Seize Me
Chapter 12
I know that you want me,
I can see it in your eyes.
You might as well be honest 'cause
The body never lies.
TLC-Red Light Special
"It's really easy," Peeta murmurs, his breath warm on my neck. "You just have to put your fingers on the right place with the right pressure."
"Hmm," I sigh, leaning back into him. He's sitting behind me and I'm cradled in his arms, still naked, with the sheet pooled around my waist. "Why don't you show me that again?"
Peeta chuckles against my skin, nudging me with his knee in admonishment. "Focus," he demands, biting my earlobe.
The nip makes me shiver, raising goosebumps on my skin. My nipples tighten in response, my body already so in tune him and his desires. It'd be easy to attribute it to the ease that comes with the first time making love, but it's more than that. Things between Peeta and me have been natural from the beginning, as if this role is natural for us. It's unnerving to a point, but in moments like this when our bodies are so close it's hard to find it as anything other than comforting.
"How am I supposed to focus," I ask, turning to look at him over my shoulder to find his grin mirroring mine, "when you do things like that to me?"
Peeta doesn't answer; he just repositions my fingers on the strings of his acoustic guitar. He'd gone to fetch it after our nap when learning that while I can sing, I have no idea how to play an instrument. I'd been annoyed at first, the idea of leaving behind our lovemaking an unhappy one. But once he'd positioned himself behind me with the guitar in my lap, stretching over me to show me various notes, I'd been contented.
I'm not really doing any playing. He's actually the one with his fingers on the strings. I'd been able to get the pressure right, but finding the positions my fingers needed to be in has been a challenge. So my hands are rested over his, following his changes in position, while I pluck the notes. He'd moved on from individual notes a little bit ago to teaching me how to build chords. And now, finally, he's teaching me how to play a song. The notes tug at some distant memory which fights toward the surface of my mind. It takes me a few minutes of frustrated searching, but finally I find a name that fits with the tune.
"Dust in the Wind," I sigh, leaning my head back to rest in the crook of his neck contentedly. "I love this song."
"I know," Peeta murmurs, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "You sang it with Gale when you visited."
"I did," I say slowly, suddenly remembering that day in their dorm. Gale and I had been sitting in the living room of the small apartment he shared with Peeta, working our way through our favorite songs from our childhood. Peeta had come downstairs from his room to jokingly ask Gale to keep it down, but he'd refused to look at me. I'd assumed he'd been a little angry at us for keeping him up. Now, knowing how Peeta felt about me back then, I can see the memory a little differently. I turn my head to look up at him as I stop plucking out the notes, washing us in silence. "How do you remember all of these things?"
"I remember everything about you," Peeta says simply, burying his nose in the hair at my crown, his fingers picking up where mine left off. "Will you sing for me again?"
I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. I haven't sang since college, not having much reason to want to sing these last few years. Singing was always something I did with my dad, then Gale. But Peeta's fingers are rolling expertly across the strings of the guitar and I feel drawn to let my voice free. So, instead of answering him directly, I start to sing. I don't lift my head from Peeta's shoulder. I keep it there, the feel of his skin against my cheek a solid anchor.
"Same old song,
Just a drop of water in an endless sea.
All we do,
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see.
"Dust in the wind.
All they are is dust in the wind."
After we've gotten through the second verse, Peeta's fingers fumble and he loses the notes. I expect him to curse or apologize. Instead he just sighs heavily and buries his face in the crook of my neck. I can feel his lips pressing against my skin in the shape of a smile.
"I'd forgotten just how beautiful you sound when you sing," he says with a small chuckle. "You really are amazing."
His words surprise me, and I can feel the heat of embarrassment starting to build in my face. "I thought you remembered everything about me," I tease, a steady blush creeping its way up my neck to my cheeks. His breath on my continues to raise goosebumps where it brushes and my nipples are tightening again, the delicious heat at my core rising again.
"I remembered that you sound beautiful. Just not that beautiful. " There's a beat of silence, then he says, "You should sing with us some night."
"What!" I gasp, turning sharply to face him. His expression is one of astonishment, my reaction clearly not the one he'd been expecting.
All sexual desire I'd been feeling for him moments ago has vanished, replaced with a sensation of dread. I thrust the guitar away from me, breaking his hold on it easily due to his surprised state. I toss it onto the bed beside me carelessly and seize the covers around my waist to drag them up to cover my exposed body. Something sick and heavy rises up inside of me and I suddenly no longer feel any desire to bare myself to him.
"You sound amazing," he says, his tone one of surprise. "It'd be nice to switch it up a little. You and Finnick would sound great together."
A crawling sensation of horror winds its way up my spine, making me shiver. Singing is something very personal to me. It was something my father and I did together, just the two of us. I share that part of my life with a very limited pool of people. My mother and sister. Gale. Now Peeta. The people I trust. But to sing in front of an audience?
"No," I say firmly, locking my stare with his. "Not happening."
Peeta shakes his head. "Okay," he says softly, surprising me with his easy acquiescence. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Not happening."
I reach up instinctively to wrap my fingers in his curls, the feel of his lips on mine erasing the sick, crawling feeling from moments ago. I let the sheet fall to my waist, leaving my skin bare to press up against his. He puts a hand at the small of my back, pulling me closer. I adjust my legs beneath me so I'm fully facing him now and Peeta's hand at my back yanks me flush up against him, my breasts sandwiched between us. Fire skitters through my body, originating at each part of my body touching his.
He leans back, pulling me with him until he's laying flat on his back and I'm perched over him, still holding me tight up against his body as we kiss. His hands leave my back and my hair to go to the crooks of my knees, pulling them forward so I straddle him.. He runs his tongue across mine, the delicious bar in it adding to the heat of our kiss. I shiver and can feel my body open to him, my core pressed sharply against his growing erection and my mouth hungrily trying to draw him in to tease me with that tongue over and over again.
Peeta breaks the kiss suddenly, gasping for air as he does so. I open my eyes with effort, my lids heavy from the lust coursing through my veins. The fire in Peeta's eyes matches the fire running through me, the look in them one of teasing desire.
"I think you'd wanted to enjoy my tongue ring more places than your mouth and your tits, if I remember right," he says slowly, treating each word as if he's tasting them delicately, relishing in the dark promise of them.
It takes a moment for the statement to break through the haze of my longing, the words gaining meaning one at a time as they wind their way to my consciousness. Again, I'm surprised by how observant he is when it comes to me, maybe even everything. He picks up on more than I realize, which is unsettling for me.
"I don't think I've ever made any sort of proposal for where your tongue should go," I retort, my heart racing beneath my breasts so hard I'm sure he can feel it beating against his own.
"No," he says calmly, his eyes still boring into mine. "But I remember that look you gave me when you saw my tongue piercing for the first time. Your expression didn't leave for any guessing where your mind went."
The fire in my veins is now morphing into a heated blush of embarrassment. which is climbing up my neck to color my cheeks. "You were awfully cute, then, playing dumb earlier when I brought it up."
Peeta's answering laugh is almost a bark, it's so abrupt. "You caught me a little off guard just saying it like you did."
I roll my eyes, attempting to mentally force the horrendous blush away. "Well, you flustered me."
"Yes," he croons, bending to run the tip of his nose up the bridge of mine. "And I can think of a lot of other ways I'd like to fluster you."
And, suddenly, he flips us over so he's leaning over me. His teasing smile is gentle and sweet, despite the domineering tone that's coming through in his voice. He's still very much Peeta in these moments, proud and assured while still being the gentlest man I have ever met. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, the sweetness of it making me moan against him. His lips curl into a smile and he breaks the kiss, moving his lips over to my cheek. He doesn't stay there, though, instead gradually making his way across my face to my neck and down to my shoulders and chest. I expect him to stop at my breasts and tease my nipples, but instead he continues downward. With every inch of downward progress I can feel my body grow more and more tense, his destination becoming more obvious as he goes.
He does pause for a moment at my belly button, leisurely dipping his tongue in and out of my navel. I groan and squirm, the sensation torn between pleasure and intensely ticklish. One of his hands holds my gyrating hips to the bed while to other snakes up to palm one of my tits. He works it gently, his index finger and thumb latching on to pinch and tease the bud mercilessly. I groan, lifting my chest from the bed in an attempt to force my breast harder into his hand. He chuckles and looks up at me, a sight so erotic I can barely stand it.
"You should pierce this," he says, indicating to my belly button with a slight nod of his head. His smile is wide and expectant, as if he knows I'm going to protest.
And I intend to. But, to both our surprise, I instead say, "Maybe someday."
"What's a groupie without a little metal in her skin?" he asks, winking at me before dropping his face to return his lips to my skin, effectively kissing away any objections to his use of the word "groupie."
He makes his way across my pelvis to my right hip, kissing his way toward the my thighs. The further down he goes the more I squirm. Eventually, he has to remove the hand fondling my breast so he can hold my hips down with both hands. He settles his body between my thighs, reaching to draw my knees up so my thighs are resting on his shoulders with my feet behind his arms. I claw at the sheets and throw my head back in frustration, fighting the urge to grab his head and pull his lips to my core, embarrassment a foreign emotion in this moment. He nips my skin a few times as he goes, making me hiss at the pinprick of pain. But his tongue always immediately follows, soothing the sting. I close my eyes, struggling with the conflicting sensations. It's a delicious sort of torture, the bite of pain followed by the erotic sensation of his tongue and the stud in it dragging across the tormented skin.
I'm about to demand satisfaction when something warm and wet glides across my clit, making me jump in surprise. Holy hell. My eyes fly open as I lift my head to look down at him. Fuck. I'd thought him looking up at my from my navel was erotic. There he is, his tongue with that fucking stud in it sliding across my swollen clit while he stares up at me with a look of pure innocence. He does it again and again, harder and harder every time until I'm gasping. That tongue ring is living up to all of the sexual potential I'd dreamed it had. It's a sensation unlike anything else I've ever experienced when a man has gone down on me. I'm seriously starting to believe Peeta and his tongue ring will sexually ruin me for all other men.
"Peeta," I gasp, surprised by how quickly my orgasm is approaching. "Shit."
"I know, baby," Peeta croons, pulling his tongue from me as he says this. I'm about to protest when suddenly his middle and ring fingers are sliding into me, curling to brush against my G-spot. I gasp and my fingers leave the sheets to fly into his hair, desperately grasping at his curls as my body is assaulted with rippling waves of pleasure. "You can let go."
His tongue returns to my clit, moving in synchronization with his fingers. Between those two things and his words still hanging in the air, I'm suddenly seized by my orgasm. I cry out and my knees press together, holding his head in place as every muscle in my body clenches over and over again as I ride wave after wave of pleasure. Despite my thighs' grip on his head, Peeta still manages to flit his tongue over me a few more times, sending fresh waves racing through me.
I'm about to beg for mercy when he stops, pressing a firm kiss to my clit while his hands press into my hips in an attempt to help center me. I finally feel my body begin to relax and I sigh, releasing the breath I'd been holding. I don't really register Peeta sliding up my body, only realizing he's moved when I feel him pressing tender kisses to my neck.
"As good as you were hoping for?" he asks, the laughter in his voice obvious even without looking at him.
"Hmm," I sigh, coherent words still beyond my abilities at this point. I can't even bring myself to open my eyes right now and share the post-coital bliss with him.
"I'm going to take that as a 'yes' unless you say otherwise," he says with mock seriousness.
"Hmm," I repeat, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I turn my head a little toward him, cracking open my heavy eyelids to look at him. His face bears a look of contentment as well, surprising me.
"Why do you look so pleased?" I ask, confused. "You didn't get anything out of that."
Peeta shakes his head a little, rolling his eyes at me as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his embrace. "I like making you happy," he says simply.
"Oh," I murmur, unsure how to respond to that. So instead of trying to answer him, I make a point of raising my arms and pointing my toes, stretching wide. I'm preparing to make a comment on how exhausted I am again when I feel my leg bump against something solid, followed by the sound of something falling off the bed to the floor with a hollow thud.
"Shit!" Peeta exclaims, catapulting himself away from me in a pointless attempt to try and catch the guitar. The sheets go flying, his limbs flailing as he nearly sends himself toppling over the side of the bed after it.
"Oh no!" I gasp, shooting up to sit and gape after him. Horror slides through me, replacing the feelings of bliss as I immediately begin envisioning his guitar laying on the ground, broken in two. "I'm so sorry."
Peeta's head and upper body momentarily disappear over the edge of the bed for a moment but then reappear quickly with the guitar in tow.
"It's okay," he mutters, turning the apparently-still-whole guitar over in his hands. "I don't think it hurt anything." He turns to me and gives a teasing smile. "Did you hate the guitar lessons that much?"
I scoff and grab a pillow from behind me, throwing it at his face. Disappointingly, I miss.
"No," I answer honestly. "I'd like to keep going with that, actually, now that our study break is over."
Peeta's grin is nearly ear to ear as he opens his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by a new, unexpected voice.
"Oh god."
Peeta and I both jump at the sound of Madge's voice from the door of the room. My first reaction is to seize the sheet that's pooled around my waist and yank it up to my chin, forgetting the fact Madge has seen more than a little of me during our time living together. Peeta's face turns a little green as he adjusts the covers on his lap, making sure everything is covered. And all the while Madge is just standing there, leaning on the door frame with a wicked grin on her face.
"Not what I expected to see," she says teasingly, "but definitely what needed to happen. Feel better?"
"What the hell, Madge?" I snap, grabbing the pillow I'd recently aimed at Peeta and throwing it in her direction. My skills as a marksman fail me a second time, the pillow landing a good three feet in front of her. "Ever heard of knocking?"
"It was never a problem before," she says simply, the wide grin still plastered on her face.
"You've got to be kidding me," says another unexpected voice.
No. No, no, no, no, no...
Gale's face is pale with horror as he appears over Madge's shoulder, staring at us in disgust. "My bed? You had to use my bed?"
I think...I'm going...to die.
Peeta's regained his composure a little and his lips rise into a half-smile as he takes in his friend's horrified expression. "Funnily enough," he says, "all of the other beds were taken."
Gale snorts. "That's interesting, because I recall seeing perfectly acceptable couches in the rest of the bus."
"As silly as it may seem," Peeta retorts, "we wanted a bit more privacy than that. For some reason, I thought a bedroom would give us more privacy."
"Guys," I whisper, my face burning with a blush that has only intensified as this conversation has gone on, "I'm naked under here. Do we have to do this now?"
"I have to say," Gale says as he turns to me, wearing a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "of all the times I thought about them in high school, this is not how I'd envisioned seeing your tits for the first time."
I freeze, horrified. I glance toward Peeta and I'm relieved to see he's rolling his eyes with a small smile for his friend. Of course, boys will be boys. But I'm full of dread when I glance toward Madge. Gale's innocent crush on me was well known in middle school and forcibly forgotten in high school. But I've always worried there'd be a day when Madge would second guess Gale's feelings for her over me.
But apparently today is not that day. Madge just rolls her eyes at her boyfriend then gives me a an apologetic smile. "No, you're right. I just thought you guys would want to know what happened back at the hotel."
The change in her tone is noticeable. The teasing mood is gone from her face, and it's been replaced with a look of seriousness and contemplation. Whatever happened, Madge thought it warranted coming out here to the bus to disturb me and Peeta. The anger in me dulls and cools to a gnawing pit of worry.
"What's going on?" Peeta asks, his tone also shifting to something more grave. He's picked up on the mood change as well, maybe he even knew Madge had something important to say the instant they walked in the room. Peeta is good this way, able to read people's emotions better than anyone I know.
"Haymitch figured out who trashed the girls' room," Gale says somberly. "It was Operate Alive."
"What!" This was not the statement I'd been expecting to come out of Gale's mouth. I'm so shocked, my grip on the sheet slips a little. I manage to catch it before completely revealing myself, but not fast enough to keep the blush from creeping up Gale's neckline. "How?" I ask.
"It was Glimmer," Madge says, the girl's name coming out like a hiss as she says it. "She pretended to be Johanna and got the room key. She and Clove trashed the place; the hotel got it all on tape."
"Why would they do that, though?" Peeta asks, his head tilting to the side quizzically as he raises an eyebrow. "What good does it do them?"
"They were mad at Johanna for picking a fight with them, for stepping in and embarrassing them," Gale explains. "When Johanna got between Glimmer and Finnick she put herself in the line of fire. They wanted to scare her off, and the rest of you girls too. Your song for Katniss has everyone talking so much that Operate is starting to worry the girls will give us a boost in sales. They're hoping if the girls leave we'll lose our momentum."
The information about Peeta's song surprises me. I hadn't heard about it much after that night in Denver, and they'd never played it again. I hadn't known it had made such an impression on the fans. What does this mean for Misery's Fortune?
Madge chuckles. "Obviously they underestimated Johanna. A stunt like this only makes her more determined to stay."
I shake my head. "What is Haymitch going to do?"
"That's the best part," Gale says, his eyes shining with amusement. "President Snow was specific that Operate Alive should be booked at a lot of the same venues we're at to get a good idea of who the public prefers. They're playing at the same place as us tonight. And as luck would have it, they're booked in the same hotel as us. So when Haymitch, Rory, Prim and I ran into them in the lobby, Haymitch took his chance to confront them and their manager, Seneca. Threatened them with the bill from the trashed hotel room and that we'd file charges, take the whole incident public."
"I thought the hotel wasn't charging us for that," I say, confused, "because it was their fault?"
Gale grins. "They aren't, which made it all the more hilarious. Rory and that Cato guy really got into it and Cato finally shoved Rory. And Prim...god, Katniss. You should have seen her."
The blood in my veins runs cold. My sister, up against Cato? The idea would be comedic if I wasn't convinced Cato would break my sister in two without a second guess. Imagines of Prim with a bloody nose or broken bone or any of the like come flooding through my mind, each more grotesque than the last.
"Prim?" I say softly, my voice hoarse as my throat closes up with apprehension. "Is she okay?"
Gale barks out a laugh and Madge is grinning ear to ear as he says, "Okay? She was brilliant. Laid into him like an old librarian. I swear, he was cowering by the end of it. Clove and Glimmer got in a few ending piss-ass retorts, but Marvel and Seneca were scared to open their mouths around Prim. They all ended up sulking back up to their rooms after that."
I relax as Gale regales the story, the fear in my body melting into pride. Of course Prim, my beautiful and strong sister, would cut those bullies to pieces. My small, sweet little sister is a fighter underneath it all. She can't stand to see anyone try to push their way through life and will call anyone out on it without a moment's hesitation. It's in moments like this that, despite all the things I wish I could have given her, I feel like something went right in our childhood.
"Where was Johanna during all this?" Peeta asks, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "I'd like to see how she took all that."
Madge shifts uncomfortably, biting her lip in the way I know she does when she doesn't want to say something. "She and Finnick...they had a big argument after you left. Finnick came over to talk to Prim, to figure out what was going on between you guys. But then Johanna made some snarky comment about maybe it was your fault for being so distant and...well, Prim and I excused ourselves when the shouting started."
Gale shakes his head. "There's something really fucked up going on there, I just hope Finnick keeps his head on straight enough he can sing tonight."
"I think that's the problem," Madge says thoughtfully. "He doesn't seem to ever get that affected by what's going on between them."
"Whatever," Gale says. "I can't keep up with all of this goo-goo crap going on. Rory and Prim, Finnick and Johanna, now you two," he adds, gesturing toward Peeta and me. "It's like this is some sort of reality dating show, not a tour."
My snarky retort is on the tip of my tongue when Madge jumps in, saying, "We'll leave you two be. The rest of us are going to go grab an early dinner before the show...unless you guys want to join?" She asks this last bit hesitantly, as if she's trying to figure out where Peeta and I stand after this.
"We'll catch up with you later," Peeta says quickly, giving Gale a meaningful look.
Gale snorts. "Just be at the stadium by 6, Haymitch wants to have a meeting before the show starts."
"We've got it, Gale," I snap, glaring at him. "Could you just go now, please?"
Gale rolls his eyes but gives me a quick grin as he waves before turning on his heels and striding away. Madge hesitates for a moment in the doorway, as if she wants to add something else. Instead she just says, "I'm trusting you to pick out your own outfit tonight. Just...try not to dress like you're in middle school, okay?"
I gape at her for a moment, offended by this statement more than I thought I'd be. When I finally get my words back they come out clipped and irritable. "You've got it, Your Highness."
Madge rolls her eyes, an expression that seems to be popular with her and Gale right now. "I am happy for you, you know?"
I sigh, then say, "Yeah, Madge, I know. Now can you go? I'm still naked under here."
Madge gives a laugh and turns abruptly on her heel, striding away from the room quickly. I don't move a muscle until I hear the sound of the bus door opening and closing as they leave. I let out a sigh, slumping to my right to lean against Peeta as I relax my aching arms to let the sheet drift back to my waist.
"That wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned them finding out," Peeta says softly, turning to press a kiss into my hair.
"Yeah," I say in agreement. "Me neither. But it's done now."
"I suppose so," Peeta mutters, shimmying away from me to the edge of the bed. Then he throws his legs over the side and stands, reaching above his head to stretch upward. The flex of his muscles is entrancing and I catch myself staring as I watch them ripple under his skin as he works them loose. I think he says something, but I don't catch it the first time.
"What?" I ask, shaking my head a little to clear the cloud of desire that had been starting to descend over me. How does he have this immediate affect on me?
"I said," he says, his tone smug, "that we should probably hurry and get cleaned up if we want to have time to grab a bite to eat before the show."
"Oh," I say, looking over to glance at the clock. It's two o'clock now. What's his worry? "We have four hours."
Peeta's expression morphs into something wicked and teasing as he says, "Yes, which should leave us enough time for you to model all of your outfit options for me. Madge did say she wants you to look good tonight."
The muscles at my core clench in anticipation. Oh yes, I like this idea very much.
"Last one to the hotel is a rotten egg," I say, launching myself off the bed and promptly tangling myself in the sheets, falling to the floor in a tangled mess.
The next fifteen minutes are filled with the sounds of Peeta's uncontrollable laughter.
I really could lay here like this forever, wrapped in Peeta's arms. After an hour or so of teasingly modeling ridiculous rocker clothes and stripping them all off, we'd fallen to the bed for another heated session of lovemaking. Again, I find myself entangled in a naked embrace with him, content with the world. His eyes are closed at the moment and I wonder if he's sleeping, but his chest is moving too rapidly and I know he's just enjoying the moment like I am. I sit up a little, putting my weight on my arms, to look at him. I'm relieved when he doesn't make a move to open his eyes or mirror my position, because it means I'll be able to enjoy looking at him for a few minutes.
His skin is nearly flawless, something most girls use tons of products to achieve, and I can't help thinking how unfair it is. I can tell he's been slacking on shaving for a day or two because there's a fair amount of stubble on his cheeks and chin. I reach out and run a finger along it, delighting in the sandpaper feel of it. He gives a soft growl in appreciation but doesn't open his eyes. Encouraged, I move my finger to other parts of his face. I run my finger along the bridge of his nose and down to his mouth. There I trace the bow of his lips, marveling again at how soft they are. He opens his lips and gives my finger a quick nip on the pad, making me give a little yip in surprise. He chuckles in a low tone but doesn't open his eyes. I shake my head at him, which of course he doesn't see, and run my finger back up his cheeks to his forehead and then his eyebrows, stopping and taking care to inspect the stud though his right eyebrow. It's a simple silver bar with a ball on each end and it glitters in the hotel room lights. It's entrancing and sexy, sending a pool of warmth straight to my core. And then I remember the other piercing, the one in his mouth, and I shiver as I remember the feeling of it grazing over my own tongue during our fiery kisses, and the feel of it on other places too.
Peeta's eyes are open now, staring at me intently. I can tell he's trying to figure me out, to decipher what I'm thinking as I examine the piercing.
"Do you hate it?" he asks, surprising me.
"What?" I ask. I turn my gaze from the eyebrow stud to his eyes, seeing the worry in them. "Why would you ask that?"
Peeta shrugs. "You don't seem like the...piercing type. I mean, you're sexy as hell and I love you in your rocker gear," he says with a small chuckle. "God, do I love that. But you seem pretty...straight-laced. No nonsense. And the way you reacted to Prim getting one that first week...well, I just figured you were opposed to them. I mean, other than the one in my tongue, which obviously serves a very useful function." He adds this last bit with a teasing smile and a small blush that creeps up into his cheeks.
Several different phrases, comebacks, and denials run through my head. But he's right, of course. I had scolded my sister, who had snuck off and drunkenly gotten belly button piercings with Johanna at one of the guys' concerts at one of the questionable piercing booths. I'd been livid, because it's something I'd never expected out of her. But lately there's something about the way those glittering bits of metal catch the stage lights that seems to make so much sense in this world. They're entrancing and beautiful.
And maybe it's this train of thought that leads me to blurt out, "I want one."
Peeta's eyes widen in surprise. He blinks a few time, processing what I've said, then says, "Are you serious?"
I sit straight up now, staring down at him intently. "Yes. I want a piercing."
Peeta sits upright, shaking his head. "I don't fucking believe it."
I'm offended by this. I cross my arms in front of my chest and say, "What don't you fucking believe? I'm not some pansy, Mellark. And I may be straight-laced, but I do know how to have fun. And I like pretty things as much as the next girl. Why can't I pierce something?"
Peeta takes my shoulders in his hands, laughing as he says, "No, no. That's not what I meant. Gale..." He hesitates for a moment before continuing. "Gale had made a bet that by the end of the tour you'd have gotten a piercing. I just didn't think he was right."
I'm miffed by this. What business does Gale Hawthorne have making bets about me? "Well, in that case, I can wait a few months in the interest of lightening his pockets a little."
Peeta shakes his head furiously. He throws his legs over the bed and stands up, grinning down at me. "No way, Everdeen. You're not backing out of this now. You said you want a piercing, we're going to go get you a piercing."
And suddenly he's off the bed and grabbing his boxers and jeans, pulling them on quickly. He doesn't put his grey Iron Maiden shirt back on, instead striding shirtless over to the door separating the girls' suite from the guys'. He pulls open the door and hurries into the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.
"Hey," I shout after him, still laying naked and abandoned on the bed. "What am I supposed to wear?"
Peeta's head peeks around the door, his smile wide as he says, "I liked that last one."
Of course he did. It was the one with the black pleated skirt and red single-sleeve top, the most revealing of them all. I'd only put it on to finish the seduction, never having any intention of wearing it out of the hotel room. But between the recent bliss of fucking all afternoon and the excitement of doing something spontaneous, I'm feeling bold tonight. So I quickly gather up the skirt and shirt from the floor and tug them on while making my way toward the dresser set. A quick glance in the mirror tells me immediately I've got sex hair, so I weave my hair expertly into my usual braid. My make-up leaves something to be desired without Johanna here to do me up, so I just throw on a little powder and a fresh coat of mascara to make me passable. Johanna or Prim are bound to have some make-up with them at the stadium and so they can fix this mess when we get there.
Peeta appears suddenly, closing the door between their suite and ours sharply. He's changed into a simple white shirt paired with his jeans, a breathtakingly sexy outfit in its simplicity. Not noticing my appreciative stare, he walks over to the main door of the suite and pulls on his Vans hurriedly, hopping on one foot to pull them on while grabbing his keys and wallet from the table by the door. He's got his wallet in his teeth and is pulling on his last shoe when he looks over at me, apparently confused.
"What's the hold up?" he asks, his voice muffled around the lump of leather in his mouth. "We're wasting time here."
I'm still standing there with my mascara brush frozen in front of my face, staring at him. There must be something on my face that confuses him because he shakes his head and laughs softly.
"Katniss, we don't have to if you don't want to," he says gently, dropping his wallet into his hand as he talks. His eyes are soft and sweet as he watches me. "But if you want to do this, let's be spontaneous about it. There's a great shop downtown that did one of Finnick's tattoos and his tongue. If there's ever a town to want to spontaneously get a piercing in, this is the one to do it in."
It must say a lot about the place my mind is in right now because the first thing I manage to croak out is, "Finnick has his tongue done too?"
"You hadn't noticed? Yeah, he lost the bet to Gale too. Finnick and I went and got it done together, Gale practically dragged us by our ears to get us there." Peeta's eyes go slightly dull at this and he turns his head away. I can tell he's forcing himself to be jovial when he says, "Does that make him more intriguing? Have I lost my leg up on him?"
I'm shocked by this. Is Peeta...jealous? The idea gives me a strange sense of forbidden warmth, tapping into my primitive emotions of female dominance. Smiling, I reassure Peeta as gently and firmly as I can.
"No," I say in a low voice, turning my attention back to the mirror to glide on one last coat of mascara. "And I'm pretty sure your tongue is the only one whose piercing status I'm interested in."
Peeta's cheeks turn a slight shade of red and he turns to face me now, smiling broadly as he says, "Good. I'm glad."
I take in his smile for a moment until he snaps me out of its glow by throwing me my godforsaken stilettos, which would have hit me in the face if I hadn't already put down the mascara brush. I catch them at the last second, one of the heels ending up scarily close to my face. "Now hurry up," he says. "We have a cab to catch."
.x.x.x.
So here it is, finally, the latest update. A hundred hugs to risingfromtheshadows for sending me possibly the sweetest pm ever and misshoneywell (peetaspenis) and nmoreblack (dirtytalkingpeeta) for being a mini-cheering squad on tumblr while I was struggling to get my writing done and was throwing out pathetic excerpts in an attempt to hold people off. It may not have seemed like much, guys, but it definitely gave me a boost :)
I've had a couple of requests for songs or things to do in this fic. They won't appear in the actual story of Seize Me, but I'm going to make a collection of drabbles and one-shots based on your requests. Feel free to request anything from K through M, I'm happy to do it all. And, if it inspires me, I'll let you know when I post it. But they won't be going up until after SM is finished. I'll look at requests for non-SM ideas as well!
Just so everyone is clear, I will not be promising weekly updates for now. This is a WiP so I have to sit down and write every chapter before I can post it, plus each chapter has to spend some time with the wonderful Court for betaing (thank you a thousand times again, my friend!) and I like to have the next chapter at least half-way done for cohesion. Basically, what I'm getting at is it takes time, so be patient with me. With grad classes starting back up again, I don't have as much time to dedicate to writing as I'd like...
Feedback fuels my creative fire, lovely readers. After the three-week delay, I'd like to know if it was worth it :)