Are you as excited about Mockingjay Part 1 as I am?! Here's another chapter of TMW to get you through the weekend (I have tickets for the premiere at a minute past midnight!). There are only three regular chapters left now (I might split one of them), plus an epilogue. And things are finally heating up. You have been warned.
As always, thank you so much to Lbug84 for betaing, holding my hand, and for just being you.
I would also like to thank everyone who's commented or reviewed – I haven't been able to answer all of you, and I'm sorry. But please know that I do read and cherish every single review. Thank you. You have no idea how inspiring it is.
Lbug84 and I will be updating When I Go tomorrow on AO3 – check it out! Turkish!Katniss is Gale's widow in WIG too, but that's pretty much the only thing WIG and TMW have in common. I'm very excited about this update, which is going to break your heart. I promise.
And because we're all so excited about Mockingjay these days, check out Behind the wall, too – a Mockingjay canon divergence fic, written in hijacked!Peeta's POV.
Chapter 20: Katniss Hawthorne v. District 12
We sleep in the same bed every night. It's not just to ward off his nightmares anymore.
As the days pass, our limbs become increasingly intertwined. Our bodies are pressed against each other, not only when we wake up in the morning, but before we fall asleep, too. I revel in the scent of him as I press my nose against his neck. His hands travel over my back, stroking me gently. Not like a lover, but not quite like a friend, either.
My skin is on fire where he's touched me. I've never been this aware of my body, and I don't quite know what to do about it. I know that I want to feel him, but I don't quite know what to do. We have been together before, twice. But what should have been intimacy, which usually brings a couple closer together, ended up almost tearing us apart. We have a chance to fix things now. We need to get it right this time.
Xoxoxoxoxox
I follow Arrow to school. He doesn't really talk that much about his classmates these days. I had a meeting with the principal two weeks ago, but I'm still worried the other children might be picking on him. I see my son walk over to some of the boys in his class who are playing in the schoolyard. I want to stay longer to watch him, to make sure he's alright, but I'm afraid I'll look too conspicuous. If the other children notice, it could only make it worse for him. I can't help but notice the looks I'm already getting from some of the other mothers, though. Not one of them says hello to me.
I don't really want to face any more gossiping housewives right now, but I have a few errands to run in the Town, so I don't really have any choice. I've only walked a few hundred yards when I run into Posy. I haven't seen her since Reaping Day. She looks much more mature than she did just three months ago. She is an adult now, with a future – perhaps that's why?
"Posy!" I can't hide my surprise.
"Katniss." She greets me with a smile.
"It's good to see you," I tell her. "I haven't seen you in ages." It's my fault that we don't see each other, but she doesn't place blame, at least not out loud.
"It's been too long," she agrees.
"What are you doing in this part of the Town?" Posy doesn't have any reason to be near the school anymore.
"I was hoping you'd be here, actually," she says. She clears her throat nervously, but doesn't say anything else.
"I have a few errands in the Town, if you'd like to join me?" She nods gratefully. I wonder what's going on. Why would Posy seek me out? Whatever it is that she wants to talk to me about, it must be important. Important enough for her to be seen in public with me.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm… I'm getting married tomorrow."
I'm surprised to hear that her wedding is coming up so soon. I knew she was planning to get married in the fall, but I had hoped to hear of it earlier than the day before. I guess it goes to show how far I've drifted from the Hawthornes.
I force myself to smile. I am happy for her. I truly am. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." She smiles back, but I'm not quite sure if her smile is natural, either. "The toasting is on Sunday." All Seam toastings are on Sundays, because it's the only day miners have off from work. The groom will usually get a day off from work to sign the marriage certificate in the Justice Building, but most couples have the toasting on the following Sunday so that the other men in the family can attend. A couple isn't really considered to be married before the toasting in the eyes of 12.
She pauses. "I, uh… wondered if you and the children wanted to come to the toasting? It's at two o'clock, at my mother's house."
'You and the children.' That does clearly not include Peeta. It would be inappropriate for him to be at my sister-in-law's toasting, especially when her brother has been gone for less than a year, but I'm surprised by my sudden urge to have Peeta by my side at a family function. To be with him, not only in the privacy of the Victors' Village, but in public, too. But I know that we can't.
"We would love to," I say. "Is there anything you'd like us to bring? A wedding cake, perhaps?" It's tradition in 12 that instead of a present, which no one can really afford, everyone brings food for the party, which the couple can't really afford to buy. It's a win-win situation for everyone. I'm not very good at baking, but perhaps Peeta could help me.
"That would be great, thank you."
"How many have you invited?" I need to know how many mouths to feed.
"Around 30."
We're in the town square now, where there are more people. A few people smile and nod at us. Well, at Posy, mostly. Most people don't greet us at all, even though I know many of them. I've traded with them, or gone to school with them or their siblings. Instead of dwelling on it, I tell Posy that I'm going to the butcher and to the tailor, to pick up some new clothes for Arrow. He's growing so fast.
"He's going to be tall like Gale," Posy smiles.
"Yeah, I think he will. He's the spitting image of his father."
A small group of women are standing near the bakery, which is right next to the butcher. I don't realize until it's too late that one of the women is Mrs. Mellark. Her blue eyes, so similar in color to her son's, yet so cold, instantly zoom in on me, and our eyes meet. I can't pretend as if I haven't seen her.
"Good day, Mrs. Hawthorne."
There is no way I can walk past her without stopping now. "Good day Mrs. Mellark," I smile what I hope looks like a genuine smile, but I have a feeling I'm failing miserably. "It's nice to meet you."
Mrs. Mellark has four friends with her, and they are all looking at Posy, Ivy and me. But mainly, they look at me. I straighten my back. They may think that I'm a whore, but I'll never apologize for anything to these vultures.
Mrs. Mellark's lips curl up in what is probably supposed to be a smile, but looks more like a sneer. "Things are well in the Victors' Village, I trust?"
"Yes, they are," I answer. Thankfully, my voice is steady and calm, even though that's not how I feel on the inside.
"Will you please tell my son that I hope he will pay us a visit in the bakery soon? We haven't seen him in weeks."
She wants to see Peeta. She must be running low on money. She certainly doesn't miss him. "I will, Mrs. Mellark," I say politely.
There's an uncomfortable silence, and I'm about to mutter a goodbye when Mrs. Mellark surprises me by turning to Posy. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Miss Hawthorne," she says, and there's something about her smile that I don't like.
"Thank you," Posy answers nervously.
"Hasty marriages seem to be the norm in the Hawthorne family," Mrs. Mellark says.
I furrow my brow. "Hardly," I answer. "Posy and Slate have planned their toasting for months. As did Gale and I."
"That's true." Mrs. Mellark actually laughs. "You were an 18-year-old bride, but at least you didn't get married with a bastard in your belly." I hear Posy trying to stifle a gasp beside me, and I suddenly understand why I didn't hear of the toasting until today.
I need to get Posy out of here. This conversation can only get worse.
"I will convey your message to your son, Mrs. Mellark," I say. "It was a pleasure to see you." The latter is obviously a lie. As I turn away, I realize that I'm not sure whether I'll tell Peeta about this meeting, so the former might be a lie, too. "Have a nice day."
We make our escape. Posy follows me into the butcher's shop, and unsurprisingly, she doesn't buy anything. She doesn't say a word, and she looks pale. Now that I think about it, perhaps going to the butcher's wasn't such a good idea. I could never stand the smell of raw meat when I was pregnant, either.
Posy is visibly relieved when we're outside in the fresh air. "Why don't we go to the Seam?" I suggest. "I could accompany you home. You don't look well."
She nods gratefully. We walk in relative silence. We don't talk until we are inside of their house. I let Ivy down on the floor, and she instantly runs over to the corner, where the toy box is. I'm amazed that she remembers, it's been months since we were here.
"Are congratulations in order?" I ask Posy gently.
"Yes." Her eyes are shining with tears. "We didn't mean to… I mean, so soon…"
"Oh, Posy." I give her a hug. I've seen her grow up from a fatherless toddler to this young, beautiful woman, about to become a mother and a wife. "It's not the end of the world. So what if the child comes a bit 'early' after the wedding? It certainly won't be the first 'premature' baby in 12."
She actually laughs at my words, and dries her tears. "I guess you are right."
I hear the front door opening. Hazelle looks startled for a second when she sees me, but she quickly recovers. "Katniss," she says. "It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too." I smile, trying to look as if nothing is out of the ordinary. As if I don't sleep in Peeta's arms every night.
If Hazelle thinks that I look or behave differently, she doesn't mention it. She walks over to the toy box and kneels down to pick up Ivy. "There's my girl."
"She loves her grandma," I say as Ivy holds tightly onto Hazelle's shoulders.
Hazelle stands, and grimaces slightly. Her back is obviously bothering her, and carrying Ivy can't be helpful. "You've invited Katniss already?" She asks. She's obviously addressing Posy, who nods her answer. "And you told her?" Posy nods again.
"Thank you for the invitation," I say to both of them. "We'd love to come to your toasting. And Posy, it is good news, alright? Don't let anyone try to convince you that it's not." I won't think about the hunger and the reapings. I won't say any of that aloud.
"Would you like to stay for lunch, Katniss?" Hazelle asks.
I know they can't possibly have much food in the house, but Seam pride and hospitality run deep. On any other day I would probably have said yes, because not accepting an invitation can easily be taken as an insult, but not today. It's just too hard to look Hazelle in the eyes. I shake my head. "Thank you, but I need to go to the tailor's, and I have a mountain of laundry waiting for me at home."
The last word slipped out, and as soon as I hear it, I know I shouldn't have said it. I can tell that Hazelle notices and immediately understands what it means. Home is no longer the Seam. Home is where Peeta is, in a house that is ten times bigger than this one, with copious amounts of nutritious food and big windows. My new home is a barrier between us.
I wrap Ivy on my back, and prepare to go back out into the crisp fall air. "Don't be a stranger, Katniss," Hazelle says. "It was nice to see you. Come visit us again?"
"We will." My face burns with shame. I didn't mean to, but I've shut the Hawthorne family out of my life the last few months. At first because I needed to mourn, but then for other reasons.
"How are you doing, Katniss?" Hazelle asks. Her voice is hesitant now.
"I - I'm good," I stammer. "We're good." The children and I.
Peeta and I.
She smiles. "That's good to hear. The last time I saw you, at the reaping, you didn't look well."
I look down. "I wasn't. I'm much better now, though."
She's quiet for a minute while I double check Ivy's wrap. She's getting bigger, and the cloth wrap is starting to wear. "It's been almost a year."
"Yes," I whisper.
"A lot has changed in that year."
"A lot of things," I agree. "But not everything."
Hazelle studies me intently. It's hard to meet her Seam gray eyes, but I force myself to. She's only 18 years or so older than me, she had Gale very early. I think she was pregnant during her last reaping. She looks older, though, her skin and body marked by the hard life in the Seam. And right now, I feel almost like a teenager in her presence.
"People talk," she says. "Both in the Seam and in the Town. Mrs. Mellark is the worst of them."
"I'm not surprised that she is."
"I don't know what's true or not of what they say, and I would never ask you about it. I've known you since you were a starving 12-year-old girl. You were married to my son, and you're the mother of my grandchildren. That makes you family, no matter what people say, and that's what's important to me."
My eyes are filled with tears now. "Thank you," I croak. I'm not sure if I deserve this wonderful woman's generosity, but I'm immensely grateful that I have it.
"The only thing I'm asking is that you don't talk to me about it. I don't want to know anything about him."
I nod, unable to speak.
When I get back to the Victors' Village, I decide to give Peeta the message from his mother. His face doesn't betray any emotion when I relay it, nor does he give any indication of whether or not he actually intends to visit his family.
"Was she nice to you?" he asks instead.
I shrug, but find it hard to meet his eyes. "As nice as could be expected, I guess."
"No, Katniss," he says, tilting my head up with a finger under my chin. "You shouldn't expect anyone to treat you badly."
I smile weakly at him. I guess he's right, but sometimes it's hard to remember.
xoxoxoxox
The contrast between the quiet, isolated life we lead in the Victors' Village and the hostility I experience in the Town and the Seam is confusing. I feel frustrated just thinking about it.
There are, however, more reasons why I'm frustrated these days.
Sleeping in the same bed every night means that the only place I'm alone now, is in the bathroom. I take a shower every night before I go to bed, and that's when I allow my hand to travel down between my legs. I lean against the cold tiles of the wall, and I muffle a moan against my free hand as the warm water washes over me. I wonder if Peeta touches himself while thinking about me, too? That thought is enough to push me over the edge.
I get out of the shower. I dry myself, and then I use the towel to wipe the fog off from the mirror, a small circle just big enough to take a look at my face. My pupils are fat and black, and my skin is flushed. I suppose I can blame that on taking a shower. Or did he hear, does he know? Peeta said he'd been in love with me since he was five. We sleep in the same bed every night. Surely he must be as affected by my presence as I am by his? I've felt him hard against me in the mornings. I've felt him hard a few evenings too.
He touches my face sometimes before we fall asleep. His fingers trace the line of my jaw and my lips, very lightly, and the way he looks at me as he explores my features... I swallow deeply. My body has just come down from my orgasm, but I already want him again.
If he suspects what I just did in the shower, he doesn't give any indication. Peeta smiles when he sees me, and puts down the book he was reading. I slip into bed with him, and he puts his arms around me. "You smell nice," he murmurs. We'll sleep in his bed tonight, and I used his bathroom because it was closer. I used his soap, too.
"I smell like you."
"No, you smell much nicer." I disagree, but I don't have time to answer because he leans in, and I close my eyes a split second before our lips meet. We don't kiss very often, at least not on the lips. Peeta kisses my hair before we fall asleep, and sometimes my cheek. But this is different. It starts out slow and soft, but quickly grows deeper and more intense. My body may be sated, but the fire still flares up. His must too, because he pulls me even closer, and when he does, my hands begin to explore.
His body isn't new to me. I have touched him before. But it still feels like it is. When we did this before, we didn't take our time. That's how it's different now. My heart is pounding as my hand slips underneath his white cotton t-shirt, the one he always sleeps in, and I slowly learn his shape with my fingertips. I can feel how he breathes faster, and hear his gasp, and his reaction to my touch gives me more confidence. I break the kiss. I look down at his face, at his half parted lips, his flushed skin. Then I look lower.
Half of his belly is exposed. There's a thin trail of blond hairs that travels from his bellybutton and down into his boxer briefs. I don't follow it yet, even though I want to. Instead, I slide my hand in the other direction, pushing his t-shirt up to reveal more of his skin. I tug questioningly at the shirt, and he shifts his body, helping me take it off. His chest is completely hairless, which I find a bit odd. There's not one single blemish on his skin. I know this must be the Capitol's work somehow, but I force the thought away from my mind. Instead, I circle one of his nipples with my index finger.
His breath catches, and there's the beginning of a moan in the back of his throat. "The things you do to me, Katniss," he whispers, his voice husky. "The effect that you have."
I feel something warm spread through my body, starting from my chest and moving outwards. I don't know what to answer, I don't have any words, so instead, I kiss him again. His right hand moves up to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair as he takes control of the kiss. He seems to really like that. A shudder goes through me, because I really like that, too. His left hand travels slowly down my spine, leaving a trail of fire.
As his fingers reach the small of my back, I moan into his mouth, and he breaks the kiss. He looks at me with something between a smirk and a quizzical smile on his lips. "Well, clearly you have an effect on me, too," I say, breathlessly.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have kissed you," he admits. His hand moves up along my spine again, and he pushes the neckline of my nightdress down over one of my shoulders, baring it to him. I crane my head back slowly when he kisses my neck. His lips press against skin he once broke with his teeth. But, it's not like it was before. He kisses me tenderly, and he takes his time.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have touched you either," I answer. He has located a spot on my neck that seems to be directly linked to my core. It's getting more difficult to speak. "But you liked it?"
His tongue flickers over that spot on my neck. My hips reflexively buck against his knee, and when it brushes against my clit, I can't contain a moan. He exhales shakily against my neck as I do, and looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
"I liked it," he confirms.
"And I liked kissing you." I'm pretty sure my own passion is as visible in my face as the passion I see in his.
It's going to happen. Right now.
He kisses my forehead gently, and draws me closer, but not for a passionate embrace this time. I hear his heart beating wildly under my ear, and I know my own is beating just as fast.
I suddenly feel ashamed. I'm unable to control myself and my body's reactions. Isn't it usually the other way around, that the woman stops the man? Peeta must notice a change in me, because he looks at me with concern etched across his face.
"What's wrong, Katniss?"
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"What for?"
"My behavior. It isn't… proper."
He furrows his brow. "Where is this coming from?"
I hesitate. "I… Um…" I'm unable to find the words.
His features soften as he sees my confusion. "Don't start to believe what they are saying about you," he says. His thumb traces my lower lip. "I don't trust myself with you. Not yet. It's too soon for me to go further." He tucks some stray strands of hair behind my ear. "Even though I want to."
I nod wordlessly. I'm close to tears. I shut my eyes and wait for sleep to come.
Xoxoxoxox
We don't talk about it the next morning, but there's a small smile playing on his lips, and his fingers brush the back of my hand briefly as I hand him a cup of tea.
xoxoxoxx
Ivy is napping. Peeta's lying on the bed, reading a book. I've been putting clean clothes into the wardrobe of my room. Peeta offered to help me, but the last time he did, I didn't find anything afterwards, so I politely declined.
"Will you help me bake a wedding cake for Posy?" I ask Peeta. I keep my voice low, so that I don't disturb Ivy in the next room.
He looks up, a look of surprise on his face. "Of course. When is she getting married?"
"The toasting is on Sunday." I don't say anything about why the wedding came up so suddenly, and he doesn't ask.
"You're going?"
"Yes." I clear my throat nervously. "The children and I are going." I take a deep breath as I begin to explain. "I don't think-"
He shakes his head and holds a hand up. "I didn't expect to be invited, Katniss. It's okay. It's Gale's family. It would be awkward."
I do wish he could go, but it would be terribly awkward. I think about last night, and that's enough for blood to rush to my lower body. "Awkward," I repeat.
"So do you have any ideas for the cake?"
"I don't know. Aren't you the baker?"
"Yes, but it helps to know the person who's getting the cake, and I've never even spoken with the bride. What is Posy's favorite thing in the whole world? Every bride deserves a cake that's made just for her."
"The flowers in the Meadow," I tell him. "When they were younger, Prim and Posy used to take Prim's goat to the Meadow together. Posy would always come back with flowers in her hair. All summer, Hazelle's house is full of flowers. Posy picks them all."
He smiles. "Flowers it is, then."
I smile, too. "She'll love that."
I notice that some of his clothes have somehow found their way into my wardrobe. A few boxer briefs, some t-shirts, a pair of jeans. I sit down on the bed, crossing my legs as I look at him. Perhaps it's us talking about Posy's wedding that makes me say it. Weddings are about love, about hope, about the future. I don't know how our future is going to look like, though. "I've been thinking. About you. About us."
"Me too." He rolls over on his side, facing me.
I take a deep breath. "Can we draw a line somehow? What's in the Capitol is in the Capitol. What's in 12 is in 12. I know what you have to do in the Capitol, and I know you don't have any choice. I'll never be okay with it," I confess, and he seems to shrink before me. I take his hand. "But I know it's not your fault, and I don't hold it against you. But when you're here, can we try to let it be just us?"
"I'm not sure it's going to be that easy," he says slowly. "I've always tried to keep my life in 12 separate. I think pretty much all the victors do that. But it doesn't really work, because the Capitol is always there at the back of my mind. It will always be at the back of your mind too. Won't it?"
I don't lie to him. "I guess you're right."
"I think we both need to be clear about what it means. I'll never be able to be faithful to you. As long Snow tells me to do this, I won't be able to give you the life I dreamed of sharing with you when I was young."
A shiver runs through me at his words. I blink the tears away. "I know," I whisper.
"I have to entertain clients, but I'll never touch anyone I'm not assigned to."
"I understand. I don't like it, Peeta. Not one bit. But... I'm still here."
There are tears in his eyes now, too. "I'm so grateful that you are." He clears his throat. "What I can give you, is emotional fidelity. I can promise that no one else will ever own my heart. I can promise that I'll always come home to you."
For the first time, we are dealing with a problem the way a couple should. We discuss our issues together. There are no good solutions, not to this problem, but we have to find one that is acceptable. Together.
"I want that," I say, my voice isn't quite clear. "I want you."
"I want you, too. You're all I've ever wanted."
He smiles at me and I enjoy the moment that passes between us.
"Do Cashmere and the others do that, too? Have a secret partner in their home district that they have to protect."
I still haven't brought up what Cashmere told me – that she was Peeta's first. I know it's not really any of my business, but it hurts. Especially when I think about what Haymitch said, that he'd hoped it would be me. I know that I have nothing to fear from Cashmere, but it's still hard to bring her up.
"All the victors are protecting someone," he says. "Except the few who don't have anyone left that they love."
"Like Haymitch?"
"Yes. And Johanna." I furrow my brows, and he explains. "Johanna Mason? District 7? The one who pretended to be a weakling so no one bothered to take her out, but when there were only a few tributes left, she killed them all with an axe?" I nod. I remember her now. That was quite a year. If Johanna doesn't have anyone left that she loves, I suppose that means she did something to Snow, too, like Haymitch. I shiver. "There are quite a few victors who have partners in their home districts, but they are mostly not involved with Snow's little business. Among the victors that are, I think Finnick is the only one who's in a long-term relationship, but some of the others could have lovers that I don't know about. We can be quite protective of our personal lives."
"I understand. I guess I would be too, if so much of my privacy had already been taken from me."
"Exactly." He has a distant look on his face. "Cashmere's never said anything about having a lover, or a boyfriend, back in 1. That doesn't mean she doesn't have one, or maybe several for all I know, but if that's something she wants to keep in 1, then I understand her reasons and respect them."
"Of course."
"Besides, many of us never get married or have children, either. Most of us are traumatized by the Hunger Games, even if their prostitution career was short or non-existent. Dragging a partner or especially children into that, is something many of us choose not to do."
"Is that what you thought, too?"
"Yes. That's what I thought for a very long time."
Ivy wakes up from her nap. I can hear her playing in the next room. "Can we talk more about this later?" I ask.
He smiles softly at me. "Of course."
xoxoxoxox
Peeta follows Haymitch to the train station. He's gotten his mentor into a hospital in the Capitol. Honestly, I think it's something between a hospital and a rehab facility. Haymitch clearly needs both.
Peeta is gone longer than I thought he would be. When he finally comes back to the Victors' Village several hours later, he looks tired, and his face is drawn. The children are watching TV, some kids' show from the Capitol that I'm not entirely sure that I want them to watch. But at least it keeps them both occupied for a little while, which gives me the chance to find out what's wrong with Peeta, because clearly, something is.
I don't even have to ask. "I'll be going to the Capitol in the beginning of November," he informs me, keeping his voice low so the children can't hear.
"How long have you known?" I knew it was coming. Still, hearing that it's actually happening, that the date has already been set, is almost physically painful.
"They gave me a letter in person at the train station. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," I croak, trying to keep myself from crying. I embrace him, hiding my face against his neck. His body is warm and solid against mine. I know that from now on, we'll be facing this together, although I'm not quite sure how. "Snow's using us to keep you in line. We've made everything worse for you."
"No," he whispers in my hair, "you're making it all bearable."
Xoxoxoxox
It's very quiet. I've lit some candles, hoping they will somehow chase the darkness outside the kitchen window away, but it doesn't really work.
"I miss Haymitch already," I admit. We don't play poker tonight. It feels wrong, knowing Haymitch is on the train on his way to the Capitol. Even though his reason for going there is a good one for once, it still feels wrong. "Do you think he'll be alright?"
"No. He won't be. His body is destroyed by decades of alcoholism. I just hope that he'll be able to hold on a bit longer."
"Life is short."
"Yes, it is." His eyes are burning. He surprises me by getting up from his chair. He takes my hand. "It's late. Let's go to bed?"
It's not really that late, it's only a little after nine. But his fingers touching my skin make it easy to agree. "Yes."
I blow out the candles, and we go upstairs. I go to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth, and when I come into my bedroom, Peeta is already there. But tonight, he's not reading a book while waiting for me. Instead, he's standing beside the bed. As soon as I close the door behind me, he pulls me into his embrace. I don't know who initiates the kiss, and it doesn't matter. When our lips separate, we are both panting. I can feel his erection against my belly.
"I want to touch you," he says. "Will you allow it?"
My body's instant reaction to his words is a rush of wetness. "Yes. I'll allow it."
I walk backwards towards the bed, and he follows me. My heart is pounding in my chest. I sit down on the edge of the bed, and he sits down next to me. He plays with my loose hair with one hand, the thumb of the other traces my lower lip gently. "You have to talk to me," he says. "Tell me what feels good and what doesn't."
"Okay," I answer, probably too eagerly. I lie down on the bed.
When his large hand travels under my nightdress and touches the bare skin of the outside of my thigh for the first time, I have to stifle my moan. "Don't hold back, Katniss. I want to hear you," he breathes in my ear. I turn my head, and he kisses me, a wet, deep, somewhat sloppy kiss. His hand moves further up, over my panties, caressing my hip. My nightdress slides up with his hand, exposing my skin to him. His touch is light, but it doesn't tickle. Instead, it sets me on fire.
My entire belly is exposed now, my nightdress is bunched up just below my breasts. He looks down between us, and I blush. My belly isn't quite as flat and toned as it used to be, and there are still faint stretch marks from my two pregnancies. I'm about to open my mouth and, I don't know, explain, or maybe apologize. But Peeta speaks first. "You're so beautiful." His voice is sincere, full of awe, and the apology dies in my throat. "You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this."
"I've fantasized about you too," I blurt out.
He instantly looks up at me, his hand stills. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze. "Really?" I nod, blushing deeply. I didn't intend to let that slip. "What did you fantasize about?"
Telling him feels too personal, too embarrassing. I'm not used to talking about these things. I duck my head against his chest as his fingers continue their slow exploration of my belly. "I used to lie in bed at night and think about you. I knew that you were so close. Just a few rooms away. I would think about the things you would do to me. What you would feel like when I touched you. And…" My voice trails off.
"Did you touch yourself while thinking about me?" His voice is husky now. His index finger is grazing the underside of one of my breasts.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Katniss, that's the hottest thing I've heard in my life." He lifts my chin up with two fingers, and makes me meet his eyes. My face is flushed and warm, but the passion I see in his eyes makes me forget all about being embarrassed. "Thank you for telling me."
And then, without any further hesitation, he slips my nightdress off. I help him, with trembling hands. He throws it onto the floor, and as soon as I'm free of it, he sucks and nibbles on my collarbone. It's a the spot he discovered a few nights ago, one that makes me arch under him. He touches my now naked breast. He traces underneath it, very lightly, and then his fingers find my nipple.
"Peeta," I whimper. He shifts his weight slightly, and I feel against my thigh how hard he is for me. I roll around quickly and straddle him, and my core– which is now most definitely soaking my panties – comes into contact with his cock. He seems surprised by my sudden movement at first. But his eyes darken as a smile spreads across his lips, and his eyes focus on my breasts. He reaches out with both hands, and I have to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out as he lightly pinches my nipples. My breasts fill his hands, and I adjust my angle slightly. When I do, my clit finds stimulation against his erection.
We're breathing heavily. His fingers tug gently on the elastic band of my panties. "This is going to be easier if you're not on top," he says. I nod nervously. I roll off him to lie next to him.
I'm nervous. My hands are shaking as I help him remove the last item of clothing. I'm used to doing this in the dark, and I wish that the light was off. I've never had much confidence in my body. But when I see the look on his face as Peeta stares wide-eyed at me, I'm glad the light is on, because I wouldn't want to miss it. He gently guides me onto my back, and I part my legs, too desperate for his touch to wait patiently. He makes a strangled sound as he sees me parting my thighs for him.
When he touches me, I have to stifle the moan with the back of my hand. I can't wake the children. I laugh quietly at myself, at how strongly I react to just one touch.
"You're so wet," he says. His voice dark and deep. I don't know what to say. Does he expect me to talk dirty? Maybe I shouldn't say anything at all? Or should I just acknowledge that yes, I know? Before my brain can process an answer, be continues. "Show me what you like?"
Showing him seems intimate. It's a level of intimacy that I didn't think I was ready for. I surprise myself as I take his hand and guide it lower. I've never done this before. Gale never asked me to show him. I knew he had been with a few girls at the slag heap before we were together, and he didn't think he needed me to guide him. Peeta definitely doesn't need guidance. But I'm still glad he's asking.
Our fingers are intertwined as our hands move lower over my belly. My fingers find my clit, and Peeta's fingers are seemingly everywhere around mine. I'm dripping wet already. We look down between us. I swallow deeply as I start to draw lazy circles around my most sensitive flesh. "Like this," I say in a strangled voice, and his fingers replace mine. His eyes are burning when he looks at me. It's hard to keep my eyes open, but I try to. At first he replicates my movements, but he soon experiments with speed and pressure while watching my reactions intently. He slips one finger inside me, pumping slowly, and nearly finishes me as he adds another.
"Peeta…" I whimper.
He curls his fingers inside of me, and suddenly, unexpectedly, my body has an almost violent reaction to his touch, in a way that I never knew existed. I'm in shock as I arch under him, the back of my head digging into the pillow. What is this? Peeta doesn't seem surprised, though. It must be the reaction he wanted, because he smiles brilliantly at me as he repeats that thing. He does it again and again, coaxing the same reaction from my body every time.
He keeps experimenting, and I'm shocked at my body's reactions. I feel as if my body is completely out of control. What is this? What is he doing to me?
He doesn't let me come. He keeps me right on the edge. I bite into his shoulder as he fucks me with three fingers, excruciatingly slowly, while his thumb works on my clit, using just the right pressure. I'm not really sure what he's doing, but it feels like he's everywhere, all at once. I'm beyond any rational thought now, I'm reduced to trying desperately to stay quiet. He draws me to the brink, again and again. But every time I'm about to come, he stops, or slows down, just long enough to make sure I don't. It's torture. He keeps me in a state of desperation, seemingly forever, until I'm able to find enough air in my lungs to whimper, "Please, make me come, Peeta!"
Was he waiting for me to ask, to beg? Or was he simply waiting for me to say his name? It doesn't matter, nothing matters. He doesn't slow down this time. He keeps it up, and within seconds, I shatter around his fingers. He swallows my scream with his mouth, kissing me through the intense orgasm he gives me.
When I come down, everything is a blur. I blink my eyes, trying to focus. All I can see are his blue eyes. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he whispers, peppering my face with light kisses. "Again." I have no idea what he's talking about. I can't think, my brain can just barely process his words.
Then he touches my clit with two fingers again, and I begin to understand what he wants. My body jerks at his touch, I'm too sensitive. I want to tell him not to, push his hand away, say that it's too soon. I can't possibly come again already. But strangely, Peeta seems to know my body better than I do myself, and I'm shocked to find out that I am actually coming. Again, already, on the heels of the first orgasm, which hasn't even quite subsided yet. "Peeta, I'm… I'm going to… What are you…" I'm unable to form a full sentence.
"Let go, Katniss," he says, his breath hot against my skin. I'm lost again. It's not quite the same this time – the orgasm is less intense, but more prolonged. It's certainly no less pleasurable. My knees are shaking as his fingers move again, coaxing another wave of pleasure.
In the end, I'm just a shivering mess. I hardly remember my own name. Peeta is in complete control of my body.
When at last he stops, I'm covered in sweat and gasping for breath. His hands fall away from between my legs, and he pulls me into his embrace. "Thank you," he murmurs into my hair." I can feel him hard against my belly through his boxer briefs, but I'm simply unable to move, to even try to return the favor. My body won't cooperate. "Thank you for trusting me with this. For showing me."
He's thanking me? I somehow find the strength to laugh. "I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," I say, my voice hoarse.
"That's where you are wrong," he whispers as he kisses my lips lightly, lovingly. "What you just let me see... The look on your face…"
"I can't move," I say with a chuckle. "I mean I physically can't move." I'm still not in control of my body. One of my hands is partially clutched, I think I was holding on desperately to the sheet at one point, and I'm unable to extend my fingers fully. "What have you done to me?" I ask him, half joking, but even as I ask the question, I feel myself drifting away.
Xoxoxoxox
I wake to the sight of Peeta's blue eyes in the morning light. He's lying next to me, wide awake, one hand under his head. How long has he been awake? I blink against the sunlight.
"Hi," he says. His dark voice makes my stomach tingle.
"Hi," I answer. Every single muscle in my body seems to ache, reminding me of what happened last night. I can feel myself blushing just thinking about it. "I'm sorry for passing out on you last night." My voice isn't quite clear.
His smile widens. "I enjoyed watching you pass out." I bite my lip, unable to hide my own smile. He leans closer, kissing me softly on my lips. "I enjoyed it very much."
"I meant to return the favor," I say, my blush deepening. "But you kind of caught me by surprise."
He's playing with a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "Don't worry about it," he says. He hugs me tighter. "I want to see you fall apart, again and again and again. It's all I've ever wanted." There's that deep, dark voice again. I feel him against me, rock hard through his thin layer of clothing.
I want to touch him, I want it so much, but I can't. I hear Ivy in the next room, and I know she's awake. I hear from the increasing volume of Ivy's babbling that I have to go pick her up, very soon. She's at the end of her patience. "I have to go," I whisper, kissing his lips lightly. I locate my nightdress and my panties on the floor. I don't blush as he looks at my uncovered body in the morning light.