to him. But I rein in my anger and take long, deep breaths. When I'm sure of what to say next, I catch the chain dangling from his neck. "I'm not a very good liar. You know that," I tell him, and he grins. "You were right when you said that they needed me," I continue, rolling the locket between my fingers. "I need them just as much. Who else would I have come home to after the last games?"
I let go of the locket and rest my hand on his chest, right above the spot where his heart stopped not too long ago. "But then I realized that there are things that they can't give me. And as selfish as it sounds, they're not enough for me anymore. Not since you came along."
I've said my piece, but even with the comfort and safety I feel in Peeta's presence, I can't bring myself to say everything that I want to say. There is still a part of me that holds back. Maybe it's because there's something in me that still refuses to let him know me. Or maybe I don't really know how to be honest. Then, it hits me. The whole of Panem is watching us right now, and that realization sends a swift pang through me. I silently curse the cameras and my own indiscretion.
Peeta seems to be oblivious to our lack of privacy because he presses a kiss to my forehead and chuckles. "Not exactly what I was hoping to hear, but it's nice to know, all the same."
"I can't believe you," I hiss at him. I get up and brush the sand off my legs. "I pour out my soul to you and you laugh and…stomp at it with your foot!"
I make my way to where Johanna is curled up on the sand. She can take the next watch with Peeta and chew him out at the same time. Strong arms wrap around me and swing me away from everybody's sleeping forms just as I'm about to nudge Johanna with my foot. I wrench myself free from Peeta and march over to the shore. Maybe if I swam just the right length from the shoreline, he'd give up.
But he doesn't. He grabs my arms and pulls me to him. "Look Katniss, I'm sorry. It's just that you were saying all these things and I knew you meant them." I let myself go limp in his arms. "But after your little confession, you kind of froze. You looked like you were about to take everything you said back, so I tried to lighten things up. That obviously failed."
I sigh and rest my head on his chest. The beat of his heart complements the sound of the water lapping against the shore, and just like that, the prying lenses of the cameras all around the arena no longer matter to me. And then it sparks back to life—the fiery hunger that is slowly pumping in my blood, its flames licking the darkest recesses of my mind. Now, all I can think about is Peeta, how good and solid he feels, how real and alive he is.
My hands find purchase at the back of his neck and I yield up my mouth to his. "I'm sorry," he murmurs against my lips.
Right there and then, I finally find the courage to say the truth.
"Peeta, I need you. I…I love—"
It's the first crack of the lightning storm—the bolt hitting the tree at midnight—that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.
"I can't sleep anymore," he says. "One of you should rest." Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we're wrapped around each other. "Or both of you. I can watch alone."
Peeta won't let him, though. "It's too dangerous," he says. "I'm not tired. You lie down, Katniss." I don't object because I do need sleep if I'm to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be.
"I know, Katniss. Me, too," he says.
He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick.