Chapter 10: Who We Are and Who We Want to Be
I was right; I can't.
"Errrm….. Huhhhh….. Uhhhhh…. Mmmmm….. Faster…. Faster…."
As Peeta moves between my legs, I try to muffle my moans by biting into my hand, though I'm not sure it matters. We are in the Meadow, where I've rarely if ever seen anyone else venture, and we had moved a ways farther from where we used to meet, the tall grass and flowers surrounding us helping to conceal our frenzied movements. My blue skirts have been shoved up around my hips, and his pants are around his knees, open just enough to free his cock, which he is driving into me mercilessly. My shirt is pushed up as well, and he had wrenched my bra cup out of the way so he could lavish my left breast with his tongue and his teeth.
On one particular stroke of my clit with his fingers, I yelp loudly – "OHHHH!" - my attempt at relative silence forgotten. He hastily covers my lips with his, licking his way into my mouth. He swallow my moans as I frantically buck my hips in time with his thrusts, forcing his hand to bear down harder between my thighs. I feel the momentum of my orgasm barreling through me, and I can't fucking stand it any longer—I wrench my mouth from his to dip my head back and cry out as I cum.
When Peeta finishes, he rests his head on my chest as he catches his breath. Then, groaning, he crawls out from between my legs and pushes the hem of my blue dress back down for me, smoothing the skirt down. I feel boneless, relishing in the euphoria of my orgasm, trying not to think about anything other than the satiation of my body. Peeta flops down on his back beside me, his breathing labored, and I watch as he removes the condom and dumps the contents on the ground, stuffing it back into its pouch. His arms drop to the ground after he's buttoned his pants up, and he lets out a huff, staring up at the sky.
"Fuck," he mutters, and I sigh, turning my gaze to the sky.
"Fuck," I agree. I'm still not sure why I seem to lose all rational thought in his presence, why, despite knowing how much I'm betraying my husband, despite knowing how wrong it is, I can't stop. All I know is that, at least in this moment, it feels right, like being with Peeta is what I am meant to do, that's where I'm supposed to be.
Today is the first time we've made love since the fateful afternoon in my house. We had tried to resist, meeting in the Meadow just to talk, then, just to kiss, then, just to touch, to reduce each other to quivering messes with our hands, as if somehow that wrong is less egregious—but ultimately, we were just delaying the inevitable. We both knew where it was heading; we both knew we wanted more (why else has he continued to carry the condom?). So, when his hand had danced teasingly between my legs, under my panties, I realized what I wanted was his cock filling me up, not his fingers, so I pulled him on top of me and freed him of his trousers. Peeta quickly got the hint.
We're both quiet for a moment, and a cool breeze rustles my hair, cooling my face. I close my eyes. It's starting to get colder these days. School is going to start again soon, and then I won't see Peeta as much—if at all. With him teaching on the weekdays, we will have no time for secret rendezvouses in the Meadow.
I can stop seeing him then, I tell myself, cut all ties. I just want a little more time with him until then, just another taste of the happiness I've found, writhing underneath him, before I have to let him go again. Then I can go back to my pitiful life with a man who I can't seem to make happy.
Fingers smooth over my brow, and I open my eyes to find Peeta watching me. He has rolled onto his side, and he is caressing my forehead, my cheek. I can't help herself; I smile. The corner of his mouth curls up, though his eyes are a cloudy blue. He shifts closer to press a kiss to my temple, but he rests his forehead on mine, his mouth brushing my ear. I can feel his warm breath, and it makes me shiver.
"I know I shouldn't say this," he starts, his voice low, "but what I wouldn't give to be able to strip you naked and worship your body the way you deserve so you can scream as loud as you want."
No, he mustn't say that. But I love to hear it all the same. Biting my lip, I curl against his chest and tuck my head under his chin. "Me too," I whisper, and he wraps his arm around me to hold me close.
It's getting easier to act normal around Gale, though looking him in the eye is still difficult; I'm sure he can see the guilt in my eyes. But he doesn't seem to notice, and, I thought, maybe I can do this; maybe this won't be too hard.
That is, until my husband tries to initiate sex with me one night, after we've crawled into bed to go to sleep. His hand slips under my night shirt, trailing over my hip and my stomach, and I'm paralyzed. "I miss you," he murmurs in the dark, his fingers skimming the swell of my breast. "Do you think you're up for it?"
And what else can I do but say yes? I roll onto my back, and he kisses me. I keep my eyes shut and don't make any noise as he pumps away on top of me, too afraid to look at his face, too afraid of what he might see in my eyes, and before he finishes, he brings me to completion with a shuddering orgasm using his hand. I bite down on my lip to suppress a moan, and I stare breathlessly at the ceiling as he settles down in the bed beside me.
"I need to clean up," I tell him hollowly, slipping out of the bed and tiptoeing into the bathroom. When I shut the door behind me, I turn on the sink and collapse on top of the toilet, covering my mouth before a bark of laughter can escape. I laugh into my hands until I am sobbing, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't know what is wrong with me.
After I've calmed down and washed my face, I quietly sneak back into bed. Gale is already fast asleep.
I sit at the kitchen table, chewing my thumbnail anxiously as I watch the clock. A glass of water sits on the table, clutched in the death grip of my hand. I am just taking a sip when a curt knock sounds on the backdoor, causing me to jump and spill water down my chin. I glance at the clock again as I wipe my face off; he's right on time.
Crossing to the backdoor, I swing it open, and my stomach swoops at the sight of him. Peeta's blonde hair is hidden from the sunlight by a cap, and he smiles warmly at me. I pull him inside and quickly shut the door. "Did anyone see you?" I blurt, wringing my hands. He gives me a look.
"I don't know, but I tried to be careful," he says, taking his cap off and ruffling his hair. "If anyone saw me, they didn't say anything." Frowning, I nod and distractedly tug on my braid; I just hope everyone else is too busy working to notice a Merchant visiting the Seam. He glances around my house, running a hand through his curls—a nervous habit of his, I've noticed. My own heart is fluttering. It was risky to bring him to my house again (that's only one word from a list of many I've used to describe my audacity), but I can't stop thinking about what he'd said in the Meadow the last time. I want to see him naked and in all his glory; I want him every which way, not just a frantic fuck in the grass, and I want to scream his name without fear of being heard.
Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I motion for him to follow me into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink or eat?" I ask over my shoulder.
"Just you."
His quiet words pull me up short, and I whirl around to face him. There is a hungry glint in his eyes, and an electrical current prickles at the base of my skull. "Take your clothes off," he demands in a gravelly voice, and I oblige without hesitation. As I pull off my shirt, he removes his as well, and he groans in appreciation when his eyes land on my bare breasts. He stops to watch me slide my pants down, and I kick them off my feet. "Those, too," he nods at my underwear, and I shimmy out of them, ducking my head shyly as I stand naked before him. He closes the distance between us in one step, and my eyes linger on the bulge in his pants before he tips my head up. "You are exquisite," he murmurs, his large hands trailing down my neck, over my shoulders. When his callused palms catch on my pebbled nipples, I inhale sharply, closing my eyes as they continue their path down my hips, sliding around my back to grasp my shapely buttocks.
"I have waited 15 years, at least, to taste you," he whispers in my ear, and I tremble. He dips a hand between my thighs, and I gasp as his fingers slide through the wetness pooling there. "I think you're ready," he muses playfully, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth. When he moans in approval, I think I might cum right then. "I want you on the couch."
I move quickly, perching on the edge of the sofa, and he kneels down in front of me. My legs quiver from my nerves as he pushes them apart, opening me to him, but he leans up to kiss me. His tongue probes my mouth, and I grab onto his shoulders, my hands sliding down over his shoulder blades; he is always so hot to the touch. When he breaks the kiss, his face hovers so close to mine, our noses bump together. "Take out your braid?" he ask, and at my confused look, he smiles boyishly. "Please?"
I can deny him nothing—that's the problem, isn't it?—so I unwrap the elastic band and unplait my hair. His hand slides into my tresses, his fingers briefly massaging my scalp before combing out my long, dark hair. It fans over my breasts, and he kisses me again, deeply, to show his gratitude. His mouth moves down to my nipples where he further shows his gratitude, sucking them into his mouth.
It isn't until he has me writhing and begging for his attention elsewhere that he finally lowers his face to my center. At the first flick of his tongue, I arch off the couch, but he pins my thighs open before they can snap closed. His mouth is unforgiving as his tongue slides between my folds, thrusting inside me, then circling the bundle of nerves at the apex. Peeta moans against me, the vibrations making me gasp, and when he nips gently with his teeth, I practically shriek. My thighs clamp around his head, and I moan at the feel of his beard tickling the delicate skin of my inner thighs. It is better than I have imagined.
He pushes my thighs open again to plunge his fingers inside me while he sucks on my clit, and my hands fist in his hair, tugging him closer. I don't even recognize the guttural, incoherent sounds I'm making, but I don't care. I'm desperate for my release, and only his tongue can bring it to me. When I feel the familiar tingle surging at the juncture of my thighs, I press Peeta's face closer; he doesn't seem to mind, opening his mouth wider over me, and as I cum with a cry of his name, he laps at me greedily.
I barely have time to recover before he is kissing me again, his tongue sliding against mine so I can taste myself there. "Bend over, on your knees," he says, his voice husky, and I scramble to get into position as he removes his pants and his boxers. I brace myself on my forearms while he puts the condom on, trembling as he situates himself behind me. He reaches up to wrap my hair around his hand momentarily, tugging my head back, and I moan at the sensation. Letting my hair go, he pushes into me gradually, and we both groan in relief. But that is as slow as he is going to go; he shifts his hips back, then immediately begins thrusting into me, hard and fast. The slapping of our skin together punctuates the sound of my moans, and he grips my hips tightly, jerking them back to connect with his on every thrust. I can feel the build-up to another orgasm as my body still reels from my last, and I keen into the cushions, my fingers clawing at the couch.
"Peeta, I—I..." I break off into a groan, and when his fingers connect with my clit, my body seizes up; I shout into the cushion as I convulse around him, and he moans. His arms hold my hips up so he can continue to thrust into me, but the rest of my body sags to the couch, my arms too weak to prop myself up any longer.
"Katniss," Peeta grunts, one of his hands splaying over the small of my back. "I'm gonna—ah—gonna come..." I clench his cock inside me in response, and he groans loudly, coming after a few more hard thrusts. His furious movements still as he pulses inside me, but he gasps suddenly, jerking out of me. "Oh, shit."
Confused, I push myself up on my hands and look at him over my shoulder. "What?"
His wide eyes are full of alarm when he looks at me. "I, uh—the condom broke."
I blink as I stare at him, struggling through my haze to comprehend what he's just said. That is when I see the ripped condom on his cock, and I gasp, scurrying off the couch to stand up. As I move, I can feel his semen running down my thighs. "Shit."
Neither of us move for a moment, until Peeta finally goes to pull off the ruined condom. I dart out of the living room down the hall, and he calls after me. "Just give me a minute!" I yell, barricading myself in the bathroom. My heart beats wildly, and my reflection looks flushed and crazy-eyed. Grabbing a washcloth, I wet it and hastily clean myself off, scrubbing furiously between my thighs, though I know it doesn't make a difference. I curse loudly, rinsing the washcloth off, then I brace my hands on the counter as I think. This isn't the first time this has happened to me; when we first started having sex, Gale and I broke a couple condoms in the process of trying to figure out what size fit him best. I must have given Peeta the wrong size all those weeks ago in the Hob.
I haven't gotten pregnant before, though; I will be fine. I can get some wild carrot seeds from Mother, as I have done in the past. It's going to be fine, I reassure myself because what else can I do?
After splashing my face with cold water, I dry off on a towel and quietly slip out of the bathroom. I grab some other clothes to put on, and when I walk back into the living room, Peeta is already dressed and sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up when I cross to the front of the couch, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize, Katniss. If I had realized, I would have stopped—" he fretts, but I touch his arm to stop him.
"It's okay," I say shakily. "I...It's happened before. I can take something. We'll be fine." His face is still pinched with concern, so I smile, my chin quivering only slightly, and I try to smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead.
"Okay," he whispers, catching my hand to squeeze it. When he smiles at me, I lean forward to kiss him. I don't want the day to be ruined; we have so little time left together.
"Let's go to the Meadow for a little bit," I suggest gently, and he nods. After one more kiss, I wait for a few minutes after he's left through the back door before I leave through the front.
I'll go to Mother's on my way back from the Meadow, before Gale gets home.
