a/n: I'm so sorry that it's been such a long time between updates! My lame excuse is that I have had a fairly hectic few weeks (and, uh, I accidentally/on purpose started a couple of other WIPs, perhaps against my better judgment?). Unfortunately, my next few weeks are still looking fairly intense, real-lifewise, which means there may be yet another several-week wait for the next chapter of this story.
To the extent I have time to work on my stories, this one will be my primary focus until at least November, when my real life schedule will calm down considerably.
I plan to intersperse Peeta's and Katniss' POV in most chapters going forward. So we'll be hearing from both of them here.
Lastly - Thank you again to everyone who's reviewed this story and added it to their favorites and/or alerts. Your support means so much to me.
March 1935, Frankfurt am Main
It's nearly dawn when Katniss wakes.
Peeta is still sleeping, his warm body pressed against hers under the blankets in Prim's narrow bed.
She raises herself up on one elbow and turns a little to look at him.
And her heart catches in her throat.
She cannot believe that Peeta is here with her. That what happened yesterday was real.
Katniss can only just make out his features in the dim light filtering through her bedroom window, but the bruises already blooming under his right eye and on his neck are clearly visible even in the near darkness of the room. Katniss wonders if there are more bruises on his chest, hidden by her father's old nightshirt. Based on what he told her about his fight with his mother she thinks there must be.
Her anger flares at what Frau Mellark has done to them both.
But all of that is over now. Peeta has made sure his mother will never hurt either one of them again.
At a terrible cost to himself.
Katniss watches Peeta sleep for a long moment, this beautiful boy who has given up his family, and almost everything he has, to be with her and keep her safe. Eventually he begins to stir, mumbling her name into the pillow they share.
Unable to resist touching him any longer, Katniss gently brushes his hair away from his forehead. She leans over him and tenderly, so as not to wake him, kisses him there.
But it does wake him. Peeta's eyes flutter open and he looks up at her. Suddenly, Katniss begins to panic that in the harsh light of day, Peeta may regret what he's done.
The look of pure adoration he gives her as she pulls away from him puts her fears to rest immediately.
"I was worried it was all a dream," he whispers. "But… but you're right here."
Katniss nods and smiles at him. She takes his hand and holds it over her heart. He closes his eyes. "I am," she confirms. "And so are you, Peeta."
"Did you sleep well?" he asks her.
"I did," she murmurs. "The best night of sleep I've had in months." She smiles. "No nightmares."
"I'm glad," he says.
There is silence between them for another long moment, his hand growing warm over her breastbone, their faces only inches apart.
"I missed you," Peeta tells her quietly. He averts his eyes when he says it, and Katniss can feel the slight tremor running through him. She squeezes his hand. "I missed you so much, Katniss. There… there are no words."
She leans forward and kisses him, gently, on the lips. She rests her forehead against his.
"I missed you too, Peeta," she murmurs.
He swallows and lets out a shaky breath.
"I need to go soon and talk to Streu," he says. Their faces are so close together that she can feel his breath fan out across her lips as he speaks. It makes her feel a little dizzy. "But part of me is terrified that once I leave, I'll never see you again."
Katniss throws her arms around him, then, and presses little kisses to his neck, his cheek, everywhere she can reach without letting him go. "I am never, ever going to leave your side, Peeta," she tells him fervently, between kisses. "Never again."
He makes a noise in his throat that sounds like a sob as he wraps her up tightly in his own arms and holds her close.
Peeta stays for breakfast.
It isn't much of a breakfast. The only money that comes in anymore is what Uncle Haymitch sends them every month from America; and Katniss, out of pride and shame, hasn't told him the full extent of her family's financial woes. As such, there is nothing in the house to eat right now other than the leftover bread Peeta brought yesterday.
And he refuses to take even a single bite of it.
"No, Katniss," he tells her firmly when she offers him a slice. "That's for you and your family. I don't need it."
"But you haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, Peeta," she argues. His altercation with his mother had, after all, occurred just as Frau Mellark was preparing the family's evening meal.
"It doesn't matter," he tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll make myself something to eat at Streu's flat."
Peeta does grudgingly accept the cup of tea she brews for him but won't let her put sugar in it. When she scowls at him he just shrugs. "I never take sugar in my tea, Katniss," he says, taking a delicate sip as he watches her take little bites of bread.
Peeta was dismayed last night when Katniss was unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls. In truth, she had to force down even those few mouthfuls, and it caused her stomach to ache for two hours afterwards.
It's been several weeks since her family has had enough food in its cupboards that Katniss has allowed herself to eat more than one meal per day. Last night's bread had actually been the first thing she had eaten in two days. And it is always physically difficult for her to start eating again once her fast extends beyond twenty-four hours.
"I need to find a job today, Katniss," Peeta tells her between sips of tea.
Katniss nods, frowning. This does not surprise her. After all, what choice does he have? He has disowned his parents, and they him. She doesn't know exactly what Streu does for the government, but she knows it is not a high-level position. He certainly cannot support both himself and his nearly-grown brother on his wages.
Katniss is very unhappy, for Peeta, that his decisions yesterday mean he has to leave school, and she tells him so.
"It's all right," he reassures her. "All I want to do is work in a bakery anyway." He smiles. The smile reaches his eyes, and she knows he's telling her the truth. "I already know how to bake, so there's nothing useful left for school to teach me." He reaches out across the table and takes her hand.
"Do you know where you might look for work?" she asks him, gently caressing the hand that holds hers with her thumb. Her own work options are extremely limited, being both a woman and a Jew. Peeta, of course, has no such limitations.
"Not yet," he admits, a little sheepishly. "I'm hoping Streu will have some ideas."
Katniss manages to finish the thick slice of bread Peeta cut for her in about fifteen minutes. Fortunately, the bread is easier for her to eat today. She can tell this pleases him. When she's eaten the last of it she walks him to the front door, still holding his hand.
As he opens it, he turns to her. "When can I see you again, Katniss?" The pleading tone in his voice makes her heart ache.
"Come by tonight for dinner," she blurts out without thinking. And she regrets it immediately. What on earth am I going to serve him for dinner?
But his face lights up like the sun at her words. "I will," he tells her, barely able to contain his excitement. "And I'll cook for your family. I'll bring everything – you just need to… to be here." His voice grows anxious once more.
"I will be," she promises. She leans up and kisses him on the cheek, and his face relaxes.
"Can I buy a chicken from your shop?" he asks. "I'll roast a chicken for you tonight."
Katniss can't look him in the eye when she answers him. "We… don't stock meat anymore, Peeta. We can't." She covers her face with her hands. "Gale and I are trying to sell the shop."
Herr Everdeen's butcher shop had never been a kosher one. Thirty years ago his own father, Katniss' grandfather, decided it was better business to avoid that label, as it would enable them to appeal to the widest possible customer base. And for years, their shop had thrived – but only because it had a large non-Jewish clientele.
That was all over now, of course. And going through the complicated steps necessary to become a Kosher shop now, so that Katniss and Gale might sell to more observant Jews, is prohibited by the government.
Peeta stands there looking at her for a long moment, compassion and concern etched plainly on his face. "Well," Peeta finally tells her, clearing his throat. "I'll be back for dinner regardless, Katniss. Chicken in hand."
He bends down to kiss her then, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her waist. The gentle touch of his hands on her back, and the way his mouth is slanting over hers, suddenly fills Katniss' stomach with butterflies. She rests her hands on his broad chest as she opens her mouth to him. She wants him to deepen the kiss, and she sighs into his mouth when he does.
But Peeta breaks away from her after only a few moments. He is flushed and breathing a little heavily.
"I do need to go now, Katniss," he tells her. His voice is hoarse. "I wish I didn't."
She wishes he didn't, too.
"I'll see you tonight, though." He kisses the top of her head. "Goodbye for now," he says wistfully, and then walks out the door.
Prim comes home an hour later, and her eyes nearly fall out of her head when she sees Peeta's bread.
"Where did you get that, Katniss?" she asks, incredulous. Because she knows as well as anyone that Katniss cannot bake well enough to make something like this.
"It's from Peeta," Katniss explains. "His family had some leftover bread they weren't able to sell yesterday, and he thought we might like to have it." Might as well tell Prim the basics. No need to tell her that they slept together in her bed last night as well.
"Oh," is all Prim says in response. But her eyes are as wide as if she'd heard something truly scandalous.
Katniss' blushes at Prim's reaction, in spite of herself, and reaches for her hand. "Why don't you go wake Mama, Prim. I'll make you both some toast for breakfast." Katniss finds that she cannot stop smiling.
Prim grins back at her older sister as if Katniss' smile tells her everything she needs to know, and then rushes off down the hall as she is bid.
Their mama has good days and bad days.
On a good day, she might speak a few sentences to her daughters. On the very best days she may even listen to what they have to say in response.
But those sorts of good days are rare. Her bad days – the days where she responds to nothing and no one, days in which she does nothing but sit in her chair, or lie in her bed, completely unresponsive – enormously outnumber her good ones. Even now, more than five months since Papa left them.
Mama's episodes have long been a fixture in Katniss' life, of course. But there has never before been an episode that lasted for so long, or that caused such detriment to the family. This one has gone on for so long that Herr Doktor, on his last visit, opined that she will likely never recover in any meaningful way.
Prim's compassion towards their mother seems, to Katniss, to be boundless. She dotes on Mama and cares for her in a way that Katniss cannot. Will not.
Katniss decides it's a good thing that at least one of Mama's children is capable of feeling compassion towards her. Because when the end of the month inevitably comes and Uncle Haymitch's money is gone, no matter how many times Prim reminds Katniss that Mama is sick and that none of this is her fault, all Katniss can feel towards her mama is bitter resentment.
Katniss hates herself for feeling this way, but the truth of the matter is she no longer sees her mother as anything but a thankless burden.
While Katniss makes two identical slices of toast, Prim brings Mama out of her bedroom, still in her nightclothes and wearing her usual vacant expression. Prim sits her down at the kitchen table and tenderly brushes her tangled hair away from her face.
Ilse Everdeen looks at the loaf of bread on the table. She then sniffs the air and appears to recognize the unmistakable smell of toasting bread that hangs in the air.
And for the first time in recent memory, Ilse Everdeen smiles.
Even if he isn't exactly surprised, Peeta is still dismayed to discover that the things he'd stowed under the neighbors' front porch are soaked from last night's downpour.
But it isn't enough to wipe the smile off his face.
His clothes and other possessions will eventually dry. And even if some of them are destroyed, it doesn't matter.
What matters is that Katniss will let him take care of her. She accepted his bread, and he is going to make her dinner this evening. He vows to himself that he will do this for her, again and again and again, until the terrifying hollows under her eyes are gone and the beautiful round softness of her curves returns.
It just doesn't seem possible that after all this time, he can finally be with his Katniss again. That she wants to be with him again. But Peeta knows this is no dream; those kisses she gave him this morning, her promise to him that she would never again leave his side, were all real.
His heart races just thinking about how she had felt in his arms this morning. How her lips had felt pressed against his when he kissed her goodbye. It makes everything he did yesterday, and everything he has yet to do now, seem like an insignificant nothing.
Peeta's grin is so broad by the time he reaches Streusel's flat that it threatens to split his face in two.
He raps twice on his brother's front door. There is no answer. Peeta supposes his brother and Finnick have already left for work. He tries the doorknob and, to his relief, the door opens easily.
Peeta carries the three large satchels that now contain all of his worldly possessions into the front room…
… and drops them immediately when he sees Johanna making breakfast in the kitchen, stark naked and smoking a cigarette.
"OH!" he exclaims in shock, covering his eyes reflexively.
"Hiya, Peeta," she says cheerfully, making no move to either leave the room or cover up. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" he yells at her, incredulous, hands still covering his eyes. "My brother lives here, Jo. What are you doing here? At this hour, and…and…"
A sudden burst of realization hits Peeta before he finishes his sentence and renders him speechless.
"Well, why do you think I'm here, Peeta?" she asks him, completely unnecessarily at this point. "You're a smart kid."
Not being privy to a mirror Peeta cannot be certain, but he would still bet money on his face being an absolutely vivid shade of scarlet right now.
"So, look. I'll just go put something on, all right? Streu's at work, but there's no reason you can't stick around."
Peeta hears Johanna walk out of the room, but he doesn't uncover his eyes until he hears the click that confirms Streu's bedroom door has shut behind her.
Thoroughly flustered, Peeta takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out in an attempt to calm himself down. Eventually realizing that that's a lost cause - at least for the time being – he decides he might as well just head for the kitchen and make himself something to eat.
Peeta doesn't intend to tell Johanna about what happened yesterday. But she reappears – fully clothed this time, Peeta is relieved to see – as he makes himself a fried egg sandwich. She sits at the kitchen table, lights a cigarette and looks at him expectantly.
And so he finds himself sharing the story all the same.
She gives a loud, rather shocking bark of laughter when he gets to the part about his fistfight with his mother.
"So…" he continues, trying not to react to her outburst. He's ecstatic, of course, that he finally hit his mother; but he thinks it would probably be uncouth to admit that. "I hope Streu and Finnick will let me stay here a while. Because I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Peeta," Johanna tells him, her demeanor suddenly serious. "Don't be ridiculous. You're his brother. And you need a place to stay because you punched your witch of a mother. Who just so happens to be a woman Streu has hated his entire life."
She takes a long drag of her cigarette before continuing.
"If anyone has ever deserved to be knocked out by someone, it would be her. Jesus, Peeta, not only will Streu and Finn let you stay here, they're also probably going to want to throw you a goddamn ticker tape parade." And she bursts into laughter once more.
Peeta still isn't quite certain about the exact circumstances surrounding Johanna's presence at Streu's flat this morning. Aside from the… well, aside from the very obvious. He decides he'll need to get more information from Streu later about that.
But notwithstanding all of that, Peeta finds himself very glad for Johanna's presence here this morning after all.
And he tells her so.
"Not at all, Peeta," she tells him, saluting him and giving him a salacious wink. "I didn't have anything interesting to do this morning anyway."
Peeta leaves Streu's flat a few hours later, deciding that he doesn't have much choice but to postpone his talk with his brother until later this evening.
Fortunately, however, after a full day of searching Peeta manages to find a job all on his own, and without his brother's help.
To his delight, his new job will be at a bakery only a few miles from Katniss' home. Peeta thinks it will be a good job. The man who runs it – Herr Beetee – is far more interested in the business end of running a bakery and in tinkering with the ovens than he is in the actual act of baking itself. For twenty years, Herr Beetee had delegated all the baking duties to his daughter, Fraülein Wiress, while he did everything else.
Their system worked well for many years. But Herr Beetee lost his Wiress to scarlet fever during Frankfurt's harsh winter. "And I need a talented baker to take her place," he told Peeta, a little wistfully.
Peeta can already tell that Herr Beetee is a smart man, and a very kind one. Peeta feels badly for him, for he imagines that he must have loved his daughter very much.
But Peeta would also be lying if he said he wasn't excited for this opportunity. He had heard of Herr Beetee before today, of course. From his mother, of all people. Herr Beetee is located far enough away from his family's bakery that he is not exactly a competitor. But despite Frankfurt's size, there are only a small handful of bakeries that are known throughout the city. Mellark's Bakery is one of them, and Herr Beetee's is another.
Given Herr Beetee's prominence and his relative success, Peeta is confident that with this job, he will be able to earn enough money to both support himself and help Katniss' family. What's more, because he will be Herr Beetee's head baker, Peeta thinks this job will likely give him far more creative license than he ever had working for his family.
He is to start tomorrow morning at sunrise.
As Peeta walks to the market adjacent Herr Beetee's bakery to purchase the things he will need for tonight's dinner, he jingles the coins in his pocket that Herr Beetee gave him at the end of their meeting today. "A signing bonus," he told Peeta with a wink.
For what might be the fifth time today, Peeta finds himself unable to stop smiling.
Katniss has just sent Prim off to the market with their last bit of money (Katniss is determined to contribute at least something to this meal; her pride will not allow her to do otherwise) when Peeta arrives at the front door, breathless and bearing a sack full of what presumably will become their dinner.
"Hi," he tells her, flushed and grinning from ear to ear.
His smile is infectious, and Katniss smiles back at him.
"Hello, Peeta," she says.
He makes his way into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation and immediately begins unloading his sack. Katniss watches in amazement as he pulls out a large, plucked chicken, a bottle of olive oil, a half-dozen carrots, a large sack of potatoes, five apples, some baking chocolate, and a bottle of wine.
"Peeta," she tells him, a little breathlessly, and more than a little shocked at the quantity of food he brought. "How… how did you pay for all of this?"
"I got a job today," he tells her. He hasn't stopped smiling since he walked through her front door; he's still smiling as he finds her roasting pan and arranges the chicken inside it. "I start tomorrow, and my new boss gave me a small advance today."
"But… but it's your money, Peeta," she stammers. She had not expected him to bring all this.
"It is my money," he agreed. "And that means I get to do whatever I want with it, doesn't it." He kisses the tip of her nose and starts slicing onions.
It goes against everything in Katniss' nature to accept this level of help from anyone who isn't her father. She has an almost overpowering urge to fight Peeta on this, to insist he keep his money and his food for himself. It was one thing for Peeta to give her some day-old bread that his family had been unable to sell; but this is another thing altogether.
But she bites her tongue. Because she knows that she no longer has any choice but to accept more help – from Peeta; from Uncle Haymitch; even from Gale – if she wants to survive. And because she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Peeta will not take no for an answer.
Because of that last point, instead of telling Peeta how difficult all of this is for her, she changes the subject.
"What can I do to help?" she asks him. It also goes against her instinct to have a man prepare food for her like this. She can tell he really wants to do this, though. So she steps aside and lets him take control of the meal.
"Why don't you slice these?" he asks her, pointing to the onions.
She gets out a cutting board and her sharpest knife and gets to work. But it isn't really very much to do, and her assignment is over in a matter of minutes.
She asks Peeta if she can do something else to help, but he politely declines her offer.
"There really isn't anything left to do, Katniss. Roasting a chicken is very easy," he points out. In fact, she knows this to be true. "I'm almost finished with everything already."
So she sits at the little kitchen table and watches as he works, mesmerized as he expertly seasons the chicken and rotates it in the pan every few minutes.
Soon, the smell of roasting chicken, potatoes, and carrots fills the whole house. Her mouth begins to water in anticipation.
"Oh, Peeta," she exclaims. "Everything smells absolutely wonderful."
He turns to look at her, and his smile lights up the room.
She goes to him, then, and puts her arms around his neck. She can't help herself. She kisses him, just once. She doesn't feel she should do much more than that with Prim liable to walk in at any moment.
But the look Peeta gives her when she pulls away from him makes her forget all about Prim.
To Katniss' great relief, when dinner is finally served she is able to sample a little of everything Peeta made for them. Maybe it's because she ate a small meal last night as well as this morning and her stomach was, therefore, better prepared. Or perhaps it's simply because she knows how upset and worried Peeta would have been if she'd been unable to eat tonight.
Regardless of the reasons why, she is able to eat, and every bite is more delicious than the one that came before it.
Katniss even has a small glass of wine with her meal. It's the first wine she's had since her papa died, and she isn't sure she's ever tasted anything better.
Prim and Peeta chat animatedly throughout dinner. Like it hasn't been over a year since the last time Peeta was in their home, and like it hasn't been more than six months since they had a meal on their table that was this fine.
Although Prim does seem genuinely pleased to see Peeta again, she hasn't asked Katniss a single question all day about why Peeta has suddenly reappeared in their lives. But Prim has always been an intuitive girl, as well as a bold one. If there is something Prim wants to know, Katniss has no doubt that she will find a way to ask.
Maybe she's already guessed everything there is to know all on her own.
Halfway through the meal, as Prim tells them about the friend whose house she visited last night, Katniss reaches down and takes Peeta's hand in hers. She brings their joined hands over to her lap and rests them on her knee. Prim's eyes dart once, briefly, down to where their joined hands disappear under the table, but then continues speaking as if nothing had happened.
After a few minutes Peeta takes his thumb and begins to slowly, gently caress Katniss' hand with it. The skin of her arm erupts immediately into gooseflesh, and it is all Katniss can do not to turn her head, right here, right now, and kiss this wonderful boy who cares for her so well.
But she doesn't do that, of course. She continues to participate in the conversation – or tries to, anyway – and she squeezes Peeta's hand a little tighter. Promising him, wordlessly, that she will never let him go.
After dinner is finished and the dishes are washed and put away, Prim yawns and stretches theatrically.
"Well," Prim says, clearing her throat. "I think I'll sleep in Mama's room tonight." Prim does this occasionally, as it makes it easier for her to cater to Mama's needs if she needs something in the night. She takes the plate of food they set aside for Mama earlier in the evening and walks towards her room.
"Goodnight, Katniss," she says. "And Peeta – thank you for dinner. It was amazing."
The wink Prim gives her older sister before leaving the room is unmistakable.
Katniss feels herself flush as she turns back to face Peeta.
As Prim has obviously already guessed, Katniss wants him to stay with her tonight. But Katniss hasn't the faintest idea how to make that happen without some sort of pretext.
Last night, of course, it had been easy. It was raining. He was injured from his fight with his mother and needed looking after. All of which served as convenient excuses to keep him here with her.
It isn't raining tonight, though. And Peeta seems to be healing remarkably well.
Peeta clears his throat awkwardly but makes no move to leave. He begins to fidget with the collar of his shirt. Katniss wonders if he wants the same thing she does but, like her, doesn't know how to ask.
Suddenly, an idea comes to her. If nothing else, it might prolong the evening.
"I want to show you something, Peeta," she says abruptly.
Without waiting for a response, Katniss takes him by the hand and brings him to her bedroom. She crosses over and flicks on the small bedside lamp.
She points above her bed to the painting that hangs there that depicts a very young Katniss, smiling with her adoring Papa.
Peeta stares at it, mesmerized, his jaw hanging slightly open.
"I didn't think you got to see it last night," Katniss explains. "It was dark. And this morning, when we woke up, it was dark too."
"You hung it over your bed?" he asks her, incredulous, still staring at it.
She nods. "I did." She smiles at him. "I love it, Peeta. It reminds me of Papa… and of the happy times I spent with him as a little girl." She turns Peeta's chin with her finger so that he's facing her. "I never got a chance to properly thank you for it."
She leans in and kisses him, once, briefly, on the lips.
"Thank you, Peeta," she tells him quietly. He just looks at her, saying nothing, his eyes trained on hers.
Katniss swallows and braces herself for what comes next. "But that isn't the only reason I hung it here." She takes his hands in hers. "Or maybe even the most important reason. When I look at this painting, it doesn't just remind me of Papa. It reminds me of you, too."
She pauses briefly. Tries to steady her nerves.
"And while we were apart," she continues, "I wanted you to be the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning, and the last thing I thought about when—"
Her words are abruptly cut off as Peeta crushes his lips against hers.
This kiss is not tentative like the kisses they shared earlier today and in the classroom last fall. This is urgent and needy, fueled both by the anguish they suffered during their year apart and their joy in finally being reunited.
Katniss winds her arms around him instinctively, drawing him as close to her as she can. He places shaking hands on either side of her waist; his palms are very warm, and Katniss can feel them burn through the fabric of her dress.
And then Peeta's tongue parts her lips roughly, and she whimpers into his mouth, tightening her hold on him even more. The stubble on his chin is a new sensation, and it rasps deliciously against her own chin as his lips move against hers, making her shiver.
Katniss cannot believe she lived without this – without Peeta – for so long. He is like water. Like air. As he deepens the kiss she vows to herself, once more, to never again go without him. She knows she would not survive a second attempt.
Peeta eventually starts to back her slowly towards her bed. She moves her hands to his curls as they walk backwards together, still kissing, running her fingers through his hair as he squeezes her waist. When the backs of her knees hit the edge of her mattress she stumbles a little before lying down across her bed.
Peeta remains standing as he gazes down on her. He has an intense look in his eyes she has never seen before. It makes her heart race. A very small voice in Katniss' head tells her that this is all too much, that she should stop him now before anything else happens.
But she doesn't want to stop him.
"Peeta…" she says instead, reaching up to him, imploring him wordlessly to join her on the bed.
She doesn't have to ask him twice.
Peeta positions himself so that his torso rests lightly on top of hers. He places rapid and desperate open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her neck, mumbling her name against her skin. It feels like he is everywhere all at once. She feels like she is on fire.
He kisses his way back up her neck to nibble gently on her earlobe. She shudders a little. "Is this ok?" he breathes into her ear, a little unsteadily.
"Yes…" she whispers.
"Good…" he murmurs. She sighs as he traces the outline of her ear with his tongue. "Because I've been thinking about being with you like this ever since the last time."
He presses little kisses along her collarbone. "I tried not to," he continues, between kisses. "I was so certain it would never happen again, and thinking about it hurt unbearably sometimes. But… but I just couldn't help myself."
She puts her hands on his chest to still his movements, and he looks up at her.
"I thought about it too, Peeta," she assures him. "So many times."
He swallows audibly before he bends to kiss her again.
"I want you to touch me," she blurts out as he kisses her, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. The words are out of her mouth before she can even think about what she's saying. But she realizes, suddenly, that it's the absolute truth. "The way… the way you did that night."
He pauses and looks at her. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice catching on the last word.
Feeling braver than she ever has before, Katniss sits up, reaches around to the back of her dress and, by way of answer to his question, tugs the zipper down until the bodice pools around her waist.
Peeta sits up immediately, and his breath catches. His eyes dart down to her breasts, but they don't stay there. They linger instead on her protruding ribcage that stretches her skin so significantly in places that she has started to bruise.
He reaches out and lightly runs his fingers over her ribs, frowning slightly.
This is not the reaction Katniss had hoped for. Suddenly self-conscious, she crosses her arms over herself and reaches for her dress.
Peeta pulls her arms away from her body and kisses her.
"Katniss," he says, quietly. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He kisses first the top of one breast, and then the other. "And nothing will ever change that. But… please. Please promise you'll let me help you." His gaze is fierce, determined. "You don't need to go hungry anymore."
She takes his face in her hands and kisses him with all the love she feels in her heart. "I promise," she says. She cannot do anything else.
And then she reaches behind her back once more, unhooking her brassiere and letting it slide off her shoulders.
"Katniss," Peeta whispers reverently, gazing at her exposed body, the earlier subject of conversation apparently forgotten for the moment. "You are so, so lovely."
He reaches out, then, and covers her small breasts with his warm hands. Katniss can feel the slight tremor that runs through him as her nipples start to pebble up against his palms.
Wordlessly, she pulls him back down onto the bed with her, his hands still cupping her breasts, and she leans forward to kiss him again.
They lie together for what feels like hours. Time no longer has meaning. Peeta gently caresses and strokes and kneads her breasts with his strong hands as she ravishes his mouth with her tongue. Their breathing grows ragged, and he begins to pay specific attention to her sensitive, erect nipples. She cries out as he experiments with rolling one, then the other, between his fingers.
Katniss shifts her leg slightly and Peeta presses back against her, moaning softly as he bends to take one of her breasts into his mouth. She is drowning in sensation, and she can feel all of him now, fully erect against her thigh.
It fills her with a thrilling desire to touch him there.
He begins to thrust himself against her a little and it gives her the extra bravery she needs to ask.
"Peeta…" she begins.
"Hmm?" he murmurs, just before he bites down experimentally on her nipple, causing her to cry out once more.
When she regains her ability to speak, she tells him. "I want… I want to touch you."
Peeta pulls away from her at her words and looks in her eyes. To her immense relief, he doesn't ask her if she's sure. Maybe he wants this badly enough to take what she's offering without question.
Katniss pushes lightly on his chest and, following her lead, he rolls onto his back. Without breaking eye contact with her, Peeta unfastens the front of his pants and lowers them just enough for his erection to spring free.
Katniss' eyes grow wide as saucers when she sees him.
She isn't certain what she'd been expecting. In truth, she had never before given much thought to what men looked like down there. But whatever she had expected, she certainly didn't expect it to look so… strange.
"Katniss?" Peeta asks, his voice a little panicked. She looks up at his face, and his brow is furrowed in concern.
Without another word, she reaches out and wraps her hand around him. Instantly, the worried look vanishes as he closes his eyes and lets out a quiet moan.
She really doesn't know what she's doing. It doesn't seem to matter, though. She experimentally runs her hand up and down his length, and that is enough for him to lose complete control of himself. Peeta whimpers and moans her name and bits of nonsense as she strokes him. He reaches out to cup her breast again, but his movements are uncoordinated and distracted. He squeezes her at erratic intervals until his hand eventually drops away.
Within minutes, Peeta starts to grow thicker in her hand. Instinctively she grips him a little harder, making him groan deeply, and she moves her hand more rapidly. Suddenly, he squeezes his eyes tightly shut and his body goes completely rigid. She stares at his face, fascinated.
A low gurgling noise emanates from deep in his throat, and then a jet of milky white fluid shoots out of him and lands on his stomach.
After lying in a daze for a long moment, Peeta sits up and takes off his shirt, which he uses to clean himself. He tosses it to the floor and leans over to kiss her again.
"That was amazing, Katniss," he murmurs to her, still a little breathless. "Thank you."
She kisses him back. "I liked doing it, Peeta."
"Can... can I do that for you?" The pleading tone in his voice surprises her a little. "I… I really want to make you feel like that, too."
There is only one answer she can give him.
Before she can even register it happening, the rest of Katniss' clothes are pulled off and tossed onto the floor, and Peeta is sitting between her legs, looking down at her nude body as though he has never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He doesn't know what to do, and he is suddenly very nervous about doing this wrong. But Katniss guides his hand as they explore her body together, and she tries to reassure him by telling him, over and over again, how much she loves him.
Together they discover that touching the small bundle of nerves right at the junction of her thighs gives her the most pleasure, and after a period of experimentation Peeta eventually finds a rhythm that has her bucking up against his hand and whimpering his name. Katniss can see him, out of half-lidded eyes, watching her, mesmerized, his jaw slightly open, as her pleasure begins to crest and she starts to writhe helplessly beneath him.
Just when she feels like cannot take any more, like she is about to break apart into a million pieces, Peeta leans forward to take her breast into his mouth. And she cries out and clings to his wrist for dear life, her whole body suddenly suffused in a pleasure that overtakes all of her senses.
After, Peeta pulls his hand away and lies down beside her on the bed. He gathers her up into his arms as she falls back down to earth and tries to catch her breath.
"I love you so much, Katniss," he murmurs into her ear.
Katniss knows there is more they have yet left to try – she can feel him pressing against her again, as hard and full as he was before, maybe even more so. But in spite of that, he doesn't seem to be in a rush to do any of those other things right now.
And neither is she.
After all, they have all the time in the world.