The effect it has on him is nothing short of satisfying. But wrong, so, so wrong, and different and not me. It's the hunger. The side of me that I didn't think would be. That wants things like this; nakedness, beds, Peeta. And so it's not really me, who reaches out and grasps his wrist when he makes to stand and leave, it's the want. The fire begging for more fuel. *Rewritten*