A/N: Hello folks! Here is the sequel to Chosen! I hope I will be seeing some famaliar faces reading and reviewing and maybe some new ones too! I'd strongly suggest reading Chosen before you read Chafed as a lot of this won't make sense if you don't.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or its characters and plotlines.
Chafed
Chapter One
Glasses. Braces. School.
This was the price of still being sixteen.
It felt like forever since Peeta had been to school. Not that the school he now attended was anything like his old one in District 12. With only one other person in the class, his persistance to finish his education resulted in four hours of class every day with a private tutor. It was much more difficult than he remembered it to be, the subjects much more challenging and the work much, much more harder.
"Einstein's theory of relativity is a famous theory, but it's little understood. Basically, the theory of relativity refers to two different elements of the same theory: general relativity and special relativity," his tutor, Ms. Morrison explained. "The theory of special relativity was introduced first, and was later considered to be a special case of the more comprehensive theory of general relativity."
Peeta had a habit of drifting off in the middle of class, either busying himself with sharpening his pencil or pretending to clean his glasses. After everything that had happened in the past year, he found it very difficult to focus on anything other than making sure that he was living his life properly. Hence why he wanted to finish his education. And this sort of looped back round to his issue with lack of focus.
It had been five months since the Hunger Games. Since Cato had won and they had returned home to District 2. It was now December and the weather was getting colder. Even as he sat there in Ms. Morrison's dining room, he could see speckles of snow drifting to the ground and beginning to stick. They got snow nearly every year in District 12 but it was more around January time than December.
"The Theory of Relativity Concepts are: Einstein's theory of special relativity - localized behavior of objects in inertial frames of reference, generally only relevant at speeds very near the speed of light. Lorentz transformations - the transformation equations used to calculate the coordinate changes under special relativity," Ms. Morrison continued, unaware of how both her students had completely zoned out. "Einstein's theory of general relativity - the more comprehensive theory, which treats gravity as a geometric phenomenon of a curved spacetime coordinate system, which also includes noninertial-i.e. accelerating-frames of reference. What we must do now is ask, what is relativity? Well-"
Peeta's only other classmate-a thirteen year old girl genius called Ava Green-stuck her hand into the air. "Ms. Morrison, can we leave early?" she asked.
Ms. Morrison's demeanour slumped with the realization that she had been doing nothing but rambling to her students. She let the textbook drop onto the table and she sighed dramatically. "Miss Green, must you always ask this question every day?"
"Well, are you going to go over the same stuff every day?" Ava said in a dull voice. "Look, Peeta's nearly asleep!"
Hearing his name, Peeta snapped out of his staring at the snow trance. "Huh?" he asked, thinking he'd been asked a question.
Ms. Morrison threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Honestly, the two of you have the attention spans of a newt! Do you even know the amount of money your parents spent to get these sessions Miss Green? And you too Mr Mellark?"
Ava scoffed and flicked a pencil sharpen across the table. "You're lucky we're both even here," she muttered. "A genius and a celebrity, you should be paying us for being here."
Peeta sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, sorry, what is it we're learning?" He tried to look more enthusiastic, pushing himself to sit up straighter and taking his pencil back up into his hand.
Ms Morrison shook her head. "No, no, I'd rather teach you both when you're not slacking in focus." She closed the book and sighed before smiling. "It is near Christmas after all I suppose."
Now that was something he never celebrated back home in 12. They were all very well aware of the holiday but it was never something people celebrated. District 2 was quite the contray, decorating the streets with decorations and lights that made the whole District sparkle. A gigantic christmas tree had been set up in the square-which confused Peeta until Cato explained to him that it was a Christmas tradition to put up a tree and decorate it with trinkets and tinsel.
Ava closed her book with a flourish and sighed happily. "So how are the braces Peeta?" she asked as Ms Morrison tidied everything up.
Peeta's stylists had decided that since Cato had won the Games and was now a victor, he deserved a partner with perfect teeth (Peeta was still waiting for some answers on a postcard on that one) like his own. So a couple of weeks after returning to 2, he was fitted with a pair of temporary braces. They were specially made so that they'd fix his teeth before the Victory Tour in May. Since there was such a short space of time for this to happen, the braces hurt nearly 24/7. It certainly confirmed the Capitol's not-so- secret motto of 'image is everything'.
"Think of it this way: my teeth feel like they are being squished together with a pair of plyers," Peeta explained, causing Ava to laugh. She also had a pair of braces herself but because her teeth weren't on some perfection schedule she went through the usual 'tightened every ten weeks' routine whereas he had to have his 'tightened every two weeks' to make sure they were perfect for Cato's victory tour.
"Hang in there," Ava said. "I'm sure it'll be worth it. For the Capitol anyway." Ms Morrison was just about to leave the dining room when Ava told her to stop. "By the way: Classical relativity-defined initially by Galileo Galilei and refined by Sir Isaac Newton-involves a simple transformation between a moving object and an observer in another inertial frame of reference. If you are walking in a moving train, and someone stationary on the ground is watching, your speed relative to the observer will be the sum of your speed relative to the train and the train's speed relative to the observer. You're in one inertial frame of reference, the train itself-and anyone sitting still on it-are in another, and the observer is in still another."
Ms Morrison's mouth hung open in surprise and Peeta couldn't hold in his laughter, holding his hand to his mouth to try and hide it. "Well . . . done," she said in awe.
"I told you, you should be paying to have me in this class," Ava said with a wide grin. She went over to the window and peered out at the white scenery. "Oh, Peeta, your boyfriend's waiting on you." She spun on her heel with a shit-eating grin on her face.
Peeta couldn't help smiling at the thought of Cato sitting outside on the wall ringing Ms Morrison's garden like he did every day at four o'clock so he'd be ready to walk him home. As an eighteen-going-on-nineteen year old boy, Cato had finished his education and no longer needed to go to school.
"I shouldn't keep him waiting then," Peeta decided, packing his satchel and getting out of his seat. He gave Ava a hug and scruffed her hair before leaving. As soon as he stepped outside, he rolled his eyes when he saw Ms Morrison talking to Cato by the wall. She treated Cato like he was his dad-just because he had paid for his tutoring with some of his victory money-and every time she was concerned about his performance or marks, the first person she'd go to was Cato.
Cato found it hilarious. He'd always act serious when Ms Morrison spoke to him and as soon as she disappeared he'd burst out laughing and start teasing him about how he needed to 'get his act together.' Ms Morrison glanced at him and sighed, saying one more thing to Cato before walking back towards Peeta. She smiled at him as she passed him into the threshold of her house.
Peeta sighed and treaded through the thin layer of snow that smattered the ground. Cato was already grinning at him which wasn't a good sign. What had Ms Morrison told him? Folding his arms against the cold, Peeta joined him by the wall. "Hey?" he said slightly hesitantly.
"Hey slacker," Cato replied, the grin seeming to have been permanantly imprinted on his face. "A little birdie tells me you've been very distracted in class."
"I wonder what little birdie that was," Peeta muttered dryly.
Cato laughed and stood up, brushing the snow from his pants. "You know I paid good money for your classes," he said. "You're supposed to learn, not get distracted."
"I know but it's so boring sometimes!" Peeta protested as they started walking down the road. "I mean, it's fun when we're doing english literature and stuff but all this complicated stuff Ms Morrison is sticking through us is so boring! I swear, I feel like the possibility of being bored to death actually increases when she opens up that damn psysics textbook!" His top lip got caught on his brace as he spoke and he sighed in frustration, tugging it off and wincing when it pulled some skin off.
"Psysics is great," Cato said. "It's much better than some of the other subjects you could be stuck with."
"Like what?" Peeta demanded.
"Chemistry sucks," Cato explained. He took Peeta's satchel-ignoring his protests-and slung it over his shoulder. "It's all protons and neutrons etc. Believe me, chemistry is much more complicated than Einstein's theory of relativity." He took Peeta's hand and they continued on hand in hand.
"God, it's cold," Peeta complained, his breath coming out in white smokey puffs.
"Oh you're full of complaints today, aren't you?" Cato chuckled.
Peeta pushed his glasses up his nose and huffed. Another accessory Snow had decided to bestow on him. It apparently helped increase the vulnerable image and after a couple of months of wearing the damn things, they screwed up his eyes and he had to wear them all the time. "Just stressed out, I suppose," he muttered.
"Hey there's nothing to be stressed about," Cato said, fishing for his keys as they reached his doorstep. "Even if you fail your exams, you're still going to have a stable life afterwards." He looked at Peeta and smirked. "But that's not an excuse to slack off."
"Stable life? What, with my victor boyfriend?" Peeta teased.
Cato grinned and stuck his key into the lock. "Exactly."
Peeta chuckled as Cato swung the door open of their new home in the victor's village. Since winners were common in District 2, Cato had the power to claim two houses in the massive housing estate: one for himself and one for his family. Kayla and his parents lived just down the road from them. Living alone was strange and came with a weird sense of responsibility. It took them at least a week to figure out how the washing machine worked (in the end they only found out how when Cato's mum came to visit).
Dropping the satchel off by the coat rack, Cato locked the door and shook the snow out of his hair. "Have any homework?" he asked.
"No, dad," Peeta replied. He shrugged off his coat and hung it off on the coat rack. He kicked his satchel irritabely and pushed his glasses up for what felt like the millionth time. Cato tapped his chin up and adjusted the specs so that they sat on his nose properly.
"Snow's an asshole," he muttered. "Making you wear these damn things. They mute the blue in your eyes." Peeta blushed and smiled bashfully, never having adjusted to the compliments. Cato smiled and slipped the glasses off, causing Peeta to blink in disoreintation. Everything slid out of focus now that his eyes were screwed up and he had to reach out and take Cato's arm to stop himself from reering back.
"I'm sure I look like a horrid pre-teen right now," he said. He smiled the widest smile he could, baring all of the glittering metal braces on his teeth. "I'm blind, my teeth aren't good enough and I have exams to stress over. Whelp, there has to be a silver lining somewhere, right?"
Cato chuckled. "Bound to be," he said. "Maybe the fact that you rock the geek chic look is it?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure that's it," Peeta said sarcastically. He took his glasses back and put them on. "Do you want me to get started on dinner?" Out of the both of them, it became very apparent that Peeta was the over all better cooker than Cato. Therefore there was only one night a week where the career would have another shot at cooking. Each time being more diastrous as the time before.
"No, not yet. You're just home. It's like rescueing a puppy and then putting it to work ratting the yard as soon as you get to the house," Cato answered.
"So you're comparing me to a puppy then?" Peeta asked, heading into the dining room. "I guess that's another animal off the list. First kitty, now puppy. I'm going to end up mauling myself out of hatred, you know."
"Well," Cato said, following him into the dining room, "you're only a kitty when I make you purr."
Peeta laughed and sat on the table, propping cane up against it just beside him. "As far as I remember, you've only managed to do that twice since what? July? I really don't think that validates a nickname of 'kitty'."
Cato grinned and sat down beside him. "Is that a challenge Mr Mellark?"
"I don't know, does it sound like one?" Peeta teased. "I will warn you though, the braces can give wicked mouth ulcers. You've managed this long, are you sure you'd want to ruin it just because I don't think you can make me purrrrrr." He rolled his tongue on the last word to draw it out and sound like he was purring like a cat.
"I don't need to cut myself up on your braces," Cato replied. "I've got everything I need right here." He ran his finger along the underside of his jaw, smiling when Peeta closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. "And here." He softly kissed the area where his finger just rested. He slowly stood up, letting his mouth linger on the spot, immediately getting tugged closer when Peeta wound his arms around his waist and pulled him towards him.
A large portion of their lives alone were taken up by this. It was the honeymoon stage of their relationship, the stage were you can't keep your hands off each other and are constantly in need of each other's touch. Peeta was still in the early stages of fully being able to understand the concept of how sex worked and Cato's boldness always caught him off guard but he was definitely getting used to it.
"Are you going to purr for me little kitty," Cato murmered into his ear before biting the shell teasingly. Peeta moaned, tightening his arms around his waist and pressing him as close to him as he could. He spread his legs so Cato could stand as close to him as he could.
"Probably not," Peeta murmered, having to squint through his glasses as they began to fog up. Cato sighed and pushed his shirt up, every new piece of skin revealed calling to him like presents begging to be unwrapped. Peeta sat back slightly and obdiently raised his arms, only to have them trapped above his head when Cato stopped pulling his shirt off. "Cato?" he asked.
"Punishment for not concentrating in class today," Cato said, tugging his own shirt off. "Can't touch me. Sorry." Peeta whined pathetically, his hands aching to be freed so he could run them over the smooth planes of the career's skin. Cato grinned at his neediness and gently pushed him so he lay flat on his back on the table. Peeta gasped at the feeling of the cold wood underneath his skin, his back bowing in surprise.
"Come on Cato, don't be mean," he said childishly.
Cato barely heard him, distracted by what had to be the best thing that ever sat on his dining room table ever. Glasses askew, chest heaving, pants oh-so-incredibly-tight, Peeta was the sexiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He licked his lips like a predator about to attack it's prey. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before working his way down lower.
"Ngh-C-c-cato, we should m-move to the b-bed-room," Peeta stammered. He groaned as he kissed his chest, locking his legs around Cato's waist.
"No, I'm going to take you right here on this table," Cato murmered against his skin, taking his already puckered nipple into his mouth.
"Ah, ah, ah Cato!" Peeta keened, squirming on the table top. Cato pinched his other nipple, enjoying the reaction he got. "Oh god Cato, you're killing me!"
Cato slid down his body so that his mouth was hovering above his crotch, his hot breath making him shiver and whimper helplessly. "What's the principal of relativity?" he asked.
Peeta frowned. "What?" he gasped, resisting the urge to buck his hips.
"What's the principal of relativity?" Cato repeated with a smirk.
"I-I-I d-don't . . . I don't e-ven think-" He groaned as Cato walked his fingers along the waistband of his pants, waiting on his answer. "I-uh I-I can't t-think when you-you do that." Peeta's hips lifted off the table as he unintentionally sought out friction. It was as if Cato didn't care though, his fingers taking a detour up his torso.
"Come on, it's what you've been learning," he teased, pinching his nipple mockingly.
Peeta moaned, struggling for words. "Um, uh, t-the l-l-aws of physics are the same f-for a-LL inertial r-ref-ref-reference f-frames!"
"You see? You do know all this," Cato said. He curled his fingers around his arousal and gave him a firm squeeze. Then he did it again: Peeta purred. Again, he wasn't sure how he'd made the noise. It just happened. "But," the career said, tugging his pants down and letting them drop to the floor, "that was only the first postulate. You need to tell me the second one as well."
Peeta groaned. "Oh come on Cato," he begged. "I'll pay more attention in class, I promise."
"Nah-ah. Come on, you have to answer properly to get full marks," Cato said, his tone reeking of condesention. "The Principle of Constancy of the Speed of Light . . . . ?" As Peeta struggled for an answer, he slipped his hand into his underwear and pinched his behind, inflicting a yelp from the writhing boy underneath him.
"L-light always propagates through a vacuum a-at a def-definite velocity which is independent of the state of motion of the em-emitting body," Peeta stuttered.
"There you go," Cato said. "Now all you have to do is say that to Ms Morrison and we won't have to do this again."
"Please stop talking and just get on with it," Peeta begged desperately.
"Okay, okay, whatever you say babe."
A little while later:
"Hey Beth."
Beth smiled and gave a little wave. Peeta had adjusted to Cato's little sister's three alters and was able to recognize them when they had control over Kayla's mind. It was odd at first but over the months it had become easier. For example, Beth was much more shy than Kayla and would sway from side to side as she stood, playing with her hair and occasionally giggling.
"Um, hi Peeta," she said in a small voice. "Do you have any tinned carrots? Mr. Hadley ate them all and Mrs Hadley needs them for her stew."
"Sure, come on in," Peeta said, stepping aside to let the girl through. "Cato! Beth's here!" he called up the stairs as he passed them on the way to the kitchen.
"Okay! Be down in a minute!" Cato called back.
Peeta looked back at Beth to find her standing apprehensively by the door. "It's okay," he said. "I don't bite."
Beth followed him into the kitchen slightly nervously. He went to the cupboard where they kept their tinned goods and scoured for the carrots. As he searched, footsteps thudded down the stairs. "Cato!" Beth said happily, launching herself at him for a hug.
"Hey veggie," Cato said, returning the hug. "How are you?"
"I'm good," Beth replied shyly.
"Cato, do we have any carrots?" Peeta asked, pushing up on his tip toes as he had to hoke deeper into the cupboard. "You mum is making stew and needs some."
"We should have," Cato replied. "Yeah, here, let me get them, they're on the top shelf." He leaned over him and took the carrot tin from the top shelf. He handed Beth the tin which she accepted with a small smile.
"Thanks," she said. "I better get back to them, she needs them asap." She gave Cato another hug and waved at Peeta before hurrying away.
"Wow, she couldn't get out fast enough," Peeta said.
"I know, she's awfully scared of being on her own around people she's unsure of," Cato replied.
"Surely she's not unsure of you," Peeta said. "You're Kayla's brother, she doesn't have a reason to be unsure of you-oh wait, it's me isn't it?" Cato nodded. "Well, I suppose that's understandable enough . . ."
"It's not that you've done anything to make Beth unsure of you, it's just because she doesn't know you enough to deem you trustable yet. Especially since she doesn't believe the love triangle's a hoax," Cato explained.
Peeta frowned. "She doesn't believe it's fake?" he asked.
"Herself and Jack don't believe me. They think you actually have something with . . . him. It's infuriating," Cato explained.
Peeta hadn't seen Harold since that night Cato beat him up. It would be a lie if he said he was relieved not to have him around but the very fact that he seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth unnerved him. Even the pure mention of him put him on edge and he rubbed his wrists anxiously. Cato saw him doing this and clenched his jaw, counting backwards from ten to calm himself down like Peeta had instructed him to do when he got angry.
"As long as you believe me then I don't care about anyone else," Peeta said.
"How's the scars healing up?" Cato murmured, his eyes sliding down to his ankles.
"Fine." Peeta scooted around him and tried to leave the kitchen, only to have his wrist grabbed to tug him to an abrupt stop.
"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" Cato asked.
Peeta immediately shook his head. Cato knew of what Harold done to him when he had been in the Games, but he felt that he hadn't spoken enough about it for his conscious to not have the heavy weight lifted off it. Peeta refused to see a therapist and spent a lot of his time sitting in sober silence, either doing his homework or baking. He didn't want to worry Cato with all the details of Harold's sadistic behaviour towards him and had no desire to divulge it all to a complete stranger either.
"You do realize I just want to help you, right?" Cato asked, following him as he exited the kitchen and went up the stairs.
"You do realize that I don't need help, right?" Peeta replied sourly. He hated it when they got into this. He just wanted to get the victory tour over with so he could go back to 12 for a bit and then come back here and live a quiet life with Cato. But that wasn't going to happen. Because he had to pretend to be in love with Harold as well.
"You may not think you do but I know that you can't just go through two traumas so closely pressed together in your timeline and walk around like you're unscathed from it all," Cato said. "I may not be a therapist but I do have enough common sense to guess these things you know."
"But you're just guessing!" Peeta said, whirling around so he was facing him again. They stood in the hallway over looking the foyer of the house, the glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling glinting in the evening sun. "Not all guesses are correct you know!"
"Have you been taking your medication?" Cato asked seriously.
Peeta folded his arms indignantly. "Have you been taking yours?" he fired back.
Ever since the end of the Games, they had been put on medication for PTS by the local healer, their tablets transported from the Capitol itself. Cato didn't find difficulty in taking his tablets as instructed but Peeta had his moments where he just couldn't do it. Not that he didn't want to or felt it would be a bad idea to take his meds, there was just a part of him that just couldn't do it. Cato knew this and whenever Peeta would suddenly get himself worked up into an irritated mood, it would be the first thing he'd ask. When he hadn't taken his tablets, things like Harold or the Capitol or the love triangle would become triggers, subjects to be avoided.
"You know I've been taking mine," Cato said.
"And you just know I haven't been taking mine?" Peeta snapped, offended.
"Yes because A) You went into a bad mood as soon as you discovered that Beth and Jack don't believe us about the love triangle being fake, B) You're very nearly yelling at me which shows that you're getting worked up and C) You didn't take them yesterday either and I know this because you didn't sleep which is also why D) I think you can't focus in class. Because you aren't sleeping properly because you aren't taking your pills."
"I'm not getting worked up!" Peeta protested. Cato rolled his eyes and took his hand, tugging him towards their bedroom. "I took my pills, don't you trust me when I say that I did?" Once in their room, Cato immediately walked around the bed and pulled open the drawer on Peeta's side and took out his tablet case. It was split up into seven days, each section still jingling with the sound of the tablets inside that had yet to be consumed.
"What are these?" Cato demanded, holding the case in front of Peeta's eyes. "The tablets you've taken?"
Peeta scowled and snatched the case off him. "Yes," he said. "I refilled it."
"Peeta, it's Wednesday."
"Urgh, just get off my back alright?!" Peeta yelled. "I'll take them when I'm ready to take them!" They had this arguement nearly every single time Cato discovered he wasn't taking his medication. He knew Cato only wanted what was best for him but sometimes he wished that he didn't. It was so infuriatingly irritating to have him constantly on his back about his meds.
"You're taking them now," Cato said firmly, assuming the position of father figure/boyfriend again. He took the case back from Peeta and snapped open the Wednesday section, dropping every pill except the one to help him sleep at night out onto his palm. "Here."
"No," Peeta said defiantly. He was in no mood for taking his pills and didn't want to have to do it just because Cato told him to. "Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you can tell me what to do!"
"Take them," Cato repeated.
Peeta growled. "No," he said, throwing himself onto the bed in a strop.
"You complain about looking like a teenager and then you act like one," Cato mused. Peeta made an unimpressed noise at the back of his throat and turned his back on him on the bed, making it clear that he wasn't going to talk to him. "I'm going to get you a glass of water and when I come back you're going to take your pills."
"Good luck with that."
He lay on the bed with a scowl on his face while Cato got a glass of water, refusing to even look at him when he came back in. Cato sat down behind him and patted his arm. "Come on grumpy," he said. "Time to take your meds."
"I don't want to," Peeta murmured, buring his face into the pillow.
"I don't care if you don't want to," Cato said, trying to stay firm. "It's for your own good. Look, I lied when I said I'd take mine but I'm going to do it now too." He reached across him to take his pills out of his own bedside table and downed his Wednesday pills in one go. "See, all gone." When Peeta refused to turn around, Cato sighed and rested his hand on his hip, rubbing him comfortingly. "Come on you grump, you made sure I took the sober pill back in June, now I'm doing the same for you."
"I don't like the pills. They're chalky and make me tired and aroused all the time," Peeta complained. "And I'm already spent from the dining room table after school earlier. I don't want to lose my dignity again."
Cato grinned, finding it hard not to laugh at the memory of what Peeta was referring to. After spending a lot of his life on mood stabilizers and anti-depressants for his bi-polar, Cato was used to the increse in sex drive medication would sometimes give you, whereas Peeta was not. On the second week on their meds, Peeta had had a particularly hard day and been put onto an increased dosage for a week. It made him tired 24/7 and he went to bed early nearly every day.
The increased dosage's effects took their toll on his body and Cato came into the bedroom one day to find him lying fast asleep, touching himself to a wet dream he was having. He had decided it best not to wake up him-not just because he was being a total perv and wanted to sit and watch him touch himself-but also to save him the embarrassment of having him wake up with his hand down his pants.
It was quite amusing though, watching his completely innocent boyfriend muttering his name in his sleep and groping himself with skilled hands. Peeta was horrified when he woke up, only really realizing what he had done because of the stickiness in his underwear and on his hand.
"Ah, don't feel so bad," Cato said, twirling the pills around his fingers. "It happens to the best of us. When I was first put on my anit-depressants I humped one of Kayla's bears in my sleep. She never slept with that thing again, I think she threw it out actually."
Peeta chuckled. "Don't blame her," he said.
Cato smiled. "Are you going to take your pills now? Just remember, if you do, I'll be right here to help you if you get too hot for your clothes."
Peeta turned around on the bed to face Cato, a small smile gracing his features. "Give them here then," he said, sitting up. Relieved, Cato handed him the pills and the glass of water, watching him carefully as he swallowed them all whole.
"You're much crueler to yourself when you're masturbating than I am when we're having sex, I'm just putting that out there right now," Cato said. Peeta quirked an eyebrow at him over the rim of the glass, braces chinking against the object as he swallowed the rest of the water. "So maybe before you complain about me, have a conversation with good ol' lefty there who seems to think it appropriate to torture poor Peeta Jr. to death."
"God, I'm tired," Peeta mumbled. "I think I might go to sleep."
"Ah, ah, ah," Cato said, stopping him from lying down. "Wait. Did you say you have homework or not?"
"No," Peeta groaned, burrowing himself under the covers and sticking his head under the pillow. "I don't any." Cato smiled and stood up, pulling the comforter up to his neck and pressing a kiss to the back of his head.
"Night babe," he whispered. "I'll join you soon."
~xXx~
Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a perv.
He couldn't help it.
It was a weird side effect, sleep masturbation. Not that he was complaining.
Cato had woken up to the sound of a gentle moan, which wasn't half as startling as he'd first expected it to be. He turned around on the bed and nearly groaned out loud. God, how could someone so innocent be so damn prone to the worst of the pill side affects? Never mind Peeta being embarrassed, Cato was going to end up god-damned ashamed for the amount of times he was going to sit and watch him touch himself in his sleep because of the meds.
Peeta was sleeping on his stomach, his head turned towards Cato. He was completely out of it-his eyes slid shut and the usual soft snores he would release every night emnating from his sleeping form. Every now and then, he'd bite his lip and screw his eyebrows up, his face morphing into that of undeniable pleasure.
Cato couldn't resist letting his eyes slide down the curve of his back to where the covers were bunching up at his waist. His hand was down his pants again and by the looks of it he was groping himself, his hips rising up and down in a slow, rythmic fashion. Peeta grunted quietly, releasing a shaky moan and bowing his back.
"Cato," he muttered lazily, pushing himself up so he could flip himself over onto his back.
"Right here baby," Cato said quietly with a smirk.
For someone who had never had a sexual experience until the previous June, Peeta certainly knew what he liked: even when he was fast asleep. He bent his knees and bucked his hips up, licking his lips and nuzzling his head back into the pillow. "Ngh, Catooo." He rolled his hips and purred again, which made Cato groan and hit his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"I'm sorry baby but I'm going to have to help you now," he muttered-more to himself than to Peeta. If there was one thing he couldn't ignore: it was when his boyfriend would made that goddamn purring sound. He slid over to him and gently tugged Peeta's pants and underwear down. Peeta, still asleep, whimpered and thrashed his head. Cato shushed him, brushing his hair back. "I promised I'd help if you got too hot for your clothes."
Careful not to wake him, he gently prised Peeta's hand off himself. He hadn't had a chance to show him what a proper blowjob felt and he felt like this was the perfect moment to give it a go. He took him into his mouth, trying his best not to laugh when sleeping Peeta groaned and slid his fingers into his hair to stop him from moving.
"Ngh, Cato?" He sounded more aware of his surroundings now, maybe waking up slightly. Instead of answering, Cato ran his tongue along the underside of his manhood and ran his hands up his thighs, holding him down when he almost bucked up into his throat. "Mmf, what are you doing?"
Cato pushed his hand up underneath his sleep shirt, up his abdamon and chest. One hand left his hair and Peeta grabbed the hand, clinging to him desperately and accidently bumping his knees against Cato's head. "Ahhh Catooo," he purred, the feeling of his boyfriend's cold hand on his torso and his warm mouth around his arousal making him feel so conflicted over what he had woken up to. "I-I was doing it a-a-again wasn't I-I?"
Cato grinned and moved back up his body so their faces were level. They met together for a hot, open mouthed kiss. Peeta grabbed his face desperately, pushing himself up onto his elbows to get more than what he was being given. Cato gladly gave him more, tapping more kisses down his body as slid back down to proceed with what he was doing before. Peeta-still sightly exhausted-lay back and let him continue, threading his hands into Cato's hair and shifting around on the mattress, unable to stay still.
Neither of them aware of the fact that they were being watched.
The Capitol
Harold wondered when Snow had the time to do this.
Camera in the corner of the room. An actual, functioning camera in the corner of their bedroom that would feed clips back into his television.
Oh god, he was crazy. He missed Peeta a lot, so damn much that he sometimes wondered if his sanity was intact or not. And Snow apparently 'felt' for him-which he believed was a bunch of bullshit-and had had this camera installed into Cato and Peeta's bedroom, still believing that the only reason he liked him was because of his body. Even the President himself didn't understand.
So if he was expected to sit and watch the two of him fuck, that was exactly what he was going to do. If they wanted him to be a pervert, then he was going to be a goddamn pervert. What made him different from Hadley? He wondered this as he sat and watched the career as he watched Peeta touch himself in his sleep. Isn't that perverted as well? Of course, that was different because it was Cato and Cato was some special fucking speciman who the rules didn't apply to.
It was Mya's idea to alter Peeta's dosage of pills so that the sex drive side effect was increased to the point were it was unavoidable. She probably thought she was doing Harold a favour but as he watched her take the perscription of pills, pretending to be Peeta's doctor, and sat and changed his tablets, Harold felt nothing but disgust. He didn't want Peeta to get poisoned with an anti-anxiety version of viagra. That wasn't what he wanted.
He was not a horrid, disgusting pervert.
Yet here he was, watching Cato give his beloved a blowjob from somewhere underneath the bed covers. He coudn't see the career-he thanked the heavens for this-but he could watch Peeta perfectly. His head was thrown back, his chest heaving as he panted for breath, beads of sweat slowly making their way down his neck and along his collarbone. Oh, he was so hot. Even though he wasn't a pervert, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the t.v screen and the writhing body of the boy he loved.
Peeta's new look hadn't changed his mind. The glasses were sexy and the braces made him look very youthful. And the knowledge that his main piority was to finish his education just made Harold love him even more. When given the chance, all victors and their partners never finished their school because they didn't think it was important. And Harold believed it was amazing that what Peeta wanted the most-except for being left alone to live with Hadley in peace-was to finish his education.
He had perferred it before Cato had intervened. When Peeta was working on his own, lying on his stomach and pleasuring himself. The way his hips moved with his movements, up and down, up and down, was so tempting and beautiful that it made Harold want to jump on a train to District 2 and begin Snow's plan early.
But he couldn't do that.
And, just for the record, he wasn't a pervert.
"Ah, Cato, I-I can't hold o-on much l-l-longer."
Harold quirked an eyebrow at the screen, watching as Hadley brought his boyfriend to the edge. He turned around, not wishing to see anymore, took out the President monagrammed piece of paper from his desk and wrote down the note Snow told him to write. The letter for the lovebirds.
"You are needed at the Capitol. Come as soon as possible."
~H
A/N: Just threw a bit of smut and drama at you in the first chapter there. I already have a good idea of where this fic is going to go, all I have to do is get it all typed out. And I do have my other stories to focus on too, don't forget ^_^
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