"I don't want you to leave," Peeta sighs into my hair, his fingers playing with the loose tips that he pulled out of my braid hours ago. The time has flown since I led him back to his room and pulled him down with me onto the soft mattress.
At first there was no denying the hesitation between us – Peeta had put himself at a distance, his hand just barely able to interlock with mine as we lay facing one another. I hadn't minded, not really, since I savoured the moment of quiet that we allowed ourselves to indulge in.
Once we started talking though, our conversation drifting from childhood stories to workplace woes, our bodies inevitably grew closer, our legs intertwining as we found comfort with each other.
Now we lay with my body curled against his side, my head on his chest with the blanket pulled up to my ribs. I can feel his breaths against my forehead and his heartbeat under my ear – the combination soothes me and I relish in the heat that his body gives off.
I wouldn't trade this moment. Not for anything. I wish I could live in it forever.
His words bring me back and I smile and pull his hand to my lips.
"I don't have to go if you don't want me to," I reply quietly, uncertain. I don't want to push his boundaries but the bliss from being here overwhelms the logic that tells me I should go home tonight.
Can't I have this for myself? Just once?
"Don't you have to work in the morning?" That thought sobers me and I take a moment, considering.
"If I wake up early enough, I can probably get home and to work without a problem. Do you want me to go?" I ask the question even though the idea of it pains me inside as I look up to meet his eyes. He frowns down at me, the pause making my heart thud in my chest.
"No. Not ever. I just would understand if – "
"I'll stay then. For tonight. And we'll figure out tomorrow when tomorrow comes," I resolve and return my cheek to its place over his heart. I feel more than hear the laughter that tells of his relief, of his happiness.
"Where did you even come from, Everdeen?" he asks after a while, just as my eyes begin to close with the first layers of sleep.
"Too many mistakes to count," I joke in response. The honesty behind my words is bittersweet as I think of the path that's brought me here – Dad's death, Mum being a disaster, me trying to grow up too fast and running away to school, leaving Prim to her own devices, the story ending with her being diagnosed and us winding up at Posi+ive.
I try not to let the self-blame for that sink my mood.
"No, I think you came from the sun, too radiant to be contained. You're beautiful, you know?" His words make the blush rise to my skin and I try to focus on plucking the fabric of his shirt until he brings his fingers to my chin and tilts my head towards his.
Our lips find one another, my body instinctively reaching towards him as I try to get closer. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss as I shift until I'm lying nearly on top of him, my legs sliding to straddle his hips. The movement seems to jolt us both back to reality and Peeta's hands pull my face from his slowly.
I can feel him hardening below me, my own response making my belly grow hot with want.
"It won't be tonight," he states carefully, his eyes searching mine desperately looking for something more.
"I'm okay with that. Are you okay with this?" My reply is slightly strained, my voice tight as my body thrums. His hands on my hips, there to surely steady me, feel like they're burning into my skin as they slide below the hem of my shirt.
"Just, let's promise each other – "
"We'll go slow. We can stop at anytime. I want this Peeta, but I want you to want this too, okay?" The words coming from my mouth seem too perfect, so unlike me who is the one always fumbling with what I want to say. Peeta seems to sense it too because he smiles, his body rising up to meet me for a hard kiss.
We let things progress without force, our hands gentle in their explorations as we find new parts of ourselves. Peeta is the first to lose his shirt, my fingertips eager to graze the expanse of his chest and the curled blonde hairs that grow there. I thrive in the sighs that he emits, watchful as his head lolls back as though he's never felt another's touch before.
The thought fills me with a sadness that roils into a burn, a fire lit that makes me want to make him feel so much more. This sweet man, so beautiful and strong, deserves to feel everything life offers; to give him any less is criminal. Leaning down, I place kisses along the center of his chest, my hands drifting to his shoulders and sliding down his arms until our fingers interlock.
I hold myself there for a spell longer, my teeth playfully pulling at his nipples before his hands pull the fabric from my back. When my shirt has ridden up to my bra he pauses and meets my eyes with a sheepish look, so unlike the confident man I've come to know.
"Is this – "
The nod is quick, his hands moving fast to pull the shirt over my head. I watch as his gaze slides to my chest, mesmerized, before he meets my eyes again. A beautiful smile tugs at his lips and I feel myself flush, awkwardly perched atop him as he rakes me with his eyes.
"You are more lovely than I could have imagined," he whispers and pulls me down to him so that his lips can find my ear, my neck, my shoulder. "From the sun, I swear."
I laugh against his chest and feel my body rock against his hips instinctively. Mid-movement I freeze, my body tensing as I prepare myself for him to pull back. I know this has gone too far for him. I just know it. The hot flame of embarrassment licks up from within me and I tuck my face against his neck, hopeful that he'll ignore it.
But he doesn't. His hands slide down to the top of my jeans, his fingers pressing into my hip bones and guiding me against him slowly.
"It's okay," he says, his voice tight with something I don't quite know.
I'm slow to move at first; careful to make sure that this is what he wants because even though he says it, I still can't help but doubt what's happening. When his hands continue to guide my movements, when I pull back and slowly meet his gaze, I know that we're walking a thin line.
But still we go forward.
It isn't long before the pleasure of him between my legs, the friction from our movements, begins to make me pant. I can feel him hard below me as his thumbs press into me and my body rocks above his. Before long, my arms rise until my fingers are lost in my hair and my hips are pressing down of their own accord, chasing and rushing towards the inevitable.
The feeling barrels towards me like a freight train until I feel his fingers grasp my breasts and squeeze, the rough skin of his palms rubbing against my nipples under the cups of my bra. His touch undoes me and I cry out, my body collapsing as it presses down against his in smooth, hard rocking motions while I find my release.
When I'm able to open my eyes, my upper body supported by my hands on his chest, I look at him and take in the rise of colour to his cheeks.
Then I feel it.
He's still hard below me.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I moan and cover my face, so unsure of what to do. I thought – I was sure – it was good for him too but I'd lost myself somewhere along the way. "Do you need me to – "
"No, oh – No Katniss, it's –" he interrupts abruptly and shifts me until I'm kneeling beside him instead of straddling him. "I'm going to go take um, care of this. One sec." He disappears quickly from the room, the blush evident even on his back as he moves towards the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and I groan loudly, embarrassed and painfully aware of what I hadn't done for him.
How could I get so lost in myself?
Did he not finish because I did something wrong?
The fears and worries cloud over me until I'm pulling on my shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to come back and kick me out.
"I'm such a fucking idiot," I moan into my hands as the shower turns off a few moments later and the bathroom door opens. His heavy gait tells of his quick return and I can't fight the feeling of just wanting to hide but instead forcing myself to see this out before bolting like instinct is telling me.
"Katniss I'm – wait, are you leaving?"
He asks this carefully, hurt just barely evident in his voice. I look up from between my fingers and frown, unsure of what's going on but knowing that it looks like I am totally ready to run.
"Don't you want me to leave? I thought because you didn't – "
"Oh. Oh, no. Katniss, no. I swear, no." He quickly reassures me, coming to kneel before me so that we're eye level. I feel his hands pull at mine, still damp from the water, before he kisses me sweetly. When he pulls back I allow his hand to cup my chin as I see the smile beaming from him. "Katniss, no. I didn't – I mean, it was good. Really good. I just maybe freaked out a little and you were, um, having such a good time I didn't want you to stop. No. It was all me, I swear. You – " He interrupts himself with a quick kiss. "Are – " Another kiss. "Perfect."
I don't know how to handle what he's said – the compliments and the recognition that somewhere I'd made him uncomfortable. I don't know how to feel – not really. It baffles me.
"Will you stay?" He isn't pleading, that I know and gives me comfort.
"If you still want me to. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable in your own apartment though," I hesitate to finally look up. When I see him he's grinning widely, as though concern is beyond him.
"I do want you to stay. That was an unexpected surprise that doesn't change anything for me. Stay."
"I'll stay," I repeat quickly "But we have to talk about what happened. I don't understand – " I'm quickly distracted when he stands up and pulls me up with him, his hands slipping around me and pulling me into a tight hug.
"It wasn't you, I swear. I just haven't done this in a long time and I didn't want to make a mess and freak you out. I got stuck in my head."
"So, you just... didn't want to come in your pants?" I joke as I pull back, forcing him to look into my eyes. He shrugs and looks away, his face flaming.
"I guess so, yeah." We both laugh as the tension and awkwardness seem to pass with his admission, the air clearing as our bodies press together until he clears his throat. "That and I guess, um, you know semen is a fluid that, uh..." He stumbles over his words, their tightness belying his nerves.
"I'm not afraid of you, or what's inside of you, Peeta," I reassure lowly, pulling his hand to my lips and planting a kiss there. I bring our linked hands up together and press them to his cheek carefully. "You don't have to get caught up in your head – we're grownups and we can handle this. We'll just be careful, understood?"
I can't help but notice the very adult way I've reacted to his fears, almost as though I wasn't in retrospect a little nervous at how carried away I'd gotten myself. Cocking my head towards the bed, I hope the moment has passed and my words have reassured him at least a little.
Smiling, Peeta strips down to a fresh pair of boxers and moves to his dresser before lending me an oversized shirt and pair of shorts for pyjamas. We tuck ourselves under the covers, the feeling of his clothes surrounding me, of his chest being my pillow and his body being my heater, not to mention the release from earlier, all play into me quickly drifting off to the sound of his deep breaths and the feeling of his fingers brushing through my hair.
AN: Celebrating my country's birthday with an awesome 4 day weekend! Yay Canada! Hope you're having a good one, readers!