Intricate Strokes, Delicate Precision

Option B

By: KaKaVegeGurl

Author's Note:

Hey everyone.

Nasty day huh? First Amy Winehouse died, then the insane shootings in Norway. It's crazy sad.

On my side of things, I started playing WoW again. ^_^ That's SOME good news.

Been doing lots of insane werk on my Trilogy, lots of big changes and character development, it's got me totally excited.

I don't want to blather too much tho, otherwise yall get bored.

So, I love you all, and welcome to all the new people, as there are a LOT of you. _ Welcome BACK to all the oldies but goodies! Nice of you lot to stick through this.

You've all been waiting fer Chapter 4 of Option B impatiently. XP And here it is! Continue on, enjoy, and have a nice steaming cup of yaoi!

~KaKaVegeGurl (A)

Side Notes:

Too alike, yet far apart.

What felt so good, once, is breaking me,

And tearing us apart again.

Don`t you see?

We`re in this together.

You and me,

One-on-one forever.

I know it`s self-inflicted.

We`re way too desperate,

Way too addicted.

But I can`t help the way I feel.

I know it`s time to be strong,

Now when all hope is gone.

And in your troubled eyes I see:

Someone who carried me somehow.

Chapter 4 - Inside, Outside

Katniss stands as I pick up the shirt and look at it. But I clearly remember that I ruined it last night.

"Peeta?"

I turn and stare at her beautiful, naked body. Her large belly protruding out in that unusually natural way; healthy and round still.

"What are you doing?" She laughs, stepping to me.

Her mouth isn't busted at all now, there are no signs of wound, or blood, or bruise at all.

I reach out and touch her lips, "I raped you..."

Her eyes widen, "You what?"

"Last night," I try to explain, "I forced you to–"

"Peeta," Katniss smiles nervously, "You didn't rape me."

"I hit you."

"No," she corrects, "You didn't. You've never hit me, Peeta."

"But–"

She puts her hand up to stop me, "You need help, I know. But you didn't rape me, or hit me, at all. You never have. Understand?"

I open my mouth to protest again, but she presses her fingers up against my lips firmly.

"Last night was great," she says, smiling, "You were so gentle, loving. You were amazing, perfect. You always are."

"I don't like what I see."

Katniss steps forward then, pressing her body close, belly touching my navel, "You don't?"

My stomach drops into my gut and I swallow. Our bodies, naked, pressed together... I do.

She grins, "That's what I thought," she says softly, "We'll figure something out."

I reach up, grab her neck and throw her back onto the bed, my heart races, but when I blink... I'm not standing at all. I'm laying over her and she's giggling in my ear.

I pull away to stare at her, she's not shaken or scared; she's not hysterical. But her smile goes away.

"Peeta," she says, "How are you... seeing this?" She asks unsurely.

"Did I hurt you?" I feel myself asking.

She smiles again, "No. Of course not."

"I don't–" I try to word appropriately, "I don't do anything... weird, do I?"

Katniss shakes her head and kisses my neck, "No, it's normal, until you pull away. Nothing seems wrong until that happens."

I blink the tears from my eyes and look down at her, "I need to figure this out."

She nods, though she's confused, she's trying to understand.

I don't want to scare her or chase her away, or get myself into the hospital ward, but this time... I purposely choose to be rough.

I don't warn her when I come back to the bed and pull her into my arms, I act as I think what I saw will. I'm forceful, acting out. Rougher then usual.

And when I expect her to scream, she doesn't. The soft, sweet moan escapes her lips and I pull back to look at her.

But she's not happy or excited at all.

She's surprised, maybe concerned, "Peeta, please–"

I get up, off of her body, and grab my pants from the ground to pull them on.

"Peeta–"

"No!" I shout, raising my hand, "Katniss. No. I-I have to get out of here."

She moves to stop me but I step back.

"I need some space." I pull on my shirt and leave the room.

"You need something?"

I walk past him, into his room, without being invited in.

"Haymitch," I say as I stare around the place, similar to mine and Katniss's before turning to him and sighing in defeat, "Have you ever... Imagined yourself, doing something very terrible to someone you love?"

He turns, closing the door and looking at me, unsure, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not actually doing them," I start to try and explain, "I mean, I don't think I am. I think I'm just seeing it."

Haymitch walks up to me and looks me directly in the eyes, "What, exactly, do you see yourself doing, and to who?"

I move from him, sit on the side of his bed and put my head in my hands, "I don't think I can say it out loud."

Say it out loud? I can hardly think about it at all.

I hear him sigh, hear him walk closer again, and feel him sit down beside me.

"Peeta," he says, as harmlessly as possible, "I won't think of you any different, just tell me what it is."

"You will, I promise you that you will."

"How can you actually know that unless you tell me?"

I pause, tears coming to my eyes in disgust at the thought of hurting her, raping her, punching her and doing things to her that I've never imagined I was capable of, "Because I do. I can't help thinking about it, Haymitch."

He doesn't say anything now as I break down, as I start crying in front of him.

"I can't stop seeing these things I'm doing to her," I manage out, "I want to touch her, I want just... But every time I do... It's like... It's like I'm him, in the arena, but it's me."

Haymitch's hand rests against my back as he tries to calm me down, "Like who?"

"Cato," I pull my face from my hands and stand up, "I can't be intimate at all with her without raping her."

"Ra–" Haymitch stands as well, grabbing my arm and turning me around, "You see yourself? Or Cato?"

"Me," I explain more, "It's like I'm out of control. I hit her, she was bleeding, I choked her, I did all of these horrible things, but when I woke up in the morning, none of that had happened. She was fine. Happy, even."

Haymitch raised a brow nudging his head to the side in a sort of way that says 'ah, of course'.

I'm trying to control my breathing when I continue on, "It's good that I didn't really do it, but I don't... I'm afraid that I might really do it. And she's pregnant. She's my wife. I don't want to see these things, I don't want to do them–"

Haymitch grabs my hands from my face and holds them low near my sides, "Calm down, Peeta. You haven't done anything wrong, alright?"

I nod, swallowing and breathing as calmly as possible.

"You're right," he says, "It's good you haven't done anything. But no one wants to see themselves hurting their wives."

"Sometimes I can't even tell whether I'm doing it or not," I manage out, "I tried to be rough with her on purpose but when I pulled back... she was fine again. I don't understand."

Haymitch sits me on the bed again and clears his throat, "I don't want you to be testing this thing out, Peeta. Not when you barely understand it. It's dangerous, and we don't want to hurt Katniss, or your baby."

I nod in agreement.

"So far, it sounds like, you haven't done anything wrong to her at all," Haymitch says, slowly and factually, "I don't think you need to worry about it changing, unless it's shown you it can."

"But what if it does?"

"It hasn't yet," Haymitch says sternly, "It hasn't yet. That's good. But you need to be careful with this. You really just have to trust yourself. You've always been a good person, Peeta. People always trust you, and with reason. You're a good man, and you would never, ever harm Katniss or your child. She trusts you, I trust you, and a lot of other people do as well. So until you do something completely wrong in reality, I can guarantee you that you're not going to hurt her, no matter how fake or realistic the idea of it is."

"Haymitch–"

"Don't argue with me, Peeta," Haymitch says, standing me back up finally, "There's nothing you would ever do to hurt that girl, I can promise you that. So don't go worrying about it. Alright?"

"Should I continue trying to be inti–"

"I'm perfectly fine not hearing about you two having sex," Haymitch says, stopping me from talking by raising his hand up, "Yes, continue to be loving, whether it looks like it to you or not. Katniss needs it, certainly. And hopefully you're images in your head will start to change back. I don't think it's anything to worry about."

I leave his room, not feeling as hopeless and terrified as before, but he did very little in the ways of comfort. His trust in me seems to be blinding him to what I could possibly do to Katniss.

He doesn't seem bothered by it at all.

When I return to the bedroom, Katniss is in the shower.

I quickly, quietly lock the door, strip down, and join her under the water.

With her back turned to me, I place my hands on her small pale shoulders, making them disappear in my palms.

I press my lips to the back of her neck and kiss the salt from her skin.

Her hand reaches up and rests over my right one, fingers lace together and she turns to stare up at me, "I love you."

I smile, lean down, and take her lips up in mine. Her hair is soaking wet and I cup her neck, jaw and cheek to pull her face close.

Her soft breasts press to the bottom of my pecks and she steps forward, lining our bodies together. I feel her own hands, moving over my waist, nails running around to chase up my spine and settle in on my shoulder blades.

I stare into her innocent, clueless eyes, and my fingers start to clasp tight together around her neck, squeezing until it's uncomfortable for air.

I force her face to the side, teeth grazing over her ear, down her neck.

When I try to stop myself, try to fight the urge to be hard with her, I see that my hands aren't really at her neck. They're at her waist, caressing her round stomach, pulling the bottle of shampoo up to comb through her long brown hair.

She watches me, lovingly, and then horrified as I shove her against the tile, as I push her against it so hard that her shoulder blades might bruise.

Katniss panics, pushing against me again. I can't help getting excited, I can't help wanting more.

As much as I keep telling myself: This is wrong, this isn't right. I don't really want to hurt her. I've never wanted to hurt her... As much as I say it in my mind, I can't feel it ringing true.

I grab up her wrists, take her jaw in my other hand and kiss her forcefully.

To me, I hear the scream coming from her lips as a soft, wordless sigh against my ear. The water dripping down from our bodies making soft pitter-patter on the bottom of the bathtub.

Instead of shoving me away, or crying, she stares, hungrily into my eyes.

I grab her around the waist and pull her against me, I raise one hand to move her hair from her face and trace the tips of my other hand's fingers down her back, clawing tight against the skin, nails biting into her flesh as I run them over her curves and around to the front.

She breathes in sharp, but when I look down to see her face, I find myself looking up and instead of standing still in front of her, I'm kneeled at her waist. My fingers are inside of her, and the wound I've caused on her side isn't there.

"Peeta."

She breathes out, but I don't want to hear the excitement in her voice. I want her to scream again, I want her afraid again. Otherwise, she'll know that something's wrong when she sees that I've become completely turned off.

I stand, lift her against the tiled wall harshly, and grab one of her legs up to wrap around my waist. Instead of messing around anymore, I grab her neck, choke it again, feel the adrenaline course as usual as she struggles against me

There's nothing I want more then this.

Nothing at all... Nothing except... making her...

Nothing, except making her happy.

When I shove from her, to straighten up my mind and get away from the confusion, she gasps in pain and grabs my shoulders.

"Don't stop," she begs lovingly, "Don't stop, please."

I do stop though, I stop and look into her eyes.

"Keep going," she whispers, staring at me, willing me to come back into her.

But I can't do it.

I pull away, leave the shower, walk to the bed, climb into it and curl myself into the fetal position. I can't keep seeing her like that, it'll destroy me.

I know that Haymitch said that she needs me, but I can't do that to her... Not when I'm seeing it differently. Feeling pleasure with her while choking her out. She's pregnant, and there's nothing more wrong then doing that to her when I'm like this.

Whether I feel pleasure while doing it, the damage afterwards is too much. The idea of getting pleasure from it, even if it's fake...

Katniss joins me in the bed and wraps her arms around my waist.

"Peeta," she whispers in my ear, but I don't look back, "You didn't hurt me."

"I know," I respond, cupping my hand over her's.

She chuckles softly and kisses behind my ear, "You don't have to be afraid of me. You're always so gentle, there's no way you could ever hurt me, Peeta. You're such a gentle person."

Such a gentle person.

Ending Notes:

See you all Tuesday! And if you would please, review? I'd very much appreciate it. ^^

~KaKaVegeGurl