A/N: A very sexually charged chapter, especially nearing the end. Thanks again for your support of this story!

Warning: Masturbation. I don't even know if masturbation should be a warning but I'm doing it just in case.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Three

"So, what's he like?"

Cato shrugged. Clove had been desperate for answers all day, asking numerous questions all at once, not sure which she wanted him to answer first. "He's just any ordinary guy, Clove," said Cato. "Just a guy who has prefered being on his own for a long time."

Clove narrowed her eyes. "Then why is he coming out all of a sudden?"

They were walking down the street, on the way to Peeta's house. Cato had made an agreement with Peeta that they'd bring him outside slowly. Starting with a short walk around the village. Mostly this would prove that the villagers weren't going to turn pyschic and immediately know that he used to be Perry Lorana. Cato also wanted to introduce Peeta to someone to widen his social circle so he asked if he would meet Clove. He had initially expected Peeta to say no but he surprised him by saying yes.

Cato went up the steps to Peeta's house while Clove waited by the gate. She wasn't all that nervous about meeting, to her, that mysterious man who never left his house. Cato admired her for that. She was open to anything. And he knew for a fact that if he were to tell her the real reason as to why Peeta hid inside his house, she wouldn't bat an eyelash. But he wasn't going to do that. It wasn't his place to tell Clove anything. He wouldn't do that to Peeta anyway.

When he knocked, there wasn't as long a pause before Peeta answered. The clothes he was wearing weren't as large as yesterday but weren't fitting either. His shirt was a little bit baggy but not so much that it would cause suspicion. And instead of jeans he was wearing cargo trousers that didn't cling. Ah, clever. He seemed relieved to see Cato standing on his doorstep.

"Hi Cato," he said.

Cato grinned. "Hey Peeta," he replied. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Good." Cato stepped out of the way of the doorway. "You sure you're okay to do this?"

Peeta nodded. "Yes," he said. He stepped outside and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Cato shut the door behind him.

"Right, Peeta, this is my good friend Clove," Cato explained as they walked down the steps again.

Clove waved. "S'up Peeta," she said. As they shook hands, she added, "Just for the record, I don't normally say s'up, it just sort of came out."

"Pleased to meet you Clove," Peeta said unsurely.

"No need to sound so nervous," Clove assured. "Trust me, you're probably more sane than Cato and I combined. You may have stayed in your house for two years but we once ended up in hospital for two weeks because we stuck cardboard wings to a box and were so convinced it would fly that we went to the roof of Cato's house and pushed it off. With us inside."

Cato pulled a face at the memory. Well gee Clove, wait to get right in there with the embarrassing stories, why don't you(!)

Peeta chuckled. "Oh, wow, were you really hurt?"

"Nah, we were more beat up about the fact that it couldn't fly than the fact that we nearly broke our spines," Clove answered.

"In retrospect, we should have double checked the paper engines," Cato said as they left Peeta's front yard and started walking along the pavement.

"And the plastic hydraulics," Clove added. They continued in silence for a while. Cato felt hyper-aware of every move Peeta made, worried that he would lose himself any second and run back to his house. Cato had noticed that as soon as he had let go of Clove's hand, Peeta had immediately crossed his arms across his chest as if she would be able to see that he had bound himself.

It was a nice day to be out. The sun was shining and everything had an upbeat gleam to it. Days like this made Cato feel a lot more happy than usual. Hopefully it would have the same affect on Peeta. Maybe it will help him see that the outside world really isn't that scary.

"So are you coping okay?" Clove asked after a while. "This place can be very daunting at first."

"It's . . . nice," Peeta replied.

Nice. Nice was good, right? "Well, we got lucky weather wise," said Cato. "Or else we'd all be huddled under an umbrella." Oh, real smooth, talking about the weather. Clove bit back a smirk and Cato resisted the urge to jab her ribs. Back to the point . . . "Really, the village is like any other. A new park has been built for the children but other than that it's just shops and houses really." He knew that Peeta probably remembered this from when he was younger but he had to make it look like he had never been out in the village before.

Peeta played along, nodding as they walked as if he were consuming new information. "The breeze feels nice," he said under his breath. It was so quiet that only Cato heard it. He hadn't even noticed that there was a breeze. Staying holed up in a house for so long probably meant a deeper appreciation of things not experienced in a long time.

"Did you not even open a window?" he asked.

"I never thought to," Peeta answered.

"For two years?" asked Clove.

"I have a very occupied mind."

Clove shrugged. "I wouldn't do it too often myself. I can't stand the idea of moths and things getting into my house. It's bad enough that they can weasel in on their own."

They arrived at the edge of the main part of the village. Cato decided to stop to give Peeta a moment to get his bearings together. The main village could be quite busy at the best of times, with people milling around just doing their daily business. "You still good?" he asked.

"I think so," Peeta replied.

"If anyone stares, just flip 'em off," Clove said. "They should mind their own anyway."

"She's right. It's no one's business but your own why you've been in your house for so long," said Cato. Peeta looked at him when he said this, chewing on his lip anxiously. He was searching for a hint of a lie. A lie Cato was sure he couldn't find.

When they started walking again, Clove started humming the words to 'A Whole New World' from Disney's Aladdin. Cato rolled his eyes. What in the world was going through her head? Peeta chuckled. "Oh my god, I haven't heard that song in years," he said.

"Got to love Disney," answered Clove.

"I used to prefer the Grimm Brother's fairytales when I was younger," Cato said.

"Ooh those stories give me the heebie jeebies, especially the originals," Clove shivered.

Peeta hadn't noticed that they had started walking again. "Some may have been creepy but the idea was to find the beauty in the madness," he said. "That's why it appeals to children more than adults, because it's easier for them."

"I never thought of it like that," Cato said.

"A bit too deep for me," Clove added. She waved at one of her friends as they passed by before shoving her hands into her pockets. "So Peeta, what do you think you're going to do now that you're out in the open?"

Cato tried not to wince at her choice of words. Out in the open, God, only Clove would come out with that without thinking about it. "We were discussing the possibility yesterday of getting a job," he explained. "I said there was a position open at the newsagents."

"Oh yeah," Clove said. "I could put your name in with the owner if you like. We'll work the same shifts so if anyone causes any trouble I'll punch them in the face. Outside of the shop obviously because I'm saving up for a motorcycle."

Peeta stared at his shoes. "I suppose," he said.

"You sound as enthusiastic as a criminal going to the lethal injection," said Clove. "It's good pay. £20 a week." £20 a week . . . How many weeks would that take to have enough for the transition surgery? Cato was going to have to look up the numbers later. "Tips not included. And on a good day we can collect ten pounds in tips alone. Well, five since we'd have to share now but that's not too bad."

"There's that or you could come on plumbing jobs with me," Cato suggested. "But trust me, that sucks."

"At least in the shop we can pour over cheesy girl magazines and point out what's been airbrushed while eating Fredos behind the owner's back," Clove pointed out. "It's more fun that it sounds."

"It sounds very fun," said Peeta.

"Is that a yes?" Clove asked.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

They passed a news stand. Clove pulled to a stop to talk to the guy selling the papers. Cato recognized him as an ex that she was still friendly with. Peeta lingered nervously behind Cato. His eyebrows screwed up in confusion and he reached out and took a paper.

"Peeta, I wouldn't," Cato quickly said but it was too late.

Were missing person's anniversary of disappearance usually on the front cover of a newspaper? Clove must have cut the picture of Perry out from the front of her daily paper. Because there it was, on the front, with the same girl standing outside the village chapel, not the single hint of a smile on her face. Along the top was, Have you seen me?

Peeta's face was unreadable as his eyes examined the picture. The picture must have stuck a nerve. "Peeta," Cato said gently. "Are you okay?"

"I've got to go," Peeta said, putting the paper down. He looked at Cato with sad eyes. "Thank you trying but I really can't do this."

"No, wait." Cato tried to stop him from leaving but he pulled his arm away. "It's okay."

"No, it's really not," Peeta replied, backing up the way they came. "I really appreciate the effort but this isn't going to work. I'm-I'm sorry."

"Peeta, you don't have to go-"

"Yes I do." His arms, which had rested comfortably by his sides since the converation about fairytales began, crossed themselves back over his chest. "I'm sorry." He turned and started to run.

"Peeta!" Cato called after him. Peeta ignored him and disappeared around the corner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have known to steer clear of the newspapers. At least they got somewhere, Cato supposed. At least Peeta went outside, even if it was for the shortest amounts of time. Next time Cato was going to buy himself some common sense and actually take the time to think about what might actually be a trigger in Peeta's eyes.

"What happened?" Clove asked.

"He's just . . . adjusting . . ." Cato replied.

"I suppose it's hard," said Clove. "Going outside after spending so much time inside the house. Maybe we should have just circuited around the village instead going straight through it."

"I'm going to go and check on him," Cato said.

Clove nodded. "Okay, I have to get to the shop anyway," she said. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Cato followed the path Peeta took up the street and returned to his house. Everything seemed to the exact same as the previous day when he first arrived. "Peeta!" he called. "Peeta, are you alright?" The wood around the doorknob was splintered, as if it had been slammed shut. Cato pressed his fingers against the door and it pushed open. Peeta must have threw the door shut behind him and it must have been with such force that the snib didn't click.

"Peeta," Cato popped his head around the door, "Peeta, I'm sorry about the newspapers, I should have thought about that. Are you okay?"

"Just go away Cato, this is never going to work," Peeta replied. It took Cato a moment to locate him. He was curled up on the sofa, his face buried in his knees. Cato did the exact opposite and came into the house, shutting the door properly behind him. He sat down beside him on the sofa.

"Peeta, it was just a small mishap," he insisted. "You were doing so well."

"They're still advertising me being missing?" Peeta was horrified, Cato could hear it in his tone of voice. "It's been four years, how can they still be trying to find her?"

"Four years exactly, that's the only reason her picture is in the papers," Cato explained.

"What if someone looks at me out there, someone who really knew Perry, and sees her in me? It wouldn't be too difficult. I'm still trapped in her body," Peeta was bodering hysterical, the very idea of being identified as Perry again frightening him more than anything else ever could.

"Peeta, they won't, trust me," insisted Cato. He took Peeta's hand and squeezed it. "All they'll see is you. Peeta. Not Perry."

"I want to believe you, but I really can't," Peeta murmured in reply.

"Whatever part of you is doubting me, don't listen to it." Cato reached out and cupped Peeta's cheek. The skin was baby smooth, this being something that probably disgusted Peeta. "You can do this."

"The part of me that's doubting it the part that I'm supposed to listen to," whispered Peeta.

"What part is that?"

"My mind."

"If your mind is doubting, what isn't?"

Peeta closed his eyes and breathed out, the words coming out like a whisper of wind brushing a leaf across the Autumn ground. "My body."

"Which part has always been more relieable?" Cato asked.

"My body," answered Peeta, "because that's where my heart is."

"Well, let your heart feel this." Cato took a risk and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Peeta's in a quick peck. When he pulled back, the young boy's eyes studied him carefully, trying to find a motive or joke. When he couldn't find it, he grabbed Cato's face and kissed him back, hard.

Cato hadn't made out with someone in a very long time but with Peeta it all came back to him. It was kind of like his brain shut down for a moment, only to reboot seconds later with all the previous info still intact. It kind of felt like High School again, making out on the couch, lost in an ectasy enduced euphoria where the only thing that mattered was his partner's lips. Only ten times more intense. He was so eager that he was almost breathing for Peeta as they kissed.

Peeta was surprsingly forceful, getting onto his knees on the sofa and pushing Cato onto his back without breaking the kiss for a second. Not that he minded. Everything was happening very quickly, all limbs and lips and teeth. Maybe it was because Peeta had spent four years living a life of celibacy, even the slightest piece of sexual content driving him wild.

Cato gripped Peeta's hair to keep him pressed against him, while his other hand wound around his back and pulled his hips flush against his own. Peeta groaned, fisting Cato's shirt in his hands and swivelling his hips against his crotch.

"Peeta," Cato said when they broke away for air, "maybe we should slow down a bit."

Peeta nodded breathlessly. "I agree," he answered. Instead of letting go of his hair, Cato pulled Peeta's head down against his chest and pet the mess of golden locks affectionately. "Thank you though . . . I've never done that with someone before."

"You don't have to say thank you for it," Cato said. "But I get that you probably won't want to do anything further than just that until after you get your surgery." Peeta didn't answer. His eyes were fluttering tiredly. "Hey, sleepy head, you want me to go so you can get some sleep?"

"I am tired but I'm not sure I want you to go," answered Peeta, sounding sheepish.

"Well . . . this couch is pretty comfy," said Cato. "I could stay here for the night."

"Really? You don't think it would be inappropriate?" asked Peeta.

"No, inappropriate would be me sharing a bed with you. It's just the couch," Cato explained. "So go on, hop to it. You're going to need the sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to show you the shop Clove works at."

Peeta nodded. "Okay," he said. He climbed off Cato and picked at his shirt. Cato realized then that it wasn't the shirt he was picking at, it was the compression bandages binding his chest. "Thank you . . . For not giving up on me."

Cato smiled. "I won't ever give up on you."

~xXx~

Peeta hated who he was.

He stood away from the mirror in his room as he undid the bandages, hating that he had to take them off before he went to sleep. Why couldn't there be such thing as chest binders that were healthy and didn't warp your ribcage if left on too long? Peeta closed his eyes once the bandages were off and pulled his pyjama shirt over his head. He wore boxer shorts as underwear and to bed because they were comfortable and made him feel a lot better about himself.

He didn't know why he shut his eyes. He had lived nineteen years with breasts but only recently had they started developing and becoming more pronounced due to puberty. Sometimes he considered risking sleeping with his chest bound but he knew it was a stupid thing to do.

As he lay in bed, he couldn't help thinking about what happened with Cato earlier. Where had that come from? He had never been sexually intimate with someone-for the obvious reasons-and never thought it would feel so good. But he had always thought that doing that sort of thing with someone while still in this body would have been repulsive. But it hadn't. Sure, he'd have done it if he had his surgery by now, maybe have even said no when Cato suggested taking it slow, but still in Perry's body? Never. And yet for Cato it was different.

He was still feeling flustered from what had happened, but he couldn't do anything about it. Sure, when he was younger-maybe fourteen, fifteen-and still lived under the title of Perry Lorana, he occasionally touched himself, but ever since he ran away he hadn't. It wasn't because he was repulsed by her body, it was because it didn't seem fair. Since he was a boy, not a girl. Not everyone who wanted to transition were disgusted in how they looked. They weren't disgusted by lady parts, it was just that it didn't feel right. And that's what Peeta felt. He wasn't disgusted, he just felt wholly wrong. Why was he given the body of a girl if he was a boy? Was it a challenge? A curse? A punishment?

It had only been two days, and yet Peeta had gotten attached to Cato. Maybe it was because he was the first and only person who knew his primary identity and didn't address him as Perry. Because there are people out there who would insist that he was still her, because he had her body. Sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it, if he should just come out as Perry and be dragged back into a life of make-up and dresses, but Cato had changed that. It made Peeta 100% sure that there were good people out there. People who understand what he wanted to do. Even if these people were difficult to find, they were definitely out there, somewhere.

And god was Cato hot.

Peeta threw the duvet cover over his head and shut his eyes. He thought about earlier, when he was ontop of Cato and their hips were flush against each other's. He let his hand travel down his body and slip underneath his boxer shorts, where he found himself dripping with want. God, he hadn't felt like this before. Was it normal? He had never really listened to the sex talk in school because he had always been put with the girls and he hardly cared about how his body worked because he knew he was in the wrong one. Now he really wished that he had.

Curious, he let himself explore the unfamiliar terrain that was his own genitals. It was so sticky and messy, one of the many reasons he preferred a male's body. His finger grazed something sensitive, sending a jolt through his being, and a small whimper escaped from his mouth. He bit his fist. Why was he doing this now? He had two years in this house on his own and only now, when someone was actually in the house, he was deciding to explore his body?

But Peeta couldn't help it. On some level, he believed it was his attraction to Cato that awoke this side of him. He had never thought about doing this before Cato had arrived. Plus, he needed to know more about this body, if he was ever going to be intimate with Cato in the future. Because it could be years before he gathered enough money for top surgery, genital surgery and the injection of testorones. And he certainly wasn't going to wait years just to start a relationship with Cato.

Cato did want a relationship, right? He had said that he had a crush on him . . .

When he tentatively touched that sensitive area again, the shock it caused felt better the second time. His other fingers joined in, touching and rubbing the small sensitive area, his body getting unbearably hot because of the amazing pleasure it caused. His hips lifted off the mattress and a small groan escaped him. He suddenly imagined it was Cato doing this to him, and not himself, and the delirium increased.

Peeta had never thought that he could make himself feel even the tiniest bit good trapped in this body but he was proving himself wrong. Imagining being touched in this way by Cato made his toes curl in want, his own fingers causing a thrill he hadn't felt in years. Even when he did this when he was Perry, never had it been on this big a scale.

His muscles coiled and he had to bite his duvet to muffle a pleasured scream as his body released. He was soaked in sweat, panting to catch breath he couldn't find. He pushed the duvet away from his face so he could breath properly and pulled his hand out of his underwear. Now he was definitely tired.

He examined his hand and turned his nose up at the clear liquid coating his fingers. Why was self-pleasure always so messy?

Then again, it will be messier once you get your surgery.

He grabbed a tissue from his bedside cabinet and dried his fingers, throwing it away into the bin when he was finished. He felt sensitive all over now, even his breasts which he hadn't touched were aching a little bit from the aftermath. His nipples had hardened and when he shifted even the tiniest of bits and his shirt grazed them, they gave a little twinge of pleasure of their own.

Peeta decided that he was never going to masturbate again. Until he got the surgery anyway.

But as long as Cato was in his life, he had a feeling that he was lying to himself.

~xXx~

Cato woke up in a cold sweat. For a second he panicked as he forgot where he was but it slowly came back to him that he was in Peeta's living room. He had the weirdest dream. Well, weird wasn't the right word. He quite enjoyed the dream actually, but now that he was awake and aware again, he felt kind of guilty.

In the dream, he was having sex with Peeta. The younger blond was riding him, holding onto the headboard of the bed while Cato fucked his ass. In the dream, Peeta hadn't went through the transition yet. He had breasts, which weren't bound up and bounced along with his riding, and every so often he'd let go of the headboard with one hand to rub his clit.

Cato's fingers had dug into the young boy's soft behind, pulling him down onto him hard. He'd every so often cup a breast in his hand, squeezing the fleshy mound and pinching the pink nipples that sat ontop. Peeta's moans were loud and hot, his body clenching as he prepared for release. Cato pulled him closer, nipping at the boy's nipples with his teeth and tugging a little so he'd cry out with want. He removed Peeta's hand from himself and took over for him, dipping his fingers inside of him and rubbing his sensitive body until he came with a loud scream.

That's when Cato woke up.

He felt horrible. Peeta hated his body and yet here Cato was having wet dreams about having sex with him before he had the transition surgery. Cato wasn't attracted to the feminity of his body, this was definite, it was just in the dream he was determined to make Peeta feel good which ultimately meant using the assets the female body provided. Plus, with his breasts out and his hand rubbing himself, the main thing Cato had been focusing on was how hot and tight Peeta's ass was.

God, this was so confusing. Did this mean that he was a bad person? Would Peeta turn away from him in shame if he knew that he had a dream of such a provocative nature about him? Would he think that it was because he had a woman's body still? Cato dreaded to think about what would happen then. It wasn't because he had a female form, it was because he was the sexiest boy he had ever met.

Somehow, Cato knew that if Peeta found out he wouldn't think of it that way.

Cato glanced at the clock. It read 12:00pm. He sat up on the sofa and ran his fingers through his hair. Upstairs, he could still hear soft snoring. Peeta must still be sleeping. Well, if he wants to see Clove's shop then they're going to have to get moving.

Cato dragged himself off the sofa and stretched out his cramped muscles. The sofa was comfortable enough but there's always a certain extent you can take before your body starts to complain. He went upstairs, wincing as every step creaked. He wasn't sure why, since he was going up to wake Peeta up anyway, but he didn't want to do it so soon. Like every second of sleep was precious.

When he reached Peeta's room, he gently rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Peeta," he said softly, opening the door as he spoke. "Peeta, time to get up-"

He stopped.

He wasn't sure why he stopped.

The compression bandages were folded up on the bedside table beside a box of tissues. Why had this stopped him? Peeta had said that he had to take it off when he was sleeping or it would be bad for his health. That meant that . . . No, stop it Cato, just wake him up.

When he stepped further into the room, Peeta turned in his sleep to lie on his back as if reacting to the sound of him moving. The duvet was tangled around his knees, showing off a slim body wearing red boxer shorts and a grey t-shirt. His face was peaceful, his eyes fluttering a little bit as evidence that he was deeply asleep, his mouth curled up in a blissful smile.

Cato felt that it was almost a sin to wake him. Unable to control themselves, his eyes slid down the delightable curve of the young boy's neck and collarbone to lie on his chest.

Okay, so his breasts were a lot bigger than Cato had first thought. His chest was shapely, nipples pebbled and straining against his pyjama shirt. It must be so painful to bind them up every day. Cato didn't know how Peeta did it and managed to not show a flicker of discomfort on his face. Maybe that's what came with feeling trapped in a never ending cycle of pain, you grow accustomed to the discomfort.

Cato suddenly realized that he was very much acting like a perv. And knowing that Peeta wouldn't appreciate being oggled, certainly not in the morning without the bandages on, Cato covered his eyes with his hand to enforce the idea that he hadn't been looking at all, and nudged Peeta gently, "Peeta, wake up."

"No," came the mumbled reply.

Oh, he had the sexiest sleepy voice Cato had ever heard.

"Come on, it's midday, rise and shine."

There was a pause and then a horrified gasp. "You're in my room!" Peeta exclaimed.

"Well, yeah. I've been here before, remember? I just wanted to wake you up."

"You didn't . . . see anything, did you?"

"No," Cato lied. "I didn't."

Another pause.

"Sorry, I just don't really realize when I'm sleeping that I have anything to cover," Peeta explained. "You can go now, I'll get changed. If you want, you can borrow some of my bigger clothes to wear."

"Okay, thanks."

Cato exited the room and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Peeta had a beautiful body, whether it be feminine or not, and he knew that when he got his surgery to be the man he wants to be, it will be even better because he will be comfortable with himself. Sure, now he was beautiful, but when he becomes secure and confident in himself and his looks, he was going to be gorgeous.

And Cato was going to make him his.

A/N: So thoughts? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I hope it portrayed the confusion and inner termoil that both boys are currently experiencing, especially concerning their sexual desires.

Please R&R?