A/N: Just a note to congratulate all the Oscar winners from last night! You guys really deserved it! And a shout out to my bae Josh Hutherson for his presenting debut. In a couple years' time, it will be a nomination, my friend :D

Chapter Thirteen

"Par Doctor's orders, I can't take part in strenuous activities," Cato explained. After being dismissed from the hospital, he and Peeta had been taking it easy. Especially after their declaration of love for one another. For the next weekends they simply lay around the house and did-to Cato's surprise but not complete horror-things that every regular couple would do. Watching t.v; holding hands; kissing without the obligation of sex. But after a couple of weeks, Cato's old tendencies did begin to sneak back into his mind. Not in a way that made him doubt his feelings for Peeta, or make him want to back out of what he previously admitted he felt, but Cato had to admit, a couple of weeks without being his usual controlling self was a bit uncomfortable for him.

"I know, I was there when he told you, remember?" Peeta smiled. They were in the playroom, which had been uninhabited for what probably had to be the longest length of time ever. Peeta sat cross legged on the bed while Cato rocked back and forth on the sex swing.

"I feel like I'm beginning to lose myself," Cato explained. "And I don't want to lose that part of my life that we'd both grown so accustomed to enforcing."

Peeta laughed and shook his head. "You're not allowed to have sex, Cato," he said. "I'm sorry but it's against doctor's orders. I mean, sure, when you're better you can do whatever you like but I think we'd be safer waiting another few weeks." He cocked his head and smiled, "Don't want you pulling something."

"What are you insinuating?" Cato teased.

"Nothing, of course, sir," Peeta beamed.

Cato rolled his eyes and continued to rock himself back and forth on the swing. "I don't want you thinking you're going to get off easy," said Cato. "Besides, I don't need to have sex. There are other ways."

Peeta raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he asked. "I don't want to sound ignorant but isn't the whole point of sex that you . . . well . . . have sex?" He explained this with an odd hand gesture that involved smacking his fist against his palm and miming something that resembled an explosion.

"Not necessarily. I could just watch you," Cato replied.

Peeta's expression was the height of confusion. It was hilarious how this threw him off so easily. "Sir?" he asked.

"Peeta," Cato said firmly. "I want you to touch yourself, and I'm going to watch."

The younger boy stared at his master for a long time before responding, "I thought that was against the rules, sir?"

"Not unless I order it," Cato replied. He smirked deviously. "Besides, I have to look after you, don't I? And if I can't look after you what sort of boyfriend am I, hmm?"

Peeta looked at his hands, turning red with embarrassment. He was beginning to resemble a cherry: his skin pink as the berry itself. "But I've never . . ."

"I'll talk you through it," Cato assured. He stood up and approached the bed, reaching out and ruffling Peeta's hair. He loved how silky it felt between his fingers and touching it was almost a porn all of its own. "I want you to make up for my absence. Do what I would normally do to you."

Peeta looked up at him, azure eyes wide with curiosity. "Like . . . ?"

"Well, what's the first thing I'd normally do to you?" asked Cato, stepping back a bit from Peeta so he could look at him without having to stare straight down.

Peeta scratched his head. "You'd kiss me, sir," he said. "But I can't kiss myself."

"After that."

"I . . . uh . . ."

Cato was amused by how flustered Peeta already was. When in the heat of the moment, he could be a sexy little minx but he was always so cute when asked to talk about it before hand. It was one of those endearing quirks that was just so wholly Peeta that it made Cato smile. Cato decided to give Peeta a hand, since he was obviously very perplexed about what to say. "I'd take your shirt off, wouldn't I?" he prompted.

Peeta eyed Cato wearily. "I guess," he said. They stared at each other and Peeta didn't realize what was expected of him until Cato quirked an amused eyebrow. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Oh, okay. I'll-I'll get on that."

As he shrugged his jacket off, Cato watched with great delight. When Peeta reached for the hem of his shirt, his master added, "Do it slowly. You know how I love watching you undress."

Peeta flushed but nodded, pulling the shirt up as slow as he dared and pulling it over his head. Cato imagined stopping Peeta now, just as his shirt was trapping his arms, and laying him down on the bed. Kissing him until he couldn't breathe; hands wandering over the ivory skin of the younger boy's hot body; teasing his nipples so he'd gasp and arch into him; teasing the bulge in his pants so his hips would thrust up into him. . .

Cato shook his head. Damnit. He'd never been told not to do something before. And even if he was, he'd ignore them and do as he wanted. However, this was doctor's orders. Only a stupid man would ignore doctor's orders, especially since it would put himself at risk. He had to dismiss what he wanted to do to Peeta and make Peeta do it to himself.

Peeta held the shirt in his fist unsurely and Cato took it from him. When he held it to his nose, he smiled at the cinnamon and dill scent. There was also a hint of baking bread. Peeta hunched his shoulders, his lip quirking up despite his embarrassment. "You know, if anyone saw you doing that, they'd accuse you of being a creepy stalker."

Cato quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes, sir."

Cato threw the shirt onto the sex swing and said, "Touch your skin."

Peeta pulled a face. "How?" he asked. "I don't . . ." He touched his arm and looked up at Cato through his hair, who nodded at him in encouragement. "Uh . . ." It started off slow. He gently moved his hand up and down his arm, as if trying to get some warmth into his blood. "I feel so stupid right now."

"Go on," Cato said. "I'll tell you if you look at all stupid. Mimic what I'd do."

"But that's the point, sir, it's usually you doing it," Peeta replied. "I can't"-

"Lie down. Make it easier," said Cato. "Even better, here." He grabbed a blindfold off the bed post and tied it around Peeta's eyes. "Is that better? You don't have to feel stupid. Imagine you're on your own."

"I know I'm not though," Peeta whined.

"Oh stop complaining," Cato laughed.

Peeta's hand shook nervously as he let his fingertips drift over his chest. "I don't even feel like I'm doing it right."

Cato chuckled and clasped his hand around Peeta's wrist. "More like this." He pressed the hand down so the palm rested against his skin. "Don't shy away from it. Your fingertips are okay. But not for your chest. Maybe here"-Cato tickled his fingers down Peeta's stomach, making the blinded blond suck in to ward away the ticklish feeling-"but not anywhere else."

"You're making it sound like a science . . ." Despite sounding unsure, Peeta had taken Cato's advice one board and touched himself with more purpose than before. Cato picked up his unoccupied hand and placed it on his stomach, a little nudge towards what he wanted to see. Watching Peeta rub his bare body in such a way was very erotic and made Cato feel a little angsty about not being allowed to do anything about it. Peeta squirmed a little on the bed, unhappy with the idea of staying still. His chest was beginning to heave and his voice grew breathy as he said, "I didn't realize such a thing could be so . . . technical."

"You're talking a bit too much," said Cato. He pressed his finger against Peeta's lips and shushed him. "I'm starting to see why you could never get into this. You look into it too much. Now that I think about it, you think about everything too much. You'd turn sex into words and numbers if you could. It's not a problem to be solved, you know."

"But"-

"Sssh."

Despite himself, Peeta was getting into it. His fingers grew itchy and curious, and when he touched his nipples he tried to contain his groan. Cato's own fingers twitched by his side but he restrained himself. Besides, watching Peeta do it to himself was extremely hot as well. It was unmistakable how much he was enjoying it, especially since it was hard to miss the noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Cato," Peeta whimpered, his voice strained, "can I please take my pants off?"

Cato nodded. "Go on," he said. Peeta's fingers fumbled with the button on his pants and eagerly yanked them off. He was wearing the thin underwear Cato bought him and the fact that he put them on without having to be told to pleased Cato greatly. "Feel better?"

Peeta nodded. "Mmhm." He took his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it almost aggressively, like it was going to elevate some of the embarrassment of having to be watched doing such a provocative thing. Cato shoved his hands into his pockets, knowing that even if he risked one touch he wouldn't be able to control himself and would end up killing himself because he couldn't resist Peeta's charm. It was a good way to go, Cato had to admit, but it didn't seem worth it.

Cato took Peeta's hand and gently pulled him up to sit upright. "Turn around," he said. "Hands and knees, quick as you like." Peeta used Cato's hand gratefully as support, pushing himself up and around to sit on the mattress on his hands and knees. "What else do you think I'd do to you on an ordinary day, hmm?"

"I, er, judging by the positioning I'd guess . . . ah . . . you'd sp-spank me, sir?" Peeta asked. Cato hummed his confirmation, which made Peeta flush in embarrassment. "I can't possibly do that myself though, right?"

"Well, I don't think you'd understand how to do it properly, if I'm honest," Cato conceded. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the underpants and pulled them off of Peeta himself. There were few things he could do because of his stupid debilitated health. Peeta folded his arms and pressed his head against them expectantly.

"How do you hit someone properly?" he asked. His voice was muffled because he was speaking into the duvet but it still managed to send a shiver down Cato's spine.

"It's not just constantly smacking, if you remember," Cato pointed out.

"Last time you spanked me it was because we were fighting. I don't remember much other than smacking then," Peeta answered.

Cato remembered the anger he'd felt that night. Peeta had been so, so stubborn about going to college; his mother; envy and Katniss that he couldn't control himself and punished him for something that wasn't his fault. Peeta took it like a man, like he always did, but Cato couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt over how he behaved that night.

"I was blinded by anger that night," Cato admitted. "What you're really supposed to do is hit"-Cato drew his hand back and reveled in the crack that resounded when his palm came in contact with his pet's backside. Peeta yelped into the sheets, his fingers curling into his hand to form a fist. "And then caress before the next one." Cato smoothed his hand over Peeta's ass, stroking the abused flesh attentively.

"Are you sure your stamina can handle this?" Peeta whispered. Always worrying.

"Trust me, my pet, I am not one to take unnecessary risks," Cato assured. He took Peeta by surprise by smacking him again, keeping his chuckle to himself when Peeta screeched in shock. "I am also not one for not giving you what you need when you need it."

"I'd hardly say I need this, sir." Cato could hear the smile in Peeta's voice.

"That's why I am in charge. I know what you need, even when you don't know you need it," Cato replied. "Besides sometimes I need things too. I hate being sick. It takes me away from what I've grown so dependent on . . ."

Peeta's arm snapped out behind him faster than Cato could comprehend. He grabbed Cato's wrist and stopped him from smacking again. He turned around knelt up to be eye level with Cato. "I love you," he said. "You don't need to feel dependent. You have me, okay?" Peeta touched Cato's face and smiled affectionately.

Cato smiled and wound his arm around Peeta's waist to draw him closer to him. "Okay," he said, nuzzling his neck into Peeta's. The younger blond smiled and touched Cato's hair gently. "I need you."

"I need you too," Peeta replied, brushing his cheek against the top of Cato's head. They hugged each other tight-something Cato would never have let happen before that day in the hospital-and Peeta rubbed Cato's back comfortingly. He knew how not being able to do anything for the past few weeks was killing Cato, since he had grown so accustomed to this part of his life again. Cato himself loved holding Peeta and wished he had realized how comforting it was just to have the man he loved in his arms sooner. Peeta smiled softly. "I can feel you against my stomach," he murmured.

Cato laughed. "And you think I can't feel you?" he chuckled.

Peeta pulled back and met Cato's eyes. Hand still holding Cato's face, Peeta coyly bit his lip and let the other slide down between them to grasp hold of his cock. His eyes fluttered as air rushed out past his lips. Cato gaped like a fish as Peeta tipped his head back and moaned softly. He touched the back of Peeta's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a little messy, since Peeta was heavily panting, like he was breathing air into Cato, bringing him to life.

"I love you," Peeta whimpered between breaths. He whined, his hips rutting against Cato in a delicious way that made the older man even harder with want. Peeta chuckled breathily. "I don't think I'll ever tire of saying that."

"Honestly, I never thought I'd enjoy saying it so much either," Cato replied. He kissed Peeta's nose and said, "I love you too."

Peeta made a strangled sound. "Say that again."

Cato smirked. "I love you," he murmured into the younger boy's ear. "So, so much." He enclosed his hand around Peeta's, helping him move it along himself. Peeta moaned, leaning forward and kissing Cato again now that he didn't have to concentrate so much. "Do you like hearing that, my pet? I'm going to make up for the time I spent being an idiot by not admitting to myself how much I love you."

"Go on then, sir, make up for it," Peeta replied. He grasped hold of Cato's shirt and curled his fingers into the material desperately. "I'm all ears."

Cato kissed Peeta's ear and whispered, "I love you." Peeta gasped lightly as Cato's hand sped up.

"Oh my g-g-g-Cato, I'm g-gonna c"-His sentence went unfinished as he climaxed, his warm seed covering the both of them. Peeta sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against Cato's forehead. "That was good," he mumbled lazily.

"Good?" Cato chuckled. "Is that all?"

"Mmhm," Peeta hummed. He pulled away and sat himself down on the bed. Cato also sat down, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table and handing it over so Peeta could wipe his hand clean.

"What time do you have to go to your mother's at?" he asked.

Peeta pulled his underpants up and sighed. "I should probably get going now," he admitted. "Ms. Santario's grandson is graduating tonight and she can't look after Máthair. I should probably get there a bit earlier so she isn't on her own."

"Yeah," Cato agreed. He helped Peeta gather up his clothes and get himself dressed. "Will you be able to come tomorrow?"

"Of course," Peeta answered. He wrapped his arms around Cato's neck and pushed onto his tiptoes to kiss him. "I'll be back as soon as I can. What time suits?"

"Well, what time will Ms. Santario be able to come back to your mother?" asked Cato.

Peeta broke away to pull his shoes on. He bent down to sit his laces and explained, "It won't be Ms. Santario," he said. "It'll be Uriah. He works down at the corner shop that Máthair always visited when she was fit enough to do her own shopping. Since Ms. Santario will probably be out late tonight, Uriah told me he can come along tomorrow and watch Máthair if I'm busy. He just can't tonight because some inspector or something is visiting the shop."

Cato raised his eyebrows. "You know a lot of generous people."

Peeta stood up with a flourish. "You'll find that not everyone in the world is a complete asshole," he said. "You just have to find the right people."

Cato smiled and cupped Peeta's face in his hands. "I'm sure now that I know you I'll be getting to know a lot of generous people," he said.

Peeta closed the distance between them and sealed their lips together in a sweet kiss. Cato deepened it, his hands pushing up into Peeta's hair and using the hold to draw him closer. Peeta enclosed his arms around Cato's waist and held him close, wishing that they didn't have to pull apart ever. When they did break away, Peeta said, "I hope so."

"Well, go on then," Cato sighed, reluctantly letting Peeta go, "you can't leave Maria waiting."

"I'll text you the time tomorrow," Peeta said, scooping his coat off the floor. Cato took the opportunity to squeeze Peeta's ass, looking away when the younger boy yelped and pretending he hadn't done anything. Peeta scoffed and rolled his eyes, shrugging his coat on and giving his partner one last kiss goodbye. "I love you. I'll see you later."

"Love you too," Cato sighed. "See you tomorrow."

~T~

Peeta texted Cato later that night, saying that he would be over at around noon the next day. Except noon had been and gone but there was no sign of Peeta ever arriving. Cato waited for what felt like forever, pacing around his house; trying to distract himself with petty jobs like tidying and washing up; but his mind kept returning to the same conclusion: what if Peeta had decided to leave him?

What if Peeta had taken a step back and realized how he had deserved so much more? Cato's heart wrenched at the thought and he felt like he was going to be sick. He shocked himself by almost crying when he found one of Peeta's shoes while vacuuming under the bed and when the thought had returned to his mind. Peeta was clever enough to see what he should be getting from life, Cato wouldn't blame him if he decided to leave. He just really, really didn't want to. He had grown so dependent on him.

He loved him. Desperately. Unconditionally.

It was night. The bright blue sky had darkened into a formidable black. Cato's house had never been so clean. He had scoured the entire foundation from head to toe and when there was nothing left to do in the interior, he went outside to weed the garden and powerhouse the yard. Anything to keep his mind off of Peeta. He hadn't even gotten a text explaining why he hadn't shown up. He just . . . didn't come.

At ten o'clock, Cato was contemplating going to bed. He was half way up the stairs when his mobile buzzed his pocket, electrifying the silent house into life by blaring out the generic ringtone of his Nokia phone. The collar ID said, 'Katniss'. Maybe she knew where Peeta was. Cato answered, "Hello?"

"Cato." There was something off putting about Katniss' voice. Cato's stomach swooped. What if she was delivering the news because Peeta couldn't do it because of his gentle nature? The news that he couldn't bear being around him anymore.

"What is it? Where's Peeta?" Cato asked. "Do you know?"

A sniffle. Katniss took a shuddering breath and Cato had to lean against the banister for support. What was she crying about? What had happened? "Katniss, what is it? What's happened?"

"Cato, Maria . . . Maria died last night," Katniss explained, her voice pained and hushed. Horrified, Cato slid down to sit on the stairs. It felt surreal, like something like death was impossible even thought it was an everyday occurrence. "She passed away in her sleep."

Things were beginning to make sense. "Where's Peeta?" asked Cato. "How is he? Have you seen him?"

"He went to the hospital with the paramedics but when I went to collect him he wasn't there," said Katniss. "Nobody's seen him. It's like he vanished off the face of the earth."