Second installment from the Cassie universe. Written for the Tumblr blog everlarkbirthdaydrabbles

My daughter's squeals of delight ripple through the playground, lighting smiles on the faces of an elderly couple enjoying a quiet morning walk. It's early; only a handful of souls brave the park when the sun has been up less than an hour.

Her little voice shrieking higher grabs my attention, and I turn back to the swings. Under Cassie's laughter is a second voice, soft and husky, flowing like warm caramel as she coaxes my little girl to hang on tight.

Katniss.

Her ebony hair is twisted back, loose tendrils float around her face in the breeze. My fingers itch to tame them.

My fingers itch to tame so much more than her hair.

We've been dating a month now, though it's hard to call it dating. We spend time together, eat together, watch television together, just like we'd been doing as friends for months. And, just like all of those months, Cassie is always with us.

Always.

I try to make plans for just the two of us but they never seem to pan out. Something always gets in the way. My mother is an unreliable babysitter at best, and I have a hard time trusting other people to watch my little girl.

But Katniss hasn't balked, not even once, when my pint-sized third wheel has accompanied us on 'dates'. On the contrary, she always seems so happy to see Cassie, even planning outings that the three of us can do together.

Of course I'm thrilled that Cassie and Katniss get along so well, I could never be with a woman who doesn't adore my daughter. But I want more. I want to take Katniss on a real date, somewhere that the placemats don't double as colouring books. I want just a slice of her undivided attention. I want to stare into her silver eyes by candlelight, I want to listen to her musical voice discussing something other than whether Tarzan is Elsa and Anna's brother.

And quick stolen kisses, while incredible, just aren't enough.

The first time I met Katniss was just days after Cassie and I moved into our apartment. I was struggling to drag a cranky, overtired, overwhelmed not quite five-year-old down the hall in the early morning, trying to gently shush her so her whining wouldn't wake our new neighbors. When Katniss climbed off the elevator, dressed in running gear, every muscle in her toned torso glistening, I knew, without a doubt, that she was way out of my league. In fact, I barely glanced at her because I knew all too well that gorgeous cosmopolitan women like that have no time for men with baggage. I figured she'd brush by, maybe glare at the squawking little girl who had dug her heels into the industrial carpeting and was progressively getting louder.

Instead, Katniss headed directly to us, crouched down to my daughter's level and initiated a conversation about Totoro, the anime character on both my daughter's shirt and Katniss's phone case. Cassie was smitten.

So was I.

Over the months, I got to know Katniss. She's quirky and she's kind. She's funny as hell. She can be incredibly intense. And she's sexy. Fuck is she sexy.

But even as we cultivated a friendship, even as she slid so seamlessly into our lives, I never dared dream she could want more.

Until that night.

That night she watched Cassie so I could go on a date with a vapid woman at an overpriced restaurant. Katniss looked at me that night, her eyes soft with longing and I could barely tear myself away. That night I sat across the table from a woman whose name I can't even remember, tuning out her droning about designer handbags and wishing I was home with my girls.

That night I kissed Katniss in my kitchen.

"Daddy!" My moppet colliding with my legs snaps me out of my head. She's even a pint-sized daydream cockblocker! But she's mine, and I adore her. Katniss is grinning so widely watching us, sometimes the petty, insecure part of me wonders if it's only Cassie that she's interested in, and I'm just a collateral part of that.

But I scoop my daughter into my arms, and feel Katniss's hand on my back as I straighten. She's smiling up at me, and I know, as impossible as it seems, that the adoration in those stunning silver eyes is for me. "Where were you?" she asks softly, her eyes holding mine hostage.

"Dreaming of you," I tell her honestly, and the faint flush that climbs her neck and spreads across her cheeks makes my heart swell. I don't hesitate to follow its path with gentle fingers. Her skin is like silk, the desire to trace all of it with fingertips and lips has me shifting uncomfortably.

Her name is Rue and she comes highly recommended by the mother of one of my students. She's had two supervised playdates with Cassie, she seems caring and competent, definitely more mature than her youth would suggest.

Doesn't make me any less worried though.

Any doubts I might have had about Katniss being interested in me, as opposed to just my daughter, were vanquished when I told her I'd found a babysitter and wanted to take her out, just the two of us, alone, finally. Her incredible eyes lit up and she smiled like I was giving her the sun.

Cassie is a little warm, a little tired, and while I'm not one of those overbearing parents I'm a bit concerned about leaving her. But Rue seems capable, and Cassie lights up when she arrives. I leave Rue and Cassie colouring, the fridge stocked with sandwiches and snacks, a list of emergency numbers and a promise that my phone will be on at all times. I can't remember ever being so nervous. But when Katniss opens her apartment door everything else falls away.

She's beautiful, naturally beautiful, I've always thought so. But while she'd be beautiful wearing a potato sack she's instead wearing a stunning red dress, the kind that criss crosses in the front, and makes her breasts look gift-wrapped. For several long moments I can only stare, slack-jawed. It's only when she laughs self-consciously that I snap out of it.

"You look incredible, Katniss," I tell her, unable to resist reaching out to touch her hair, hanging loose and softly curled, framing her face so perfectly. I don't think I've ever seen her with her hair down before, never dreamed it'd be so thick and silken. Lush. A sordid mental image of those locks brushing against my chest while she rides me hard sends a bolt of desire straight downwards and I have to think about differential equations to prevent myself from pitching a trouser tent before we've even left the floor. "Shall we?" I offer her my arm, and her hand slides around my bicep as if it belongs there.

I check my phone twice during the cab ride, sending a quick request for an update, which Rue answers right away with an 'all is well'. My apologetic glance at Katniss is met with a soft smile. "We can go back," Katniss offers, but I insist that they'll be fine.

I chose a tiny, quirky Italian restaurant, a recommendation from a colleague, and it's perfect. Candles, soft music, tables tucked away in little alcoves that give the illusion of privacy. We order wine and chat; she's relaxed and funny, full of anecdotes from her office. My phone sits face up on the table in front of me, and while I should be thrilled that it's silent I can't stop myself from worrying. I send another quick message to Rue, but this one isn't answered right away.

After we order our meals we lapse into silence, and I know that's my fault, I just haven't been able to keep my mind on the conversation. When my phone buzzes I practically jump on it, and Rue and I engage in a back and forth. Her answers concern me enough that I phone her. She fills me in; how Cassie looks flushed, how she's not interested in eating even though I left all of her favourites. I'm chewing on my lip, debating what to do next when I hear Katniss's voice float across the table.

"This isn't going to work."

My heart sinks. But how can I blame her? This gorgeous, vibrant woman deserves so much better than a wreck who can't even hold a 15-minute conversation, who has spent the entirety of the 45 minutes or so that we've been out together on his phone. I glance up, intending on begging forgiveness, offering every apology, but she's not even looking at me. Instead she's flagging down our waiter. "Would you be able to pack our meals to go?" she asks him. "We have a little emergency at home." He nods and walks briskly away, and I steel myself, staring forlornly at the glass of Beaujolais I barely drank half of. But when she turns back she's smiling, albeit sadly.

"I'm sorry, Katniss." The words sound hollow though. It's been a month. An entire month that I've been stringing her along. She reaches across and covers my hand with hers.

"It's fine, Peeta. I'm worried about her too." At that I glance up, but she's completely sincere. "Let's just take our meal back to your place, get Cassie comfortable, and then we can eat and chat there, if you're still up for it. Okay?"

"You still want to be with me?" It's about the stupidest sounding thing that's ever fallen out of my face, but shock at her words has stolen my sense. I figured she'd let me down gently, she's a sweet person after all. But this?

"Well, yeah," she says, her eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you?"

"So much, Katniss. So very much. I'm just, damn. You deserve better than this." She just shakes her head, like I don't understand. Maybe I don't.

The cab ride back is quiet, I keep expecting her to bolt but instead she holds my hand and hums along with the radio.

Cassie is in bed, sleeping. She's no longer warm to the touch but her curls are soaked with sweat and plastered to her forehead. The fever must have broken. Still, I wipe down her face with a cool cloth, and leave a cup of water on her bedside table. She doesn't stir.

When I finally leave Cassie's room, Rue is gone. I find Katniss in the kitchen, reheating our meals. "I paid Rue and walked her home," she says without turning around. Rue only lives in the building across the street, but it's dark out. On top of everything else, I'd left poor Katniss to deal with the sitter. I'm an ass.

Katniss has set the little kitchen table with dishes and wine glasses. Her hair is twisted up on top of her head in a messy bun, her heels discarded. She's even more impossibly gorgeous. "How is Cassie?" she asks.

"Better, I think," I answer softly, fiddling in the cabinets. "Shit, I don't think I even have candles here."

"We don't need them," she says. I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her, pressing my lips against her neck. She sighs, and spins in my arms. "I don't need fancy, Peeta. I just need you."

"Katniss, I'm so sorry…" She presses a pair of soft fingers across my lips to stop me.

"Peeta, stop. It's okay, really. I understand." Before she can lower her hand I catch it with my own and press a kiss to her fingers.

"You are amazing," I tell her. It's such an inadequate word for this woman. She laughs.

"I don't know about that, but I'm definitely hungry!"

I refuse to let this second chance go to waste. I've done absolutely nothing to show this incredible woman that I'm serious about her. That I think I'm falling in love with her. I need to change that.

Instead of pulling out her chair, I tug her into my lap. She looks surprised, but pleased, and I can feel myself start to relax for the first time all day.

This time she has my undivided attention. We share bites of pasta primavera and chicken, laugh over sips of white wine. My fingers dance patterns over her hip, she squirms in response. It's a most delicious torture. "I'm sorry we didn't order dessert," I joke. "The chocolate cake is apparently to die for." Her responding smile is sultry.

"I can think of something I'd like better than chocolate cake right now," she murmurs.

I wish I had something witty to say, or could impress her with pretty words. Instead I kiss her hard, the bitterness of cheap chardonnay contrasting with her own inherent sweetness. And she doesn't hold back, hands winding in my hair, tugging just hard enough to feel like a chastisement. Just hard enough to make my dick throb.

Those straight white teeth that I've watched sink into her bottom lip so fucking alluringly when she's pensive are now nipping at my lip, and I growl in response. She laughs against my lips and I'm a goner. It's good, it's so good, kissing her like this, but I need more. "Katniss," I groan, "I want - can we - please?" Little puffs of incoherency emerge between kisses edged with desperation. Finally I manage to get out the important word. "Bedroom?"

"Finally," she breathes, and the rush of arousal is tempered with a bit of shame. Somehow, inexplicably, this gorgeous creature has been waiting for me to get my act together. And she's still here, still waiting. I tuck my arm under her knees and stand with her in my arms. I've never done this before, carried a woman 'bridal style', and it should feel like a ridiculous cliché, but it doesn't. Her arms wrap around my neck, the feeling of her body pressed against mine, her scent surrounding me, the trust she's put in me not to let her fall. It's such a turn on.

So is the sensation of her tongue tracing patterns along my jaw.

It's a miracle that we don't fall, staggering to the bedroom with more blood in my dick than in my head. When I set her on her feet beside my bed it's like time slows down. I can only stare, breathing hard, trying to figure out if this is real or yet another Katniss-centric wet dream. She answers my unspoken question by stretching up to kiss me again.

Her clever fingers slip each of my shirt buttons, blunt nails dragging until she can push my dress shirt off my shoulders. I pull away only long enough to rip off the t-shirt underneath, but I don't miss the look of appreciation she shoots me before I capture her lips again.

My fingers tangle in her hair, finally managing to pull out the clip that holds her raven locks captive; they spill like a silken cloud all around us, lush and lavender scented.

I try to push that smoking hot dress off her shoulders but she steps back; pulling a tie at her hip. Then with a shrug and a smirk the fabric slides off her shoulders to pool on the floor. "Oh fuck," I gasp.

Her lacy bra and tiny, tiny panties are also red. Her body is more incredible than I'd dared dream. Olive skin, smooth and taut and flawless and all on display for me, a buffet of epic proportions and I want to taste everything. Katniss snickers at my slack jawed expression. "You act like you've never seen breasts." Her hands cup those luscious mounds as she teases me, and my body shudders.

"It's been a very long time," I admit. Cassie's mother has been gone nearly five years; I've barely dated since, and one night stands aren't my thing.

"Let's change that," she whispers, and then we're kissing again, her soft body pressed against mine. Her hand snakes down to cup me over my slacks and I moan far too loudly. "Shhhh," she murmurs in my ear and the sensation, combined with her hand rubbing me just right makes me whimper.

It's been so long and I'm so hard, I'm going to embarrass myself if I don't take control, so I guide her over to the bed. When she lies back across my comforter my breath catches. She's utterly gorgeous, lidded eyes, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks. "Peeta," she sighs and it's a plea.

I almost don't know where to begin, every inch of her is a wonder begging to be discovered. But the swells of red lace are too tempting. They fill my hands perfectly, nipples stiff against my palms, begging for my mouth. I'm too impatient to figure out the clasp, simply pushing the straps down to expose perfect tits topped with firm dark nipples that I waste no time tasting. She sighs softly as I suckle one, then the other, back and forth. Somehow she unfastens the scraps of fabric, I don't even lift my head as I toss her bra across the room.

It's when I bite, at first just gently, that she really reacts, grasping my head and arching, silently encouraging me, bucking and squirming. She's so responsive, it's the hottest thing I've ever experienced.

And then she's shoving me off of her; my heart stutters in my chest as I land on my back. But she crawls over me, lips curved up in a wicked smirk as she works on my belt, pulling it from the loops almost sensuously. "Do you have any idea, Mr. Mellark," she murmurs, barely a whisper, "How long I've been waiting for this?" She makes short work of my trousers, shucking them along with my boxers, then pausing to stare at me the way I'd been staring at her. Her tongue snakes out to wet her bottom lip and my dick twitches. She smirks again.

Her small hand grasping me nearly pushes me over the edge, I'm wound so tightly. "Katniss," I growl as she strokes me just right, just perfectly. "You're gonna have to stop or I'm not going to last."

She squeezes my dick, and I swear I nearly go cross-eyed. "I don't care," she breathes as her head descends. The first flicks of her tongue across the head are the most exquisite agony. And when her hot mouth engulfs me fully I can do nothing but moan. She hums around my cock and I'm lost. It's only when she crawls back up my body, pressing her lips hard against mine, swallowing my moans, that I realize how loud I've been. "Shhh, you have to be quiet," she says against my lips, "We don't want to wake Cassie." The swell of love I feel for this woman threatens to overwhelm me.

"Then keep my mouth covered," I tell her, and she looks at me in confusion as I shuffle down the bed a little. "Let's lose these, shall we?" I try to drag the tiny panties, no more than a triangle of lace and a couple of ribbons, down her firm thighs but she stills my hand. Her nimble fingers loosen the bows at her hips and the fabric falls away. Fuck that's hot.

When I grab her ass and pull her to straddle my face she grins. "Grab the headboard," I murmur, the words ghosting along her centre, already glistening with her arousal. "And hold on."

She's tense at first, uncertain; trembling as I part her folds with my tongue. She tastes incredible. I explore her thoroughly with tongue and lips and teeth, measuring her reaction by the way her body moves, by the little gasps and moans she tries to muffle with her arm. And when I find the right combination she lets down her defences, riding my face, whispered curse words falling like praise from her perfect lips.

Watching her is erotic, her head thrown back, breasts swaying with each undulation of her hips. When I work my hand between us to press two fingers into her waiting heat she looks down at me, and as our eyes lock I feel the first tremors of her approaching orgasm. She whimpers my name, eyes heavy, a single bead of sweat slithering along her torso.

Fuck she's gorgeous.

She bites her lip, struggling to keep quiet as she comes. Fuck, I need to have her somewhere that she can let go, that I can make her scream my name. And I will. But first, I just need her.

Katniss slumps, boneless, and I pull her against me, holding her while her body shakes, kissing her hair, her cheeks. She opens those incredible silver eyes, huge and guileless. "Please tell me you have a condom," she breathes.

The brand new box of magnums are in my bedside table, the look Katniss gives me when I break the seal is equal parts amusement and affection. I shrug, a little sheepish. "I hoped," I start, but stop when she takes the gold foil packet from my hand. I can't tear my eyes away, watching her hand tremble just a bit as she rolls the prophylactic down my length. The idea that she's even just a little nervous is so incredibly endearing, and motivates me to take control. It's been a decade since my high school wrestling days, but I still have some moves.

Pinned under me, she keens. "Please, Peeta!" My cock is aching, it feels like I've been hard for a month. My hips snap forward and she groans as I fill her. She's so tight; so hot and wet and tight and so much better than my fist in the shower. So much better than my fantasies. She's real; her nails claw at my shoulder, her calves wrap around my thighs. I'm not gonna last.

I grunt and moan with every thrust, pressing the sounds into her neck. Her breathless pants of yes and harder spur me on, until I can't tell where I end and she begins. It's never been like this for me before. "Katniss, fuck Katniss, you feel so good. So good."

She swallows the rest of my words, kissing me hard. "Peeta," she whines.

"Shit, oh fuck I can't..." I confess, increasing my speed, fucking her hard as my balls tighten, and before I can even warn her, I'm coming.

I come for a long time; pulsing into the condom, fireworks exploding behind my eyes, my every muscle taut. Then everything slackens at once, I barely catch myself from crushing her, still breathing hard and babbling praises. She strokes my back soothingly, but her body is tense under me, only when my post orgasmic haze starts to clear do I realize that she didn't come. It was just too quick, after so long my stamina was shit. That won't do.

I slip free, moving a hand between us to stroke her. I play no games; establishing a rhythm that has her bucking and mewling. She clings to me, and it's just so damned good. A litany of dirty words pours out, murmured in her ear. So fucking hot. Want to make you scream all night. That's it baby. Come for me. And she does.

I'm silent, drifting on waves of contentment, on the edge of sleep when I feel her start to pull away from my embrace. "No, stay with me Katniss," I beg, tightening my grip.

"Cassie?" she whispers, and I know what she means. Do I really want my daughter to discover her here in the morning?

"Please stay," I repeat as sleep pulls me under. She whispers something back that I don't catch.

She's not beside me in the morning and disappointment floods my gut. But faint voices float through the door.

I find her in the living room, wearing one of my shirts and a huge smile. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is an absolute rats nest. Cassie is perched in her lap, giggling while Katniss plaits her fine golden curls.

My heart clenches; in front of me is everything I have ever wanted. A picture of domestic bliss even more perfect than my wildest dreams. Katniss glances up at me and smiles, she looks so happy I can't help hoping that she feels it too, the rightness of her being here. Of us being here together.

"Daddy!" my little girl shrills, her grin showing off the gap where her front teeth haven't yet grown in. "Can you make pancakes for me and Katnith?"