A/N: Sorry for the delay. I wanted to collect as much data from the poll as I could. And the winner was . . . *drum roll*
A!
A won by a landslide. Sorry to anyone who didn't vote for A. Maybe I'll do some of the other options in future chapters?
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
This chapter continues from where the previous one left off.
"Can we not just get on with what we were going to do?" Peeta suggested. "Have some dinner and catch up?"
"Or," Finnick said, "we could go to that new club down the road."
Peeta rolled his eyes. "We're not going to a club."
~xXx~
They were at a club.
Peeta really had to try to assume more authority between Cato and Finnick because they always ended up doing the opposite of what he said they should do. It really had been an unfair vote. Since Cato and Finnick both voted for the club and Gale had shrugged and said he really didn't mind.
It was a very touchy feely club. Everyone on the dancefloor looked like they were drugged with something and reached out to grope whatever they could find. Peeta felt out of place and was irritated by the fact that the other three took it in their stride.
"It smells funny in here," he commented as they finally got through to the bar.
"That, my friend, is the smell of sweat, sex and hormones," Cato said.
Peeta scrunched his nose up. Ew, right. Finnick examined the menu for only a millisecond before ordering the first name there for everyone, not even making an attempt to see what it contained. "Makes it more fun, right?" he said.
"Not really," Peeta responded. "I'd prefer to know what I'm drinking."
"Live a little," Finnick grinned.
"Last time I 'lived' a little, my drink got spiked," Peeta pointed out.
"That wasn't too bad," Cato pointed out.
Peeta looked at him incredulously. "It got spiked with crystal meth!" he exclaimed. "All I can remember of that night was waking up upside down in someone else's bedroom with my pants around my ankles and a blistering headache!"
"Wait," Gale interjected. "When was this?"
Finnick smirked. "Last year," he said. "Technically, it was his fault. He left his drink just sitting there on the table. You're not supposed to do that. He did get very crazy, since he is a light weight after all."
"Am not!" Peeta protested.
Cato laughed. "Babe, you totally are," he said. "Plus, you only had, what? A quarter of your drink left and the meth still sloshed you completely! You made us do you in the toilet cubicles and out in the alleyway because you got so worked up. Which definitely says something since you're against public sex."
Peeta shook his head. "That did not happen, if I can not remember it then it did not happen."
Gale laughed. "What form of logic is that?"
"Erm . . . a clever form?" Peeta rolled his eyes when the other three burst out laughing. "All I'm saying is that I'm not drinking too much tonight. I'm sure that won't be a problem, right?" They didn't look convinced. "I'm serious!"
"Of course you are baby," Finnick said in patronizing tone. He turned to Gale and said, "One time he got so pissed he was convinced that he was a woman."
"Finnick!" Peeta exclaimed, horrified.
Gale burst out laughing. "What? Really?" he asked. "You can't be serious."
"Funnily enough, he's totally serious," Cato said.
Peeta groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Is this a 'let's embarrass Peeta' day?" he asked. "Because if it is I'd really like to know before hand and leave. Either that or drink myself into incohearancy so I can't hear or don't care what you're saying about me."
"Or so that you believe you're Patricia again?" Finnick asked.
Peeta narrowed his eyes. "Shut up," he said.
"I feel like I have to donate some of my stories to this," Gale said.
"You don't have to," Peeta quickly said.
"No, do tell us," Finnick contradicted.
"Yeah, we're all ears," Cato added. "Let me guess, it involved alcohol?"
Gale nodded. "Peeta and I were drinking in the dormitory but I had to leave to go do an exam. He basically drank the rest of the bottle while I was gone, raided our fridge, sprayed whip cream everywhere-85% of it coating himself only-and then passed out naked on the floor."
"Okay, in my defense," Peeta said, talking loudly to be heard over Finnick and Cato's laughing, "I was not just randomly spraying that cream, I was trying to spray a message onto the carpet. I got covered in it because I tripped and got covered when I tried to get up." When this only made them laugh harder, Peeta rolled his eyes and sighed. "I think we've eastablished that alcohol and I don't mix."
"Understatement," Cato replied.
An hour and five drinks later, the statement 'Peeta and alcohol don't mix' was definitely made clear. He was gone with the wind, actually confident for once, his intoxicated state making him unaware of how he was acting.
Finnick, Cato and Gale were sitting at the bar, slightly confused and slightly amused by how easily the object of their affections could get sloshed with only five drinks in him. They were amused at how he was acting in a way he would never act in a million years without drink in him and were confused as to how he doing all this without them.
Seriously, drunk Peeta didn't even seem to be aware of the people he came here with's presence. He had somehow aquired a stripy multi-coloured tie that had been tied around his head and his white t-shirt had been pulled up and knotted between his shoulder blades. He was in the middle of the dancefloor with everyone else, completely emersed in the music.
"Do you think it would be completely inappropriate for me to go up to that handsy idiot and punch him in the mouth?" Gale asked, breaking the silence between them. The other two considered it, also looking at the dark haired man who Peeta was dancing with. Peeta had his eyes closed and was swaying to the music, having to discreetly slap the man's hands off him every so often.
"I wouldn't see a problem in it," Finnick said.
"You can't though, tragically," Cato muttered, being the voice of reason. Since Peeta didn't seem to be getting physically irritated or annoyed, there was no point in them getting irritated or annoyed. "Unless you want to get arrested for assualt, that is."
"At least he can defend himself," Finnick decided. Even if he was laughing every time the man's hands slid over his stomach or grabbed his ass, Peeta would slap the hands away, the whole action seeming to come fluently while he moved.
"We should have drank more often," Gale said, almost to himself.
"Yeah, we're definitely stocking our fridge more often with the stuff," Cato replied.
"Hey guys!" Peeta had finally distangled himself from the crowd of dancers and made his way over to them. He tripped over himself and banged into Finnick, bursting into a fit of giggles and gripping the bar to balance himself. "I am so drunk!"
"Yeah, we noticed," Cato said, grabbing his elbow to steady him. Peeta cackled and fell back into Finnick's lap, ordering the same drink that he had already consumed the past five times. It came in a tall glass filled with ice with an orange umbrella, a glow stick wrapped around the rim of the glass.
"Oh my god, this is so good!" Peeta gushed, slurping a good portion of it up. He wiggled in Finnick's lap and kicked his feet up onto the metal railing that was set up around the bottom of the wooden bar. "I could drink this forever if I could!"
Cato laughed, his eyebrows lifting as Peeta ditched drinking from the straw completely and gulped it all down in one. "You might want to slow down," he said.
"Why?" Peeta asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Even after doing this, his lips were temptingly wet and it didn't help much when he licked his lips to clean them.
"You are a bit . . . um . . ."
"Blocked?" Finnick put forward.
"Yeah, that's it," Cato said.
Peeta shrugged, lying back against Finnick and picking at his fingernails. Gale simply laughed and slid the umbrella from the drink into his hair. "So, guys, when are we going to have this foursome then?"
"What?!" The other three exclaimed.
Peeta blinked, looking confused. "What? Didn't Finn say we were going to do it?" he asked. He let his head fall back against Finnick's shoulder and blew a raspberry, squinting at the ceiling as if trying to see something that wasn't there. "Maybe I'm just imagining it."
"No, he did say it," Cato said carefully.
"But we agreed against it," Gale added.
The blond boy frowned. "Why?"
"Uh . . . because it's a bit far, is it not?" Gale asked.
Peeta shrugged. "Nah," he said. "Sounds hot to me." He was slowly sliding down the seat, so far that his chin dug into his chest. It was dragging his shirt up more but he didn't care, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Then again, what do I know, right?"
Finnick hooked his arms underneath Peeta's and pulled him upright. "Okay drunky, I think you've had enough to drink. We should get you back home." Peeta hiccupped but nodded.
"'Kay," he mumbled. He stood up and threw himself at Cato. "Carry me." Cato laughed and picked him up like a bride. "Let's go forward!"
The whole walk home, Peeta didn't shut up. He went through ten thousand moods at once. He started to cry and yelled, "Don't die Billy!" into the darkness, burst into giggles and said, "This is the fort of awsomeness! No parents allowed!" Recited every lyric of Bohemian Rhapsody, started mewling like a cat and screamed, "Welcome to Narina!" whenever they passed the shoeshop.
"Oh my god, this is priceless," Cato chuckled. "Does anyone have a voice recorder on them?"
"I don't. But I wish I did," Gale laughed. Finnick couldn't even answer. He was doubled over, laughing his ass off, in complete stitches. "Wait, I want to see if something is the same from college. Hey, Peeta?"
"Yeah?" Peeta replied, almost falling out of Cato's arms as he turned to face Gale.
"I feel a little sick, what do you think I need?"
"Penis-cillin!" Peeta announced merrily, throwing his hands in the air and going, "Yay!"
"Peeta, are you okay to walk because you're going to fall out if you keep moving like this?" Cato asked.
The blond boy jumped out of his arms and announced, "Honey, if I can walk after sex, you don't deserve to carry me!" in a sassy voice. Finnick was close to collapsing, getting closer to falling on his knees the farther they travelled. Peeta then proceeded to take a detour and walked into the wall. "Who put that there?"
"Okay, I'll take a turn at carrying you," Gale said. "Come here bab-I mean, Peeta." He scooped Peeta up and carried him over his shoulder. The drunk boy started giggling and bit Gale's belt loops and knawing on the fabric. Gale groaned. "Oh god, somebody stop him, I can't take it."
"Peeta?" Cato said, as if coaxing an animal. "Stop chewing Gale's belt loops. You're arousing him too much."
Peeta gave him a blank look. "Arousing?"
"I wouldn't say arousing," Gale protested.
"Hawthrone, you can see your hard on," Finnick laughed, holding his side to ward off a stich.
"Watch it, I could run off with him in my arms," Gale warned.
"Guys, is Gale going to fuck me?" Peeta asked.
"No, he is not," Cato said quickly.
"Do you not want to watch?" Peeta wrapped his legs around Gale's waist and started poking behind his knee. "Like the whole 'writhing in pleasure and trembling with desire' thingy?"
"Uh . . ." Finnick trailed off and frowned. "Um . . . no?"
"Liar!" Peeta yelled. "J'accuse!" They arrived at the house and Peeta started singing Alive by POD as they went through the threshold. "I can't dance guys, did you know that?"
"I don't think you can sing either."
Peeta smiled goofily at them before passing out, still over Gale's shoulder.
~xXx~
Peeta woke up with a killer headache. He moaned and put a pillow over his face to block out the light. Beside him, someone shifted and a set of lips pecked his cheek. "Morning babe," Cato said. "How's the head?"
"Stop shouting at me," Peeta muttered.
Finnick chuckled from the other side of him. "Do you need some penis-cillin?" he asked.
Peeta groaned. "Oh god, Gale asked the doctor question, didn't he?"
"Sorry, couldn't resist," Gale said. If Peeta heard right, Gale sounded like he was above him. If that even . . . made sense. "You also revealed quite a few secrets as well."
"Okay, if I said anything about the Hunger Games rave in art school, it's all lies!" Peeta quickly defended.
"Wait, what Hunger Games rave?" Cato asked.
"Doesn't matter," Peeta said. "If you don't know then you're fine. If I didn't say that, what did I say?" Teeth suddenly nipped his earlobe and he yelped, biting back a mewl when they tugged lightly on it. "Guys? What did I say?"
Hot breath brushed past his ear and Finnick answered with, "You said you thought the idea of a foursome was very hot."
"Oh . . ." Shit, he told them that? They weren't supposed to find out about that! Okay, so the idea had became very appealing over the few hours before he got drunk and he had found himself wishing he had the confidence to ask if they could do it. Now there were two possible outcomes: 1) they were going to laugh at him or 2) they were going to do it. It was very likely going to be the former.
"Now that you're sober, you're probably going to overthink it," Cato pointed out. "But we want to give it a go. For you, okay? Just lie back and try to relax."
Oh fuck.
They were going to do it.
Peeta swallowed the nervous lump in his throat when Gale sat back and hooked his thumbs into his underwear, slowly sliding them down his narrow hips and throwing them away behind him. Flushing in embarrassment, Peeta buried his face into the pillow. What if he had changed since they had been in college? What if Gale took one look at him and thought he looked disgusting now?
A warm hand grasped his cock and pumped slowly, the warmth and friction making Peeta moan loudly. While that was happening, Cato pulled his face out from the pillow and kissed his lips, massaging his lips open and slipping his tongue in to duel with Peeta's.
"Peeta-Pie tells us that you were good at eating him out?" Finnick asked.
"I don't brag," Gale shrugged, still stroking him ruthlessly. Peeta gasped into Cato's mouth, moaning loudly when fingers wandered down his chest and pinched his nipples.
"Prove it," Finnick said.
Cato framed Peeta's face with his hands and explored deeper inside his mouth as Gale let go of his manhood and tugged his hips closer to him. Peeta didn't even have a chance to whimper before Finnick took Gale's previous job of stroking him, going even slower than Gale had and flicking his thumb over the head of his cock every time he reached the end.
Peeta groaned when Gale's tongue entered him, his eyes rolling behind his head blissfully. The wet muscle pushed in as far as it could and pulled back out, again and again and again. He couldn't think a single cohearant sentence, everything muffled and slowed down by the pure ecstasy he was experiencing.
"Fuck baby, you look so sexy right now," Finnick murmured.
Cato pulled back to let him breathe for a moment, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth as he went. It was all too much and Peeta came all over himself. Gale pulled out and licked his lips. "Oh god, I'm so sorry!" the horrified blond exclaimed.
"No problem babe." Cato lowered his mouth to his stomach and licked all the cum off his body. Peeta giggled and squirmedas his tongue tickled his skin.
"That was amazing guys," he said breathlessly.
Finnick raised his eyebrows. "Oh sweetheart, we're nowhere near finished."
Oh fuck.
A/N: Muhahahahaha I'm so evil! :D :D
Please R&R? ^_^