December – Part 1
PPOV
The mobile in my back pocket silently buzzes again. It's been going off all morning but I continue to ignore it, I'm too busy to deal with the caller at the moment.
Delly had this great idea before she went on maternity leave that we should have a simple Christmas menu and take group bookings. We've never tried to enter the Christmas meal market before but she argued that with all the offices around here we were missing out.
As usual she was right and all available slots were booked out weeks ago. Now Wednesday to Friday lunch times are completely devoted to Christmas office parties. We're making a good profit on the excessive amount people drink at work meals but it's a lot more work than normal. Hazelle and Katniss have been rushed off their feet, and I've heard them grumble more than once about Delly setting this up, then disappearing, leaving them to deal with it.
The phone buzzes again. It's starting to get annoying. I wipe my hand, and pull my phone from my pocket, check the caller's id, that tells me it's Dad again, and then turn it off without too much guilt. He'll just be confirming I'm coming to Christmas dinner and that is one torturous event I really don't want to think about right now.
By the time lunch is over the guilt at ignoring the call is eating at me. What if Dad wasn't calling about Christmas but something is actually wrong?
I head out the backdoor and into the small paved over courtyard at the back of the building. It's drizzling and cold, but after being in the hot kitchen for hours it feels fantastic to be out in the fresh air. I lean back against the wall, take a deep breath, shake my hands out, roll my neck a few times then call my father.
"Peeta. I've been trying to get hold of you all morning."
"Yeah, sorry Dad, it's been really busy here. Christmas, you know?"
"Well, that's what I was calling about actually." He sounds stiff and apologetic. "Mark and Cashmere will be coming with Arabella and Henry this year." I'm glad Dad can't see my pained expression at the thought of my brother's family. I'm not looking forward to two whole days with the evil off-spawn of my asshole of a brother and his stuck up wife. "And you see your mother… that is we thought that …well, Arabella is at a very impressionable age and Henry has just started speaking, so perhaps it might be a good idea if you and your brother take it in turns to come for Christmas from now on. Next year they will be at Cashmere's parent's house, so it won't be an issue…"
He's still talking, I know he is, I can hear the drone in my ear but I'm no longer listening. I hate Christmas at my parents' house. It's like a heavy dose of festive torture each year where I get reminded what an utter disappointment I've turned out to be, get compared to my brother, who despite being the golden child despises and resents my presence. His wife spends the entire time with this look on her face as if I trodden in something disgusting. Then I go home on December 27th, breathe a sigh of relief and think how grateful I am that I don't have to go through it all again until next year.
I always wish there was some way out of the whole hideous obligation, but now there is I'm stunned. As horrific as Christmas is, it's the only time that I normally have any contact with them. It's the one point in the year when I'm reminded that I do actually belong to a family.
But my parents don't want me to come home for Christmas this year. My own parents have called me to tell me not to come because I'm too much of a liability. If I can't even be myself around my family without worrying about offending someone, then where can I be?
My head jerks so violent it hits the brick wall behind me. "Look…Dad," I manage to cut off whatever it is he's saying about Easter, "that's …f.f.f…" I squeeze my lips shut, my fingers pressed against them and hold in the curse that is desperate to escape. "I…I was actually going to c-c-call you, I c-can't make it for Christmas this year anyway."
It's disgusting how utterly relieved he sounds as I continue my lie and tell him I've been invited to Delly's for Christmas. Thankfully he doesn't know she's more likely to be giving birth on Christmas day than cooking a turkey. We half-heartedly make plans for me to visit at Easter, that I'm sure we both know will get cancelled closer to the time, before he hangs up.
I sink back against the wall my mobile hanging in my hand and try to take a deep breath. You'd honestly think I'd be used to this by now, but somehow my family still manages to come up with new ways to make me feel like utter rubbish.
I go back inside but I can't get the tics or the swearing under control. Katniss is in the kitchen laughing with Rory, she catches my eye before I look away and head into the storeroom. I don't turn on the light, just close the door and rest my head against the cool brick wall, screw my eyes shut and try to breath it out.
"Peeta?" Katniss' voice searches in the darkness, as I hear the door click shut behind her. "Are you in here?"
"FUCK!" explodes from my lips without a hope of being contained.
She doesn't turn the light on, but finds me in the small space. Her hand running up and down my arm in a way that usually brings comfort but that almost doesn't register today.
"Is everything okay?"
"My family," is all I manage before a string of obscenities. She doesn't ask for any more explanation than that. She's met them, so I guess she doesn't need to.
Her lips press against my neck, but I'm honestly worried I'm going to end up chinning her as my head jerks.
"C-c-careful. I don't want to hurt you," I warn and try to step away, but she steps with me and I end up with my back against the wall and her body pressed up against me.
"You won't," she whispers, kissing my neck again before I feel the nip of her teeth teasing my earlobe in a manner she knows I like.
Her hands run across the t-shirt I'm wearing. "Do you have any idea how distracting you are in these tops?" she asks.
I make some noise of disagreement but she continues. "I mean, didn't you think about getting anything a little baggier or was it your intention to get the female customers all hot and bothered?"
I honestly don't give the t-shirts I wear to work much of a thought, they're plain white with the café logo printed in small writing to the left of my chest. "Delly ordered them," I reply.
"I don't know whether to thank her or not," Katniss muses. "They really are very distracting." Her hand finds the bottom edge and sneaks under. It's cold against the warmth of my stomach and my breath catches, and then again as she begins to undo my belt.
"Katniss?"
"Shush," she whispers, before I feel her pull my trousers and then my underwear down.
I groan as I feel her tongue, her lips and then her hot little mouth on me. I moan her name and I find the braid her hair is woven into today and grip it tightly.
My mouth is open to the ceiling as my neck arches back, head against the wall. Her hands cup and stroke my balls as her talented mouth continues to take me deeper, sucking and working me with her tongue.
I moan her name again and inadvertently tug her braid. She lets out her own moan, but it doesn't sound like one of pain.
"Katniss, I'm going to come." She doesn't take any notice of my warning, sucking on me as I come into the sweet warmth of her mouth. She releases me as I melt into the wall like a pool of unset jelly.
She pulls my shorts and trousers back up, as she rises from the floor and then her lips press against mine briefly. "Better?" she asks.
I grunt in confirmation, unable to form any words.
"I'll take that as a yes." I can hear her smile before she kisses me again. Her tongue, that seconds ago was on my dick, now strokes my tongue before she pulls away.
"Well that's one workplace fantasy I can tick off the list."
"List?"
"Oh yes," she teases. "It's amazing what ideas come into my head during those quiet afternoon periods, especially with you strutting about in those t-shirts."
Strutting? I'm pretty sure I don't strut.
"Like I said, they're very distracting and my mind ends up running wild with all the positions you, me and those t-shirts could get into. This is number one ticked off the list, perhaps after we close up tonight you can help me out with number two?"
"Which is?"
"It involves you returning the favour - on the bar."
I groan. I'm not sure how she expects me to act like normal for the next four hours until we shut up shop. Then I realise that's exactly what I am doing, acting like normal. No tics, blinking or verbal explosions. It might not be so convenient, or socially acceptable in public, as Katniss stroking my arm but clearly being blown in the storeroom does wonders for controlling my outbursts.
"You're amazing," I murmur, before quickly remembering myself, and adding to cover up my momentary slip in emotion, "I look forward to it."
.~.
KPOV
Peeta's hands grip my knees, preventing my thighs from squeezing shut, as the overwhelming intensity of my orgasm rips through me and I cry out his name.
Peeta's tongue continues to sweep over me in long strokes, as the ripples of aftershock tremble through me. Completely naked, my back arched and my arms thrown out behind me for support, I am on top of the counter, right next to the cash register and where I prepare people's coffees and teas all day long.
"Shit Peeta," I gasp with incredulous praise, as he wipes his mouth and stands. "We should do that after work every night."
He just grins and shrugs in a 'don't mind if we do' kind of fashion. "Don't suppose there are any condoms in the pockets of those jeans?" I ask, as I sit up and slide my hand to the straining bulge in the front of his trousers.
He shakes his head and removes my hand, winding it around his back instead, as he steps closer to kiss me. "Come home with me?" he asks.
I freeze. Not because I don't want to, but because it's the first time he's asked since I turned him down last month. He always seems more than happy for me to stay at his, but it is always due to my initiative. And more than just that, this is the first time Peeta has ever asked so directly without hiding his request behind offers to cook me dinner. He has never asked me to choose him, rather than the pretext of a meal.
I feel his body stiffen, as perhaps he too realises what he's just said or perhaps maybe he's simply reacting to my silence. My hand in his hair, I pull him back for another kiss before I side-step what feels like a moment of consequence and typically make light of it instead. "Okay, but only if we continue this on that kitchen island of yours."
.
.
"Oh you, I remember you. Didn't you used to live here?" Jo sarcastically remarks, with mock surprise when I return late on Sunday afternoon. I pull a face but she has a valid point. I've spent the last three nights in a row at Peeta's. I only came home because I ran out of clothes. I'm currently wearing a pair of his boxer briefs, under my leggings.
"If you can manage to spare the time, we are having a Christmas dinner," Jo informs me.
"We are?"
"Yes, all misfits and homeless waifs with nowhere to go on Christmas day are welcome." I frown at her as she continues. "So far it's me of course, Finnick, Thresh, Beetee and some woman he's seeing, and Annie the new girl at work. You are of course welcome, seeing as you sometimes live here."
"I think I'll be expected to go to Aunt Haze's for lunch."
"That's fine, this won't be starting until about 5 o'clock to give me a chance to get over my obligatory Christmas hangover." Jo's firm has a tradition of shutting the office at lunch-time on Christmas Eve and then getting completely and utter slaughtered in the local pub. It's an incredibly messy affair and probably the cause of at least three divorces each year.
"I guess I could do two Christmases," I concede.
"That's sorted then. Oh, and you can invite this mystery man of yours as well. Don't look at me like that, you're not spending every night volunteering at a soup kitchen. Unless hickies are on the menu with the soup," she smirks. I instantly put my hand to my neck. Fuck I knew Peeta was being a bit rough last night, but then I guess I did ask him to be.
"I don't think he'd be able to, he'll be spending it with is family."
"Shit Katniss, you're not seeing a married man are you?" She says, with horrified disapproval.
"No! Not his family like wife and kids, his family family like his mum and dad."
"Well ask him anyway," she shrugs, and goes back to her book.
There's no harm in asking I suppose, its not like he'll say yes. But would I want him to, if he could come? I hate the thought of Peeta spending Christmas with that revolting collection of people that he calls a family, he doesn't deserve them - hell nobody deserves them - but that doesn't mean I want to spend the day with him instead, does it?
Spending Christmas day together seems awfully serious. Surely way too involved for what we've got going on? Things have felt different recently but we're not in a relationship, not really. Peeta is not my boyfriend.
Okay so I see him every day, but that's only because we work together. I mean, I know I've been sleeping at his place a lot recently, but who wouldn't? Peeta wasn't kidding when he said he used the money from selling his Mellark Company shares to buy somewhere 'decent' to live. It's like staying in a bloody penthouse compared to crashing in Jo's drafty attic room. There's also the added attraction that Peeta produces the most mouth-wateringly delicious breakfasts every Sunday morning.
And of course there's the other, glaringly obvious, reason I stay with him so much. Peeta Mellark is literally fucking amazing in bed.
It's not just that Peeta knows what he's doing, and believe me he does - shit the things that boy can do with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth! - it's that he listens. He actually takes bloody notice of what I want and that's the biggest turn-on of all.
No one would ever mistake me for a blushing virgin, but I suppose most of my previous 'relationships' would be better classed as brief encounters. If not one night stands, then they've been passing affairs, mainly whilst I was travelling. There have been a few exceptions like Cato but - just like Cato – they've always turned out to be horrible mistakes. In reality they're just a series of closely placed hook-ups for convenience rather than an actual proper relationship with any commitment. I've never been with a guy long enough, or with the frequency that I have now with Peeta, for anyone previously to get to know me the way he has. I've never been in a relationship this long before.
A relationship! Shit! I have my own toothbrush at Peeta's place, eyemake up remover, face cleanser, my own tea - because I only drink decaf, we even went grocery shopping together. Fuck, I'm not just staying at Peeta's every now and again, I'm practically living with him! Oh God, I can just hear what Gale would have to say about it all – he'd probably think it was hilarious! But it's not funny, I can feel myself breaking into a cold sweat just thinking about it.
Okay Katniss, you're over reacting. Just relax. Breathe.
Oh shit! I can't relax! How did I get into this situation? Does Peeta know we're in a relationship? Does he think he's my boyfriend? Oh god I'm going to end up really hurting him aren't I?
Calm down Everdeen, you sound like a crazy woman.
No one is going to get hurt. Peeta is a big boy. He knows the deal. He knows this is just a short term thing. He hasn't made any indication he wants more than what we've currently got going on. We've never even been out on a date for crying out loud.
This isn't a real relationship, it's sex – that's all. Nothing else. Just convenient, incredible, mind-blowing, 'I'm wet just thinking about it' sex.
But Peeta is not my boyfriend.
Which is exactly the way it's supposed to be. Isn't it?
Thank you to those of you who left a review for the last chapter, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It made the rushed effort of trying to get it written feel worth it.
So I think last chapter Katniss began to come to terms with the fact that she really liked Peeta and there was no point in pretending that she didn't, but I don't think she was aware of just how much time she was spending with him until now. She has ever so slightly over reacted to this realisation - I don't think that having a toothbrush at someone's house warrants a panic attack - and that's why she then justifies it as being just about the sex.
But what do you think, would she'd actually like to go out on that date?
I've worked out there's about 5-6 short chapters left or I could turn them into 3 longer ones. If you let me know what you'd prefer - a long chapter at the weekend or two short ones during the week I will post accordingly - the choice is yours!
D
