Her first instinct is to bury her face in her pillow, or maybe just run away. Not face what she's started. But Peeta's just sitting there, head in hands, looking so miserable that she almost laughs out loud. She's never been good with words, and they're failing her now -how can she tell Peeta she liked it when he held her down and thrust against her? -that she wants him to keep touching her?
He starts to move like he's going to get up, and this spurs her into action. She grabs his wrist without thinking, pulls him back toward her. He looks at her, eyes wide and startled, lips parted slightly, and in a moment of fearlessness she leans forward and presses her mouth against his, licking at his mouth a little, and his lips twitch against her, his other hand settling on her hip. She's disappointed when he pulls back slightly.
"Katniss?" he breathes. His voice is still questioning and confused, so she makes what she wants clearer: one firm pull and twist of his wrist and he topples unresistingly back against the bed, lying on his back. His mouth is wet and she wants to taste him again, so she straddles him. She leans down to kiss him, and his hands come up, one tangles in her hair, the other one against her back, but he's still kind of frozen.
"Peeta…" she breathes against his cheek, "kiss me back."
"Oh, Katniss," he moans. "Am I still dreaming?"
But he's kissing her back now, his grip in her hair almost painful, and she's so hot for it, she starts grinding against Peeta's stomach, desperate for any pressure against her there. Peeta groans into the kiss, and surges towards her. He's gripping her arms now, and all of a sudden she's on her back and he's on top of her, and one of his big hands pushing her legs apart before he settles between them, his weight pinning her to their bed. He's hard again, she can feel his cock pressed between her legs, and the pressure is so good, and she shifts against him, trying to get him to thrust against her. But he just grabs her hands and presses them back above her head, not moving. His eyes are so blue, she thinks blandly, caught beneath him. His breathing is ragged, and he's staring at her intently.
"What do we doing, Katniss?" His voice is soft and rough and slightly desperate, and she squirms against him, trying to free her arms, but his grip stays firm.
"Let me -go!" She demands, struggling harder, this time, knowing there's no way she push him off her, he's much too big, too strong; all she can do is distract him: she leans forward and kisses his neck, exposed above her, and then bites down lightly on the same spot.
He whimpers at that, and his grip loosens, and she knows she has him now, but he's still not moving, so she tries again: "Please touch me," she whispers against his ear, pressing her mouth against any part of him she can reach: his cheek, shoulder, the hard muscles of his arm. He stays still for another long second, and she stops, suddenly hit by the miserable thought that maybe a conscious Peeta doesn't want her the way the dreaming one did. She stills then, feeling a hot curl of shame in her stomach—well, to hell with this, they can lie like this all night, she won't beg again…but then Peeta's mouth is moving against her, kissing her over and over, his expression reverent. He's released her arms now, and she moves them down his back, petting him absently, distracted by Peeta's mouth on her neck, and she wants more –now- so she grabs his hand and pulls it under her shirt to cup her breast, and his hand is stroking her nipple, squeezing gently, and she starts trying to rub herself against him again, forgetting his hips still have her pinned to the bed.
"You're so beautiful," Peeta whispers, as he pushes her shirt up and off her. He shifts slightly to suckle her nipples, and she arches up towards his mouth, her body zinging with pleasure.
Through her daze she realizes he's moving down her body now, kissing her stomach, his fingers tracing the edge of her cotton underwear, and he looks up at her, mouth glistening. "Is this OK?" He asks, and Katniss nods.
"Keep going" she orders, ashamed at the breathy whine of her voice, but Peeta's face shows nothing but stunned awe, and she raises her hips off the bed slightly as he pull her underwear down. Some part of her thinks she ought to be embarrassed at this point: at being stark naked in front of Peeta, or maybe at the wanton wetness between her legs, giving away how badly she wants this—wants him. But she's distracted by Peeta's almost pained exhale when he slides his hand between her legs and finds her dripping, and before she realizes what's happening his mouth is there. She cries out softly, startled and amazed. She's never going to be happy with just her hands again, she thinks, as his mouth suckles her, it's so good, she can't help the noises she's making…. or her frustrated whine when Peeta lifts his mouth off her briefly to look at her, his face flushed and adoring. She arches her hips towards his mouth, trying wordlessly to get him to keep going, and when she feels him push one think finger into her, she bucks against his hand with a keening cry.
"Say my name," he tells her, and she's startled by this—Peeta doesn't order her to do anything. But when he lowers his head back onto her, licking her gently, almost teasingly, she gives in. Anything to keep him going.
"Peeta" she breathes, jerking her hips back and forth on his finger, lifting her hips to meet his mouth, "Peeta, oh"—he's sliding another thick finger into her now, suckling her harder—"Peeta, Peeta, oh god"—She's there now, she didn't know it could be this good, she's shaking and seeing stars and comes with a gasping cry, biting at her hands out of some instinctual sense to keep quiet.
For a few seconds, she's too dazed to do anything but lie there, covering her face with her hands, but she looks down at him when he gently slides his fingers out of her. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and then looks up at her, pausing to gently kiss her hip, her stomach. He's smiling now; he looks happy and vaguely triumphant.
TBC