When I wake up the next morning and roll over to find Peeta still sleeping next to me, I don't think I've ever felt happier in my life. He's snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling evenly, his hair messy. I shift closer to him, wrapping myself around his body and begin kissing his chest, waking him up.
"Good morning," I tell him when his eyes flutter open and his gaze falls on me. His arms immediately wrap around me and he rolls us over so he's on top.
"Please say it again," he whispers, his eyes deep blue and uncertain.
"Good morning?" I question, but as soon as I finish my sentence, I know what he really wants. I move my hands up his arms, to his shoulders and clasp his beautiful face. "I'm in love with you."
He takes a shuttering breath and his whole body shivers against mine. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that."
And then he's kissing me, his soft lips anxious and loving against mine. I weave my fingers into his hair and hold him against me, never wanting to let go.
"I love you, Katniss," he says, suddenly pulling away. "For whatever reason, you wouldn't let me say it last night, but I do. God, I love you."
Okay, I lied before. This is the happiest I've ever felt in my life.
I feel myself wearing what must look like the most ridiculous smile on my face, but I can't help it. He loves me back. He grins at me; his hand begins to run along the edges of my face, his touch unbelievably gentle, as he leans down to kiss me again.
He kisses me slow, taking his time, his lips discovering mine for what feels like the first time. And it basically is. All of our other kisses have been rushed, in the heat of passion or in consolidation. But not now. His lips tease and tug and lock with mine over and over and over again, and my head feels lighter with each passing second. My best friend was right in front of me for five years, and I never knew that he could kiss me like this and make me feel like this.
Soon he adds his tongue to the mix; and my heart shoots to my throat. What was once sweet and kind, is suddenly frenzied, and causes the junction of my thighs to pulse and ache. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer to me. My hands glide down the toned muscles of his back, and land at the edge of his boxers. Peeta kisses me harder, his lips rough with mine, and my fingers dip into his underwear.
Peeta pulls away, disengages my body from his and rolls over to lie on his back next to me.
"What?" I ask, aching to hold him again.
He shakes his head. "We can't get carried away right now, Katniss. We need to talk and work things out. There are things I need to ask you about and things I need to tell you." He rubs his hands over his face. "Though trust me, there's nothing more I want to do than take you again and again until we both die of dehydration." He turns his face to me and grins, both cocky and amused with himself.
I glare at him half-heartedly and smack his chest with the back of my hand. But honestly, that sounds amazing.
"Okay, let's talk now," I tell him. I need to be with him again. The sooner this is over, the sooner that can happen.
He nods his head and pulls me to him again, my head fitting perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. "I'll make breakfast."
I sit on the counter and watch as Peeta mixes batter for funnel cakes. When he turns around and moves past me to get oil from the cupboard, I snatch his arm and pull him back to me; I kiss him soundly but short and pull away smiling. He smiles back.
"I love that I can do that now," I explain, when his forehead furrows in quizzical amusement.
"I love that you want to do that," he says still smiling, but there's sadness behind the statement. If he's cared about me for so long, I've obviously hurt him more times than I can count without even meaning to. Shit. I've got a lot of making up to do.
He kisses me again before grabbing the oil and moving to the stove. It's comfortable silence as he finishes our breakfast. Then he tops the fried, artery-clogging deliciousness with all of our favorites—applesauce, peanut butter, powdered sugar, sprinkles—and we share it; each of us feeding the other. I know it's corny, but I can't help but get enjoyment out of it. We kiss between bites, some lingering and some short, and I feel weightless—high on Peeta.
That is, until breakfast is over and all the dishes are in the sink. A heavy pall is cast over us. I take a deep breath and make my way to Peeta's room; he follows me. As soon as I enter, I throw myself down on the bed and spread out. Peeta stands at the end and watches me.
"If we're going to talk, I figured we should be comfortable," I tell him. Peeta nods and moves over to his closet. He pulls out two sweatshirts and tosses me the one he doesn't throw over his own shoulders. I quickly pull it on and inhale his scent. It's my favorite hoodie of his, one he got when he was a cook at a children's summer camp a few years back. I don't really know why I like it so much; I mean, it's comfy and all, but for some reason I'm drawn to it and its annoyingly bright yellow print against the black cloth.
Peeta crawls onto the bed and lies down on his side; I mirror his position. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and hold him, but I know it's not the time for that.
"Shoot," I say, waving my hand.
He gives me a soft smile. And then he begins to talk. "I don't blame you, Katniss, I want you to know that," he starts. "You really had no reason to think I had feelings for you all these years. I didn't want to blur the lines with us and risk losing you entirely, so I kept my distance for a long time. You were with Gale, and you were pretty happy with him, and I would never in a million years try to ruin that—even though it crushed me to watch him treat you anything less than the most amazing person I've ever known.
And then I met Madge. I fell for her quickly, though it never felt right. But I ignored that. I told myself she was who I wanted and that I would be happy with her. Her cheating was probably the best thing that happened in our entire relationship. I roamed around for hours after I walked in on them, just berating myself for being so ignorant. It was that night that I finally realized it was a mistake—all of it. The relationship, the proposal, the love; it wasn't real. I was trying to force myself into the life I had planned for the longest time."
His eyes fly to mine, and I can tell he notices the unwanted tears forming in my eyes. He continues, "I wanted you, Katniss. I knew I shouldn't because you were my best friend, but I couldn't help it. When something good happened, I told you; when I was upset, I went to you; when I needed help, I asked you. But I pushed my feelings away. Until that night. God, when you said those things to me about the only person who would be good enough for me would be the one I chose, I just couldn't take it. I wanted to choose you."
He runs his hands through his hair and I can see the anger begin to build in his sapphire eyes. "And then I fucked it up by forgetting. After you fell asleep that night, I watched you, just thinking about everything I was going to do the next day to show you that it's always been you for me. But I forgot! I'll never forgive myself—especially now that I know that it made you realize you loved me too." I reach my hand out and weave my fingers with his, trying to calm him. He takes a steadying breath. "These weeks since have been hellish. You let me touch you more, which I loved more than anything, but it was never enough and just reminded me that I was never going to fully be with you. I had you for one night, and then I let it all slip through my fingers."
His gaze focuses on me again and he closes the space between us to kiss my forehead. "I love you," he tells me. "And I'm never going to let you out of my hands again." He says it simply, like he's telling me what he ate for lunch the previous day, but there's a deep promise that make me quiver and my heart swell. He pulls back and smiles; I return it. "Do you have any questions for me?"
I open my mouth to tell him no, relishing in the words he's just spoken, but some things suddenly nag at me. "W-why did you ask me not to sleep with Finnick last night, after everything I told you? And what the hell were you doing during the time I told you and the time you got to the bar?"
His eyes dance as a smile creeps up his face. "I was planning a speech to tell you basically what I just told you, except with more declarations of eternal love and happiness. It took me a while to wave off the shock of what you told me, too." A small chuckle escapes him. "But all that preparation flew out the window when I saw you with Finnick. Something just snapped."
The smile instantly vanishes from his face and the room fills with discomfort. "I've watched you date and flirt with all of these worthless guys since I've known you, and there you were, hours after telling me that you loved me, out with another one. Rationally, I knew you weren't planning on sleeping with him, but I just couldn't stand the thought of you choosing another one of those guys who treat you like shit instead of someone like me—someone that wouldn't stop until you were nothing but completely satisfied and unbelievably happy."
"Finnick isn't like that," I point out, slightly defensive. The guys I choose aren't that bad, right?
Peeta shrugs. "I'm sure he's fine, but I didn't want you to touch him. I didn't want you to be with anyone but me, and I kind of freaked."
I nod my head in understanding. If I had seen Peeta with a girl right after he told me that he loved me, I would have clawed the bitch's eyes out.
"Any more questions?" he asks, his hand playing with the end of my braid.
I nod again. "When did you realize you had more than a crush on me? When you actually had legitimate feelings?"
A smile lights up his face, and he leans forward; his hot breath skims my ear and causes me to shiver as he whispers, "Victor's Village Music Festival."
Peeta. Is. Getting. WASTED.
I watch him do another shot and shoot his hands in the air as the crowd around him cheers; his golden hair is plastered to his forehead from the drizzle and his eyes are glittering in the light of the bonfire. That's his tenth in a row. I'm not sure when or why the crowd started to cheer him on—I think it was before the second keg stand. But Peeta seems to have that effect on people; he's so damn charismatic and draws them in.
Several people clap him on the back as he makes his way through them and over to where I sit on a discarded keg that was drained hours ago.
"Impressive," I tell him with a smile on my lips, nodding at him. He grins at me, his eyes glazed over.
This is our first official trip as friends. We've gotten closer and closer this past year, to the point where I can't imagine not having him around. I spend so much time at his apartment, half the time I find myself driving there on my way home from work instead of my own place.
Victor's Village Musical Festival is held in this old field a few hours from us, and is known for its line-up. The bands that come to this seemingly unimportant festival kick ass every year, and I was so freaking blown away when Peeta got tickets for us a couple months back. I'm pretty sure I almost kissed him on the mouth out of pure joy and surprise.
"Well, you don't know this about me, sweetheart, but I have some very remarkable talents," he says. And if I didn't know him any better, I would think he was flirting.
"Oh, I bet." God, this is amusing. I've been nursing the same beer for hours, and he is just hammered. Out of the two of us, I never figured I would be the responsible one, but Peeta needed this. He is always so put together—he needs to get a little crazy and drunk every once in a while.
"I would blow your mind, Katniss," he says, raising his eyebrows seductively and swaying on his feet. "Just say the word."
I bark out a laugh, sliding off my seat. "Okay, I think it's time for bed." I take a few steps toward him and reach for his wrist to check the time: 2:34 a.m. Yeah, definitely bedtime. "Let's head back to the tent." I wrap my arm around his waist and begin to pull him back to the camp we set up hours ago, right when the sun was setting.
Luckily, this impromptu bonfire at the campsite where we are staying, a few miles from the festival, isn't too far away from our tent, so I don't have to drag Peeta's drunk and surprisingly muscled ass too far.
When our slightly weathered tent, damp from the rain, comes into view, I whisper to Peeta, "Hold onto me so I can unzip our tent without you falling over." The arm he has around my shoulders tightens and his other one slowly slides across my stomach, accidently lifting my shirt up so his soft hand rests on my bare skin; shivers take over my body. He squeezes me as his head falls to rest on my shoulder.
My hands move to the zipper and I begin to slide it down the curve of the tent when Peeta's voice interrupts me. "You smell so good in the rain," he whispers, his lips grazing my ear.
"Well, you smell like a wet dog," I lie, tearing the zipper the rest of the way and throwing the fabric aside. Truth is he smells so delicious it makes my thighs clench—but I don't want to think about Peeta that way. He's my friend. Peeta chuckles, his chest rumbling against my side.
The two of us duck inside and I let Peeta flop down on his twin-sized air mattress. I re-zip our tent before I kneel down next to Peeta and take off his shoes.
He mumbles to himself incoherently as he runs his hands across his face and into his beautifully disheveled locks. The rain continues its pitter-patter as I pull off his socks, and then move to remove his jeans. As soon as I pop the button open, Peeta's eyes zero in on me. I tilt my head to the side, examining his expression; his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them, his mouth slightly open as his tongue runs back and forth across his upper lip slowly, and his eyebrows are furrowed. I look away, heat rising to my face as I realize how intimate this is.
"I'm not trying to cop a feel, I swear," I joke as I lower his zipper, hoping to release the tension that is suffocating. Peeta barks out a laugh and sinks further into the bed, his expression now an amused one.
I tug at his belt loops and ask him to raise his hips so I can remove his pants entirely; I chuck them in the corner, next to his bag. "Okay, lazy, get into your sleeping bag," I tell him, averting my eyes from the scrap of navy cloth that covers his junk.
He juts out his bottom lip. "Help me, please. I'm an invalid."
I roll my eyes, but do it anyway, tugging on the fleece until he's inside and zipped in like a caterpillar.
"Now, close your eyes so I can change. And if you peek, I will punch you in the face." I raise my eyebrows, challenging him, but he nods and does what I ask. As quickly as possible, I root through my backpack and change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, tossing my dampened shorts and shirt aside. I dart into my sleeping bag and get myself situated before I turn to him again.
But he's already out, and snoring softly.
I chuckle to myself before turning onto my other side and snuggling my face into my pillow. I still see the brightly burning bonfire through the tent and hear the laughs that echo in the trees that surround us. It was an amazing day. It was only the first day of the three day festival, but I can tell that it is going to be awesome. Peeta and I danced unashamedly, walked from band to band and ate deliciously fattening food. He even let me sit on his shoulders at one point and I screamed as loud as I could as a band played one of my favorite songs of all time. And even though I've never been a fan of crowds, I knew Peeta wasn't going to leave my side, his arms always there to steady me.
Suddenly, those arms were wrapping around me and pulling me off my mattress until I was on his.
"What are you doing?" I ask, starting to move away from him. But his grip just gets tighter.
"I just want to hold you," he whispers, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Please let me."
Unable to think of a single word in the English dictionary, I nod my head, and he takes a deep breath. I listen closely until his breathing becomes steady and even and I know without a doubt that he's asleep again.
A realization rocks me to my core and I try not to jerk against Peeta and wake him up: this is the first time I've ever slept with a man. Literally. I've had sex before, with a guy I met at an archery meet when I was seventeen, but I've never spent the night with a guy in the same bed. The tent is suddenly a hot box, and I feel sweat bead on my neck and upper lip. What do I do when we wake up? What if he gets a hard-on in the middle of the night? What if he tries to make a move?
"Turn around," Peeta mumbles into my ear; I start, not realizing he had woken up again. But I turn anyway. His blue eyes are barely open, his eyelashes casting long shadows onto his cheekbones. He lifts his hand from my waist and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
Before I realize what he's doing, my sleeping bag is unzipped and he's pulling me into his. For some reason, I don't fight it. I just let him.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask as he holds me to his chest, his legs intertwining with mine.
"I'm not sure," he mumbles, pressing his forehead to mine. "I guess I can't hold myself back anymore."
I open my mouth to say more, but he puts his finger to my lips.
The warmth of our two bodies wrapped up in each other pulls me under, too soon for me to fully analyze why my stomach is filled with butterflies.
"Really?" I ask, remembering the warmth of that first night together.
He nods, smiling softly. "Yeah. That first day so amazing, the first time we were out of our element together, and you were just so…beautiful. Inside and out. I always knew you were strong, from the first second I met you, but that was the first time I saw how soft you could be. You took care of me." His eyes get a wicked glint in them. "And it didn't hurt that you were wearing the tiniest jean shorts known to man, and you were grinding against me all day."
I smack his arm. "I was not grinding against you."
He chuckles, "Just a little. But seriously, I don't know why exactly, but that night made me realize I was falling for you."
I move into him again and crash my lips into his, not caring that his is supposed to be chatty time and not get-it-on time. Peeta's hand finds the back of my neck and he holds my face to his, controlling the kiss. This tongue flicks into my mouth, swirling around mine and my heart jumps into my throat as my thighs shake.
Grinning, he pulls away. "I love your reaction to that," he whispers, nudging my nose with his.
I glare at him. "Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not! I swear. I just—," he cuts off, his gaze suddenly lustful. "I just can't wait for your reaction when I do that to another part of your body."
A growl escapes my throat as I move to attack him again, but he pulls away, shaking his head—his face suddenly serious again. Right. I forgot. We're supposed to be talking. "Tease," I tell him, my voice hoarse from arousal or frustration, I don't really know.
He smiles apologetically. "Later."
I let the hot water beat the sexual frustration out of me. We decided to take a break after Peeta's confession, and knowing my usual tendency to run away from touchy feely things, Peeta suggested I take a shower while he bakes some bread. And it was a smart suggestion. I feel the flight instinct seep out of my bones. But I feel nervous tension creep in.
When I get out of this shower, it's going to be my turn. My turn to say all the things I've wanted to say for months. But I…don't want to. My struggles feel meaningless compared to Peeta's. He's loved me for years and I was oblivious, waving my relationships in his face.
Done with putting off the inevitable, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. I quickly towel off and change into clean clothes—except for Peeta's sweatshirt—and make my way into the kitchen to find Peeta.
He's slipping the dough into the oven when I arrive; he turns around to face me, a smile lightening up his beautiful face.
"I don't want to go to work tomorrow," I say suddenly, as dread fills my stomach. This day has been everything I dreamed. I've learned that Peeta loves me just as I love him. And reality….well, it always has a way of ruining beautiful dreams.
Peeta's face darkens and crosses the kitchen to pull me into his arms. "There's nothing to worry about, love. I'm going to be here when you come home."
I nod my head, willing away the worrying. If only that ever actually worked.
Still sensing my tension, he quickly moves us out of the kitchen and back into his orange bedroom. We crawl back onto the bed and Peeta leans over me, nuzzling his face into my neck. "You smell so good after you take a shower," he practically moans. I lift my hand to the back of his neck, threading my fingers into his hair.
We lie in comfortable silence, and soon, the emotional exhaustion from the day starts to catch up; my eyes flutter closed. But Peeta's voice pulls me back to consciousness, "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," I mumble, my eyes still shut.
"Why did you let me…" he trails off.
"Let you what?"
"Come inside you that night?"
My eyes fly open. Really? That's what he wants to ask me. Jesus, personal much? I turn my face to him; and it breaks my heart. His blue eyes are full of wonder and aching sadness. And I don't know why.
"I know it's a weird question, but I have to know. You didn't know you loved me until after we had sex, so why did you let me?" he asks again.
"I…" I start, but words fail me. I don't know why. It was just, it felt right. Everything with Peeta does. "I guess I already knew." I lift my hand again and place it on his stubbly cheek. "Like I said yesterday, I think in the back of my mind I've always loved you. And that night, I just needed you. It was you, Peeta. I wouldn't want that with anyone else."
He brings his face out from my neck and links his lips with mine again; a hunger tears through my body. But again, I know it's not the time right now.
"It's going to be impossible to keep my hands off of you," Peeta whispers when we finally break away.
I smile at him, my entire body throbbing with anticipation.
"But let's just relax for tonight," he says, throwing a blanket over the two of us. "Tomorrow, it can be your turn."
I nod my head, dread filling my stomach.
Shit.
Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed that chapter. The next one will be Katniss story time! Thanks again to all my readers for your support.
AND, apparently, I was nominated for TWO different Everlark Smut Awards, which I didn't even know was a thing! I Don't Want To Forget was nominated for Best Drunken Smut and A Slow Burning Fire was nominated for Best Work In Progress Smut. THANK YOU SO MUCH. You have no idea what it means just to be nominated by one of you guys. So if you are bored, you can vote for me at their Tumblr! There are some amazing fics up for nomination and I am so humbled to be mentioned in the same sentence as them, let alone nominated with them.