Author's note: Eternal love and gratitude to papofglencoe, not only for being an amazing beta but for your support and friendship!
Peeta silently looks at me in disbelief. His jaw is slack, and there's a question in his squinting eyes. Is he wavering in his decision? He must have realized what a monster I've become—retaliating against Cashmere without a second thought or any regard for her. We could probably have gotten rid of her without using violence, but I'd wanted her to suffer, to feel the pain that I felt. I'm sure he's finally figured out how many guards I'd have had to fuck and suck off, and it's too much for him.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but apparently changes his mind. I want to say something, reassuring him that whatever I've done in here has been out of necessity, not desire. But he doesn't give me a chance to react. His mouth is on mine again, sucking my bottom lip, and I eagerly meet his tongue as it probes for entrance. The heat from where we are connected spreads through me, and I feel myself getting wet for him again. But I can't let myself get carried away.
I break the kiss. "I have to get back."
"Yeah," he croaks, sliding his thumb across my bottom lip, getting rid of the evidence of our kiss. "Katniss," he speaks, before I open the door. "Are you sure?" He's not unsure about his own decision—he's making sure I want this too.
"Yes." I had made peace with myself about being here for a long time. But Peeta's opened the door for me, showing me that I can have more. More than this.
I have to get back to the laundry room. I can't risk anyone missing me and finding me here with Peeta. I press my lips against his in what I hope is a reassuring kiss. "I promise. I want this. I want you," I tell him before leaving the room.
"Fuck, yes! More!"
He's kept me on the edge for too long. I need to come now. I desperately grasp his hair, trying to make him do something. Anything. He knows how close I am, but seems unfazed by it, not changing the speed or the pressure of his tongue. Peeta's on his knees, with my right leg resting on his shoulder. I frantically buck my hips against his face, trying to get some pressure to push me over the edge.
Then he stops, and I can't hold back the groan of disappointment leaving my mouth. He raises his head, looking up at me. His lips and nose glisten from my arousal, making him so sexy that I would kiss him on the spot if I wasn't so close. He replaces his tongue with his thumb, making an agonizingly slow circular motion around my clit without touching it. "How badly do you want this, Katniss?" he purrs. My name rolling off his tongue like that is the sexiest thing I know.
"Please, Peeta." I don't care that I sound desperate and pathetic. I'd do anything for this man.
"Say it," he whispers, licking the inside of my thigh. His tongue is warm and wet, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
"I'm yours, Peeta. Only yours," I pant, knowing that this is what he wants to hear and hoping it will make him continue what he was doing.
At my words, he returns to his task, fervently sucking my clit, and my head falls back, hitting the wall behind me. It's like I'm on autopilot, grabbing the metal shelves above me as I start to rock my hips again. Peeta snakes one of his hands up under my shirt, stroking my nipples through the fabric of my bra.
"Fuck, I'm gonna..." After that, everything is pure bliss. My orgasm washes over me as Peeta continues to work both my clit and nipples. Exactly the way I want, licking and sucking until I've stopped shuddering. He wastes no time and stands up, pushing his tongue into my mouth, and I taste myself on his tongue and lips. It only turns me on even more. I want more.
"Do you know how many times I've jerked off imagining you saying that?" He presses his hips against mine as if to prove his point, letting me feel how hard he is. "Exactly like that."
His admission only adds to my arousal, even if I just came. That he thought of me while bringing himself to completion. I can't help picturing him stroking himself, making those beautiful sounds of lust and pleasure when he comes.
I'm filled with an eagerness to please him, so I drop to my knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. I lick him through his underwear, and he groans at the contact. I impatiently push his pants and boxers down his hips and immediately take him in my mouth without breaking eye contact.
"Tell me," I say as I release him.
"The thought of your sounds, your smell, your taste… It always does it for me," he says, his voice hoarse, panting. I lick the underside of his cock and suck the head when I reach it. "Oh fuck, that feels so good."
His sounds. His smell. His taste. Everything about him is perfection. I grab him at the base and suck him off with more determination. When he gets closer to his release I let him go and fish out a condom from the pocket of his pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Tearing the wrapper I put it on him and give him a few extra strokes before rising again.
Before I get the chance to kiss him he turns me around and starts sucking the side of my neck while squeezing my nipples. Hard. "Bend over," he growls in my ear.
The way he says it, demands it, makes me weak in the knees, and I have no choice but to obey him. I'm on my hands and knees on a wooden bench and Peeta wastes no time plunging into me. His hands are on my hips, pulling me against him. It doesn't take long for us to find a fast pace. His powerful thrusts cause my knees to scratch against the boards underneath me, but I don't care. This feels so fucking good, and I already feel myself closing in on another orgasm.
He's close too. "Peeta, I want to see you." He stills his movements, and I take the opportunity to quickly turn around. His cheeks are flustered and he's out of breath. I'm still on all fours when I roll the condom off him and start sucking him off again.
"Fuck, Katniss." His head falls back, and his hands find my hair, guiding me. He's rock hard, but the skin is smooth, allowing me to feel every ridge with my tongue. I grab his hips, pushing him in a little more, and I can feel how close he is. It's only a couple of seconds before he comes. The warm liquid fills my mouth as my name falls from his lips. He tastes exactly like I remember. I love it.
After I've made sure to swallow everything, I rise and kiss him full on the mouth. I'm sure he can taste himself, but he doesn't seem bothered by it.
"You didn't finish," he says as we break apart.
"It doesn't matter," I say, trying to shrug it off.
Instead of answering, he moves his hand to the juncture of my thighs, threading his fingers through my folds. "It matters," he whispers in my ear as he strokes my clit before slipping two of his fingers inside. He extracts them before pushing them back in. He has such an effect on me—everything he does to me feels so good, and I can't help but cry out as he pushes me closer again.
My legs give out, and Peeta supports my weight with one of his arms. His ministrations soon send me spiraling to the point of no return, and he covers my lips in his as I come around his fingers. I've missed this.
Peeta knows the blueprints of this compound, allowing him to find a spot where we can go unnoticed and not have to worry about the sounds we make, and he knows how to sneak off unnoticed.
"Listen," he says, securing his utility belt around his waist. He hesitates before continuing. "Despite this place being the worst run-prison I've ever seen, it's well-monitored. And the guards outside carry some heavy rifles."
"What are you saying?"
Where is he going with this?
He doesn't meet my eyes. "I think our best chance is from the administrative building. The security there is not as heavy, and no one would suspect it." His voice is clinical, like he's reciting a recipe.
I've only been in that building for one reason. "So how do we get there?"
Finally, he lifts his gaze, looking me in the eye. He doesn't answer, confirming my suspicions. I can't believe it. The only way to get out of here is through the warden. Not only have I been forced to sleep, suck, and lick my way to the top here—now I have to fuck my way out of here too?
"You want me to fuck Thread?!"
"You know I don't," he answers immediately. "And if everything works out, you won't have to."
Of course he doesn't want me anywhere near Thread. I saw how angry and hurt he got when I was there last time. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't worry about it," he reassures me, opening his arms for me. His hands travel up and down my back, and I revel in the little time we can spend like this. Alone.
"It's just… I hate him so much. When Cashmere beat the hell out of me he let it slide and…" I bury my face in his shirt so I don't have to face him.
"And what?" he asks carefully.
I haven't told Peeta about the abortion. It's still difficult to talk about, especially with him. He puts his finger underneath my chin, nudging me to raise my head.
"Katniss. Tell me what he did." He's so sincere that I can't brush it off.
"I got pregnant," I croak, but he probably can't hear it.
"What?"
I clear my throat. "I got pregnant," I repeat. Peeta's eyes widen in shock, but I continue before he says anything. "I don't know whose it was. It could've been Cato's or anyone else's." I pause. "I guess it didn't look good, so he decided to get rid of it."
He hugs me tight, pressing my head against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispers, rocking me back and forth. "I should have been here. I should have..." he trails off, choking a sob.
He thinks this is on him—that he somehow could have stopped it. There's nothing he could've done, but he still blames himself. The next part will probably shake him to his core, but he needs to know. "There's more."
He doesn't say anything, only keeps hugging me.
"I can't..." How do I break his heart? "I can't get pregnant again," I whisper. He releases me from his embrace, putting his hands on my cheeks and searching my eyes. I can't quite read his. Is he angry? Hurt? Sad?
I don't know how long we stand there, looking at each other before Peeta drops to his knees, pressing his face to my stomach. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. Please forgive me," he pleads. "It's my fault. I should have stood up for myself so you didn't have to. She was right. I'm a pussy."
I can't stand him begging for forgiveness for things he couldn't do anything about. I drop to my knees too so that I'm eye level with him, but he won't look at me. "Peeta." His eyes are still locked on the floor. I cradle his head in my hands. "Peeta," I repeat. "Don't apologize for things you can't control. I knew what I was doing. I chose this."
"Katniss, you shouldn't sacrifice yourself for me. You won't be doing me any favors." He blinks away some of his tears. "I would gladly take a beating every day if it meant keeping you out of here." He pauses, taking a breath. "But I get it. I understand why you did it."
I believe him. He understands why I couldn't not do it. Because he'd rather get physically assaulted than for me to be here. Because we're the same. Just like he'd sacrifice himself for me, I'd do the same for him.
"Did you mean what you said before? About Thread. Could you do it?"
He looks at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Kill him."
He hesitates, but only for a moment. "Yes."
"Then help me balance the scale."
He swallows. "Okay."
I don't want to admit it, but getting my revenge on Cashmere was so liberating, I can only imagine how it would feel to let Thread gets what he deserves, and maybe Peeta will feel the same, getting some peace of mind.
I kiss his lips. "Then let's do it." Let justice be done.
The meth head who told me about Cashmere rigging the fight is probably our best bet. A junkie's loyalty is apparently better than the ones who stayed with you for years. When many of them betrayed me, she actually tried to do me a favor. It was probably because she was looking to score some drugs, but still. I'm sure she'd let me beat her up for the rest of my stash. That'll send me back to Thread's office.
"Cresta? No, not her," Peeta says without looking at me. "It's too risky. You'll only end up in the hole again."
We're in a corner in the laundry room. It's semi-secluded, allowing us to talk almost freely. Peeta overlooks the room while I empty and refill the washing machines.
"I can live with that. Besides, she can have all of the drugs I have left. I won't be needing them."
"I know you can, but then there will be reports to fill out, and Abernathy will get involved. Too much can go wrong."
I don't say anything for a couple of minutes, contemplating his words. "What did you mean by 'not her?'"
He exhales. "Do you remember Finnick Odair?"
Finnick Odair. A CO that worked here a couple of years ago. He was gorgeous, but untouchable. Every inmate tried to get him on their side, but no one succeeded. I never bothered to try—he seemed too easy to lose that I didn't think it was worth the effort.
"Yeah."
"He transferred to the same prison I worked at two years ago. He's a great CO—stern, but fair. He stopped a fight once where she was getting beat up, and she took a liking to him. She started imagining that they were in a relationship and followed him around all the time. To be honest, I don't know why she's here. She should be in psych."
"Why isn't she?"
"She would have been if it weren't for Odair. I guess he felt sorry for her, so instead of turning her in, he transferred to another prison. I said I'd look out for her. I can't break that promise." He pauses. "I take it she turned to drugs after he left because he didn't mention her being an addict."
He crosses his arms over his chest. "Besides, if Thread gets another guard to take you to his office..." he doesn't finish the sentence. I guess he doesn't want to think about that. Neither do I.
"Hadn't you been planning this for eight years?"
He throws me a look. "You can't plan everything. It's difficult to find out the routines in each prison without actually being there. I got some inside information from Odair, but I couldn't ask him too much without raising suspicion."
Peeta runs his hand through his hair, apparently not knowing what to do with it. "It's been awhile since they searched your cells, right?"
"I guess. They don't seem to have a schedule."
A subtle smile settles on his lips, apparently amused by it. "Of course they don't."
Ever since Cashmere disappeared the inmates have been pretty calm. The mess hall's been remarkably quiet, and I've gotten a few meals in peace, without anyone approaching me trying to 'make friends.' Not even Cato has been as big of an asshole as he usually is. I've barely spoken to Peeta either. Even if he knows his way around we can't risk being seen too much together, so we have to choose our moments carefully.
It's Thursday because it's 'soup' again. When I finish my bowl I leave the tray on the table, making sure Cato notices. It's only seconds before he's yelling at me.
"Everdeen!" I halt. It's not Cato—it's Peeta. I turn around slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time in several days. "That's the third time this week." It's not—it's the first. His gaze is stern, like he's trying to the tell me something. I understand. I love how fast we got back to how we were before any of this ever happened. How we can communicate without words, as if these years apart never happened. "Pick up your tray and put it where it belongs, or I'll drag your ass down to the hole myself."
Not wanting to call his bluff, I pick it up and put it with the others. Cato smirks behind Peeta, snickering something about me being 'dick whipped.' I don't care. He can have this one, and I'll have his dick on a platter later.
Three days. Three days before I'll be leaving this place. Either with Peeta or in a body bag.
I realize I might not be able to speak to Peeta before everything goes down, but I have to see him. I have to talk to him. I can't let him go through with this without him knowing everything. He'll resent me for it if I don't tell him. If we are going to do this there needs to be complete honesty between us.
The meth addict—was it Cresta?—gets a few bindles to help me out. I know Peeta's routine, and when he walks around the corner she shoves me into a closet where there aren't any cameras.
"Guard!" I yell, and it's only seconds before he appears in the door opening. I immediately push her out and lock the door, leaving me alone with Peeta.
"What the fuck are you doing, Katniss? This is way too risky."
"She won't tell anyone. She's afraid she'll end up like Cashmere. Besides, this is important."
He puts a chair against the door, making sure no one can get in.
"I have to tell you something."
He freezes, seemingly terrified of what I have to say. He doesn't say anything, silently urging me to continue.
"It's about that day." It's still too difficult to say it—the day I killed your mother—but he knows what I mean. "I should have told you sooner, but I didn't know how and—"
"Katniss," he interrupts, approaching me and putting his hands on my shoulders. "What is it?"
"She told me something, right before…"
It's a couple of seconds before he speaks. "What?"
"She said that you… That you hit her." He relaxes his shoulders, but I can't quite read his facial expression.
"I know," he murmurs. How could he possibly know? He was unconscious. As if sensing my question he continues. "I mean I don't know what she said to you. But I've somehow always known what I did."
"How?"
"I've dreamt about it several times. But it's always felt so real, so I thought there was more to it." He pauses. "Like a memory. It's only fractions, so I don't know the details. Just that feeling. I was so angry that there was only one thing I could think of to relieve it."
There seems to be more to this, but he bites his tongue. "Tell me everything, Peeta," I urge him. "If you remember anything else, now is the time to tell me."
He envelops me in a tight hug, holding me like it's the last time. "It felt good. It felt so good, Katniss. I should regret it, but I don't," he sighs into my hair. "She deserved to suffer for what she did and to die for it. I fucking hate her, and I only wish she'd be alive so that I could kill her myself. I wish I was ashamed for feeling that way, but I'm not."
It feels like a balloon deflating, like he's been holding it in for too long and now finally letting all of his guard down.
I don't argue with him, because he's right. We should be ashamed for what we did. It shouldn't feel good, but it does. We did what was right. Why should we have to apologize for righting a wrong?
I loop my arms around him, gripping his back and burying my face in his chest. "Then don't. Embrace it."
This is the day. The day I'll finally be out of this place. I had resigned myself to spending the rest of my life in here. Now, I can't imagine being another day in here. Peeta has shown me that there is more to this life, and he wants to share it with me. We'll be branded fugitives. Criminals, menaces, and a danger to society. What else is new?
I couldn't care less about those things—I've been called worse. The only thing that concerns me is that whatever happens we will do it together. If something happens to him, I will not continue my life here. There is no life here. I know it now—even before he came here I lived for him. Knowing that he could live his life made my incarceration bearable. If he dies, and I live, there is no life at all for me. In one last act of rebellion against this fucking place I'll kill one of the rapists posing as noble officers, and then I'll die for my troubles.
I think I'm imagining the sound of their shoes meeting the concrete floor because I hear it for hours before they arrive. When the key slides into the lock I bolt up from the bed, but Mason is still sleeping. Should I have warned her? We're not friends, not even allies, but I have no quarrel with her. Hell, I think I even respect her in some weird sort of way. No, I can't focus or worry about her right now.
When the door opens the guard looks surprised that I'm not lying down, but he says nothing. Mason starts to stir when Peeta's voice echoes through the cellblock. "Inmates, line up outside your cells." That's all the instructions we get. Clear and simple.
There are two inmates in each cell, making it twenty-four people in the hallway, excluding the COs. I catch a quick glance at Peeta before someone cuffs my hands behind my back. The reek of cologne alerts me who it is before I see him—Cato.
"You better pray that I don't find anything, or we'll have field day later," he wheezes in my ear. His breath causes me to shudder, and he seems satisfied by my reaction.
"Alright, ladies," Peeta starts, getting everyone's attention. "This is an unscheduled inspection of your cells. I'm assuming you have nothing to hide, so this will probably be quick. Nonetheless, you will wait in the hallway during the inspection." His voice is almost robotic, and I wonder how he does it. I'd be a shivering mess if I were in his shoes.
We wait while they search through the small spaces, turning the mattresses, looking for cavities in the wall. I know the second he finds it—Cato's snickering turns my stomach, and I try not to throw up in his face when he approaches me.
"Taken up carving as an extracurricular activity?" he taunts, holding up my knife only inches from my nose. I don't dignify him with an answer. He just sneers. "Mellark!" he calls over my shoulder. "I think Everdeen need a lesson in what objects are allowed in the cells."
Peeta walks over—I sense him even though I can't see him.
"Hm?" Cato grabs my arms, forcing me to turn around, and I settle my eyes on Peeta. He's holding my knife, inspecting it. "I thought we settled this a couple of weeks ago, Everdeen. Didn't we?" Damn, he's a good actor.
"I guess not," I mutter.
"Cato, can I trust you to finish this?" I can only imagine Cato's look of pride when he realizes he'll be in charge.
"Of course."
"Good. I think medium security is too lenient for you," Peeta says, making sure the other guards hear him. He turns me around and lowers his face so his mouth is close to my ear. "You're going to the warden's office."
Author's note: If you like this story, please drop me a line and tell me what you think. I'm maxwellandlovelace on tumblr.
