Seize Me

Chapter 11

This cloudy Sunday afternoon

we'll make anything our bedroom.

So close the door, we're locked away,

I promise everything's ok.

Through Arteries-Prelude (to Our Happy Ending)

"Peeta!" I call, rapping my knuckles on the locked bus door for the fifth time. When I get no response I groan and ram my forehead into the door in frustration. "Peeta," I repeat, softer this time. "Just please...open the door. I'm not going to stand out here forever and beg, but I'm pretty sure I'm locked out of the room until I talk to you so just—"

Suddenly the surface beneath my forehead is gone and I nearly fall forward; the only thing stopping me is a pair of warm, solid arms.

"I feel like we've been here before," Peeta says, his tone teasing. "On the first day."

I groan and shove him away, shaking my head agitatedly. "Don't remind me."

Peeta's deep laugh sends shivers down my spine as he leans against the doorframe, an easy smile on his face as he says, "So, they kicked you out, huh?"

I roll my eyes and cross my arms, looking away from him back toward the hotel. "Sort of. I went to Finnick to ask him where you were and he made it pretty clear I should apologize or leave the tour."

"He did, huh?" Peeta asks, his tone one of bemusement. "That's...surprising."

"He was pretty serious," I say darkly, kicking out with my foot to brush at a stray rock on the pavement. "He...doesn't like what's happening."

"The secret's not much of a secret anymore," Peeta says coolly, pushing away from the door frame. He fully blocks the entrance to the bus with his body, and I'm instantly reminded of how broad his shoulders really are. "What do you want, Katniss?"

"I told you, to apologize," I mutter, turning to look at him again. His eyes are hard with anger as they meet mine. For all his light-hearted teasing a few moments ago, it's pretty obvious he's still upset with me.

"Apology accepted," he says curtly, reaching for the bus door. "You can go now."

Without thinking, I reach forward and pull the door from his grasp, a feat I manage only because I catch him completely off guard. His eyes flash with surprise as I take the first step up into the bus, effectively pressing my body against him.

"I'd really like to talk," I say, and it comes out almost as a gasp. I hadn't anticipated the way the heat of his body would affect me. He's like stone pressed up against me on those steps, hard and impenetrable. I long to reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, to soothe him and make him gentler with me, to extinguish this anger we've stoked between us. "Please?"

Peeta doesn't move, his stare wary as he examines me for a moment, as if he's trying to determine my motives. Whatever he sees, it must have please him because after a pause he nods and turns on his heel, striding into the bus. I follow him, closing the door behind me.

It's hard to remember the feeling of awe I'd had when I'd gotten on the bus that first day. Now everything is familiar and comforting, truly a home on wheels over all this time we've been on the tour. At times, I almost prefer my small bed on the bus to the impersonal hotel rooms. And maybe that impersonal feeling of hotel rooms is why this bus has become so comforting. It's slowly been personalized by us and the band, making it our own. There are pictures tacked up on the fridge from a few of the shows, featuring clusters of us posing and smiling for the camera. Peeta's acoustic guitar is propped up in the corner of the front room beside his favorite couch. Johanna's snuggie is draped over the couch where she left it after playing video games on our last ride. My favorite coffee mug sits in the sink's drying rack next to the Madge's divided plate and Gale's camelback water bottle he uses when he's on stage.

"Do you want some coffee?" Peeta asks, reaching for my mug without waiting for my answer. "I made it a few minutes ago."

"At four in the afternoon?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Peeta shrugs. "It helps me focus. I was having problems thinking and processing everything."

I don't really know how to respond to that, so I just nod and mutter, "Sure," before taking a seat on the couch next to his guitar.

Peeta pours me a cup of coffee, putting in three cubes of sugar and skipping the cream without even needing to ask. It's a surprise. I hadn't realized he'd been paying attention to the way I take my coffee, but now I'm remembering all the times he'd handed me a mug in the morning and I hadn't even been bothered by the fact it was made perfectly to my liking. I feel a bit of shame now, my oblivious nature more obvious than ever.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, sitting down beside me with his own mug. He doesn't drink from it, just holds it tightly as if he's trying to warm his hands with it.

I take a tentative sip of my coffee, stalling for time. Where do I even start?

"Start with 'I'm sorry,'" Madge had said.

"I think," I say slowly, placing the mug down on the table, "I should apologize for the way I acted back in the room. That was...inappropriate of me."

Peeta sighs, putting his mug down. "People judged our family a lot for the way we interacted, particularly my mom with us kids. It was hard, running that bakery. My dad's great, but he's a little too generous for his own good. He's such a good guy, which is why my mom married him. But he can't ever seem to tell anyone 'no'." Peeta puts his fingers to his temples, rubbing them roughly as he slams his eyes shut. "There were a few times the books were in the red because he'd given away too many treats to kids or given people a discount. Mom always had to be the bad guy, which she hated. But she sort of got stuck in that role, which only made her angrier. She was always having to make up for Dad's generosity by being stingy herself. They couldn't afford to hire out help, so when my brothers and I were old enough we helped in the store. But we still messed up sometimes, which always cost us money. So, when money was really tight and Mom was worn out...she lost control. It was once in a while in the beginning and only when the circumstances were all horribly right. But it sort of became a go-to for her after a few years, which is when everyone started talking. It was a vicious cycle. Mom would be angry so she'd hit us. When she hit us, people talked. When people talked, it made her angry."

"So you kept quiet," I murmur, staring at the swirling coffee in my cup on the table, unable to meet his eye, "to keep things from getting worse."

"Yeah," Peeta says softly, picking up a spoon from the table and putting it in his coffee to give it a stir. "If anyone would have said anything Rye, Pan and I would have been taken away from Mom and Dad. No one really wanted that. It sucked, but as a kid you can never imagine anything worse than being separated from your family."

"Yeah," I sigh, my voice nearly a whisper as I confess, "I guess I understand that pretty well."

"I thought you would," Peeta says. "That's why I was so surprised by your reaction."

"I just—" I cut off, unable to finish the sentence. Why is this so hard for me?

"It's hard," Peeta finishes, pulling the spoon out of the cup and dropping it back to the table. He leans back into the couch and sighs. "It's hard to imagine a little kid suffering, be it from abuse or starvation."

This comment makes me bristle. "I think my situation was still pretty different. My mom didn't willfully cause us harm; she went into a depression because my dad died," I say hotly, picking my head up from my hands to glare at him.

"Yeah," Peeta says with a bite, "Let's talk about that. Your mom's depression, I mean."

"What about it?" I ask with a scoff, my brows knitting together.

"Does it have anything to do with needing to keep us a secret?" Peeta asks, his voice low and angry. "Or is there something wrong with me?"

"God!"I gasp, lurching from the couch to stand. "I've told you the reason and you know it's neither of those."

"I know the reason you've told me," Peeta snarls, remaining firmly in his seat on the couch, his posture rigid with anger. "But you still haven't told me the real reason."

"I have zero interest in dating a rock star," I spit, moving to pace the small living space furiously. "I don't usually do relationships period. So having a very public, highly criticized one has no appeal for me whatsoever."

"Then what are we doing?" he asks with a groan, reaching up and running his hands through his hair. "Why are we even bothering?"

"You were the one who wrote that ridiculous song and had Finnick sing it for me," I retort, whirling around mid-stride to face him and the couch again.

"You said never said 'no' to any of that," he says in a soft, dangerous tone. "You kissed me right back in that scaffolding."

"You seduced me," I hiss, my voice rising in pitch to match my welling emotions.

Peeta's laugh is humorless and dry. "Seduced you? For fuck's sake, Katniss, you've been giving me sex eyes since the first day we met. Who seduced who?"

"You have a tongue ring!" I nearly screech, reaching up and pulling at my braid desperately, my panic mounting as the entire situation goes spinning out of control around me. What in the hell is happening right now? "How am I supposed to respond to that?"

Peeta doesn't respond. Instead he sits there on the couch, gaping at me. I instantly flush, the room going silent as my last retort hangs heavy in the air over us. What have I just admitted? That I find Peeta's oral adornment irresistibly sexy? That I was seduced by him the moment he opened that delicious mouth to reveal that tiny glittering ball of sexual possibilities.

Peeta slowly comes around, shaking his head with a look of wonder. Slowly he stands, eyes locked on mine as he does so. He strides toward me, and I'm rooted to the spot by his stare. I see in my mind's eye the handful of deer I've hunted and killed over the years, and the look of trapped horror on their faces as they see their doom encroaching upon them. In this moment I am the prey, Peeta is the hunter. And I know this is the end of my life as I know it.

"My tongue ring?" Peeta asks, his tone one of seductive surprise. He's pressed up against me now, and he puts his hands on my body, one at my hip while the other slides up my back to entangle itself in my hair. "Tell me, Katniss. Why does my tongue ring seduce you?"

I have no words. I am petrified where I stand, unable to run, unable to speak, unable to respond at all. He leans forward and puts his face to my neck, sliding his nose up the column of skin to my ear. He gives the lobe of my ear a nip and I jump, the bite shooting straight to my groin. I can feel him smile against my skin as his nose travels to my face and runs its familiar path up my nose in a teasing? brush.

"Is it how it feels against your lips and tongue when I kiss you?" Peeta asks. He dips his face and presses his lips to mine tenderly at first, then be gives my bottom lip a soft bite. It startles me, but not so much as the tongue that follows, soothing my lip. I can feel his tongue ring slide across my lips, a teasing caress.

"Hmm," Peeta murmurs as I shiver in delight at the feel of the ring against my lips. "That seems to work." He kisses me again, harder, and when his tongue lightly presses against mine I don't even hesitate to open my mouth to him. His tongue is soft as it strokes mine, the ring on it an entirely new sensation I've never felt before.

"Yes," Peeta gasps as we pull apart, and his lips curve into a teasing smile. "That certainly seems to be part of it."

My head is swimming, but there is one thought that flits through it which I manage to grab hold to. 'If I don't stop this now, we'll never stop.' I put my hands, which I had subconsciously raised and woven into his hair during the kiss, on his chest and push him away. I push him harder than I intended to, knowing the faster I created a gap between us the higher the chance I could avoid being ensnared by him again. He stumbles a little bit, not expecting this response from me.

"We need," I groan, "to talk about this. About us. We can't ignore this anymore."

"No," sighs Peeta, falling back onto the couch suddenly, almost hitting his knee on the coffee table as he says it. "I suppose we can't."

I sit down beside him, my descent a little more graceful than his. His eyes are still shining with a barely veiled passion as he stares at me, but I know he's going to try to behave, to let me get this out of the way. I appreciate it at the moment, knowing if he would have decided to push me a few seconds longer I would have caved to his kisses, to the feel of that delicious tongue...but he didn't. And my heart warms toward this man again, my anger ebbing a little. There's something about Peeta Mellark that makes it too hard to stay mad at him for long.

"I'm not ready," I say slowly, turning and tucking one knee up on the couch so I'm facing him, "to tell anyone about us."

Peeta lets out a barking laugh, rolling his eyes as he reaches over to take my hands in his. He turns himself so his position mirrors mine and we're facing each other perfectly. "I hate to break it to you, but I think our friends already know."

"They have their suspicions." I sniff, resisting the childish urge to stick my nose in the air at him. "But I'd rather not confirm them."

Peeta shakes his head at me with a sigh. "I don't understand what the harm in them knowing would be. Do you really think any of them would gossip to the media about us if we made it clear we didn't want them to?"

I know Gale, Madge and Prim can be trusted to keep the secret. Rory and Finnick too, now that I think about it. The only one I'd consider twice would be Johanna. But no, not even her. She may be tactless at times, but she can keep a secret if tasked with it. As heartless as my friend can be at times, I know I can trust her.

"No," I admit with a shrug. "But I don't see how them knowing would change anything. It would only put the pressure on harder to make this work between us."

"And there's no pressure now, trying to keep the secret?" Peeta asks, bewildered. "Do you know how stressed I always get trying to stay neutral about you? I'm exhausted at the end of the day."

"I know," I confess. "But if something goes wrong, everyone will know about it."

"Everyone knew today, and no one technically knows about us." Peeta sighs, raising my hands in his to kiss one of my knuckles sweetly. "I just want to be able to put my arm around you when we're sitting next to each other. I want to be able to kiss you goodnight. Is that so wrong?"

I hesitate, unsure how to respond. At times, I want those things too. I see Madge and Gale together, even Johanna and Finnick during their flirtatious shooter game battles, and I wish our relationship could be that easy. But the thought of everyone watching, observing, waiting for something to go wrong...

"Katniss," Peeta says, his tone sterner now. "None of our friends cares if we're together or not, as long as we're happy." He hesitates, then adds, "I make you happy, right?"

I think about this for a second. Does he make me happy? I think about those first few flirtatious weeks of the tour, of dancing in the club that first week. I remember the song in Denver and the kiss that followed, all the kissing that's followed since then. The sunrise in the Garden of the Gods, the cheese buns last night...

"Yes," I say firmly. "Yes, you do."

"Then what does everything else matter?" he asks, his lips forming a shy smile now. "If I make you happy, and you definitely make me happy, then what else is there but for us to be together?"

"I can't stand the...judgment," I finally say, putting a word to my fears. "I'm not a spotlight girl, Peeta. And as soon as the media knows we're dating, it's all over from there. They'll pick apart our relationship piece by piece."

"I'm not talking about the world, Katniss," Peeta says supportively. "I'm just talking about our friends. We can start with them, try this thing without having to hide it all the time. We're never going to know anything about if this will work if we're always hiding."

"Just our friends?" I ask, my tone giving away my caving will. "No one else?"

Peeta shrugs. "We'll just start there. We can reassess later, once we're more comfortable."

Do I want this? Do I want to belong to this man? I think of all the screaming girls who accost him at concerts and festivals. I replay in my mind the kisses girls put on his cheeks, the adoring compliments as he signs autographs, the profane things girls scream at him...can I handle that? Is he worth it?

"Yes," I finally say, answering his question and my own internal ones. "I think that's an okay place to start."

Peeta's face morphs into one of shock. His grip on my hands tightens as he stares at me, his jaw dropping as he stares at me disbelievingly.

"What?" I ask, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I—I did...," Peeta stutters out, his grip on my hands relaxing finally as he begins to stroke the backs of my hands with his thumbs. "I just didn't think you'd agree right away. I thought you would want to think about it for a little bit."

"You made a convincing argument," I say, my voice teasing now as I shake my head at him.

"I did?" he asks.

"Yes," I admit. "Just now and earlier." I add this bit at the end, thinking of his ministrations with his tongue I'd been subjected to a few minutes ago. Dear Lord, he'd made his point about that tongue ring very well. He must have no doubt now about what he can do to me with that thing.

"I did?" he repeats. It takes him a second to understand my meaning, but when he does finally get it, his eyes flash. The passion he'd held in them before this conversation returns, and he raises an eyebrow at me as his eyes lock with mine. "Oh, right. I did."

He pulls my hands back up against his chest, sliding them up until they hit his neck. He parts my hands then and places them on the back of his neck. He leaves them there, his own hands leaving to reach for my hips. He grips me tightly and my fingers instinctively slide up his neck to bury themselves in his hair. He pulls me closer to him, nearly in his lap, and nuzzles into the crook of my neck.

"I'm seriously in awe," he murmurs against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. "I never thought you'd say yes to that."

"What did you think I would do?" I gasp, his breath hot and tantalizing against me.

"I figured you'd say no again," he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, sliding the strap of my camisole down to expose the skin there. "And I'd eventually cave to you."

"Cave?" I ask, my hands sliding down from his hair to his back, where I grab at his simple white t-shirt. I try and fail to not clutch it desperately between my fingers.

"I can't seem to say no to you," he says with a sigh, bringing his lips across my shoulder to my collarbone where he kisses me more. "I'd never have been able to break this off without you initiating it. If I can have you in any way, I'll take it."

"Well in that case," I tease, feebly trying to pull him off me.

He smiles against me, his lips trailing upward toward my face. "Not a chance, Everdeen. I'm not about to let you back out on your word."

I run out of witty responses as he reaches my cheeks. His kisses are soft and brief, but I can feel the tension he's holding on to as he makes his way across my face, ever closer to my lips. The word "please," is out my lips before I even process the word in my mind. His answer is his kiss, which has now reached my lips.

I'll be the first to admit that I've had some pretty awful kisses. And, sadly, it's always the cutest guys who kiss the worst in my experience. It seems guys are always a fruit or a vegetable. The fruits are soft and squishy and, while they taste sweet, they're a little too wet at times to have them all over your lips. Vegetables are clean and firm, but often times a little too bland for most people's taste. While both are okay in their own way, neither of them leave you all that satisfied or pleased with the results.

Kissing Peeta is so much more than all of that. I can't even classify his kissing, because kissing Peeta Mellark is unlike any experience I've ever had. Most men are eager to try and control the kiss, to force themselves on you and bend you to their will. But not Peeta. His kisses are soft yet insistent, coaxing my lips to meld with his. His fingers wind themselves into the hair at my neck, ignoring the restrictions of my braid, and he gently move my head the way he needs it to gain better access to my mouth. And while I've always had to struggle against the urge to fight men for dominance in kissing, I have no desire to fight Peeta. We're a team as we kiss, moving as one so perfectly that I swear the edges of me melt away until I'm not sure where I end and he begins.

My body begins to suck in air faster, and I get dizzy from the sensation of kissing him. My hands are desperate now, clawing at his shirt. I'm hungry to feel his bare skin, to find the muscles that lie under his shirt and hold on to them for grounding. Reflexively, I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it upward. He doesn't protest, just removes his lips temporarily from mine to allow me to pull the shirt from his body. As I do, he reaches for the hem of my camisole as well, yanking it quickly upward.

Once the fabric is cleared from our faces, Peeta instantly crashes his lips back onto mine. His kisses are more insistent now, and he presses past my lips to swipe his tongue across mine. The feel of the ring again makes me swoon, and the lightheaded dizziness begins to grow worse. His tongue explores my mouth hesitantly at first, then works to coax mine to bond with his kiss, firm but sweet in his caresses. The sensations are beginning to build to an intensity that brings my body to a fever pitch, a wetness growing between my legs, accompanied by a throb that's getting harder and harder to ignore.

He pulls his lips from mine, trailing kisses back down to my collarbone where he'd originally began. His hands, which had been at my waist, wind a path upward to my bra. He traces the hemline of it, starting at the sides and slowly working his way backward. He's giving me time to say no, to draw a line in the sand and stop this from going further.

"This is happening, Peeta," I murmur to him, lightly tracing my fingernails up and down his back.

He purrs against my skin, giving it a nip as his fingers expertly pinch and release the clasp of my bra. He reaches and slides the straps of my bra down my shoulders to my arms. I retract my arms from his body to let the garment slide off me to the ground, where it falls forgotten. I think to reach for his body to pull him close to me, but instead Peeta pushes me backward to lay lengthwise across the couch. His fingers rise to my breasts, tweaking the peaks experimentally.

I gasp, my back arching off the bed at the sudden sensation of it. He grins down at me in approval and bends down to plant a quick kiss to my lips before sliding down my body until his face is level with my breasts. His grin turns wicked as he stares up at me, his eyes shining with delight and passion, which sends new tendrils of warmth to my core. He tilts his head back down and, to my surprise, swipes his tongue across my right breast, flattening his tongue so I can feel the ball of the ring slide across my skin. He stops at the tightening bud, rolling his tongue around it a few times and letting the ball trace circles around it. I groan, the throbbing between my legs becoming more insistent as he suckles it to a tortured peak. When I'm ready to beg for reprieve, he moves to my left, giving it the same treatment to the other side. My fingers flit up to his hair to stroke his soft locks desperately, unsure if I want to rip his face from my skin or hold him tighter. He chooses for me, pulling his lips from me to look up and give me a devilish smile.

"Have we found another place you like my tongue?" he asks, his breath cooling the wetness on my breast and making me shiver.

"I can think of lots of places I would like your tongue," I say warmly, biting my lip as I imagine the possibilities.

Peeta's eyes darken. "I remember the first time I saw you do that. I wanted to fuck you so badly in that moment."

His words surprise me, but a response is out of my mouth so quickly I think I'd been subconsciously waiting for this moment. "Well, why don't you then?"

I don't know what I'd expected him to say to that. Maybe blush and look embarrassed, to tease me or maybe even kiss me to make the awkwardness of what I'd just said disappear. But he doesn't touch me. Instead he sits up and starts fumbling with the button on his jeans, his eyes locked in a passionate stare with mine.

"This isn't how I'd envisioned this, you know," he says, his tone even as he finally manages to free the button and zipper of his pants. He puts his hands at his hips and takes hold of the fabric of his jeans, pulling them slowly downward. It takes me a second, but I eventually register he's taking his boxers down with them. Slowly, inch by inch, more of his glorious skin is revealed. It's pretty obvious quickly he's well-groomed. Not waxed to hell like Johanna, but obviously he takes care of things down there. The idea makes me shiver; has he been planning this?

"How had you envisioned this?" I say, the last word turning into a strangled gasp as his pants fall low enough that his heavy erection springs free, giving me my first view of him. My fingers dig at the fabric of the couch, itching to reach out and touch him as he leans forward and puts one arm next to my ribs for balance while he pulls his pants down and off his legs.

Peeta shrugs, calmly reaching for my jeans now. How can this man be so composed at a moment like this? For fuck's sake, he's hovering here naked over me while I'm half-naked, and he's working to remove my last remaining pieces of clothing. Only the shaking of his hands reveals his nerves and excitement as he fumbles with the button. I contemplate reaching up to help him, but I'm rather enjoying the look of concentration on his face as he tries to undress me.

"I don't know," he says softly. "Rose petals and candles while I play a song I'd written for you. Champagne and silk sheets." His fingers finally succeed and he pulls the metal button through the denim of my jeans then tugs down the zipper. The precious time he's taking to undress us is intolerable. Doesn't he know I want to fuck him?

"This works fine for me," I gasp, lifting my hips in an attempt to assist him with the removal process, hoping to hurry him along. "Plus, silk sheets are too slippery to get anything done."

Peeta gives a low chuckle and obeys my cue, sliding my jeans and panties down my body slowly. He's kneeled between my legs and bends down to kiss along my hip and the outside of my leg to nip at each inch of skin he reveals. When my jeans hit my knees, he lifts my legs in the air so he can finish pulling the denim from them. Once the jeans are off of me they're tossed to the side to join the rest of the forgotten clothes strewn around the bus.

He puts my legs back down, one of each side of his hips. He bends down to kiss my legs again, this time making their way across the top of my left one, the opposite side of which he'd trailed on his way down. He kisses his way up this time, moving at the same slow pace he had on his way down. My body grows more and more tense as he travels upward and I'm stiff as a board when his lips are nearly to the juncture of my thighs.

"I'm going to kiss," he says, reaching up to slide two fingers across my clit firmly and slowly, "here someday too." The too-quick pressure is tantalizing, stringing my body tighter as he does it, a gasp escaping my lips. "But today, I really only have the patience to fuck you."

"Yes," I hiss, reaching my arms out to take his face in my hands, determined to pull his face up to mine. He obeys, surprising me, following the pull of my hands back toward my face. He kisses me again, hard and heavy, and I wrap my legs instinctively around his waist. His erection brushes against my core and I groan into his mouth.

"But not here," he sighs, and for a horrifying second I think he's going to stop everything. Instead, he reaches behind him to grab one of my ankles, making sure my legs stay firmly locked around him as he leans back and pulls me with him to stand. I'm wrapped around his body, my legs and hands holding us firmly together. Peeta turns and heads toward the back of the bus. We pass the wall beds and the small dressing area, making a beeline straight toward the back of the bus—toward the one queen bed on the entire bus.

"Gale and Rory's bed?" I tease. "This is romantic."

Peeta groans as we reach the bed, bending over and placing me carefully on the surface. "It's better than the couch where your sister eats breakfast."

I cringe. "Touché."

Peeta grins wickedly down at me. "If I'm being honest, at this point I couldn't care less where we do this. I just need to be inside you." His gaze turns hot as he adds, "Now."

"Condom?" I ask, gyrating my hips against his, sliding my slickness up his length.

Peeta groans. "Keep doing that and I won't need one," he says, but he leans over me, reaching toward the small nightstand by our heads. He pulls open a drawer and digs around for a second. Then he withdraws his hand quickly, shutting the drawer roughly, with a foil square clutched in his hand. He leans back, taking the wrapper in his mouth to tear the foil, exposing the rubber inside. He quickly discards the foil, then presses the condom to the tip of his thick erection.

"Next time," he mutters, rolling the condom down his length, "I'll be the one on my back and you can do this for me."

I hum in agreement, spreading my legs farther and reaching for him. Peeta leans down a little more, putting his shoulders within reach. I grasp at them, wrapping my fingers securely at the rippling muscles there for support as I feel him reach down to take his length in his hands. He guides himself to my entrance, pausing to rub himself along my slit slowly. I groan and roll my hips, eager for the penetration we've been working up to. He looks up at me and grins, his smile as teasing as his ministrations.

I'm about to protest when he suddenly pushes into me, my wetness making it easy for him to slide all the way to the hilt. I gasp, the feeling of delicious pressure and fullness increasing the throbbing of my clit. Between my dry-spell and his girth, I'm going to be undone just from the feeling of him inside me.

Peeta shakes above me, his hands locked at my waist as he squeezes his eyes closed. He doesn't move for a few moments, as if he's the one having to adjust. When he does finally open his eyes, they're fiery and fierce as they lock on mine.

"You're going to unman me, Katniss," he groans, pulling out slowly. The feeling is otherworldly, and the tension in my body tightens by the feel of him. He leans down further as he pulls out, pressing his lips firmly against mine. His entering thrust is more forceful than last time, which he mirrors by increasing the intensity of our kissing, coaxing my lips open to allow his tongue entrance. He doesn't retract slowly again, instead he begins a slow and steady pace. It's as if he's trying to drive me mad with sex, which is a real possibility at this point. Especially as he tilts his hips so his pelvis brushes against my clit with each thrust.

"Fuck," he mumbles against my lips. "You keep tightening...fuck. I don't know if I..."

Peeta trails off, and for a second I contemplate asking him where he's going with that sentence. But my tongue is heavy and useless, the only sounds I can muster are groans of pleasure and moans of approval with each thrust he pushes into me.

But when he reaches his hand between us to rub furiously at my clit, I know what he's unsure of. He's close, and he's determined to get me off too.

"It's okay," I sigh, pressing my lips to his neck and nipping softly at the skin there. "Let go, Peeta."

He grunts low in his throat, and I feel it as he climaxes, his body going rigid as he pulses inside of me. His groan of satisfaction is sweet and I think for a moment I could get off on just the sound of him.

"I'm sorry," Peeta mutters, bracing himself on his elbows to keep his weight from crushing me. "It's...been awhile for me."

"Me too," I say, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "It'll take me a little while to get back into the swing of things."

"Me deciding to be a minute man doesn't help much," he sighs, sliding out of me slowly. He doesn't look at me the whole time, keeping his head down as he slowly pulls the condom off. He ties it off and wraps it in a few Kleenex from the nightstand before tossing it into the nearby trashcan.

"Hey," I say, reaching out to put my hand at the side of his face. "Didn't you mention 'next times' earlier? This wasn't a one-shot thing."

Peeta's eyes lift and he's got a shy smile on his face now. He chuckles, rolling over to the side to lay beside me.

"That sounds fantastic. But," he pauses, interrupted by a yawn, "I think I'll need a quick nap before I can do that again."

"I suppose I can allow that," I tease, turning to my side to rest my head on his chest. "But just a little nap."

To my surprise, the edges of my vision quickly darken, sleep calling me down so fast I can barely register I'm sleepy. Peeta's words are the last thing I hear, echoing sweetly in my mind as I fall into slumber.

"Yes, baby. Just a quick nap."

.x.x.x.

So, everyone give my beta Court81981 a loud round of applause for betaing this last night so it could be posted today. The readers and I thank you, my friend!

You've all been begging for more tongue-ring action, so I hope that pleases everyone who's been asking for it. There will be more to come.

Come see me on tumblr, simplyabbeycat, and talk to me! I love hearing from you guys. I post excerpts from time to time and there will be some drabbles showing up soon.

Just a heads up: I'll be starting a fresh round of classes on Monday, so updates may be a day or two late depending on my work load and Court's. If there will be a delay, I'll announce it on tumblr.

Shout out to FanfictionWoman2000, who's writing a fic inspired by Seize Me. Keep an eye out for her story "Waves", coming soon :)

Thanks again for reading, you guys. I don't know if I'd be doing this without your support. The more reviews you crazy people leave me, the more you fuel my creative fire. You're just as responsible for how this fic is turning out :)