A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Warnings: Phone sex.

Chapter Four: Words speak Louder than Actions

The relationship started, properly, on the phone.

Peeta knew that the resufacing of the fake memory of what happened between himself and Seneca had made Cato wish to take things slowly. This was irritating, despite the fact it should have probably been viewed as a good thing, since Peeta was given more time before he lost his innocence. He was itching to get started. He didn't know why but it was the truth. He really did want the ball to start rolling and he didn't like having to wait until Thursday for it to happen.

It turned out, he didn't have to wait until Thursday. Cato called on Wednesday night. If it hadn't been for the fake dream incident, Peeta would have seen Cato that day. His master had wanted him to wait a full week. Well, nearly a full week.

It was late. Peeta had been ready for bed when the phone had rang.

"Hello?" he said, dropping onto his bed and wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could pop his painkillers out of the Wednesday wedge on his holder.

"Hello, Peeta, how are you today?"

Cato. Peeta almost dropped the pill holder altogether. "How did you get my phone number?" he asked incredulously.

"Rye has it in his personal file," Cato answered. Peeta sighed in relief. A small part of him worried that Cato had started looking into him and his own personal life. It wasn't that there was anything to hide, the whole idea was just unsettling. This knowledge put Peeta at ease a little and he relaxed. "So, how are you feeling today?"

"Okay, I guess, you?" Peeta muttered. While Cato talked he used his teeth to prise open the lid of the Wednesday wedge.

"Mediocre day. I've been keeping an eye on Rye for you," Cato replied. Peeta paused, unsure of what to say. Thanks seemed unnecessary and a little uncalled for, since Cato wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He was doing it because Peeta was allowing him access to his body. "His progress is getting better."

"That's good," said Peeta, unsure of what else to say. Cato hadn't rang him up before, especially not about Rye, and he was almost sure there was going to be a catch. Not that he was hugely disgusted about it. In fact, his heart was pounding a little in excitement.

"Doctor Abernathy said that if things keep going at the rate they're going, the minimum Rye will have to spend at the rehab center is two years. Even though this sounds like a long time, it's actually not," Cato continued to explain. A part of Peeta wanted to yell at him to get to the point.

"Is there a motive behind this?" Peeta eventually found himself asking. "Because I'm not an idiot. You haven't called before and out of the blue you do it now? If you're looking for phone sex you couldn't have chosen the most un-sexy time. Although you can give it a go if you like. You want to know what I'm wearing, Cato? Pyjamas. Because I'm about to go to bed."

"What sort of pyjamas?" Cato asked.

The lid finally popped open and Peeta almost gave a whoop of joy. He swallowed his painkillers along with his hayfever meds (an embarrassing necessity if he didn't want to be sneezing all night). "I dunno, just shorts and a t-shirt." He switched the lamp off on his bedside table and settled back against the headboard of the bed. "Sorry, I don't sleep in kinky underwear or completely naked. I like to be comfortable when I'm sleeping."

"As you should be," Cato replied, sounding completely unfazed. "Although, I wouldn't put yourself down so quickly. Those shorts you described sound incredibly sexy. Those gorgeous long legs of yours are perfect for shorts."

Peeta's eyes fell on his legs. His cheeks flamed a little in embarrassment. Whatever Cato was talking about, he couldn't see it. "Well aren't you just full of flattery," he said. "You know, flattery gets you nowhere."

"And I'm sure the fact that you're probably blushing makes that expression entirely feesible," Cato replied.

Peeta touched his cheek with his finger tips, scowling in annoyance. "I'm not blushing. It takes more than that to get me to blush."

He immediately realized this was the wrong thing to say.

"Oh yeah?" Cato's voice was firm, dominant, almost to the point that Peeta felt immediately inclined to obey him, despite the fact he wasn't even in the room. In fact, not even in a five mile radius. "What if I said that I'm currently thinking about slowly removing every item of these 'un-sexy' pyjamas of yours until you're completely exposed in front of me?"

Okay . . . yup . . . that was doing the trick. Peeta swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat. He tried to act cool, as if Cato's voice and words weren't making his blood hotter. "I suppose you're expecting me to say 'oh yes, Cato, your words are making oh so me incredibly aroused!' I'm sorry to disappoint."

"My hands are itching to touch your body again, Peeta," Cato continued, regardless as to what Peeta himself said in response. "I can't wait to get you in my office tomorrow so I can strip you down and force you to unravel in front of me."

Peeta was staring intensely at the pattern on his duvet, forcing himself not to get aroused. So far it wasn't working. He knew that Cato would be able to hear his heavy breathing on the other end of the line. He couldn't help it. It was strange, virginal bodies seemed to be the most slutty. Maybe he was past the point of no return, where his body just wanted to be touched and groped and fucked until it was tired and aching, just for it to start all over again.

"So you do want phone sex, then?" he asked weakly.

"I'm going to give you a set of instructions, Peeta, and you're going to follow every single one or when you come into my office tomorrow, you'll be punished, understand?" Cato said. His commanding tone sent a shiver down Peeta's spine.

"Okay," Peeta answered, his own voice unable to control itself and wobbling horribly. Might as well, something told him it was going to be better than his plan of going to sleep.

"Good." The praise was nice, almost like Cato was here in person and was patting his head like he was a dog who'd completed a trick perfectly. Something Peeta hadn't expected would feel good but did. "I want to listen to you while you explore your own body."

His words sent a shiver down Peeta's spine. He squeezed his eyes shut, still trying to convince himself he wasn't completely turned on by what was happening. How was he supposed to go about touching himself? He hadn't done this sort of thing before. The term 'bumbling virgin' seemed like it was created especially for him. There had just never seemed to be time for sex or self-indulgence.

"Don't worry, I'll guide you through it," Cato continued. This put Peeta at ease a little, but not by much. "Take off your shirt." Peeta's hands fumbled for the hem of his shirt and he struggled to pull it over his head, having to drop the phone onto the mattress until he got it off properly.

When it was off, Peeta grabbed the phone and whispered, "I'm back," to Cato so he knew he hadn't clicked off. He would have spoken louder if it hadn't been for the fact that his voicebox had seemed to stop functioning.

"Starting at your chest, I want you to let your hands wander over your body, do what feels natural. And trust me, I know when someone's faking," Cato warned.

Peeta supposed this wasn't too bad. He felt a little awkward, touching himself in this way, but it only took a few minutes before he was able to get used to it. It actually felt nice, the skin on skin contact-even if it was his own skin against his own skin-was quite comforting and soothing. At least he didn't have to fake it, he was breathing all too heavily on his own.

"Touch your nipples and make them hard," Cato growled, obviously getting into it as well.

Peeta laid down on his back, his eyes fluttering closed as he did as his Master told him to. A tiny gasp escaped his lips when his fingers found his nipples, the small sound turning into a loud moan at the shockwaves the touch sent through his being. The phone was lying by his head, just positioned close enough that he could hear Cato and Cato could hear him.

"Do you like that?" asked Cato, sounding amused.

"Y-yes," Peeta gasped, his body squirming, unable to keep still.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you, can you speak up a little?"

"Yes!" Peeta yelled, his voice echoing in his empty room.

"Roll onto your stomach on the bed."

Peeta did this, rolling over as instructed. He grabbed the phone in his hand, pressing it impossibly hard against his ear. His hands itched to touch himself again, which was odd to say the least, since five minutes ago he hadn't ever done it before.

"Relax all your muscles, let yourself sink into the mattress." Cato had gone from commanding to gentle in two seconds flat. This was on some level worrying. Maybe he had mutiple personalities or something . . . But his voice, it was so soothing, Peeta couldn't help doing what he had been told, his body relaxing almost on its own. He was so relaxed that if an axe-murder burst into the room at that exact moment, he probably wouldn't be able to get himself up quick enough. "Are you relaxed?"

"Yes," Peeta mumbled, surprised that he sounded almost sleepy.

"Good boy. Now thrust your hips up into the bed and tell me how it feels."

Peeta had to spread his knees a little to do what Cato said, but once he did, the electric burn that seared through his veins made the awkward position seem worth it. He moaned embarrassingly loud, his knuckles turning white as he desperately held onto the phone as tight as he could.

"Tell me how it feels, Peeta," Cato said.

"It feels wonderful, Master," Peeta answered, completely shocking himself at the fact that the 'M' word slipped out so easily. He couldn't stop himself from doing it again, and again after that, until he didn't even need Cato's instruction anymore. His body was on fire, his nerves set alight and his muscles tense with desire. In fact, he almost forgot that Cato was on the other line at all, he was moaning so loud it was almost shameful.

"The sounds you make are so sexy," Cato purred, sounding greatly amused.

Peeta didn't know what he was reaching but the muscles in his stomach where knotting up and he felt like he was nearing the edge of something glorious. "A-ah M-Master, I-I-"

"What do you want, Peeta?"

Peeta was getting surprsingly upburpt with himself, thursting his hips more harshly the closer he got to his climax. "I want y-y-you t-t-t-to-"

"To what, Peeta?"

"I want to you t-touch me!" Like these words were a trigger of some sort, Peeta experienced his first ever orgasm, the experience blowing a hole in his rational thought and leaving him lying on his stomach, panting like a bitch in heat.

"You've been a very good boy, Peeta," Cato said, his voice even more smug, if that were possible. "Tomorrow, you'll get your reward."

Wait, what did that mean?

"Oh, and Peeta?"

Peeta pushed himself off the bed groggily, feeling like everything had been taken out of him. "What?" he asked, internally groaning at the stain that was now on his bedsheets. Would that wash out? Cato was most definitely paying for his drycleaning. And if it didn't come out, he was buying him new duvet covers.

"Wear your pyjama shorts to my office tomorrow. You have beautiful skin, it's about time you flaunted it more." Cato hung up without another word.

The phone slipped out of Peeta's hand and nearly broke on the floor.

Was he serious?

A/N: Getting into the juicy stuff now :D

Please R&R!

BTW more will be revealed about Peeta's past as the story progresses.