Chapter 8: The Lovers are Discovered
I should have known that one day, we would be found out.
When that day came, I wisely predicted that Peeta's mother would be the one to discover us.
We now make love in the bakery storeroom, surrounded by yeast and stores of flour. Hands clench fabric and shrug it away to grip the skin underneath as tongues push through, swimming in each other's mouths as we kiss frenetically, our breathing coming in heavy, rough pants.
Backing me up into a table speckled with a white dusting of powder, Peeta roughly bunches up the skirts of my frock, pushing them up over my hips. Wrenching my bodice and then my bra cup loose so that my left breast is freed, his hand cups me there, at its swell before he swoops in and kisses me roughly on my tingling lips. My arms winding about him sinuously, drawing him close, I kiss him back with equal fervor, a challenge in our liplock.
Peeta squeezes my bare breast, tweaking the nipple, and I hiss. Boldly, I take his skull and tug it down to my cleavage, mashing his face in between my voluptuous breasts.
"I want you to taste them, Snowdamnit!" I'm hissing at him like an angry mother goose, but Peeta obeys me submissively. I loll back my head and let out a groan. Peeta flicks his tongue out over my hardened nipple, the one now exposed to the cool night air. He appears to be almost in awe, at the size of my assets. I admit, I filled out as I grew into womanhood, even past puberty. A memory falls into my head just then about a silly argument I got into with Prim, when her body was beginning to change. The spat culminated in us yelling at each other over whose boobs were bigger. I chuckle at the reminder only to then cry out as I suddenly feel a bloated… thing brush up against my sopping wet folds, now also exposed to the subterranean breeze. Between our heated kissing, our entwined bodies, I catch a flash of peach skin near the space between my legs, and my eyes nearly pop.
"Oh….. Oh, God….. Oh, Snow's Roses, you can't be serious… Mr. Mellark, you bad, bad, ba-ahhhhhh….. Ahhhhhhhhh….. AHHHHHHHHHHHH… AHHHHHHHHHHH!" The sounds which are now being abruptly torn from me crescendo in an almost operatic way as Peeta takes me in one clean thrust, shattering my virginity forevermore. He grunts as my limbs noodily curve about him to draw him closer, bring him in deeper, and he pumps into me madly. My hands manage to find purchase, nails clawing into the toned flesh of his buttocks and I furiously lift my hips, rutting against him in return and steely matching him pound for every pound.
"Ugggh…. Huhhhh….. Uhhhh…. Faster…. Faster…." I rasp. Peeta snarls and does as I bid. "Harder…" I coax him. Then, born of frustration: "HARDER, PEETA, FUCK ME HARDER!"
Peeta growls and bears down. He's panting into the soft curve of my neck, sending a love bite into my skin, and I cry out, but I like it.
"Sing…. Sing for me, sweetheart…. Sing for me!"
I let out a wail as I cum all around him, at almost precisely the same moment that he empties his seed deep inside of me.
I'm quivering, my breath coming to me in rough gasps. I feel lightheaded, dizzy, so when Peeta sharply tears himself away from me, I whine at the loss of contact. My frock's skirts are still folded into themselves and by now surely utterly ruined, but Peeta does not seem bothered as he suddenly drops to his knees and shifts the skirts of my dress to tumble over him like a curtain, concealing him from view.
And then his mouth is on the petals of my sex, and I let out a happy scream, twerking my hips into his face. I can feel his tongue lick up the swollen, baby-pink skin.
"Ohhh….. Ohhhhhhhh… Oh, the State preserve us, have mercy! Mercy…." I begin to sob from the pleasure. "Please, Peeta…. Peeta….."
He makes me cum again faster than I would have expected and, with a whimper, I feel my juices stream down my thighs. Peeta ducks back out from under my skirts, rising off his knees to his full height.
He pulls me close, and for one titillating moment, I think he is going to kiss me yet again, but then the world is spinning and I suddenly straddle him, his toned body lying under me, flat on the tabletop against which we've been braced as we've fucked.
"Ride me, you little vixen!" I'm rapidly becoming accustomed to the tone of that voice, and I daren't defy it. Still, body glowing red all over, I tremble, a bundle of nerves and inadequacy. I haven't ridden him in a while, not since that first night we were alone together in his room.
"I… I don't know if I…."
Peeta grips my hipbones and shifts me so his erection is directly under my entrance. "I'll guide you, sweetheart. Just bounce on me!" Something in my face must still appear unsure, for his forcefulness dims just a bit. "But if you're not sure you want to do this…"
"No!" I cry, swinging my one thigh over the rest of the way, shifting to ensure I am properly astride him. "I want this. I need this. I do." And sinking low, I sheathe him inside me.
My hands bracing his bare chest, I begin to slowly bounce and undulate on him, my hips swaying. With every meeting of our pelvises, I grow in confidence, and soon I am riding him like he is my mount in one of the horse races I've seen on the holoTV out in Ten. Peeta makes an odd little noise in the back of his throat when he geysers up into me; I'm not long following him over the edge.
I swoon, listing over my paramour like a tree caught in a harsh breeze, and nearly collapse on top of him, just about spent. I settle for bending over him and kissing him greedily, moving my lips down to pepper along his chest.
"Lower!" Peeta gasps out when I've neared his bellybutton.
I pause, lifting my head to blink at him dolefully, innocently, and Peeta growls.
"Put your mouth on me, Katty girl!"
I hold his stare bravely, before shifting my body down the length of his until my eyes behold a length of a very different kind. I've never seen a man's penis before; the stalk is angry and red. I shakily reach out a hand, fingers trembling, before retracting it, then finally willing myself to touch him. Curl my palm around the base of his shaft.
"You're…. you're huge!" I breathe in astonishment. It's nothing I haven't seen before, yet it never ceases to amaze me: was this part of him really just inside me, cleaving me damn near in two?
"You will fit all of me in that pretty little mouth of yours," Peeta commands, and I nod in a trance, his member looking like a snake charmer about to be put under the spell of its master. "Kiss it!"
I press a tender kiss to the tip. Then, breathing deeply, I rear forward and take him in my mouth. His foreskin glides in deeper between my puckered lips and I suck, drawing him in further still, until he is well down my throat. When his tip touches the back of my esophagus, I have to inhale deeply through my nose to catch a breath.
Eyes rolling into the back of my head, I loll my tongue out to lick the upper reaches of his shaft. By now, Peeta is writhing beneath me, practically shouting as he humps my face. His jiggling allows me to bob my head as I methodically work, bob it enough so that I am able to hungrily tuck his balls past my bottom lip. My mouth massages them, fondles them.
We must have been leaning too far to one side for all at once, we both are thrown, capsized off the tabletop, to land half-braced against a pile of sacks of flour. Remarkably, I keep all of him in me, and I shift onto my knees, resuming my sucking him off almost seamlessly.
Swaying above me, Peeta pants out a warning and when he cums, I swallow every last drop of what he offers me.
I extract myself teasingly from his member, dropping back onto my heels to admire my handiwork. This time, when Peeta grabs me roughly and manhandles me into a position on all fours, I am ready. Though a jolt of exhilarating fear courses through me as Peeta emphatically jerks my hipbones up so that my ass is sticking straight up in the air.
"Stay on your knees, love," Peeta whispers, his voice soft as velvet. By now, I understand that Peeta is neither a gentle nor a domineering lover. He vacillates easily between both, and I am hot for it!
If not necessarily ready for the moment now, when he frantically rubs himself along the crack of my buttocks before sharply plunging in between my ass cheeks.
"AHHHHHHH!" I throw back my head with a shriek, canting my tight little ass back into his pelvis. As my lover begins to move about inside me, he fucks me raw and deep, his balls slapping against my arse cheeks and making the most delicious squelching sound. I moan and try to ride through the pain, match the jerky motions of his hips and mine.
I used to despise the thought of sex. I never understood what all the fuss was about. Now I know, and understand that there are much better Games to play than the ones the Capitol forces us to ingest for their amusement. Games of the most intimate nature, as Peeta and I play the Beast with Two Backs.
"Who do you belong to?" Peeta hollers over our combined shouting as we shag like rabbits.
"Y-you…" I hiss with need.
"Are you my Seam slut?!"
"…YES!" I shriek through another debilitating slam.
"Then SAY it!"
I lift my head from where I've been made to stare into the dirt floor of this cellar, my nails now caked with the stuff as they dig into the earth; it's all I can do just to hold on. My teeth grind, and I growl, "I'm your fucking Seam slut!"
Peeta howls and rubs against me faster, pumping into me like a piston. Fingers twine into my hair, yanking my skull back, and I yelp. Then he's turning my face and kissing me rather indecently, and I breathe through the high, melting against him.
We break the kiss roughly and Peeta claps his free hand over the mouth he just claimed as his; he's jerking inside me frenetically now.
"Hmmmm…. MMMMMM! HMMMM! MMMMM-HMMMMMM!" I viciously squeal into the palm of his hand as I feel wetness crash like a wave between my quivering legs. Peeta is right behind, pulsing his seed directly into my arse.
My knees give out and I fall forward, sprawling into the dirt in exhaustion. Peeta bellyflops on top of me, panting, and nearly crushes me.
After a few moments in which we calm our racing hearts, I squirm beneath him, whining, begging to be let up. He rolls off of me, and I flip onto my back, past the point of fighting as he tucks me possessively into his side.
"That was…. I…. I've never…." I'm babbling, speechless.
Cupping my cheek with astonishing gentleness considering the dirty deed we just concluded, Peeta kisses my lips lovingly. "I know," his blue eyes smile, smoldering.
I beam at him adoringly. And in this moment of bliss, I speak aloud the words I've carried for some time in my heart:
"I love you too."
We jerk suddenly, though not quite enough for our entwined bodies to separate, when the door at the top landing suddenly bangs open.
"Katniss, where is that flour I…?!" The Witch stops dead, returning our gawping stares at having been found out, caught. She is speechless, but more than this, truly…. frightened, and it is oddly this that scares me the most. What she might do to me now that she has the knowledge that I have been with her son, intimately and audaciously. That I have dared to forget my place and move untowardly above my station by having him in my arms and in my bed, and most everywhere else as well.
If she could push me into the ovens, she would.
When she finally speaks, it's a whisper filled with venom.
"You thieving little whore." The ugly words feel like knives. "And here a practical girl, I thought you were. A sensible girl, I thought you were! One who knew her place. You come into my home. I feed and clothe you, I let you sleep under my roof and you poison my son against me. You ruin his future. Was that your plan all along? Spread your legs and hope to trap him? She's pregnant, isn't she?" She's turned on Peeta now. "You stupid boy, you knocked up the help!"
Peeta doesn't answer. He's looking at me. How can his mother draw any other conclusion? We're two eighteen year olds that they've left alone more than once. I would have guessed it myself were it someone else's life.
"Yes." My blood freezes at his voice. "I've got to marry her."
Behind Miriam, I can now see Prim peeking down into the gloom at the torrid sight of me still impaled on the Baker's youngest son; though she already knows, I have been with him, she is nonetheless staring at me in horror, clearly appalled that I would have the nerve to fuck him in such a risky (and risqué) manner. "Katniss?" she whispers, pleadingly. I close my eyes and turn my face away. I don't know what to say right now. I hope she doesn't think I traded my body to ensure she had a roof over her head.
Miriam starts screaming and lunches at me with her fingernails. "I'll kill you!" Peeta blocks her from me and now Wheaton, the Baker, appears, leaping down the stairs to catch his wife around the waist and keep her from damaging us.
He calls up the stairs to my sister firmly, "Prim get down here and lock the door behind you when I tell you."
Prim obeys and clicks the bolt after the Baker has dragged his wife back to the ground floor, and we hear Miriam collapse in screams and tears and Wheaton speaking slowly and quietly to her. My sister descends the stairs, retreating from the noise. She sits on a sack of flour in shock. Peeta gets up off of me and after collecting ourselves, sits next to me on another. We can barely look at each other.
Prim suddenly sets her jaw, stands up, takes one step forward and slaps Peeta as hard as she can across his face.
"Prim!" I jump back up and grab her by the wrists.
"You took advantage of my sister!" she yells at him, balling up her fists; ready to hit him again. He's stunned and holding his cheek.
"Prim, I'm not pregnant." She drops her arms, confused. "He said that so..." I falter as I suddenly realize I surely don't know why Peeta would claim me, declare his love for me, come what may and damn the consequences. "... so his mother wouldn't cast us out into the streets. So he could marry me." My voice catches. Even after all of this, he's actually, apparently willing to marry me.
"Oh Peeta, I'm so sorry," Prim says, alarmed at what she's done.
"Prim, I would hope you would do that to anyone you think hurts your sister," he assures her. "I would have done that too."
She smiles sheepishly. "Still. I'm glad I can trust you with her."
I hide the blush on my face.
There's a scuffle at the door above us and Peeta stands up, shielding us. The door's locked but there are voices on the other side and the sound of furniture being dragged. Something heavy hits the door.
Peeta motions for us to stay behind and climbs the stairs as quietly as he can. Unbolting the door, he tries to push it open. Even from here, I can see it doesn't move. "Mother? Father?" he calls out, desperately pushing against the door.
We're trapped. I run up the stairs after him, but no amount of pushing will move the door. I have no idea how she wedged it, but I imagine the sofa or a chair is caught in the grooves in the floorboard. We're not going anywhere.
Her cold voice is on the other side of the door. "Yes, Peeta? What seems to be the trouble?"
"You can't trap us in here! There's no food!"
"It's only one night Peeta. Just one night until I can get to the apothecary tomorrow for some supplies to take care of this ugly little problem. Get some rest, I'll be down in the morning."
I hear her padding away, saying something I suppose to Wheaton, the ascending the stairs to her room.
"Papa! Papa! Please help us!" Peeta is screaming at the closed door. I hear footsteps.
"Get some rest, Peeta. Good night, girls." His voice is defeated.
I turn to Prim, who stands gripping the railing at the bottom of the stairs. "What is she going to do to me, Prim?" Peeta turns to hear her answer.
Prim swallows hard. "There are a few mixtures one can make...I've never made any myself. It makes you very, very sick. Sick enough to…but..." she's having trouble "It's very hard to mix. If it's too strong it can ruin…or ..." She breaks down and cries silently. I know what she can't say. If it's not perfect, whatever concoction I'll be fed it would destroy my womb. Or kill me.
Peeta turns back to the door. "I lied!" He's pounding his fists on the door. "She's not pregnant! Daddy, I lied!"
"Peeta, they're not going to believe you now," I say gently, laying my arms across his to lower them from the door.
"Katniss," he says frantically. "Even if you aren't pregnant, she's going to kill you. I have to stop her."
"You don't know that," I try to soothe him, masking my terror. "That doesn't always happen."
"We'll never have children, Katniss. I can't let her take that from us."
I can't speak after he says this.
He pounds on the door a little longer, but no one comes to our rescue. The sun sinks on the horizon. I wonder if anyone will notice when Peeta doesn't turn up for school tomorrow.
Emotionally exhausted, Prim starts to fall asleep about thirty minutes later propped at the bottom of the stairs. Peeta helps me lift her onto a more comfortable sack of flour, removing only her shoes. We sit across from her and watch her sleep.
"Peeta?" I whisper.
"Yes?" He moved his lips to my ear to keep quiet.
"Do you think I'd be a good mother?"
I feel him smile against my ear. "You're the only mother I want for my children." I want to cry.
"I'm so sorry I've ruined your life."
He pulls back enough to look into my eyes. "You are my life. Besides, I'm pretty sure I've ruined yours too."
"Probably. We're a good match, after all."
We laugh quietly, unable to do anything else. Peeta stares off at the storage area, the sacks and glass jars and spilled flour.
"Do you still have your knapsacks?" he whispers after a pause.
"From the Home? Yes, they're in the trunk." My eyes dim as I realize: "Upstairs, in my room."
"Doesn't matter. Let's pack."
"What? How?" I'm not sure where he's going with this.
"When they open that door tomorrow morning, I'll hit them with a bag of the glass jars filled with flour to give them some weight. It should keep them down long enough for us to get a running start. We'll dash up to your room, grab what we can, and leap out the window."
"Where will we go?"
He doesn't answer me, perhaps stumped. Though I do admit, he is terribly romantic to willingly run away with me, almost surely to elope, and that he would take my sister with us. I've never given a thought to marriage until this man came into my life, but now that I consider it, I realize I could be perfectly happy, being his wife. Even if we have to live in sin to be together. We can do nothing but settle back, sitting but leaning back to keep strain off our shoulders until we're ready to run. Peeta grips his bag of weapons in his hand as he reclines next to me. I chase after sleep, but it evades me. I step on its tail only to wake as Peeta tosses next to me. I'm grateful I was not asleep when I hear to sofa start to pull away from the door as the first grey light of dawn is peaking over the window.
He's on his feet at the bottom of the stairs as I wake Prim by covering her mouth. She jumps awake and I motion for her to get up and stay silent. She's on full alert right away as we creep to the door.
Peeta makes sure we're in position as he silently slides the bolt out of place. The sofa grinds against the floor, then stops. Whoever is moving it is alone. They have to stop and adjust it to move again. Finally, the noise ceases. The door begins to creak open.
Peeta lunges at the door in the darkness and knocks it into the other party on the other side. He's through the door and I've lost sight of him but I hear a commotion. I grab Prim's hand and race up the stairs. Someone's on the floor, I guess it's the Witch, and Peeta is grappling with her for the bag. I shove Prim around the figure towards the back door, but Miriam grabs my ankle and I fall, heavily on top of her. Peeta has the bag away, but now he can't swing it for risk of hitting me.
"Stop! Peeta, stop! It's me."
It's not Miriam. It's Wheaton.
"Peeta, don't. I'm not going to hurt her."
Peeta doesn't release the bag of flour jars. "Let her go," he demands.
"I'm not keeping her. Katniss, get up."
I stand up carefully and back away to Prim. Wheaton tries to stand but Peeta orders him to stay down.
"Peeta, I came to help you."
"Why should I believe you? You locked us in the basement!"
"I had to make sure your mother thought I was on her side or I couldn't have slipped her Prim's sleep syrup."
We exchange looks of surprise. "You drugged Mother?"
"Just until the morning. And then I'm going to talk to her, remind her of the law. Katniss's indentures are in my name, and your mother can't force me to release her of them. You girls are to stay and work here until Katniss turns 21. The moment her indentures are up, you can carry her off, son, and make her your bride if you both so still wish it. Be sure to take her to the Justice Building, though, to make an honest woman of her, and I only ask that you conduct a Toasting. You both have my blessing."
My eyes prick with tears. I find it so sweet that the Baker would risk everything, including the wrath of his wife, for his boy's and my happiness, enough that he insists on us getting married the right way, rather than an elopement in the woods somewhere. The Toasting is considered sacred in Twelve custom. A man and a woman usually go stand before the District Justice of the Peace to be wed in the eyes of the district law, but no one feels truly married until after they have toasted a bit of bread in the hearth with their intended and share it. No one feels truly married without a Toasting... and I now realize that I wouldn't either.
Peeta and I gaze at each other, by now having achieved that intimacy between couples where we can speak whole conversations with no words. Peeta helps his father up, shakes his hand, and then embraces him.
"Thank you."
The Baker grunts, but does smile down at a delighted, practically dancing Prim. "Don't thank me yet."