Tremble

by Blueberrychills94

Whirlwind of passion. That's the only way he could put it. His virgin lips were dirtied by the filth of another's touch. His skin, once pale, grew pink upon the contact of a reprimanding hand. His legs, which used to quake in fear in Cato's presence now spread so easily at his command. He was owned, wholly and completely, and he did not mind one bit. Modern Day. BDSM.

10. Chapter 10

A/N: Whoa. Chapter Ten already . . . . Time really is whizzing by ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Warnings: The usual things. And a little escapade in boosting self-esteem and ice cubes. Not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Ten

Peeta was awake at six o'clock in the morning. Cato could hear him get up and head down the stairs. Why was he awake at such an early hour? Surely his mother wasn't awake, she'd surely want to keep hold of whatever rest she could? Cato guessed that the guest room in Maria's home was directly above the kitchen as he could hear Peeta moving around, the faint hum of the kettle boiling as his background music.

Maria's house was old. The hollow walls and the creaky floorboards reminded him of his Orphanage days. That place had also been old, erected in eighteen something. Cato could still remember what it was like to lie in bed and listen to the carers' footsteps as they passed the boys' dorms on their way to bed. It wasn't a horrible place to grow up but it wasn't entirely grandiose either. It was a radical change, even for one night. Cato was used to the comfort of his own home, it had been years since he had slept anywhere else. He wasn't completely sure why he didn't just head home like he had planned.

Peeta had asked him to stay.

So he stayed.

Cato slipped out of bed and opened the door just in time to catch Peeta appearing at the top of the stairs. He was holding a plate with some toast and a cup of tea. Perched on top of the cup in such a way that it didn't slip, was a box of tablets. "Sorry," he whispered, "did I wake you?"

"No, no, it's alright," Cato responded. He glanced at Maria's door. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, she just doesn't sleep too well. This is the time we wake up every morning," Peeta explained. He noticed for the first time that Cato had taken his shirt off to sleep and hadn't put it back on yet. He blushed and averted his gaze to the floor. "I better, ah, give her her breakfast."

Cato nodded. "Of course." He couldn't contain his smile at how Peeta's face had flushed bright pink. When was this boy going to stop being so vitreous?

On a normal day, Cato wouldn't even be nearly ready to wake up, so he returned to the guest room and climbed back into bed. God, Peeta must be a superhero to be able to get up so early five days a week. Cato made a mental note to allow Peeta an extra-long lie in on Saturday. Couldn't let those pretty blue eyes get weighed down by sleep. Besides, he deserved it.

He wasn't sure how long he slept for but the next thing he knew, he was being woken by the door creaking open. The winter caused it to still be dark out, so it couldn't be that much later. "Cato?" Peeta whispered.

"Hmm?" Cato hummed, sleep threatening to consume him before he found out what Peeta wanted.

"Can I come in?"

"Mmm-hmm."

The guest room was small but was enough to house more than one person. Cato scooted back on the bed and lifted the covers, allowing Peeta to climb in beside him. His skin was cold and Cato habitually enfolded him into his arms to warm him up. Peeta gladly accepted the embrace and laid his head on Cato's chest peacefully.

"Maria okay?" Cato mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah," Peeta whispered. "She fell asleep after taking her warfarin. It usually gives her a headache." He was shaking a little, probably from the cold. Cato had noticed that the house seemed to be very benumbed. Feeling like a bear trying to protect its baby, Cato drew Peeta even closer and drowsily rubbed his arms and back to create heat faster.

"Why is it so cold?" he asked.

"I center the heat to Máthair's room," Peeta explained. "The rest of the house doesn't really need it."

"You're trembling," Cato mumbled.

"It's fine," Peeta replied. He snuggled closer to Cato and closed his eyes. "This is nice," he sighed. Cato had to admit, it was soothing to have Peeta curled up in his arms like this. Not even in a sexual sense. He couldn't even think about considering Peeta in a sexual way right now. Not in his mother's home. He knew that Peeta cared for his mother but he hadn't realized to what extent until now.

He fell back asleep easily, his beautiful submissive cradled in his arms, where Cato knew he could keep him safe.

What felt like moments later but had really in truth been a few hours later, Peeta unintentionally woke Cato up by crawling out of the bed again. "Damn, damn, damn," he was quietly muttering. Cato hadn't a chance to ask what was up as Peeta was already out the door. When he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, it read twelve noon. Had they really been asleep that long? Lucky he didn't have to come into work until four on Mondays.

Cato clamored out of the bed again, this time hopefully with the intention of staying up, and made his way out into the hall. Peeta was downstairs once again, the kettle humming once more. Cato picked his shirt off the floor of the spare room and pulled it on. He went downstairs as quietly as he could and found Peeta slumped in a kitchen chair, dozing off. The kettle was indeed boiling and a toaster sat out. As he stepped further into the room, Cato spotted a metal saucepan placed on top of the hob, a lonesome egg submerged in water inside.

"Hey," Cato poked Peeta's back and immediately the younger boy jumped awake again. Trying to make it look like he hadn't been sleeping, he slapped the kitchen rag he had clutched in his fist onto the tabletop and started scrubbing. "Go back to bed, I can sort this out for her if you want."

"You don't have to," Peeta replied. He stood up and flipped a few switches on the hob. "I do this on a daily basis. It's fine."

"Is there a routine to it? Like, is there specific times you have to do this at?" asked Cato, making himself useful by folding up the kitchen rag Peeta left behind on the table.

"I base her meals around her warfarin routine," Peeta explained. He turned away from Cato and tried to discreetly rub his eye to rub away the sleep. "Which is breakfast, lunch, afternoon and evening."

"Afternoon?"

"Around four o'clock she gets a yoghurt and a banana," Peeta elaborated. He opened the fridge and paused. "Friday was . . . strawberry. No, wait, was it peach? Urgh, I'll figure it out later."

Cato reached over Peeta's shoulder and plucked the bottle of milk out for him. "Does it matter?"

Peeta shook his head. "No, it doesn't," he sighed. He took the bottle gratefully and poured some into a mug for his mother. "I'm just being a tad OCD about it." Cato smiled at that. In Peeta's eyes, anything less than perfect for his mother wasn't acceptable. Cato's eyes followed Peeta as he crossed the room and put the bottle down. Peeta propped his hands against the counter and looked at the floor.

Cato touched Peeta's shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

"Of course," Peeta answered. "I'm just a little tired. Máthair didn't sleep too well so I didn't either. I'm fine, just lacking some sleep. I'm fine, really. I'm fine."

"Do you think you've said fine enough?" Cato joked.

Peeta chewed his lip and smiled. "I am fine," he grinned.

Cato wrapped his hand around Peeta's upper arm and pulled him away from the counter. "Come on, step aside, I'll deal with this," he said.

"I can do it," Peeta insisted.

"Peeta, move aside," said Cato. Peeta reluctantly let Cato tug him away. "Sit down, I've got this."

Peeta didn't. He hung over Cato's shoulder like the grim reaper, making sure he did everything right. He would point stuff out like, "Not too much milk," and, "the egg has to be runny." Cato understood that this obviously meant a lot to Peeta and didn't go into Master mode to tell him to sit down. Everything had to be just right for Maria. Okay, and he was also a little afraid of messing it up so Peeta's advice was actually welcome.

Maria appreciated the effort and gratefully accepted the lunch. By the way she glanced at Peeta and sighed, Cato guessed that she would have eaten whatever he had brought up. It was almost like Peeta knew this and that's why he didn't meet his mother's eyes when she sighed at him. He instead busied himself by tidying the art stuff away from the desk in the corner.

Maria gestured Cato over. He hesitantly went over and sat on the seat by her side. "He work too hard," she whispered to him.

"I can see that," Cato replied. "Something tells me you've tried to convince him to slow down a little but he's not . . . all that co-operative."

Maria smiled. "He stubborn."

Boy, did he know it.

"You help him?" Maria asked.

Cato glanced at Peeta, who was oblivious to their conversation. "I'm in the process of it."

Maria nodded. "Tá tú buachaill maith," she said.

Cato didn't know what that meant, but something told him that whatever it was, he had somehow gained the approval of Mrs. Mellark. Approval was something he had never sought out before, and it was something he had never thought he would want. But now that he got it, it actually felt good.

Which wasn't good.

Not good at all.

~T~

"So, what are the plans for tonight?"

Cato hummed thoughtfully, playing with Peeta's golden curls. He already knew what the plan for tonight was, but he sometimes liked to make it seem like he came up with it on the spot. Like he hadn't spent hours trying to conjure up the perfect scene for that night. However, tonight was going to be extremely important. If it went right anyway. "There's something I have in mind," he said. His hand slid down Peeta's arm and mindlessly played with the younger boy's fingers.

"Really?" asked Peeta. He watched Cato playing with his fingers thoughtfully, trying to figure out what he was going to be put through tonight.

The night had been quite laid back so far. Cato made a pasta bake and they had been sitting on the couch watching rubbish television for a couple of hours now. Cato wanted Peeta to be as relaxed as possible, because he knew for a fact what he had planned wasn't going to go down well with the younger blond. He wasn't going to like it at all. It wasn't a guess or a question, Peeta wasn't going to like it. It was a fact.

Cato kissed Peeta's head and mumbled into his hair, "Want to go to my room?"

Peeta smiled. "Alright."

Cato guided Peeta to the room, kind of amused by how oblivious he still was. He obviously thought it was going to be another round of rough sex, maybe with sex toys and bondage. No. What Cato wanted to do today was more of an understanding exercise than anything else. He wanted to get to the bottom of why Peeta said warmth when asked to simply admit he was beautiful. Cato wanted Peeta to understand what he saw.

Cato shut the bedroom door and stopped in front of his wardrobe. He pulled Peeta to a stop too, who had been continuing to the end where he had expected Cato to open it. Peeta was confused but Cato ignored him, turning him around so he was facing the huge mirror that took up the entire wardrobe door.

"What's up?" Peeta frowned. He wasn't even looking at himself now, his eyes were on Cato's reflection instead of his own.

"Tell me what you see," said Cato.

"Uh . . . you?" Peeta answered.

Cato rolled his eyes. "Not me," he said. "What else?"

"Me?" Peeta said hesitantly.

"Elaborate more," Cato insisted.

"What? How . . . ?" Peeta reluctantly looked at himself with an almost bored expression. "Okay, I see a sickly kid who's way out of his depth? Is that what you mean?"

Cato clenched his jaw and looped his arms around Peeta's torso so he could start undoing the buttons of his shirt. Peeta wanted to move and made this clear by trying to step out of the way. Cato held Peeta tighter, a clear sign to stay put. The buttons easily slid out of their holes and Cato pulled it off, revealing the smooth, hard planes of his sub's gorgeous chest and stomach. Peeta drew into himself, pulling his arms up to cover up.

"Arms down now or I'll cuff them behind your back," Cato said. Peeta looked at his feet and didn't listen. "I'm being serious, Peeta."

Peeta tsked and lowered his arms into his sides. "This is stupid," he muttered.

"Keep telling me what you see," Cato said, ignoring the previous comment.

"A half-naked sickly kid who's way out of his depth?" Peeta guessed. He sucked in nervously as Cato smoothed his palm up and down his hairless stomach, his heart frantically beating inside his chest.

"You're very bad at this," Cato commented. He skimmed his lips along the slope of Peeta's shoulder, pleased by the way it made the smaller boy shudder. "Surely as an artist you're supposed to be observant? Able to recognize amazing works of art and all that?"

"Sure," Peeta replied. "For paintings." Cato sighed. God, so stubborn. He flicked the button out of Peeta's jeans and slid the zipper down. "Come on, don't do this."

"Do you want to be gagged too?" asked Cato.

Peeta rolled his eyes and but shut his mouth. When Cato hooked his thumb into the waistband of his jeans and underwear, teasingly pulling it down over his hip and stopping to admire his reflection, Peeta looked off to the side in mini protest. Cato predicted this, however, and grabbed his sub's chin, turning it back in the direction of the mirror and forcing him to look at himself.

"What is it you don't like about yourself?" he asked.

"I don't know. Just everything," Peeta sheepishly answered.

Cato pushed Peeta's jeans down the rest of the way and ordered him to step out of them. "That's not an acceptable answer. Tell me. What is it you don't like?" he persisted in asking.

Peeta shook his head.

Cato sighed and opened the wardrobe. "Go on." Peeta, thinking it was all over, exhaled in relief and climbed inside to reach the playroom at the back. He slipped through the door which was already open in waiting. Cato followed close after him.

It took Peeta a moment to realize what was different. He knew something was different, he just didn't know what. But when he looked up to the ceiling and realized what it was, his heart dropped into his stomach. "Oh no. No, no, no. No fucking way." He spun on his heel and immediately bumped into Cato.

"I told you there was a mirror up there," Cato said smugly.

"You can't make me," Peeta said indignantly, folding his arms like a petulant child. "I'll say warmth."

"I'd like to think you wouldn't, since you haven't even tried it yet."

"It's one of my limits!" Peeta announced.

Cato laughed. "You're new to this, you don't know what your limits are yet," he chuckled. "You haven't even tried it." He took Peeta's hand and had to practically drag him over to the bed. Peeta dug his heels in and protested the entire time. "Will you stop being so difficult?"

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to!" said Peeta. "And I don't want to do this. I'll close my eyes the entire time. What are you going to do about that? Glue my eyes open like in the Clockwork Orange?!"

Cato rolled his eyes at how dramatic Peeta was being. "Look up, Peeta," he said.

Peeta stared at him long and hard. "No," he eventually said.

"Look up."

"No."

"Do as I say."

"No!"

Cato pulled Peeta towards him and forced his head up so he was staring at the mirrored ceiling. "There's nothing wrong with you. The sooner you see that, the easier this will be. You act like you're ugly, or deformed in some way. I can't understand it. You are beautiful. Inside and out. It's about time you have some confidence in yourself."

Peeta slapped Cato's hands and stepped back when he let go. "I'll do whatever you want to do here but you can't stop me from closing my eyes."

Cato rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked into Peeta's eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. Fed up, he dragged the younger boy towards him by his shoulders and smashed their lips together. He took immediate control, forcing Peeta to open his mouth so he could explore deeper. Peeta's mouth was so warm and moist, his tongue shy but playful. Cato fisted Peeta's hair in his hand, holding the boy's head in place while their tongues twisted and teased each other. Peeta's hands were cupping Cato's face and it took him to actually feel the soft slope of the younger boy's arm to actually realize this. It had just felt so natural.

"Bed. Now," Cato growled against Peeta's lips before letting the younger boy go.

"How do you want me, sir?" Peeta panted, wiping the saliva from his swollen lips with the back of his hand.

Cato wrapped an arm around his sub's slim waist, tugging his body up against his own. "I want you on your back," he purred into Peeta's ear. He nipped his lobe and hooked a thumb into the boy's underwear. "Naked." He teasingly pulled the underwear down one side over the delectable curve of Peeta's plump ass cheek. "And spread eagle before me." He punctuated the order by slapping the exposed butt cheek and roughly squeezing it. Peeta shuddered and bit his lip coyly. Damn him for being so damn sexy. "Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Peeta said breathlessly.

"Get to it then." Cato walked away from Peeta and went to his chest of drawers. He pulled open the third one down and retrieved some restraints from it. When he turned back around, Peeta had done exactly what he was told, like the obedient little submissive he was.

Except one hitch.

He'd closed his eyes.

"I'm very disappointed in you," Cato said. He took one of Peeta's small wrists and strapped it to the headboard of the bed, repeating the same thing with the other one on the other side. Peeta's breathing sped up and he squeezed his eyes tighter. "I wanted you to keep your eyes open but you're purposely being disobedient."

Cato wrapped his fingers around his sub's ankle and tugged roughly so that it was closer to the bottom board at the end of the bed. Peeta yelped in surprise when his whole body jerked down with the action, so he was now lying directly parallel to the mirror. Cato proceeded to strap both ankles on either end of the bottom board so that Peeta's legs were spread wide for him.

Cato tried not to linger too much on the sight before him as he was supposed to be angry. Peeta was disobeying him, he had to do something about it.

"And you know what happens to naughty boys who are disobedient, don't you?" he demanded with authority.

"They're . . . they're punished?" Peeta whispered. "Sir?"

"Correct."

Cato left the room.

He made a show out of shutting the door, so Peeta was aware that he'd left him. He pushed out of the wardrobe and headed downstairs to his kitchen. What Cato hoped this would accomplish was that Peeta would have time to think over how stubborn and ridiculous he was being or, if that failed, get fed up and open his eyes. Either way, before the night was up, Peeta was going to look at himself in the damn mirror while in pleasure. He had to see what Cato saw. He had to understand it.

Cato opened the freezer and pulled out his ice tray. He hadn't used it in a while, so it was full and ready for use. Excellent.

Cato waited half an hour before returning to Peeta. He was disappointed when he returned to see that Peeta still had his eyes closed. His face was scrunched up though, obviously from the strain of having to do so for so long without feeling tired in the slightest.

"You didn't answer my question from before," said Cato. Peeta jumped in surprise, not having heard his master come back into the room.

"Question, sir?" he asked.

"What is it you don't like about yourself?" While he asked this, Cato popped an ice cube out of its holder.

"I told you, sir. I . . . I don't really know," Peeta insisted.

"Surely you know, since you insist upon your imperfection so adamantly," Cato answered.

"I really don't. Just, er, everything!"

Cato sighed. "Not a valid answer," he replied. With that, he placed an ice cube on Peeta's stomach. Peeta gasped in shock and his stomach muscles jumped, trying to get the cold off his skin immediately. "Try again."

"What do you mean not a valid answer?! An answer's an answer!" Peeta exclaimed.

"Not this time." Cato placed a second ice cube beside the first. Peeta groaned and he shuddered, not liking the feeling at all. "I want details."

"Fine! I'm too damn pale! I look like I've always got the damn measles!" shouted Peeta. Cato smirked and popped out a third ice cube. When he placed it on his lover's torso, Peeta yelled, "What do you want from me that was detailed!"

Cato watched with avid interest at how the first cube was already melting on Peeta's hot body. "I'm going to keep putting ice cubes on your body until you give me a characteristic that I deem a valid answer," he explained. "You do not look like you have the measles, by the way. Your complexion is a gift, one that not everyone can pull off. You should bask in your gorgeous pale skin, not condemn it."

Peeta groaned. "Oh God, I'm never getting freed," he said.

"Don't over exaggerate; you don't know. Come on, tell me something else." Cato was already pushing the fourth ice cube out. He had a hunch that he was going to be needing it.

"I don't know, sir. Uh . . . I'm short." Peeta grinned. He obviously believed he was right on that one. When the fourth cube joined its melting friends, he practically screamed in frustration. "What now?! You like being with dwarves?!"

"I love your height. You're just the perfect size to be swept off your feet," Cato teased.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Peeta muttered. Cato dropped a fifth on. Peeta gasped and jumped in shock. "I didn't say anything yet!"

"Stop swearing," Cato said firmly. God, he really wanted to ravish Peeta right now. The cubes were melting, forming sizzling puddles on the younger boy's abdomen. Goose pimples had broken out across his skin and sweat was beading on his forehead. He kept licking his lips too. The way his cute pink tongue peaked out from between his lips and smoothed over the plump curve of the bottom before accenting the top . . . Damn tease.

"My eyes are too close together!"

"No, they're not." Sixth.

"I really need a haircut but I hate hairdressers and am too lazy to do it!"

"I like hair I can tug on." Seventh.

"I don't have a six pack like you! Well, I say like you, more like an eight pack like you."

A chuckle. "Your body is perfect just the way it is." Eighth.

"Knobby knees!"

"Which tremble oh so beautifully when you're nervous." Ninth.

"My thighs are too fleshy!"

"Thighs are supposed to have a bit of flesh on them, what am I supposed to dig my fingernails into when I'm pounding your ass?" Tenth and eleventh. Placed on both thighs just to make a point.

"My penis is too small!"

Cato paused. "Now who the hell told you that?" he demanded.

"No one, I just know," Peeta responded.

"Invalid." Twelve.

"Jesus sir, stop please!"

Cato grinned. "I haven't gotten one decent answer from you yet," he pointed out. He poked his finger into a dent in one of the melting cubes, dragging it up Peeta's chest and using it to encircle one of his nipples in a cold, wet trail. Peeta groaned, the straps clattering against the metal headboard as he tugged hard in a desperate attempt to be freed. Cato made sure to not allow the cold to touch the nipple itself, but to tease the pink bud into hardening on its own.

"I'm trying, sir!" Peeta keened desperately.

"I know you are, but you're just not getting it," Cato sighed.

Peeta squirmed restlessly, sucking in in shock as some of the ice that had melted on his thighs dripped into his entrance. "Getting what, sir?" he asked breathlessly.

"That there is no answer to the question," said Cato. He had noticed where some of the melted ice had went and smirked at how Peeta was failing beautifully at hiding his reaction to it. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"In your opinion, sir," answered Peeta.

Cato raised his eyebrows. "You're saying I'm wrong?"

"No! Of course not."

"So you're admitting that I'm right and you're beautiful?"

"No."

"Well, you better make up your mind," Cato sighed. He allowed the ice to pass over the nipple that was begging to be satisfied. Peeta's eyes fluttered and he moaned in appreciation. "Or, even better, I'll make it up for you."

Cato got onto the bed and sat in the space between Peeta's legs. He had a brilliant angle of his submissive's body from this position. Especially his seeping cock, which was standing to attention just waiting to be stroked. This was a punishment, however, and Peeta had to learn his lesson before he got any form of reward what-so-ever.

"How warm do you think your entrance is right now, my pet?" Cato asked, feigning curiosity. He dragged his pointer finger down along Peeta's ball sac before passing his thumb over his hole, which was coated in some of the melted ice.

"I-I-I wouldn't know," Peeta stammered.

Cato grinned to himself. "Okay then, how long do you think it would take to melt an ice cube?"

"Erm . . . I don't know, sir."

"Well, let's kill two birds with one stone and find out!" Cato declared. He popped the final ice cube out of the tray. He placed a fleeting kiss against his sub's wet hole and ever so carefully pushed the ice cube up inside. Not too far up, but enough for it to be felt.

Peeta's gasp was so loud, anyone outside of the situation would decipher it as a painful one. His body bowed right off the bed, his toes curling into the bed. The straps stopped him bending too far, however his body continued to shudder and jerk in pleasure regardless. Cato took pleasure in simply watching, taking in every inch of his sub's gorgeous writhing body.

"Feel good?" he purred, absentmindedly stroking one of Peeta's shins while he watched him writhe.

"O-O-Oh g-god, yes," Peeta stuttered.

The cube was already melting, the cold seeping out of the smaller blond's hot entrance and soaking the tender skin of the surrounding area. Cato was fascinated by it, his cock twitching in his trousers. He knew what it wanted. It wanted to feel the hot and the cold clenched around it. Peeta didn't deserve sex, though, not while his eyes remained closed. He was being punished. Cato almost felt like he was the one being punished.

Cato shrugged his pants and underwear off, crawling over Peeta's hard, wet body like a predator and kissing his gorgeous lips. Peeta moaned, the straps rattling again as he tried to touch his master. "Want to make your master happy?" asked Cato.

"Always, sir," Peeta replied.

Cato couldn't help the smile that poisoned his face at that. "May I borrow that angelic mouth of yours?" he asked sweetly.

Peeta's eyes fluttered, his head lifting off the bed as his torso bowed again in pleasure. Cato guessed the melted remains of the ice cube was slipping into some particularly pleasurable areas. Peeta nodded. "Of course, sir," he groaned.

As soon as he slipped his cock between Peeta's shapely pink lips, Cato's eyes instinctively shut and his hands pushed into his sub's gorgeous golden locks. The moist caverns caressed the sensitive skin of Cato's dick. Peeta surprised him by actually being focused enough to suck and, once this happened, Cato couldn't control how he behaved. Feeling the satin like skin of the inside of Peeta's mouth rubbing against his manhood was too delectable a feeling that he grew greedy and had to have it faster.

Cato guided Peeta's head so his mouth could match his own uneven thrusts. Peeta let the occasional moan slip, the vibrations sending deep shudders through Cato's being. Cato was impressed by how courageous Peeta was being, as the smaller boy also had a go at using his tongue more, swirling the hot, wet muscle around Cato's cock the way one might lick icing off a cupcake. Then again, Peeta had been making cupcakes ever since he was little . . .

The image of Peeta licking the icing off a cupcake came into Cato's head and it was enough to make him cum in his lover's mouth. Shit. He hadn't had time to pull out.

"Peeta, baby, are you okay?" Cato asked in worry, pulling himself out and touching Peeta's face in concern.

Peeta's adam's apple bobbed a few times before he answered. "Fine," he said breathlessly. He licked his lips unsurely and frowned. "Is there any of it on my face?"

Cato was gob smacked. "Did you just . . . swallow it all?"

"Yeah," Peeta answered. His eyes flew open. "I was supposed to, right?"

"Well, I was supposed to pull out really . . ." Cato explained sheepishly, scratching his head.

"It was okay, really," insisted Peeta.

Cato grinned. He reached out and touched Peeta's eyelid with his thumb. "Can't you just look up now?" he asked.

Peeta pulled a face and lowered his eyes to Cato's middle. "No! Definitely not. I'm sweaty and wet and very probably have cum on my face like a common whore!"

Cato sighed. He shook his head and glanced behind himself at his submissive's swollen cock. He crawled his hand down Peeta's wet stomach, detouring around his aching arousal, and teasingly squeezed one of his supposedly 'fleshly' thighs. "Do you think the cube's melted?" he asked.

"I think so," Peeta answered, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

"Let me check." Cato pushed his pointer finger into Peeta's hole, amused by the way Peeta's hips jerked in response. Peeta bit his lip and winced, his breathing heavy as he felt Cato's finger feel around inside of him. Cato explored Peeta's moist warmth, making sure to spread the cold around as much as he could.

Peeta knees bunched up in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold. He wanted Cato inside him desperately and ground himself down on the older man's finger. His hips jumped in a careless search of friction or relief. He was experiencing conflicting feelings. He was cold; hot; wet; pitifully horny; and desperately wanting release.

"Enjoying yourself?" Cato teased.

"Please fuck me, sir," Peeta begged. "I'll do anything just fuck me; fuck me hard!"

Cato quirked an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything!" Peeta insisted. He choked out a groan as he ground down harder on Cato's appendage, wishing his Master would stop teasing him and just ride him like a merry-go-round like he knew he wanted to.

"I will on one condition."

"Go on then!"

"Open your eyes and look at the mirror."

Rage made Peeta's blood boil and he groaned in frustration. "Damn you, sir!" he snapped angrily.

Cato smirked. "I could just leave you here for a while," he mused. He removed his finger completely so Peeta had nothing to grind himself against. Peeta whimpered and squirmed in dissatisfaction. "See how long it takes for you to completely descend into madness. Ecstasy induced madness, anyhow. It could be quite an interesting experiment . . ."

"You can't sir," Peeta begged. "Just . . . just . . . argh! Fine! I'll open my eyes for five seconds."

Cato considered it. "Not good enough."

"Half a minute!"

Cato sighed. He placed his hands by either side of Peeta head and sat with his knees on either side of his waist. "You will keep your eyes open the entire time and you will look at yourself in the mirror while I fuck you," he said firmly. "If you close your eyes even once, I will pull out and leave you here for the rest of the night."

Peeta's swallowed hard. "I couldn't . . ."

"Yes, you can. And you will be beautiful," Cato replied.

There was a pause. A moment later, Peeta's eyes fluttered open. They trained themselves nervously on Cato's face. "I'm not capable of this," he said, pleading with his master to understand. "I avoid this sort of thing at all time. I just . . . I don't . . . I hate looking at myself!"

Cato slowly leaned forward and captured Peeta's lips with his own. The kiss was annunciated by the soft rattle of the straps on the headboard. "Just give it a chance," Cato murmured against Peeta's mouth, taking a gentle hold of the back of the smaller boy's neck and laying his head back on the bed. "I won't push in until you're ready."

Peeta inhaled deeply and lifted his eyes to the ceiling mirror. Instantly, his breathing picked up in panic. Cato touched his face and shushed him. Peeta's eyebrows scrunched together. "I can't see what you see," he muttered. "I just can't."

Cato rolled his eyes and nestled his head into his sub's neck, so it wasn't in the way. Peeta apprehensively but obediently kept his eyes on the mirror, on himself, about to be fucked. Cato lined himself up with Peeta's entrance and pushed deep into him. "Ohhhhh," Peeta keened, the urge to close his eyes again strong. "Ohhhh, a little harder, please sir!"

"Patience is a virtue my little pet," Cato replied. He thursted into his gorgeous sub, plunging a little harder and a little deeper each time. Peeta moaned and pushed his hips up, his arms aching and cramping up due to his state of bondage. There were occasions when Peeta's eyes closed, but when that happened Cato immediately halted and Peeta had to force himself to open up again.

Cato slid his hands down Peeta's chest, his thumbs meeting at the bottom of the younger boy's abdomen. He pushed up into the younger boy, so hard that Peeta's body pushed upwards with the movement. Peeta threw his head back into the pillow, his body creating a perfect arch as he bowed upwards into Cato. Cato sped up, gripping Peeta's thighs and holding them spreading them even further apart so he had better access to his moist hole.

"I told you my thighs were . . . fleshy . . ." Peeta panted, his chest heaving heavily. "Even when you've strapped my legs . . . apart . . . you h-have to . . . spread 'em."

Cato laughed. "What do you want? A thigh gap? Because that's the only way I would be able to fuck you this deep"-he annunciated his point with an extra hard thrust. Peeta groaned in appreciation-"without spreading your thighs apart myself. And just for the record, thigh gaps don't exist naturally."

The bottom board began to shake as Peeta jerked his ankles in frustration. "I don't expect to have a thigh gap!" he exclaimed. "I'm not a complete moron! Just a bit slimmer than what they are now." His eyes danced around the mirror uncomfortably, so he wasn't forced to linger on his reflection for too long.

"Okay, now you're sounding like white noise," Cato groaned, winding his hand around Peeta's cock and rubbing the full length of it. "It's all just blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."

"Eh, ehargh, ngh," Peeta gasped, sounding as if he were talking gibberish.

"Speaking Irish again, huh?" Cato grunted.

"Nah-uh," Peeta moaned. "J-J-Just a load of c-crap."

"Fair enough." Cato smirked. His hands crawled up from Peeta's thighs and squeezed his ass, spreading his cheeks farther apart as he drove into him for the final stretch.

"Cato," Peeta whimpered, "let me touch you."

Cato paused. The request threw him off. He never let any of his sub's touch him during sex, it was like a personal rule. It shouldn't even be a question. Why was he pausing? Cato shook himself out of it and resumed his previous actions. "Hush up Peeta, that's an order," he muttered, putting all he could into the last few seconds.

"But I just wanted to"-Cato cut off any other response by gripping Peeta's throat (not enough to choke him) and pushing him back into the pillows.

"Stop. It."

Peeta cried out as he came all over himself. Cato's vigor sped up and he pounded harder for his last moments, before filling Peeta's hole with his essence. He leaned over Peeta and blocked his view of himself in the mirror. The younger boy held Cato's gaze. "Cato, I didn't . . . I don't . . . why won't you let me . . . ?"

"Peeta, give it up," said Cato firmly. "If I tell you no, I mean no. Understand?"

Peeta narrowed his eyes, chest heaving and breath heavy. "Fine."

Better not question what Cato said. That had become Peeta's policy anyway.

Cato stood up on shaky legs and fetched a cloth to wipe the mess of melted ice and cum off of Peeta's torso. Peeta watched him carefully, confused by Cato's sternness on the matter of touching him. He didn't push the point further because he knew how defensive Cato could get, but the question lingered in the air between them for a long time after.

Touching led to intimacy, intimacy led to feelings. Cato knew he could not allow himself to develop feelings of any form for Peeta. He was already battling confusing emotions towards the younger boy and, if he became any more intimate than they already were then it could pose uncomfortable questions. He focused himself on the task of cleaning Peeta's skin, even though he could feel his sub's mystifying baby blues burning into his skin. Cato knew what he was thinking. He wasn't going to tell Peeta that he didn't want to have any feelings for him because he feared it would cause Peeta to leave, contract or no contract. And Cato knew that if Peeta left, he would probably never find someone as beautiful and perfect as him ever again.

"Cato, I have to ask a favour," Peeta eventually said.

Cato looked at Peeta in surprise. A favour? Him? "Sure. What is it?" he asked.

Peeta chewed on his lip for a moment, unable to hide the blush that poisoned his cheeks. His strapped hands clenched into fists and he sighed. "When I was a kid, I did an Irish Dancing Class in the local community center not far from where my mother lives. I only did it because my brothers wouldn't, and my mother really wanted us to keep in touch with our heritage since we were learning how to speak English instead of her native language.

"Anyway, long before we met-like six months before or something like that. The beginning of the year anyway-the center announced they were having this feis. A feis is an Irish Dancing contest, by the way. Máthair got so excited about it and I entered, just to keep her happy, you know? But then she got ill. She can't get out of bed . . . So, I was wondering if you'd, erm, you know, come along and record it for her. So she can at least see it."

Cato thought about it. He had never been to something so public with a sub before. It could arouse questions. But this was Peeta. The boy who'd do anything to make his mother happy. "Of course I'll come. When is it?"

The news alone that Cato would come was like a weight off Peeta's shoulders. He seemed so much more relaxed now that he knew that someone would be there to record the dance for his mother. "Next Sunday. Will it be alright if we miss some of our, um, scene time?"

"Don't worry about it, we'll make it up," said Cato.

Peeta nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much it means to me."

Cato laughed. "I think I do," he smiled. He unstrapped Peeta's arms from the bedposts, allowing him to do his ankles himself. Peeta rolled his shoulders, relieved to be freed from the confines of the hellish straps, and stretched his arm above his head. Cato collected the straps up and went to the drawers to put them back.

"There's one more thing," Peeta said while Cato's back was turned.

"Oh?" asked Cato, opening the drawer and dumping the straps in. "What's that?"

"Katniss will be there too."

Cato slammed the drawer shut.

What?

A/N: Thank you everyone for your supportive feedback. Not just on this story but all of them! You're all so kind and amazing! ^_^