A/N: Second last chapter! We're nearly there guys! :O
This is the censored version of this chapter. For the uncensored version go here:
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Chapter Fifteen
Six months later
Cato stood with Peeta at the top of the mountain. They were as high as you could go, the landscape stretching before them in a vision of endless green beauty. It was a grey day, the clouds in the sky heavy with rain. Cato had asked Peeta if he had wanted to wait for another day, maybe when it was brighter or warmer. Peeta had said no because this was what the weather was usually like. Your average day in Ireland.
Cato had paid for the trip. Peeta was reluctant to let him but couldn't argue when Cato told him, as his master, that he was paying and there was nothing he could do about it.
"You ready?" Cato asked gently, rubbing Peeta's back comfortingly. The younger boy nodded, hands clutching the urn so tight his fingers were practically bone white. He carefully unscrewed the lid and passed it to Cato, who held it while Peeta reaffirmed his grip on the urn.
Peeta threw the contents of the urn into the air, catching a flurry of wind that carried it through the air. The ashes almost seemed suspended in the sky for a moment before they spread out with the Irish winds and flew away to coat the country side. Peeta lowered the urn and exhaled shakily, a small smile curling onto his face. "She's free now," he breathed.
"She'll always be with you," Cato reminded him, screwing the lid back onto Maria's urn. They stood and watched the ashes until the particles grew so fine they could see no more. During the hike up, Peeta had told Cato a story about how Maria and his father met on this mountain and continued to meet there every day until they got married. After that they then went up annually for their anniversaries. They continued to do this right up until the day Peeta's father died. It seemed only right to spread Maria's ashes here.
"Cato," Peeta said carefully on their way back down.
"Yeah?" Cato asked.
"I just want to say that I appreciate you doing this," Peeta explained. He hopped over a small river and stood on the bank to wait for Cato doing the same.
"It was no problem, really. Besides, I've been meaning for a holiday and money really was no object," Cato replied, managing to cross the river in one easy stride.
"Not that," Peeta said as they continued walking again. "Not that I don't appreciate that. I do. I really, really do. But what I mean is . . . well . . . it's been six months. The contract would have been over by now if Máthair hadn't passed. I've withheld sex from you for so long . . . Most guys would have left me by now."
"Left you?" The very idea made Cato laugh. "Peeta, I could never leave you."
Peeta smiled to himself. "Cato, I'm ready," he said.
"Ready for what?"
Peeta stopped in the middle of the grasslands and leaned towards Cato, skimming his nose along the older boy's jugular and whispering in his ear, "I'm ready to be your little pet again."
Cato felt faint. Was Peeta serious? It had been so long, Cato was surprised Peeta even remembered what he used to call him. "Are you sure? Because I can wait if you're not ready. Don't feel like you have to because it's been six months, I'm more than happy to wait until you're more comfortable"-
"I'm going to be honest here Cato," Peeta said. "The past two months I've been more angsty than a cow in heat. I just didn't bring it up because I thought . . . well, I thought that maybe . . ." He trailed off, turning pink with embarrassment.
"You thought what?" asked Cato.
"I . . . I thought you wouldn't want me anymore," Peeta admitted.
Cato stared at Peeta incredulously. "You're kidding, right?" he asked. Peeta shook his head, directing his gaze to the grass and shrugging sheepishly. Cato took the younger boy's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it so their eyes met and said, "I will always want you. Never think that I wouldn't. I only waited so long because I wanted to give you space to grieve."
Peeta shook his head in denial. "I . . . I doubt there will be a time where I will ever fully accept that she's gone. A part of me will always grieve, just like it grieves for my father and the absence of my brothers. But I won't let that part of me drag down the rest of my life," he explained. They were walking again; wading through the knee high grass with their fingers intertwined as if that's the way they were born to be. "If you were trying to wait until I was at peace with myself-and Máthair's death-then you should have tried to make an advance two months ago."
Cato was surprised by this. "Honestly?"
Peeta timidly smiled. "Yeah. I, uh, have been at peace for a while now. All of this"-he gestured around himself with his spare hand. At the wide expanse of beautiful green land; the silvery clouds whose linings shone as the sun tried to force its way through; the occasional sheep they passed bleating its greetings. "All of it has just increased the serenity I have come to feel. And I really appreciate it. I have you to thank for that."
"It was really no problem," Cato said. "I know how important this is for you."
The moments that followed were filled with a silence that almost seemed to drag on. Peeta knew what he wanted to say, he was just too frightened to say it. Okay, maybe frightened was the wrong word. He was . . . too shy to say it. Gathering up the confidence to admit that he wanted to be Cato's sub again took a lot of bucking up. He decided to wait until they were back at the B&B before telling Cato exactly what he was thinking, because he didn't want to ruin his Máthair's final moments. That's what he told himself anyway, because he knew that, in fact, Maria wouldn't have minded because she would rather that Peeta and Cato became intimate again than them worrying about worrying about the cleanliness of her memory.
The car ride was a relaxed quiet. Peeta sat watching the gorgeous landscape pass by in a beautiful blur of greens and greys and the occasional yellows of dandelions. He was psyching himself up to tell Cato how he honestly felt. He knew it was going to take a lot of his courage but a part of him knew that Cato would probably praise the bravery, not condemn it.
Cato could sense something was up with Peeta. After his boyfriend had admitted that he wanted to resume their previous BDSM relationship, Cato had wanted to immediately say yes. Abstaining from sex for six months had been difficult, sure, but Peeta had seemed so down about his mother, Cato wanted to be absolutely sure his boyfriend was ready before he tried to make a move again. He didn't want to upset him.
God, Peeta was beautiful. Cato wouldn't dream of forgetting this. Ever. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Every moment he even so much as glanced in Peeta's direction he was reminded of how handsome he was. Even now, in the car, with his face mostly turned in the opposite direction. The light from outside annunciated Peeta's profile and, as the sun was beginning to peak out for a final hour before setting, his hair glowed like gold. Even when he wasn't trying to be, he was absolutely stunning.
They reached the B&B they were staying at late in the evening having stopped off for dinner in Newcastle. The cold dark from the outside contrasted with the warm glow provided inside by the blazing fires and friendly atmosphere. Their room was cozy with ancient fluffy carpets and musty old bed sheets that would put one in mind of staying at one's grandmother's house. After the admission in the grasslands, both Cato and Peeta weren't sure how to proceed once they were inside the room again away from prying eyes.
"Do you, ah, wanna . . . ?" Peeta trailed off unsurely.
"Nap?" Cato asked, not wanting to come right out with it and seem needy.
Peeta flushed. "No, um, do you wanna . . ." he looked at his feet and sheepishly mumbled, "have sex?"
Cato felt relieved that he didn't have to say it first. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Peeta nodded eagerly, glad that it was now out in the open. He realized that he may have seemed a little too eager and retreated into his shell a little. "I mean, if you want to," he said. "You don't have to, it's really not needed, I mean we can cuddle that's always nice"-
"Peeta," interrupted Cato, "be quiet." When the younger boy fell silent, Cato fixed his eyes on the beautiful blond who had captured his heart and fell into master mode like he'd never left it. Then again, you don't tend to forget huge parts of yourself over the course of a few months. "Take your clothes off."
Still a little flushed, Peeta smiled to himself and began to unzip his coat.
"Oh and," Cato added as an afterthought, looking at the orange woolly hat on his lover's head, "you can leave your hat on."
Peeta turned beetroot red in embarrassment, folding his bottom lip into his mouth coyly. He touched the hat on his head unsurely but left it be, returning to his coat and shrugging it off his shoulders. He proceeded to unbutton his shirt, unearthing the pale, tapered torso that Cato had missed so dearly. When the final layers were shed, Cato took his time devouring the sight of his boyfriend naked, as six months had been a painfully long time and he was delighted that not a single thing had changed.
"What do you want me to do, sir?" Peeta asked, cocking his head so the ends of his hair that stuck out from under the hat brushed his bare shoulder.
"You can start by cleaning your clothes off the floor," said Cato. "I can't reward you until this place is clean."
Peeta, still being the shy little thing that he was, tried to tidy his things away discreetly. Cato wouldn't have this, however, and told the smaller boy to face away from him and bend over without bending his knees to pick up the remaining garments. Peeta, obedient as ever, did as he was told, even though he was still weary of it. Every time he retrieved a piece of clothing, he gave Cato a taster of what he had been missing out on for six months.
Once the floor was spick and span, Cato pulled his lover toward him, holding his completely clothed body against Peeta's naked one. Already he could feel the boy's hardness against his thigh, a sign that Peeta had been just as wound up as he had for the past few months. Peeta's eyes fluttered at the contact of their bodies, releasing a tiny gasp and pushing up on his tiptoes as pleasure flashed through his body like lightning.
"Like that?" Cato teased. Peeta nodded, his hips unintentionally rutting against Cato. He mumbled a breathy apology but Cato chastised him. "Don't apologize. It's your body just telling me what it wants," he said, tapping kisses up and down his lover's vulnerable neck and teasingly passing his thumb over one of his nipples. Peeta shuddered and trembled in Cato's embrace, leaning closer to him, if that were possible.
Cato noticed, for the first time ever, how Peeta stood in his arms. Instead of slinging his arms around his master's neck like anyone else would do, Peeta's arms hovered uncertainly over his boyfriend's back, making sure not to touch him whatsoever. Cato felt a twinge in his chest. He reached behind himself and touched Peeta's hands, carefully guiding them up to rest on his shoulders.
Peeta glanced at him nervously. "Really?" he asked.
Cato nodded. "Of course," he answered.
Peeta dug his fingers into Cato's shoulders. He laughed, his face lighting up with delight. He ran his hands down over Cato's chest and arms, as if questioning his actual presence. The feeling of hands on him since he subbed and ultimately freaked out, Cato shivered. Peeta was so careful with how he touched him, never pushing too hard and gauging what his master wanted. If he didn't have such a submissive nature, Peeta would also be a fantastic master. He knew what to look out for and what to do in the situation.
"Sir?" Peeta whispered.
"Yeah?" Cato answered breathily.
"May I remove this?" Peeta tugged on Cato's shirt, his fingers twined into the hem.
Cato's mind immediately shouted, "NO!" but he ignored it, knowing in his heart that this was what was right. "Yes," he answered. "You can."
Peeta's eyes shone. His hand crawled up Cato's torso and hooked into the first button of his shirt. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable, sir," he said. "I won't be offended." The way Peeta held eye contact the entire time he single-handedly unbuttoned his shirt made Cato feel impossibly hot, amazed by how hypnotizing Peeta's eyes were. Peeta pushed the fabric off Cato's shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground behind him.
The gaze broke as Peeta's eyes slid down to his master's torso. He glanced at Cato as if asking permission and, when he was met with no resistance, reached out and touched the smooth skin. Cato sucked in, a shiver shaking his being. He had no idea how welcoming such a touch would be. He had built up being touched as something awful, because of the awful subbing experience he had all those years ago. Peeta's hands were warm and brought comfort, not uneasiness. And, as they slipped lower and lower until they rested on the belt of his pants, Cato did not feel the urge to stop him.
Peeta did pause once his hands rested on the belt. He cocked his head in question and Cato nodded. Peeta pulled his belt open and pulled the zipper down, pushing the final barriers between them away at the same time. Cato's heart was beating faster than it had ever beat before, which didn't make sense. Peeta had seen him naked, many times. What made now so different?
"Hey." Peeta touched Cato's face, smiling tenderly at him. "You're trembling." Shit, he was trembling. Why was he trembling? He didn't tremble! He was the one that caused the trembling!
"Now I know what it feels like to be you," Cato joked, somewhat meekly.
Peeta's gaze held so much warmth, it wouldn't have mattered if they were standing naked in an igloo, Cato would not feel a single bite of frost. The smaller boy stepped closer, once again closing the distance between them and winding his arms around Cato's torso in a hug. Cato did the same the same so that they held each other so tight there was no space between them at all. Peeta's head rested perfectly in the crook of Cato's neck.
"I love you," Peeta mumbled, his hands clenching into small fists against Cato's back.
"I love you too," Cato replied softly, so softly he feared Peeta didn't hear it.
Slowly but unsurely (because even now he felt dubious about which moves would be appropriate to make and which might make Cato laugh in his face) Peeta pushed his hips forward a little bit, just enough for their manhoods to touch. Cato's grip tightened on Peeta and he shuddered. He mirrored the action, rubbing himself-with, albeit, a lot more confidence-against Peeta. Peeta gasped and clenched his arms around Cato, immediately rocking forward against him. He lifted his head and met Cato's eyes, the azure blue shining under the faint light provided by bedside lamp.
Cato couldn't resist anymore and leaned forward to capture Peeta's lips. Even though they hadn't had sex for over six months, they had kissed numerous times. But never this hot and never this passionate. Breathing became heavy gasps between short departures. Their hips moved together in sync, eliciting gasps and groans from one another. Time seemed irrelevant and eventually they realized that there was a bed right behind them and they could go over instead of standing in the middle of the room snogging and humping each other.
Peeta was the first to step away. The kiss had lasted so long that a string of saliva slipped out as soon as they parted, connecting the mouths until they wiped their lips with the backs of their hands. He was still touching Cato, his hands resting on the older man's biceps as if there had never been a no touching rule in the first place. Cato didn't feel even the slightest churn of discomfort, even though he spent most of his life believing it would be the most nerve wrecking experience ever.
"Would you like me to find something to . . . I don't know, tie my wrists together or something?" Peeta looked over his shoulder to where his pants sat neatly folded on an armchair. "My belt might work." He looked back at Cato. "Or did you pack something maybe?"
Cato shook his head mutely. He felt almost frozen as Peeta broke away from their embrace to try to pull his belt out of his pants. For the first time in his entire sexual experience, he felt almost repelled by the idea of tying Peeta up in some way. He watched Peeta stand and fiddle with his belt, back to him, those darn prominent dimples in his ass cheeks confuddling Cato's train of thought.
"Peeta," Cato said.
"Sir?" Peeta replied, not turning around.
"Stop."
Peeta paused. "Sir?" he repeated.
"Stop," Cato repeated. "What you're doing. Right now."
Peeta glanced over his shoulder, wide eyes beautiful and blue. "Have you thought of something else?" he asked. Cato shook his head again. "Then . . . then what?"
Cato went to Peeta and took his hand. "Come with me," he said, leading him to the bed.
"No . . . no restraints?" Peeta asked, confused, as Cato climbed onto the bed and pulled him into his lap. "But . . . don't you . . . ."
"Not this time." Cato coaxed Peeta to straddle him. Peeta did as he was told, uncertainly throwing his leg over Cato and staying elevated a little so that he wasn't sitting . . . directly on top of Cato. "I want to feel your hands on me, okay?"
Peeta touched Cato's face and smiled faintly. "You're serious?" he asked in disbelief.
Cato intertwined his arms with Peeta's so he could touch his face as well. "Deadly serious," he replied. He cupped Peeta's cheeks and drew him into a kiss. The boy's lips tasted of wine and cherry chapstick. A mixture that shouldn't work but did because there was also the undertone of Peeta's natural taste that Cato found irresistible.
"Sir," Peeta pulled away an inch to murmur, "Before I met you, I was a virgin. I don't know what I'm doing here, really. Every time we've done this . . . you, you took the lead. I didn't do anything. You did it. Y-you did it, I didn't do anything."
Cato lifted his finger to Peeta's mouth and smiled in the hopes of reassuring him. "It's okay, I'll still lead you," he said. Peeta relaxed a little at this and took Cato's finger into his mouth. He enclosed Cato's wrist in his hand and pushed his mouth down until it reached the knuckle, lapping at the digit with his tongue. He held eye contact, slowly pulling the finger back out and licking his lips sensually. "Fuck," Cato muttered. "Keep doing that and I'll be cumming too early."
Peeta laughed at this. "You better hold on, sir," he said. "I've been dying for this for weeks now."
Now it was Cato's turn to laugh. "Okay, I'll try," he chuckled. He started kissing Peeta's neck, sliding his hand down his back and teasing the smaller boy's hole with his wet finger. Peeta moaned breathily and ducked his head into Cato's neck in embarrassment. Cato smiled to himself. Oh the innocence of a virginal mind.
"S-Stop teasing me!" Peeta stuttered, groaning when he tried to push down on Cato's finger but was disappointed when his boyfriend moved it away just to fluster him.
"Why? You're just so cute when you're frustrated," Cato grinned.
"Pleeeassee," Peeta keened.
"Want it?" asked Cato. "Come and get it."
Peeta ground down against Cato, his cheeks flushing bright pink as his moan bounced around the room and sounded ten times as loud as it really was. His fingernails dug into Cato's shoulders and he whimpered, whispering a quick apology under his breath. Peeta couldn't control his actions, lost in a haze of lust and passion, and he rocked against Cato without shame.
"What if we're . . . what if we're heard?" Peeta asked.
"Then we shall pay for old woman Lorna's medical bill when she takes a heart attack," Cato replied. Old woman Lorna was the reception lady. She wore a crucifix around her neck and the look on her face when she saw Peeta and Cato holding hands was comical. Thankfully, she wasn't cruel. She didn't enact her beliefs in her work and only gave a disproving tut as she handed over the key to their room.
Peeta snorted. "You don't have to pay for medical bills here," he said.
Cato blinked in surprise. "Seriously?" he asked.
"Mmhm," Peeta replied. Cato grazed a particularly sensitive spot and Peeta moaned, pushing back on him and covering his mouth to muffle the sounds he was making. "Are you sure about this, sir?" he asked.
Cato swallowed. For some reason there was a lump in his throat. He had an urge to jump into action. It spin them around so Peeta was beneath him, using some-he didn't know what; an old t-shirt or a piece of string-to tie him to the headboard. But he smothered it. It was hard, since it was such a huge part of himself, but he was doing this for Peeta. He wanted him to know that he trusted him.
"No," Cato honestly admitted. "But I want you to know that I trust you."
"I know you trust me," Peeta said.
"No, you don't. Not in the way that I know you trust me," insisted Cato. "Please."
Peeta closed his eyes and sighed. He unthreaded his fingers from Cato's and touched his face. "I'd do anything for you," he murmured. Sweat beaded on Cato's forehand and his fingers dug into Peeta's back, denying himself the urge to control his boyfriend's movements. This was about trusting Peeta. This was about submitting. Handing over control. Something he never told himself he'd do.
Memories flood forward like a dam wall being smashed down. Chains; paddles; blindfolds. The same array of things that he kept in his playroom at the back of the closet. Except he hadn't been the one who used them. He had been the one on the receiving end of it. The last time he hadn't had control, it had been abused. His trust had been misused.
Peeta would not do that. He had to believe that. He did believe that.
"Are you okay, sir?" Peeta whispered.
"Yes," Cato replied, his breathing fast and shuddering. He felt Peeta's hand press against his chest, right over his heart.
"It's beating so fast," Peeta murmured. He rocked gently against Cato, stroking the older man's blond hair with his free hand. "Are you scared?"
"Nervous," Cato clarified. He laughed shakily at this. "I've never been nervous about this sort of thing."
"Now you know how I feel," Peeta smiled. "Every . . ." He stopped mid-sentence to exhale to keep his composure. "Every time I'm with you."
Cato's heart paused in its frantic beating to somersault in his chest. "I tell a lie," he said. "I felt like this one other time."
"Really? When?"
"The first day you walked into my office."
Peeta paused, despite his body's protests. "Really?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course. I mean, I didn't expect the hot reporter who came into my office nine months ago to be so beautiful and amazing that he made me fall in love with him," Cato admitted.
"'Made'?" Peeta scoffed.
Cato smirked. "Well I was going to say 'seduced' but I didn't think you'd like that," he said.
Peeta cocked an eyebrow and poked his tongue into his cheek. He looked at his hand which still sat upon Cato's chest and rocked against him again. His eyes rolled behind his head and he wrapped his arms around Cato's neck, pulling his master's head against his chest. "I know what this means to you," he said. "And I'm so, so proud of you."
Cato held Peeta as close as humanly possible, just taking the younger boy in. Everything about him was perfect. How his skin felt against his cheek; how he smelled of cinnamon and musk; how his voice was a soothing as a lullaby to a baby.
"Are you close?" Peeta asked.
"Mmhm," Cato hummed, feeling an ending rapidly approaching. For the first time ever, it was going to happen first. This would be the pinnacle point in the relationship. The watershed between being just an ordinary relationship where Cato was master and Peeta was sub and becoming something more. Something deeper. Something more important. Peeta was going to let Cato finish first.
"You're trembling again," Peeta noted with a wry smile. He hugged Cato closer and pressed his chin against the top of his head. "I'll stop now if you want me to. Just say the word and you can take over." Cato shook his head and shuddered. No. Too close. Too close to change. Not now.
When he came, it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Like all the fear of submission and loss of control dissolved. Cato could have cried, which was definitely out of character for him. And Peeta was still here. Holding him; kissing him; loving him. "Are you okay?" Peeta asked.
"I've . . . never been better, actually," said Cato.
Peeta pulled back, a smile so wide on his face that it reached his ears and shone in his eyes. "Nothing to be afraid of?" he asked.
"Nothing at all."
"I'm so glad."
Cato smiled. He gave in to his desire a little and spun them around so Peeta lay on his back. He gazed up at him with loving eyes. "Now it's your turn," said Cato. Even now, just feeling Peeta's hands on his hands and back was soothing. Something he'd never have allowed to happen in the beginning, when they first met.
"Are you sure you have the energy, sir?" Peeta teased.
"I have plenty of energy," Cato responded. "I'm a never ending power supply." He thursted against Peeta, smirking in pleasure when the younger blond closed his eyes and moaned. His hands moved up to Cato's head and slipped into his hair. "Are you close?" Cato asked, repeating Peeta's own question.
"Mmmm." Peeta finished shortly thereafter, relaxing in Cato's arms with a content sigh. He weakly wrapped his arms around Cato's neck and rubbed his face against the older man's cheek.
"I love you," Cato mumbled.
Peeta laughed breathily. "I love you too." He lifted his hips and untucked the covers from underneath him, throwing it over them so they were covered and kept warm. It took a while to come down from the high of ecstasy but the warmth provided from their close proximity enough to fill the silence.
"Sometimes," said Cato. He paused, unsure. Peeta lifted his head in curiosity. "Sometimes I wonder who my parents were. What sort of people they were; whether they were good or bad. Looking at how you mourned Maria's loss . . . A part of me wishes I could have done that."
"Cato . . . you don't have to tell me this if you don't want to," Peeta said.
"I want to," Cato said firmly.
Peeta placed a hand on top of Cato's head and gently stroked his head. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely positive." They shifted position a little. Cato turned onto his back and allowed Peeta to curl up against him. "I was born on in a small village a couple of miles out of town, and was immediately dropped off at the orphanage . . ." And so that night, Peeta listened to everything Cato told him, and there was no secrets between them ever again.
A/N: The uncensored version, in my opinion, is much more consistent than this version . . .
Please R&R! :)