Chapter 2: Fuck Me

I skin the rabbit for my dinner, my thoughts going to the one place that torments me. My weakness that I now angrily try and bat away. I should never have made myself so vulnerable!

I once vowed to never get married or have kids. I saw how marriage can destroy a person. My mother was destroyed by my father's death. Unfortunately, Darius's seduction of me into marriage, and the pressure of my sister getting married to Rory Hawthorne did not help me stay resolute in my vow. Add the fact that Darius was unexpectedly transferred to District 6 three years into our marriage. The Head Peacekeeper there did not allow him to bring his wife with him. Darius had no choice but to depart on the train, kissing me goodbye at the station when I and a pregnant Primrose went to see him off.

And then there is... him. Him and that infernal bread he had to toss to me.

I have always hated owing people. Most Seam folk do, even if they take a debt very, very seriously. I should have thanked him. I should have thanked Peeta Mellark for tossing me that bread that undoubtedly saved my life. And I should have grudgingly admitted just how... handsome he was. Is. Perhaps... if things had been different...

A sudden flash of movement through the glass panes of my window makes me take pause. Someone is approaching. Wiping my hands on my dress, I go and open the door.

There is the Baker's son, coming up the path. I cross of my stoop to meet him halfway, wiping my hands on my blue Reaping frock. "Is there something you want? Because now might not be the best time -"

He suddenly grabs my skull and yanks me forward, crashing his lips against mine in a searing kiss. He kisses me passionately. Right on the lips.

I give a startled squeak into Peeta's mouth. I have never kissed, nor been kissed by, a man who isn't my husband in my life. Peeta releases me roughly, panting. I gape at him in shock. My palms come to press into his chest, and for a moment, I see fear in his eyes, as though he thinks I'm going to push him away. But then my fingers fist the fabric of his shirt and I almost angrily mash my lips to his, kissing him back. A kiss in return.

I breathe deep through my nose as I deepen the kiss, exhaling into his mouth so that my lips part for his. We open our mouths to each other and moan as finally, after years of wordless foreplay and stares of longing as I pass through the bakery on trades, we physically join in this way.

Peeta's tongue battles for dominance with mine. His arms entangle about my waist, splay across my back, as he pulls me flush against his muscular form. Shocked by his eagerness, I stagger back into my house, dragging him with me. My fingers fall into those blond curls of his that I have always wanted to run my fingers through, and I jerk him closer with a low groan, my breasts heaving for every breath. "Hmmmmm... Mmmm... M-mmmmmm..."

Our heads thrash from side to side as our lips snap at each other with desperate pecks, deep make-out sessions so engrossing, it is hard to tell whose lips are whose. Where his mouth ends and my mouth begins.

Peeta's hands now begin to wander. Slipping beneath my waist, his palms caress and feel up the accentuated, curvy flesh of my ass. His digits, his fingernails dig into the flesh there, squeezing, cupping the extra skin that has unfortunately built up there as I have matured into full womanhood.

"Mmm... no... no..." I whimper weakly into his mouth.

Peeta gives my buttocks a firm slap, and I yelp into his lips, so that he accidentally catches my lower lip between his teeth, nipping it. Draping my arms languidly about his neck, I hold on as Peeta's hands sweep my butt and under my thigh, raising my leg to his waist. Deeply aroused, I allow it and hook my leg around his torso with little resistance, so that my skirt rides high up my creamy thigh.

Peeta sweeps me into a dip, holding me gently, even as I gasp against his tongue. Then, Peeta lifts me off my feet, hoisting me onto my kitchen table. He clambers on top of me as I squeeze both my legs around his hips. Our lips claw at each other as we continue to kiss furiously. I feel the cool evening air tickle my folds, and I know Peeta has done away with my panties. I buck my soaking wet center into his pelvis.

"I want you to fuck me," I growl intensely, my eyes clouding over with lust and pent-up frustration about to be shattered and anger at how our sexual tension has gone on this long. I know I am betraying my wedding vows, having sex and making love with a man who is not my still-alive but long-departed husband.

And I don't care.

Peeta slams into me without another word. I throw my head back into the wood of the kitchen table, my jaw going slack, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. I jerk my body violently into his, matching Peeta thrust for thrust, our bodies undulating frantically as we both race each other to completion. To see who will cum first.

"Uhhhhh... Guhhhhh... HUHHHHHHH! UUHHHHHH! OHHHHHH!" I moan loudly and long, moan like a whore who goes to the Peacekeepers for a good fuck. My cries are even more pathetic when one considers that this is my first time in a long time having sex, sleeping with, a man. But it has been worth the wait. I waited for the right person, even though he's married. Even though I am still married. What a dirty woman I am!

At last, with a growl, Peeta comes inside me. He claps a hand over my mouth as I continue to keen and cant into his pelvis, to muffle my cries.

"MMMHMMMMMMM!" With a muffled squeal, I orgasm all around him, squeezing him between my legs. These legs that I so easily spread and opened for him because I have wanted to have my way with him for years. If there is anybody I would have wanted to marry, considered marrying, it would have been him. It should have been him.

Peeta releases me. Dipping his head, he kisses me indecently, bashing his tongue down my throat. I don't mind, as I close my eyes in pleasure and kiss him back. We break apart with a POP!

"I've left my wife," he pants. "She knows, and she has released me. I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I always have. After my divorce, will you marry me?"

I stare deep into his impossibly blue eyes. Slowly, I nod.

"Yes, Peeta. I will."

Peeta and his wife, Delly, divorce. And one dark night, in the living room of my simple Seam abode, I adorn myself once again in Mother's wedding dress. The bridal gown Prim wore after me.

By my fireplace, Peeta and I perform the marriage ritual. We toast a bit of bread and share it. When Peeta pulls me close, I press my hands flat into his chest, gazing up at him with only a tiny bit of fear. Hesitancy at the unknown.

We're doing the right thing. We'll make this work. Somehow.

Tilting my head, I permit Peeta, my new husband, to kiss me. My eyes fluttering shut, I relax into the kiss, standing on my tiptoes to meet him.

We are two people who have finally found each other. Married to the person we should have been with all along.