Chapter 4: The Baker's Daughter

My tentative desire to take Leven's advice and "make the best of it", as it were, is quickly dispelled within the first few months of us moving to the bakery. Even generally optimistic Primrose seems to be questioning whether this was such a good idea. Joining two families through law and holy matrimony seemed nice in theory, sealed with the stroke of a pen, a piece of toast and a kiss. But the real joining - that of two different lives and upbringings under one roof - is anything but nice. Or even remotely simple.

Mother and Steffan are so deliriously happy in their married life, they don't seem to notice how on-edge their children are. Even though, in a small way, the newlyweds are part of the problem. Entering the basement that doubles as the bakery storage room early one morning, I walked in on my stepfather going down on a wailing Mother in the most passionate throes of sex I have ever had the misfortune to witness. Many Seam kids my age experience their first time, or experiment with intercourse, by fucking each other at the Slag Heap. Often, the consenting pair are close friends who just want to get their virginity out of the way; for many Seamers, it is viewed as a right of passage. I never took part, as the thought revolted me. Though if I ever had been interested and asked some Seam boy like Thom Borden, he probably would have done the deed. Honestly, I would have asked Gale Hawthorne about sex, if he wasn't my cousin on my Daddy's side. Steffan and Mother, however, are two people who know how to make love, clearly know what they are doing, and are generally of the opinion that sex is a carnal, even rough act for the purposes of procreation. Oh, love and pleasure are involved, but for them, there is a pent-up energy that has to be let out, after wasting so much time. And they don't seem to be careful about it, or even want to be. Do they want to make a baby? Surely yes. Do they care that they very well may scar their five other children for life in the process, the youngest scarcely 12 years old? Apparently not. Mother and Steffan must figure most of us are grown. And indeed, I am a woman; I am not innocent in the ways of the world. But damn it if I'm going to let Primrose lose her innocence because Mother can't control herself around her new husband. I understand that she is in love, but she should have some discretion!

Then there are other issues. The Bakery was meant to house five people, maybe six if you squeezed. But certainly not seven, and it shows. Mother shares a bed now with the Baker, of course, and Prim is offered a cot in the corner of Rye's room. As for Peeta and I we have no choice but to share his room, which once was an extra pantry closet, making it small and cramped. The ceiling is sloped, and there is only room for one bed, which we have to share, perched on the edges of it, our backs to each other, night after night.

The gender dynamics split right down the middle only make this claustrophobia worse. Having lived in a house full of women from before I was even a teenager, it is hard to get used to being more careful in modesty around the opposite sex. Despite having at least lived with one woman their entire lives (never mind the fact that they all despised her) the Mellark men are no better at learning this lesson than Primrose and I are. Rye once casually walks in on me while I'm using the toilet, and if I hadn't screamed, he probably would have continued his path to the sink and brushed his teeth without even noticing I was there. Another time, Peeta catches me naked as I finish my bath. Unlike his brother, he is slightly more of a gentleman and at least has some manners... though that didn't stop him from staring at my breasts and bushy cunt for a full three seconds before blushing beet red and stumbling out of the bathroom. I could have sworn he pitched a tent too; the idea that any one of my stepbrothers might be physically attracted to me is disquieting, to say the least.

Especially since I…. feel flattered that Peeta clearly appreciated what he saw.

Yet a third time, Primrose delivered some of Leven's clean laundry to find Leven jacking off on his bed. That was the biggest flashpoint; once Primrose came to me in tears over seeing a man's penis, I let Leven have it. Leven had the good graces to look chastened and take it like a man.

Then there are the brothers' personalities. They are all so different. Leven is the most like me: extremely reserved, even anti-social. Unlike me, he is also non confrontational; when I confronted him about masturbating in front of Primrose - however unintentional it was - he wilted like a flower. Rye actually took more offense to it than Leven did, getting in my face and coming to his brother's defense. There is too much fire between the two of us, and I quickly make a point of not ending up in the same room as Rye, if I can avoid it. At first, Primrose thinks there is some weird sexual tension between Rye and me, but I quickly set her straight. Even if Rye and I weren't now related by our parents' marriage, I wouldn't look twice at him. He's dull and he's dumb, a practical joker and far too immature for 18, with his final Reaping just a few months away.

Peeta, however, is an enigma. He is nice, even sweet, in a meek kind of way. But unlike Leven, unafraid to stand up for himself and be opinionated. Though he doesn't take it to the acerbic level of Rye. I suppose he is a moderate mix of his brothers' two extremes, and it's something I have to grudgingly admire him for. I have never been very good at making friends, and the ones I do have are few, but overtime Peeta gradually earns my respect.

At least there is someone in my new family who I can tolerate. Because with what is coming this summer, family is going to be more important than ever.

We have a tradition in District 12, set over the course of two nights. On Reaping Eve, and on the night after the Reaping, everyone has a candlelit, private dinner in their homes. The light of candles dancing in the windows on these two nights is a great source of comfort as we prepare for another Games, for another year of two teenagers being sent into an outdoor arena to fight to the death. On the second night, the only houses not lit are the two homes from which a tribute has been Reaped that year.

On Reaping Eve, we Mellarks and Everdeens gather in the dining room just off the bakery, our table and supper (wonderfully cooked by Mother) lit with candles. Clasping hands, we all bow our heads as Steffan begins to pray. Technically, the practice of religion is illegal in Panem, but on Reaping Eve, we can feel safe to send up pleas to a higher Deity (if he or she exists) behind closed doors.

"Heavenly Father, we thank you for uniting our two families in this last year. We thank you for brining these beautiful ladies into our house..." The Baker steals a smiling glance at Primrose and I, then he and Mother lean into each other and share a loving kiss. "And we ask that you spare our children tomorrow from the arena of death. Amen."

"Amen," we all echo. I almost wish the prayer went on for a little longer, was more fervent. For this year, four of the five children in our blended family will be subject to the whims of the Reaping Bowl. At 20, Leven finally aged out two years ago. But this is Rye's final year (meaning he has the most slips in the bowl out of any of us) and Prim's second. Including tomorrow, Peeta and I still have two Reapings to go, but tomorrow's will be the hardest to slip past unscathed. In Games History class at school, we learned that the median and mode average for teenagers Reaped from District 12 is 16. Other districts skew older or younger for their most common Reaping age, but Twelve floats somewhere near the middle. And this is a Quarter Quell, which promises some extra twists to the arena for the tributes. Heck, Haymitch Abernathy himself - our second, most recent and only living Victor - was 16 years old when he was Reaped for the 50th Hunger Games (a Quarter Quell year) almost twenty-five years ago.

Rye and Prim may have a lot riding on them tomorrow as far as milestones are concerned, but statistically speaking, it would seem that Peeta and I are in the most danger.

As I have every night since moving here, I prepare for bed in the little bathroom down the hall from Peeta's room, changing into my nightdress. I arrive back in Peeta's room to find my stepbrother already on the bed.

Wordlessly, I climb under the covers, and turn my back to him. "Good night," I murmur.

Despite what's coming in the morning, I do manage to fall asleep at first. This is quickly dispelled by a nightmare about Prim getting skewered by a Career and I awaken with a shout, gasping and flailing.

In that next instant, I feel strong arms go about me, and I curl into Peeta without even having to think about it. "Just a nightmare, I'm sorry."

"I'm scared too," he murmurs.

I gulp. "Peeta…. will you hold me?"

"Sure."

I roll over and he spoons me from behind, holding me close against him. I feel my heartrate begin to slow and I actually relax, snuggling in beside him.

It isn't long before I feel something long, hard and stiff press into the sloped curve of my rear. With Peeta in such close proximity to me, that's to be expected, so I try not to let it be bothersome.

What does cause my heart to race is when I begin to feel Peeta dipping his lips into the soft hollow of my throat and down my neck. I squirm against him… but not, to my shock, from revulsion.

"What…. what are you doing?" I whimper.

Peeta stills against me, and I can tell that he is debating how to answer. Finally, he murmurs, "I just want to be close to you. To…. to touch you. I've been thinking about it since last Reaping. When we…. kissed."

His hands, curled around my waist, now dip lower to caress my thighs. He pauses for just a moment as I wriggle against him, biting my lip to keep from letting out a moan.

"Is this all right?"

A part of me should tell him no, it's not all right. A practical side of me should remind him that this is wrong. But, damn it all, it still feels so right to have Peeta's hands on me.

Which is why I find myself gasping:

"Y…..yes….."

A soft and calloused hand turns my face back to his as Peeta kisses me deeply. Purring happily, I return the kiss with a boldness that surprises even me, shivering as I feel Peeta's hands now glide up my thighs, pushing the hem of my nightdress up around my hips, bunching the fabric. With a sigh, I gallingly yank the bodice of my nightdress down so that my bare breasts glisten in the moonlight. I wiggle my shapely bottom, now also exposed against Peeta's fierce erection and am satisfied when I feel him rut against me with a whimper.

But Peeta isn't done. He continues to furiously rub his length along the perfect globes of her toned buttocks to get harder still. Keening into him, I groan, shuddering with delight as I feel his arms encircle me. One of his large hands dips into the damp wetness at the apex of my thighs, swirling his fingers along my nub. With his free hand, Peeta reaches around and brazenly cups the flesh of her left breast, pinching my purple and pebbling nipple until it is erected to painful tenderness. Mindful that my right breast is being left unattended, Peeta cranes his face over my writhing form and takes her remaining nipple deep into his mouth, suckling on my boob.

"Peet…a….." I squirm happily, almost stunned speechless and wondering where in the world he learned to do that. "What are you…..? OHHHHHHH! Oh, Panem, yes! Fuck me right there! Fuck my arse!"

For at that moment, Peeta takes me fiercely from behind in one, glorious thrust, shoving his now free member in between my ass cheeks. Jerking his hips violently, he begins to slide in and out of my anus, all while fondling my large breasts with his hands and his mouth and fucking my clit with his fingers. I have to clap a hand over my mouth to quiet my moans, which soon morph into yips and squeaks as Peeta continues to fuck me.

"Mmmm… Hmmmm….. Huhhhh…. Uhhhh…. Oh….. Ooooooohhhhh….. Ohhhhhh… OHHHHHH! MMMMMMM!"

With one final, slam, my buttocks trap his member deep inside me as he cums, milking him. Seconds later, the muscles in my pussy contract, tightening around his hand as, with a strangled cry and arching my back against him, pressing my ass into his hips, I cum so hard I see stars.

Rolling onto my back, my grey eyes huge and sparkling in the moonlight, I wordlessly spread my legs for him, opening my thighs wide invitingly.

Peeta doesn't need to be told twice. Scrambling on top of me, he slams his penis deep into my dripping wet folds, nearly pulling all the way out before he thrusts into me again. My hips snap up to meet him every time, so that our bare skin makes a kind of squelching, clapping sound as we unify together. Beneath us, the bedsprings under the mattress creak as we work up a rhythm, learning to please each other together. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out; Oh, Snow, if someone in our family hears…..!

Peeta growls as he continues to thrust into me, and I winding my legs about him to bring him closer, closer still. I am nearly naked except for my nightdress bunched up, almost folded in half around my navel, leaving my breasts free and my sopping cunt exposed to the humid summer air.

Peeta is quivering above me, and I know that he's close. I decide that this dynamic won't do at all. So, assertively, I suddenly shove my hands into his chest, flipping him off of me and slamming him back into the mattress.

From his wide eyes, Peeta fears that I have had enough, but then he nearly chokes as I solemnly, with purpose, swing my long legs over his hips as I move to straddle him. There is a soft rustling of the sheets and then cloth as I untie the straps to my nightdress at my waist, allowing the garment to fall away and pool on the floor. Bracing one hand against the sloped ceiling of this little room, I slowly begin to bounce up and down on Peeta's dick, watching his stunned expression as I enthusiastically make love to him. This time, I don't bother to be quiet as I moan and whimper, feeling Peeta's touch burn where he is gripping my hips as he jerks up into me.

"Hurrrr…. Urrrrr… Huhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!"

We spend half of the rest of that night having sex, until, after we make each other cum again, we fall against one another in a tangle of sweat and limbs and drift off into sleep.