A/N: The first half of this chapter is EXTREMELY graphic. I'm serious, if you don't like that sort of thing, skip all the way down to Peeta's date with Marvel. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Seven
Peeta decided to try out some of his research while Cato was out. He sat in bed with a pair of sweatpants on, his notepad lying open beside him at the page, "How to successfully Masturbate."
The first step said to take the palms of his hands and gently rub them across his chest, above his breasts. He did this, slowly bringing them down a little to stroke the sides before pushing his shirt up and pulling on the aureoles of his nipples. His body was already beginning to react, slowly heating up as his sensitive peaks hardened in approval of his actions. He leaned back against his headboard, manipulating his rosy buds between his fingers and letting the glorious pressure build up in his lower abdamon.
Next it said to take one hand away from his breast and let it explore his sex. Thankfully when it used the biological names for the different parts of his vagina, it came with a specific defintion so he knew what they were talking about. It said to let his fingertips trace various parts of his anatomy, the silky flesh of his outer lips, pulling them open gently and sliding one finger up and down the opening. His body tensed and he whimpered, the hand still on his breast working virgorously and attentatively.
His notes told him to feel the moisture his body was producing, his natural lubrication. It told him to explore his inner lips. It then said to slide his first two fingers up and down, up and down, enjoying his own touch.
He couldn't believe how good this felt. His breath hitched as his body trembled in pleasure. He let his fingers drift towards the top of the parting of his lips, and found the small swell of his Clitoris. His fingers moist from his secretions, he gently ran them over the pulsating mound, his hips immediately bucking in approval to the touch. As he did this, what his notes called 'the love button' began to reveal itself, having been hidden by the hood of his labia. His fingers explored this area tenderly, beads of sweat breaking out across his brow. He gasped for air, the hand on his breast joining the party at his center and inserting his finger into his vagina, the feeling of it inside of him feeling like nothing he ever felt before.
Peeta couldn't breathe, his hips jerking as he viciously finger-fucked himself, his entire body coated with sweat. His bosom quivered in pleasure, his heated center soaked with wetness. He sped up as he reached his peak and yelled loudly as he orgasmed.
He seemed to be making a habit of this now. Every time Cato left, he touched himself virgorously. This didn't make sense, since they were supposed to be trying to be more initmate and yet the only time Peeta touched himself was when he was sure Cato wouldn't walk in on him. Sometimes he even found himself fantasizing while he did it, about things he wouldn't dream of asking Cato to do.
He pushs you on the bed and starts greedily licking your wet pussy, loving the feeling of your hot juice all over his face and sliding down his throat. He flicks his tongue across your hard nub and loves the moans that you're making. He starts flicking your clit faster with his tongue and then start sucking on it until you gasp.
Peeta groaned into his pillow a few nights later, his ass in the air as he rubbed his swollen clit. He hadn't meant to get so turned on but once the thoughts came into his head, they refused to leave. If he was quiet enough, Cato wouldn't come upstairs and see him, as difficult as it was going to be.
He slides a finger into your tight ass hole and starts to pump it in and out while still sucking and fingering your tight hot pussy with his other hand. You're humping your pussy against his mouth and forcing him deeper. He starts tongue fucking you again.
He groped his aching breasts, practically humping his own hand. He was so aroused it was almost painful. He didn't know where his sudden graphic nature had come from but it was so fucking hot he didn't want it to stop.
He releases your pulsating core and you whimper, letting out a tiny gasp as he puts his hands up your shirt, pleased to find you're not wearing your bandages. He starts pulling on your nipples and you whine. He continues pulling on your nipples and then removes your shirt so he can look at your breasts. He starts biting roughly on your nipples and flicking his tongue over them, enjoying the fact that they're rock hard now.
Peeta grunted and groaned, dipping his fingers inside of himself and sliding them in and out, in and out, in and out.
He feels your big tits and makes your nipples hard for him. After he's gotten your nipples hard he starts slowly rubbing your clit. He pulls on it and you're whimpering so he kneels in front of you. He leans forward and presses his face into your pussy and starts to suck on your love button while fingering your tight opening.
He gently guides you to the bed and you bend over it obidently, so your ass is in the air.
Peeta's fingers moves away from his center all of a sudden and he found himself massaging his hole with his already lubed fingers. He imagined it was Cato and his thighs clenched together in want.
He enters you roughly from behind and you moan, immediately pushing back on his manhood. He pounds you hard and you meet every one of his thrusts. You cry out that you're going to cum and he smacks your ass, ordering you to do it.
Peeta had the most intense orgasm he had experienced so far with that one. He couldn't believe that he actually enjoyed fantasizing about Cato being so rough with him. The idea of being dominated by him and letting him control his body was so hot he almost got aroused again just thinking about it.
On some level, he was glad he was doing this when Cato wasn't there. So that they weren't blundering when it came to the actual thing. When Cato asked what he liked, he could tell him immediately. So far he got that he enjoyed being manhandled and the way to get the most intense orgasm is to bury your face in your pillows and stick your ass in the air.
Yes, he was finally discovering his body.
~xXx~
Cato, unaware that Peeta was masturbating nearly every night to thoughts of him, was going through a smiliar dilema. Except he wrote his down in the form of erotica instead of actually indulging in masturbation. He wasn't like Peeta and couldn't hide that he was touching himself, because surely the young boy would hear him from the bathroom. So he just wrote it all down.
"I run my fingers through your hair, down your back, and over your stomach, squeezing your delicious boobs and making you giggle in this really sexy, flirtatious way. You're kind of girlish about it and it is irresistible. I grab a bar of soap, get it wet, and start running it down your back and down your ass. . . creeping down and gliding it over your pussy from behind and making you gasp.
"I pin you down, bar of soap still in hand, and start running it up and down from your clitoris to the entrance of your pulsating center, which it's so hot that it hurts. You're dying to come so I grind into you and wrap my legs around you until you relax and grind back. It feels so amazing and we are rubbing our bodies against each other in the bathtub.
"I am hungry for you and I start moaning loudly, squeezing your ass cheeks and pulling your molten need against my hard on. You start moaning and I can tell that you're as close to orgasm as I am. Your face is getting all red, you're hot and bothered, and you have a new, fiery look on your face like I have never seen. I flip you over to give you the ride of your life so that you're on your back now.
"I hold you down by the shoulders, sliding my crotch over your glistening center. I hit your sweet spot, making sure to graze your swollen sensitive mound. You're twitching and moaning and grunting. I slide one hand up and squeeze your nipples HARD, one at a time, moving my crotch against your pussy. You're so close to coming, you close your eyes and open them and you're staring into my eyes like nothing else in the world matters. Your mouth is open, mid-moan, and I slide my fingers into your mouth and you look at me like you're conquering me."
Cato hated the 'p' word regarding a woman's gentials but for some reason when he was typing, the word just came out mutiple times. For a gross term, it certainly was hot.
Sometimes, he thought of ways he could make Peeta feel good, while showing him that he had a beautiful, supple, gorgeous body that he shouldn't be angry or ashamed of.
He thought of making Peeta sit in front of a mirror where he could see his whole body while he sat behind him. He'd open his legs and let his hands pass over his wet, tender flesh. He would have his other hand on his neck before sliding it down and using the tips of his fingers to flick at the younger boy's nipples. Cato would listen to the moans he was causing, telling Peeta to open his eyes every time he closed them.
Cato would tell Peeta how beautiful his body was while he squirmed and writhed against him. He would take his time trailing his eyes over his body, admiring every inch from his sweet breasts to his beautiful center. Cato would lick his vulnerable skin, his hands skimming his breasts and stomach until he stopped at the soft petals of his untouched folds. He would wait until Peeta was panting before he'd palm the honey soft swells of his boobs and slowly push his finger into him, immediately rubbing his clit.
Peeta would be wet by now, his hips jerking and twisting in pleasure. Cato would stop touching him, making him whine in frustration, and would promise to resume if Peeta looked at himself in the mirror and said that Cato was right and that he was gorgeous. Then, and only then, would he continue and finger fuck him into oblivion.
Only he immediately knew that this wasn't fair and dismissed the very idea.
Cato wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back from touching Peeta. Because it was getting harder every day (no pun intended).
~xXx~
Arena Bar: 8:10pm
Peeta should have known that Marvel would have arranged to have the most private booth in the whole building. You could literally strip off and do the macerena on the table and no one else would notice. It just made the situation even more unnerving.
Marvel wasn't interested in frivilous chit-chat. He got right down to what he wanted to talk about.
"When are you supposedly getting this surgery?"
Peeta shrugged, sitting at the farthest end of the booth and putting as much distance between himself and Marvel as he could. "When I get enough money together," he said.
"From where? Working in that shop? Surely you realize it will take years, maybe even decades, before you could earn enough money for such surgery in that place?" said Marvel.
Peeta scowled. "I'd choose it over the work I did for you anyday," he spat.
Marvel laughed. He didn't sound like he believed him. "And here's me thinking you willingly stripped off and posed for those pictures," he said sarcastically. "That you were the one who exposed your own body in such a provocative way. Don't act like you're the victim Madd-I mean, Peeta. You choose to do all that. Just like you choose to wiggle your sexy little ass in that tight outfit in Gloss' bar."
"I didn't choose to wear that!" exclaimed Peeta. "Gloss forced me to!"
"Mmm-hmm, whatever you say."
Peeta didn't give Marvel the satisfaction of getting worked up. He just shut up about the matter and waited for him to continue with what he wanted to say.
Marvel smiled, almost kindly. "The thing is, I have missed you," he admitted. "And I will do anything to have you back, even if it's only for a little while every week."
Narrowing his eyes, Peeta asked, "What do you mean?"
"If you let me see you every week-and I mean, properly see you, not this cold attitude I'm getting now-I'll keep quiet about your secret," explained Marvel.
Wow, that wasn't as bad as Peeta thought it was going to be. He thought Marvel was maybe going to force him to take on the persona of Maddy again and take more pictures or something horrid like that.
"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "That's it?"
"Well, no," Marvel smirked. "There's one condition: you let me touch you."
"Touch me?" Did he mean as in hand holding and stuff? Because that wasn't too bad.
"Yes. Touch you the way I didn't get a chance to when you were my model. Did you know that the night before you left was the night I was going to fuck you for the first time?" he asked.
Peeta turned his nose up. "And you certainly have a very romantic way of putting it," he said sarcastically. "You do realize I would have said no, right?"
Marvel rolled his eyes. "Petty details," he said.
"Look, letting you touch me is the basic equivalant of cheating on my boyfriend. I'm not doing that to him, okay?" Peeta insisted.
Marvel raised his eyebrows. "And here's me thinking you cared about your secret," he said.
"I do but-"
"Then stop whining and just let me get what I want. Trust me, it's not as bad as it seems. Just one night, once a week, that's all I want." Marvel scooted closer to him and Peeta had nowhere else to move to. He instead leaned away and tried not to pull a face that might offend Marvel.
"I have conditions of my own," he found himself saying. "You call me Peeta, not Maddy, and accept the fact that I am a boy and will be a boy as soon as I have the money to pay for my surgery."
Marvel grinned. "I wouldn't worry about that. I have a theory that you only want to be a boy because you haven't been fucked by a real man."
Peeta actually surprised himself by bursting out laughing. "Oh god, and you think you're that 'real' man?" he chuckled. "You're kidding me, right? I've met maniler men in Subway. The sandwich shop, not the train stop."
Marvel pretended to be offended. "Wow 'Peeta' you cut me deep," he said sarcastically. "And I thought what we had was special."
"Or common as dirt."
"You say potato, I say potatoe."
"You say daily living, I say blackmail."
Marvel chuckled and tried to kiss him. Surprised, Peeta put his hand over his mouth and pushed him away. "Yeah, I have one more condition," he said.
Marvel sighed heavily. "And what's that?" he asked irritably.
"You leave me alone for tonight," explained Peeta. "And I choose the days we see each other."
"Okay, that sounds reasonable."
Peeta smiled and stood up, acting as calm as possible. He didn't want Marvel know that he was going to go straight home and talk to Cato. Because he wasn't going to betray him, he wasn't going to do this to him behind his back. Not for the sake of his secret or for Marvel's own sick desires.
As he left, he tried to calm his frayed nerves. He had to tell Cato about everything.
Including his past.
A/N: R&R with your thoughts please!
