Disclaimer: I don't own any characters of concepts; they all belong to their respective owner.

Note: All characters are written as if they are older than 18.

Peeta Mellark had thought hard about a game plan for the 74th Hunger Games. Very quickly, he realised that to keep himself, and Katniss, as safe as possible, he would have to get involved with the Career tributes, if not to be part of the Career Pack, then at least to be friendly with them. On the first few days in the Training Centre, he had approached some tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 to see if he could get close to them. The tributes had been friendly and polite, but reserved. Before long, Peeta realised the issue – the Career Pack was effectively controlled by Cato, one of the tributes from District 2, and without his say-so, Peeta had no chance of allying himself with them. All of his attempts to talk to Cato, though, his come to naught.

Not long before they would enter the Area, Katniss and he had walked down to the main area in the Training Centre to find the other tributes milling around a locked door. He could tell straight away that the Gamemakers were up to something, and Peeta didn't like it when they tried to surprise him. When the doors opened not long later, the tributes shuffled nervously into a pine forest. Looking up, Peeta could see the sun above in the sky. This was an external area contained inside the Training Centre. One of the Gamermakers was waiting for them inside the room.

"This is a tradition that we have each year", she explained. "Something that we don't televise to the rest of Panem. It's a chance for you to prove yourself."

The Gamemaker led the tributes to a large box, decorated with gladiatorial scenes. She took out a handful of black leather armbands.

"These bands are how we choose your pairs for this activity", she said. "They light up in different colours. There are two of each band. You may be placed in a pair with the other Tribute from your District, though it is much more likely that you'll be paired with another tribute altogether."

The Gamemaker stood to the side, and called out the tributes one by one. Peeta was called last. He collected his band, placed it around his muscular upper arm, and returned to the group.

"Each pair will be given a bag of supplies to last the night", the Gamemaker concluded, pointing at a row of twelve backpacks, rah a different colour. "Any misbehaviour will not by tolerated, and the perpetrators will be removed from the Games."

The tributes looked around nervously as the Gamemaker walked to the door. She stood as a pedestal topped with a black button rose from the ground. The Gamemaker pressed the button, then turned, and left the chamber, leaving the tributes alone inside. They looked around, confused, and wondered what was going to happen.

"Look!" a girl said suddenly, pointing at her fellow tribute's armband.

Instead of being black as it had been moments prior, the armband was now a deep red. Every tribute looked at their own armbands. Peeta's was now orange. He looked up, and to his disappointment, Katniss' armband was brilliant blue. Despondently, Peeta went to stand beside the orange bag, which was the last one on the right. He looked down the row, and saw Katniss standing next to the female tribute from District 8. Peeta looked around himself, and saw Cato, the male tribute from District 2, lounging against a palm tree near to him. Peeta remembered him – Career tributes were the most ferocious, so he had kept a close eye on them during training. Around his biceps was an orange armband. Peeta was apprehensive about spending a night with a Career tribute, especially the one that was the leader of the Pack, but it also seemed like a good way to ingratiate himself with him.

Cato sauntered over towards him, and Peeta forced himself to stand his ground in the face of the rippling muscle that could tear him apart. The Career picked up the orange backpack, then, without a word to Peeta, walked into the trees, away from the other tributes. Peeta ran to catch up with him, scared of being left behind without any food or shelter. Cato and Peeta walked in silence for a few minutes. Finally, they reached a clearing. Cato dropped the bag in the middle, and rounded on Peeta.

"Why are you still following me?" he asked brusquely.

Peeta took a step back at the tone. He held up his arm, showing off his orange armband.

"I've got an orange armband as well", he reminded the other tribute. "That means we're paired together."

Cato's scowl deepened.

"Go away", he said, pushing Peeta on the chest. "I work alone."

Peeta reeled back, stung by the rejection. Rallying himself, he stepped forwards again defiantly.

"I'm not letting you get away with that", Peeta said, with false bravado. "We work as a pair, whether you like it or not."

"Yeah?" Cato sneered. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Cato lunged at Peeta again, but this time, Peeta was ready for the attack. He stepped to the side, and as Cato's momentum pushed him onwards, Peeta's leg shot out, hooking behind Cato's knee, and tripping the larger tribute. Cato fell hard on the ground.

Within a second, the District 2 tribute was up again. He charged at Peeta. This time, Peeta met Cato's attack head on. He sensed Cato's surprise as he hit the heavily built tribute. Peeta grappled with Cato, then threw him to the ground again. Cato lay there for a moment, winded, then slowly got up.

"Not bad", he said, a grudging respect in his eyes. "I guess you can stay."

Cato turned away from Peeta, and opened the pack. He pulled out its contents – a tent, two sleeping bags, and, to their delight, a box of food. While Cato unpacked the food, Peeta pitched the tent, and threw the sleeping bags inside. When Peeta finished, he sat on the ground with his back against a tree. Above him, the sky had turned crimson as the sun set.

By the time the tributes had finished eating dinner, it was dark. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and the trees were silent. Peeta and Cato say in silence as well. Finally, Peeta stood up.

"I'm going to sleep", he said with an exaggerated yawn. "I've got to keep my strength up for the Games."

Cato didn't reply. Peeta hesitated for a moment, then crawled into the tent. He unrolled one of the sleeping bags, and crawled inside it. He was nearly asleep, when the tent flap opened to let Cato in. A cold breeze followed the Career tribute, stinging Peeta's cheeks, and causing him to curl up tighter to conserve his warmth. Cato wrapped himself in his sleeping bag as well.

As the night progressed, it got colder and colder. Peeta distinctly recalled waking at one point shivering. Bleary-eyed, Peeta looked around to see Cato sitting up, wrapped tightly in his sleeping bag. Some sort of mist hung around him. Peeta rolled away from his fellow tribute, and fell asleep again.

Sometime just before dawn, Peeta awoke with a sweet smell in his nostrils. He forced his eyes open for long enough to see that the tent was now filled with the fog. Peeta tried to look around, but his eyes refused to stay open. He felt like his mind was moving through honey – every thought had to be pushed through the viscous, resistant fog that had crept inside him. Peeta didn't know if he lay unmoving for a long time, or for just a couple of seconds.

All of a sudden, Peeta felt a hand on his shoulder. There was only one person it could be – Cato. Peeta tried to push him away, but his arms refused to move; they felt as heavy as sacks of flour. Cato shook Peeta's shoulder gently. When the District 12 tribute didn't respond, Cato slowly unzipped Peeta's sleeping bag, and slid his hand inside. Peeta tried to protest, but couldn't. With a shock, he realised that the fog must be some sort of suppressant, used to keep a target docile and unresponsive. Peeta guessed that part of the training for a tribute in District involved resistance to such chemicals.

Cato slipped his hand under Peeta's shirt, his coarse fingers exploring Peeta's muscles until they made their way up to his nipples. Cato pinched at them, one at a time, drawing forth a moan from Peeta. Satisfied with his partner's response, Cato swiftly moved so that he was straddling the younger tribute, then pulled off Peeta's shirt. His nipples hardened as they were exposed to the frigid air. Cato bent down, and took Peeta's left nipple in his mouth, biting it gently. When he moaned again, Cato got off Peeta, unzipped his sleeping bag fully, and threw it off the prone tribute.

One of Cato's hand cupped Peeta's groin through his pyjama pants, then moved away. Peeta was desperately trying to stop Cato from playing with him, however, when he tried to move his arms, every move was weak and sluggish, and Cato easily knocked his arms back. When Cato's hand returned, and this time slipped under the waistband of his pyjamas, an involuntary whimper escaped Peeta's throat. Peeta felt embarrassed. Cato only needed to touch him, and he began moaning like a cheap whore. Peeta tried to tell himself that it was the sweet smoke that was causing this response, but he couldn't deny that this wasn't too different from dreams he has been having for the past few years.

At least once a week, ever since he had seen her starving at the bakery, Peeta would dream of Katniss. At the start, the dreams would be simple and short – a glimpse of her dark face, the sun shining off her hair. He would wake up feeling at peace. As Peeta grew older, the dreams developed with his developing body. He explored her body inside his mind – first the chaste areas, like her face or arms, but before long, Peeta had progressed, able to undress her as he closed his eyes. Every glimpse of Katniss at school fuelled his obsession. It wasn't unexpected for Peeta to wake up after a particularly raunchy dream, where Katniss had allowed him to run his hands over her breasts, or press a finger against her quivering pussy, with his hand under his sheets, stroking his hard cock. Peeta would imagine that it was Katniss' hand on his cock, and he would empty himself in silence, careful not to wake his older brothers.

Now, Cato's hands were having a similar effect on him. Peeta felt ashamed at the heat that was running through him. More than that, though Peeta was ashamed that beneath the embarrassment and anger he felt, he was enjoying what Cato was doing. Cato pulled down Peeta pyjama pants, leaving the District 12 tribute all but naked in the tent. The chill air raised goosebumps on Peeta's arms and legs, but they were weren't enough to combat the heat from Cato's hand on his cock. Cato lay beside Peeta, nuzzling his ear and pressing kisses on his cheek.

"You love this", Cato said in Peeta's ear, his low, gravelly voice barely audible.

Even if Peeta could have spoken, he wouldn't have had anything to say. What Cato said was true. Cato's hand was like a drug, and Peeta wasn't sure if anything else would ever compare. It seemed like Cato knew Peeta's cock better than Peeta did himself. Every twist of his wrist sent another shot of heat through Peeta.

Finally, Peeta shuddered, and came, coating Cato's fist with his seed. Cato sat up, and lifted his hand to his mouth, licking it clean of Peeta's cum. His eyes never left Peeta's, and predatory smile appeared in his face.

"Now it's your turn to return the favour", Cato said.

Peeta struggled to sit up. Now that he was a bit more awake, the effect of the fog has lessened on him, though his mind still felt sluggish. Cato stripped out of his own pyjamas, and embraced Peeta. Their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Peeta could taste remnants of his seed on Cato's breath.

After a while, Cato broke off the kiss. Peeta sat where he had been, his eyes glassy. Cato pushed Peeta's head down until he was eye level with the District 2 tribute's cock.

"I don't know—" Peeta began.

Cato cut him off by pressing his cock against Peeta's lips, which opened slightly. Peeta hesitantly slid out his tongue, and touched it to the tip of Cato's cock. He could taste Cato's precum. Emboldened, Peeta opened his mouth to take the full cock in. Patiently, Cato let Peeta adjust to his cock, as he slid it in and out slowly. Although Peeta was an amateur, other than occasionally scraping Cato's cock with his teeth, he managed well enough, and was rewarded by a low moan from the other tribute. After a few minutes, Cato pulled out. He jerked his cock a couple of times, then came, spurting rope after rope of cum onto Peeta's face. Instinctively, Peeta licked his lips, tasting Cato's seed, as Cato had done with his not long ago. He reached out, and slowly wiped off Cato's cum with a finger, placing each globule in his mouth.

Peeta and Cato lay down again together, arm in arm. Peeta felt that he had made a good first impression on the Career tribute. As Peeta drifted back to sleep, he heard Cato's voice.

"You may be good for the Careers after all."