I hope you're all ready for some smut!

Thanks, as always, to feeding_geese/bigbigbigday006 (who told me to post this tonight, rather than waiting, because "people are going to need smut to read while dealing with their relatives." Happy Thanksgiving! ;) ).

Peeta doesn't respond at all at first, frozen in place by what I'm sure must have been the very last thing he possibly expected. Me kissing him. My lips on his lips. Willingly. Of my own accord. It was my idea even. I can't really think about it myself, even, or I know I'll freak out myself. It isn't that I'm kissing Peeta that's the problem, it's that I'm kissing anyone, at all, without any cameras around. It's not out of necessity. And what I'm planning to do next is even more daunting.

When Peeta finally does come back to life, he pulls away with a start. Really, he practically shoves me away, which throws me off, I'll admit. That wasn't the way I expected he'd respond to this. "What are you doing?" He asks, gaping at me with wide eyes, his mouth still hanging open in shock.

"Uh- Kissing you," I say. Obviously. I'm beginning to feel a little silly, though. Had I been wrong? Have Peeta's feelings for me actually disappeared, after everything he's been forced to do with me?

"Why?" He asks, looking at me with suspicion etched in every part of his face.

I don't really know how to respond. I wasn't prepared for this at all. Well, I hadn't been prepared even to kiss him, but I guess I had figured he would just go along with it. I thought he wanted it. But maybe it's like what Haymitch said about the engagement. He wants it to be real. Yeah, I realize now that I hadn't thought this one through very well. I hadn't actually thought about it at all.

"It's all we have left, Peeta," I say quietly.

"What? What do you mean?" He asks me, looking completely lost.

"I mean," I begin, drawing in a big breath because what I'm about to say, I'm quickly realizing, is going to require a lot of explanation. And maybe because I need to buy myself a little more time to figure out what that explanation is. "He tries to control us by making us do these… these things with each other." I can't bring myself to give a name to the acts. "But I realized, if we do it ourselves… " I trail off, not sure the best way to explain this in a way that doesn't sound awful.

Understanding dawns on Peeta's face. He gets what I'm alluding to; I won't have to explain it any further, thankfully. But now he looks horrified. "I'm not sleeping with you just to get revenge on President Snow, Katniss."

"No!" I rush to reassure him. "That's not how I meant it." But then I fall silent, because I'm not really sure how I did mean it. "Not exactly," I add weakly.

Peeta just stands there, looking lost. He looks from me to the fireplace, lost in thought. Then he looks back to me, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what that something should be. "I'm not doing that to you," he says at last, quietly, searching my eyes for something.

"But I want it. Please, Peeta," I whisper, taking a step towards him, bridging the gap he'd created when he'd pushed me away during our kiss.

We stand there like that, at a stalemate, our eyes locked on each other. I try pleading with Peeta to hear me, to understand me, and that this really is what I want. Peeta looks unsure, but looks into my eyes so intently, like he thinks he might find the answer to his question there if he looks hard enough. I'm just about to give up, to give in and apologize for springing such a stupid idea on him, when he places his hands on my shoulders, and tugs me to him for a kiss.

It takes me by surprise so much that now I'm the one who it takes a minute before responding. Then I realize what's happening, that Peeta seems to actually be agreeing to this, or at least giving it a try to see how it feels. I make myself relax, taking in his scent. He smells like vanilla today, and I wonder what all he's been working on in the bakery. That's the wonderful thing about kissing Peeta - he always smells good. Like whatever he's been baking. Or at least he does whenever we kiss when he's had a chance to bake, which admittedly hasn't been all that often.

I allow my lips to become pliable, moving with his, even opening my mouth a little to let him in. Peeta brings his hands up from my shoulders and cups my face in them, holding me still. But I don't feel trapped. I feel safe, secure. Here, with the warmth of the fireplace intermingling with the warmth from Peeta's body, his two solid, steady hands cupping my face… for a moment, I actually forget the circumstances surrounding this. For a moment, I just let my body feel.

At last, he pulls away slowly, his eyes still shut as he breathes deeply. "Katniss," he murmurs my name, like there's a reverence to it; like he needs to remind himself that what's happening right now is real. My own hands come up and wrap around his wrists, holding onto him tightly.

When his eyes finally flutter open, his pupils are two large, black pools as they stare out at me, gaping from behind the current of those long lashes of his. "Katniss," he repeats my name, his voice no louder than before, "I'm not sure I can do this."

I open my mouth to argue, to convince him why we should do this, when he covers it with his own before I can even get a word out. So much for needing to convince him.

"It might destroy me," he continues when we break apart a minute later.

"Then don't," I whisper back, knowing, deep in my bones, that he's not going to stop now. We kiss again, and I loosen my grip on his wrists, bringing my arms up to wrap tightly around his neck. He wraps my arms around my middle and pulls me flush against him. And it feels good, I have to admit, to be pressed so close to him. It's nothing like those times we've been forced to do this in performance for anyone watching. And it's a relief, because if I'm honest, a part of me wasn't entirely sure I could go through with it, either, if it was going to be a repeat of that. But now I know it's not. Now I know this is something entirely our own.

Peeta's hands move up and down my body as he begins to explore it. He works slowly, cautiously, which I'm equally grateful for because I'm not sure how comfortable I am with being touched in places just yet. But Peeta seems intent on making this actually enjoyable. At first, he stays away from the sensitive areas, just rubbing his hand along my backside, and sliding it around to massage my stomach. I shiver under his touch, but I smile against his mouth. It tickles in a good way.

"You like it?" he mumbles against my lips, his breath tickling. I just nod, hoping he'll continue.

I realize how hot it's become in here. I'm still bundled up in all my winter clothes. Even my braid is tucked away inside my hat. It seems wrong, now. I tug it off and let my braid fall down my back. Then I just hold my hat, crumpled in one fist, while my other arm clings to Peeta while we kiss. It helped a little, but I'm still too hot.

When I pull back, Peeta snaps his eyes open, surprised at the empty space I've created. He looks at me, looking like he thinks I've changed my mind, like he knew this was too good to be true. But when he sees me unzipping my jacket, he relaxes. Even watches my hand with those blue eyes as I pull the zipper down, then shrug the jacket off. I hold it, folded in my arms, trying to decide what to do. This was my father's leather hunting jacket. To simply drop it on the floor feels disrespectful. But I also know I can't stand the thought of having it out while I do what I'm about to do. It would be like having my father himself here watching this.

Peeta seems to understand my holdup, however. "The coat closet," he says. "It's got hangers."

I nod, and go to hang it up. I'm a little surprised when Peeta follows, but he just checks the door to make sure it's locked. Good thinking. The last thing I could stand right now would be if anywhere were to walk in on us. He disappears into the kitchen, probably to make sure the back door is locked as well. While he's checking, I pull the blinds shut. There. Complete privacy, except for the one way we hope we will be caught.

He comes back, looking a little nervous, searching my face, probably to check if I've lost my nerve in the short interruption. I haven't. But I also know that I'm no good at this. It took everything I had for me to attempt to flirt with him when we were in the arena, and that was no where near to this level. I don't know how to get us back to where we were a minute ago.

But Peeta doesn't waste any time getting us back on track. Once he feels safe in the knowledge that I'm still on board with this, he crosses the room and takes me in his arms. Puts a hand under my chin and tilts my head up for another kiss. Hot. I'm still so hot.

I know what this means. It's time to take this to the next level. But I'm too nervous to undress any further in front of Peeta. Even if he has seen me naked before. Somehow, that was different than this. This feels much more private. I decide to leave things be for now, and just get caught up in the sensations. I breathe deep, taking in that delicious scent and his comforting warmth. I press against him, desperate to feel him against me again. Then I wonder what it would feel like with our skin against each other. And nothing else.

It makes me blush, to think such a thought, which is ironic considering it's basically what we're working towards right now, anyways. I don't think I'm the only one thinking about this, though. I can feel Peeta, hard against my thigh. It makes my heart pound, to feel it, just right there like that. Because now it's becoming real.

"Katniss," Peeta manages to break our kiss long enough to gasp. "If we're really going to do this, it has to be different. I can't do it like they made us do it."

I nod, knowing, on some deep, visceral level what he means. "What do you want to do, then?" I ask.

He looks a bit embarrassed. "Would you laugh at me if I said I need you to be gentle with me?"

I do laugh, but not in the kind of way he was afraid of. More because it's so innocent. So comforting. So exactly what I'm going to need as well. "Of course," I say, giving him a smile as I wrap my arms around him.

He returns the embrace. "I don't really know what to do now," he admits. "I- I'd never really done this before… you know."

"Me neither," I say, though I cringe. The fact that I was a virgin was all too obvious for all parties involved.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks me again.

"Yes," I confirm. "But we probably should hurry before I chicken out."

"Me too," he says. "We've seen each other naked before. Should we just do it, and get it over with?"

"Okay," I agree, but the thought makes me more nervous than I think I should be, considering the circumstances. He's right, we've been naked with each other more than once. He has been inside of me; we've done this whole thing before. But at the same time, everything about this feels different. I'm more nervous about stripping down to the nude than it makes sense for me to be.

I watch as Peeta begins to unbutton his shirt. Well, he's started. I guess I might as well get this over with. I begin removing my own clothes, slowly, still trying to keep as much of myself covered for as long as I can. I'm hoping I'll just ease my way into feeling comfortable to take off the rest.

Finally we're down to just our undergarments. Peeta stands shirtless, wearing only his boxers. I'm in my bra and underwear. We stand now, and actually dare to look at each other, sizing each other up. "I think that's good," he says. "We can start with this."

Peeta takes me by the arm and leads me over to his couch. We sit down, both of us looking anywhere except at each other, until finally, accidentally, our eyes make contact and then lock on each other. "You really do look beautiful, you know," Peeta says, giving me a shy smile.

It reminds me of that time, after the Tribute Parade, when Peeta complimented me for looking good in flames. He gave me that same shy smile then. Unexpected warmth had rushed through me, just like it's running through me right now. And just as it had made me kiss him on the cheek then, I lean into him now. Only it's not his cheek I kiss. He places his hands on my shoulders again, like he has to hold onto me to remind himself that this is actually happening. It is a little surreal, I have to admit. But I let that warmth I felt fuel me, propel me. I channel it, making it grow inside me, spreading from somewhere inside my chest all through the rest of my body, and out to the entire tips of my being.

Peeta begins to lower til he's laying on his back, me on top of him, straddling him on all fours as I kiss him. Remembering his request, that I be gentle with him, I try to make them as soft as I can. But it gets harder and harder to hold back, as my head gets more and more hazy. I can't think straight. I'm not sure it's bothering Peeta much, though, as his own kisses in return become more and more intense. His arms, which had been wrapped firmly around me, begin to loosen, his hands exploring my backside.

It tickles to feel it now on my bare skin, the way he just barely grazes his fingertips over the surface, causing me to flinch and break our kiss as I can't help laughing into his mouth. I can feel his own smile against mine, and he does it again, resulting in exactly the same scenario.

"Why are you doing that?" I ask through my laughter.

"I like to hear you laugh," he says. Somehow, this comment both saddens and lightens my spirits at the same time. When I think about it, how many times has Peeta actually heard me laugh? I try to recall the times he might have - I know I remember giggling when Caesar was interviewing me on stage last year, mostly because it's something I never do - but other things are capturing my attention right now. Namely, his hot lips as they press against the most sensitive parts of my neck. A fresh wave of warmth rushes through me, stemming from where his lips touch my skin, and without even thinking about it, I begin pressing against him even more.

My body takes over from here, doing things before I even have a chance to weigh out if it's a good idea or not. The more we touch, the more we kiss, the more hungry for him I become. I know I had been worried about this before we started, but it's almost funny how quickly this has become so easy.

Somewhere along the way, my bra finally comes off. It makes me nervous and excited all at once. With Peeta the only one here to see my breasts, I'm surprised that there's something actually empowering about this. When he touches them, taking each one in his artful hands, my breath hitches in my throat. Then he starts using his mouth, and I lose all sense of anything in this world as he sucks my nipples until they're hard.

I want to cry out when he stops, straightening upright. I wrap my arms around him, pressing hard against him, running my hands through his curls as I beg him with the entirety of my body. "Fuck, Katniss," he whispers. I don't think I have ever, not once, heard Peeta use that word. It's not like him. But right here, with him like this… it does things to me. "I need to be inside you, or I think I might explode."

I would laugh, except, I realize, it's exactly how I feel. I don't say a word in response. I'm already sitting in his lap, facing him. So all I do is adjust my position, so I'm resting on bended knees, nestled on either side of his thighs. Peeta knows what I'm doing almost immediately. I feel him reach underneath me, and pull himself steady. Ready. Waiting.

Now I hesitate. This is it. This is the big moment, or at least that's what I've picked up on from all the people we've been forced to do this in front of. But it always seemed so intimate, so dangerous. Do I really want to go through with it now? I can feel myself beginning to lose my nerve. I don't think Peeta would be upset with me if I backed out now. Disappointed, maybe, but he would understand why. Do I do this? Then I think of everything that's been done to me, to Peeta, and Finnick, Rue, Prim… everyone. All these thoughts pass through my mind in mere seconds, and it only takes another second for me to sink down and take him inside me.

I let out a little whimper. It's true, I've had Peeta inside me before. But there was never any real opportunity to really take in the entire experience. In fact, all I wanted then was to get him out of me, to get away from the whole thing and run far, far away. But now? It actually feels… good. It doesn't hurt, like I had been afraid it would. I guess that only really happens the first time. Amazed to the point of feeling almost overwhelmed, I manage to lift my eyes up to look at Peeta.

His mouth is hanging open; he looks like he's holding his breath. His pupils are nearly black pools as he stares back at me with heavy lids. There's a distinct kind of heat in the way he looks at me. It propels me to further action. Balancing my weight by grabbing hold of the back of the couch, I push my body up, and let out a sharp gasp. It feels even better when you move. Another thing I somehow hadn't noticed during the performances. Peeta seems to feel the same way, because he lets out a little groan as I do. Grinning at him, I lower myself, taking him inside me again.

Up and down, I work my body. I gain the confidence to take my hands off the cushions, and use them to grab onto Peeta's shoulders instead. We manage a kiss, before losing our balance as he falls out of me. We laugh, nervously, as we pick up and continue. We try again, slower this time, and get it. Feeling more secure, we pick up the pace again. Peeta runs his hands up and down my back, and even dares to touch me down below after a while. It makes me feel self-conscious at first, to have him poking around down there. Then I realize how good it feels. I let him continue.

I don't think the actual act lasts longer than five minutes, but it's so new, so overwhelming, it feels like much, much longer. Then I feel Peeta begin to twitch inside me. I feel some new wetness down there, different from my own.

"I think you'd better get off, Katniss," Peeta warns. I don't really want to stop, actually, but I know if I don't, I will most likely regret the decision later. With one last pump, I push off, and settle down beside him. I'm still hot and throbbing down there, feeling entirely unsatisfied. Like there is more my body craves. But I'm distracted by how hard Peeta is, fascinated by its proximity and the fact that it's shiny with my own wetness. His one hand grabs it and begins stroking furiously; a minute later a white, milky substance comes out as Peeta groans loudly, arching his back and then collapsing on the couch again.

I've lost him now, at least momentarily. Peeta lies slumped on the couch, panting, his eyes shut tight. I know he must be a million miles away right now. I'm not really sure what else to do, so I just watch him, and wait for him to recover. When he does, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at me with a dreamy smile on his face. Then he remembers himself, sitting up as he looks at me in concern. "Are you okay?" he asks. Average, everyday Peeta is back, replacing the boy besotted with lust.

"Yeah," I say. "I just… feel… "I trail off, not really sure how to describe it.

Peeta looks down. "What do you need?" He asks.

I might as well just come out and say it. "It's throbbing," I say. It's blunt, but I don't know how else to explain it.

"Like you're hurt?" he asks, looking panicked.

"No," I shake my head. "Like… like I wasn't done." I look away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Oh… I can help that," he says. There is a distinct note of mischievousness in his voice. I dare to glance over at him, and see he's smirking. "How?" I ask.

In response, Peeta slides off the couch so that he's crouching on his knees, and moves so he's directly in front of me. I spread my legs immediately, curious to see where this goes. He just looks at it at first, and it makes me feel so awkward, so uncomfortable to have someone just staring at me down there, that I have to fight the urge to close my legs. But I know I should ride this through.

Peeta sticks two fingers inside me, and, slowly at first, begins to pump just as he had with his body. It doesn't fill me up and satisfy me the way it did before, but it still works, still alleviates the throbbing ache that had been begging to be alleviated. He then brings his other hand, and uses one finger to rub an especially sensitive zone down there, sending a thrill all the way up my spine. Now it's my turn to collapse against the rear of the couch, almost unable to believe the little mews and whines I hear that are actually coming out of me. It feels so… so good. Now I understand why anyone would go to such great lengths as to actually pay for this. Then I try to shove that thought as far out of my mind as I possibly can, because remembering it would only ruin what's going on right now. And all I want to focus on is the way Peeta is making me feel; how it's never felt like this before.

At last, my body seems to reach the peak of whatever hill it had been climbing, and with a quiet shriek, it releases the building tension. Now I'm the one panting as I try to collect myself.

My eyes still closed, I feel something heavy weigh down the cushion beside me. Peeta. I peel my eyes open and look over at him. He's already looking at me. When our eyes meet, he reaches out and takes me in his arms, and I curl up in them without a moment's hesitation, catching my breath while he holds me, kisses me. Slowly, I return to earth. As I do, the full impact of what we've just done begins to hit me. It must hit Peeta, too, because as he kisses me on my forehead he asks, in a whisper, "What do we do now, Katniss?"

I don't answer. Because I truly have no idea.