Author's Note: Hey guys! I can't apologize enough for the uncharacteristic delay in updating, I've been having a bit of a tough time figuring things out and I couldn't find the motivation to write. But the next chapter is here! It's nice and long and lots of fluffy stuff happens so I'm hoping that makes up for the delay. The M rating definitely comes into play here, which I hope is satisfactory, it was my first time writing that kind of thing and I don't know if it turned out right or not. Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy it and thank you so much for your patience! As always, it makes my day to hear from you all so please let me know what you think and/or say hello. Enjoy!
I cannot believe that I asked Peeta about sex. The look on his face when I brought it up mirrored exactly how I felt, mortified and surprised. I didn't have any specific questions and thus didn't get any specific answers but we did establish that we could ask each other questions about things. His openness and willingness to put me at ease has made me feel much better about the whole thing, despite how nervous it made me.
It was incredibly reassuring to hear him tell me that he wants to do things at my pace and doesn't want me to feel pressured to do anything I don't want to. Knowing Peeta, I knew that was how he would feel but it still made me relived to hear it come from him. In all honesty though, I have a sinking suspicion that I won't want to wait that long at all. If kissing him is any indication, I have a feeling that I'm going to be eager to keep doing physical things with him. Just thinking about touching his bare skin or feeling him pressed up against me makes me shiver, sends pleasant warmth spreading through me.
The week passed as it normally does after our awkward discussion, albeit a bit more comfortable and tense than before. We talked more than we usually do and Peeta did everything he could to make me laugh. He started tickling me by my waist when I least expect it, making me squirm and giggle uncharacteristically. He started doing that on Tuesday, taking me by surprise by sneaking up behind me. He found out that I am very ticklish and took advantage of this fact by sneaking up on me a couple times a day.
I can't say that I mind though. I'll take any opportunity I can get to feel Peeta's hands on me. It's also nothing short of heart stopping to look behind me once he relents and see him grinning from ear to ear, a look of pure joy on his face from hearing me laugh.
His hand would always linger slightly on my waist before he pulled away, his gentle touch doing less than wholesome things to me. His brief touch has left me craving it even more, finding myself scheming for ways to touch him in turn. Prompted by his random game of tickling, I've started sneaking up behind him in the same fashion and blowing on his ear to startle him, usually punctuated by a hand on his shoulder or bicep. He jumps slightly in shock and then smiles, looking back at me in a slightly exasperated, yet happy, way.
One time, on Thursday, the need to touch him was too overwhelming. I was watching him knead dough, neglecting my own tasks in favor of watching the way his muscles move when he works the dough between his big hands, methodically massaging it. He was wearing a thin, long sleeve shirt, and the visibility of his broad shoulders and muscular back was doing things to me. I felt myself getting flushed and overcome with an overwhelming urge to feel those same muscles beneath my fingertips.
I gingerly made my way towards him, embarrassed by my own brazenness but not having the capacity to care. On a deep inhale I wrapped my arms around him from behind, feeling him stiffen initially and then relax into my touch. My arms barely reached around him, my wingspan not wide enough to make my hands meet in the middle of his broad torso. I exhaled a shaky breath as he moved his own hands to cover mine, his flour covered fingers providing me with another point of contact.
I couldn't see his face but he seemed content and pleasantly surprised. He relaxed into my touch and thankfully didn't question my actions, as I doubt I would've had the words to explain, much less in a way that didn't make me sound like a hormone-crazed idiot. He indulged my silly little gesture and I relaxed into him, laying my head on his upper back and melding my torso to his.
The moment was striking in its intimacy, at the ease with which the two of us fit together and responded to the other. It felt so right to be near him like that, to hold him. It was calming and exciting at the same time; the contact was soothing but it made me want to be even closer to him.
I made myself move away after a few moments and Peeta turned around to look at me, taking my hands in his and smiling genuinely. He looked deep into my eyes, trying to convey the joy he felt at the gesture and kissed me, the two of us making out in the kitchen for several minutes until a customer came in the front and forced us to break apart. It took me a few minutes to gather myself after that, splashing my face with cool water while Peeta tended to the customer.
The touches have become more frequent and longer since then, Friday being filled with lustful stares and kisses. When I walked home yesterday it was on wobbly legs, overwhelmed and almost delirious by all the attention I had received from Peeta. We made plans to have another date on Saturday, which I am now preparing for.
Every time he kissed me was nothing short of mind numbing. Each kiss seemed impossibly better than the last as we both grew more confident and greedy. I feel a rush of arousal at the thought of what is to come, at the prospect of having Peeta all to myself for an entire day, no customers or work to worry about.
I told Prim on Thursday that we were going to have another date and she smiled knowingly and promptly made plans with one of her many friends. I'm glad that she was intuitive enough to realize that I might not want her hanging around during my time with Peeta. Though we both adore her, there are some things I simply cannot do in her presence; things like passionately make out with my boyfriend.
Peeta and I have yet to explicitly call each other "Boyfriend" or "Girlfriend" but I suspect it's from a lack of interaction with other people rather than an unwillingness to use the title. We're not trying to hide our relationship; we're just both pretty antisocial, and he knows I'm a very private person. Even if we wanted to tell people I don't know who we would tell. Aside from each other we don't really have friends; something that I know probably isn't the healthiest but I doesn't seem to bother either of us all that much.
Today Peeta and I are going to have lunch at my house which sounds absolutely perfect, given both the privacy and the fact that there's a full blown storm coming in soon. It's already pouring in torrents and the sky is dark, the air chilled. Prim went over to her friend's house a couple hours ago, back when it was only sprinkling. I'm a bit worried about Peeta driving over here in this weather, but I know he'll be cautious, given that he's a very good driver.
As for Prim, if the time comes when she's supposed to come home and the storm is like it is right now or worse, I think I might have to ask her to stay the night. I don't want to take any risks of someone I don't know very well driving my sister home in treacherous weather.
My anxious thoughts are interrupted when I hear Peeta knocking on the front door and I rush downstairs, not wanting him to get wet and chilled from the wind, given that our front porch doesn't have much of an awning. I open the door to find him hunched in on himself from the cold, his wet curls sticking to his forehead.
I usher him in and take the bag of groceries from him while he hangs up his coat in the closet. I run to the kitchen to drop the bag on the counter and hurry back to him, smiling at both his presence in my home and the way he's looking at me. His cheeks and nose are red from the bitter wind, making him look positively adorable in combination with his sodden hair. He's holding a brown paper bag filled with groceries, the bag almost as wet as he is.
Encouraged by his smile, I step forward and move his hair back off his forehead, my hand lingering on his cheek when I pull away slightly, still standing close to him.
"Hi, Peeta," I say, slightly embarrassed by my actions but happy with the joyous and disbelieving look on his face.
"Hi, Katniss," He says softly, his words hanging in the small space between us. He looks nervous for a moment and moves his hand towards mine, hesitating halfway before gently taking my hand in his, looking up at me to see how I respond to his sudden touch. I smile up at him, glad that he has initiated contact and happy to have him in my home. I squeeze his hand and move to hug him, not giving myself time to second-guess my actions.
He doesn't hesitate this time like he has so many times before, instead he immediately returns my embrace, moving his arms around my waist and holding me close to him.
I press my face in the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of rain and cinnamon as I gently play with the wet curls at the nape of his neck, reveling in the comfort of the moment.
We pull back after a long moment and look at each other shyly before his uneven voice breaks the silence.
"Are you hungry? We could make something together if you want." I nod and smile; unable to think of anything I would rather do than watch Peeta move around my tiny kitchen, making a delicious meal for us while I try not to get in the way. I considered making something before he got here but realized that I would just embarrass myself.
I take his hand again and lead him into the kitchen where I lean against the countertop, slightly overwhelmed by his proximity and the way he rubs his thumb gently over the back of my hand as he stands in front of me, obviously unsure of how close he should be.
"What do you want to make?" I ask, looking up at him bashfully, trying to clear my head of the fog that has blurred my thoughts, making me want nothing other than to be as close to him as I can.
"Whatever you want; I brought some groceries, I could make some bread or a salad or some cheese buns –"
I cut him off with a smile and a squeeze of his hand, "Cheese buns sound great," I say and he chuckles, moving away from the counter and reluctantly untangling our hands.
"Cheese buns sound great," He says, starting to unload the contents of the bag, looking back at me as I stand behind him, admiring the way his shirt hugs his muscles. "I had a feeling we would make those today."
He's looking back at me again, smiling, watching me embarrass myself by visibly shaking myself out of my trance. I can feel my cheeks flame as I try desperately to formulate a response, to remember what he even said to me.
"They're really good," I mumble, mortified that I've already embarrassed myself in the two minutes I've been here.
He notices my embarrassment and moves to take my hand, holding it tightly and looking at me with amusement, at the same time trying to comfort me.
"I'm glad you like them," He says, squeezing my hand lightly before going back to unloading the groceries. I appreciate that Peeta is so quick to recognize discomfort and try to ease it, probably because he gets nervous so often. I stay in my spot behind him, trying very hard not to stare again while he places everything out on the counter.
I get him a big mixing bowl and a spoon from the cabinet, placing it next to him while he gathers the flour and all the other things he needs to make what is probably my favorite food. I put some measuring cups next to him and stand back, unsure if I should try to help or not.
Peeta senses my apprehension and lightly places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the ingredients while his cheeks redden noticeably. He rubs my back slightly before withdrawing his hand, lingering for a second before he runs his hand through his hair and looks to me, again nervous at how I will respond to his touch.
I smile, slightly dazed from how good and how intimate his touch felt. "Ok," he says, letting out a breath and reaching for the bag of flour, scooping out a couple cups into the bowl. "How about you help me knead the dough while I throw together a salad to go with this?" He's so quick that he's finished putting in the ingredients b the time he's done talking, the dough already forming into a loose ball as he mixes everything with his hands.
"Sounds good," I say, lightly dusting my countertop before he transfers the dough to the counter and moves to make the salad after I get him another bowl.
I start kneading, apprehensive because I've never made cheese buns before. At the bakery, the main thing we sell is bread so I've only learned how to make that. I leave the delicate pastries to Peeta, cheese buns falling under that jurisdiction. He's tried to teach me how to make them on a couple occasions but I bashfully refuse each time, unwilling to let myself screw up and waste the ingredients.
So I knead the dough tentatively and sneak glances at him, both for confirmation that I'm doing it right and to watch him move around my little kitchen, completely in his element. He notices me looking at him and smiles, moving over to me with more confidence than he had previously, seemingly emboldened by the act of cooking and doing something familiar.
He moves behind me, gently placing his large hands over mine, showing me how to properly knead the dough. "Cheese buns are a bit tricky because they have to be kneaded differently than most other doughs." He speaks softly, his rough, slightly uneven voice filling my ear, all of my senses being invaded by him. I feel his chest pressed lightly against my back, his arms enveloping mine, his rough fingers moving deftly over my small ones. I will myself to concentrate on what he's saying and not get lost in him, though I do lean back slightly to feel him more fully against me.
I can't see his face but I imagine it's beet red as he tightens his arm around me slightly, picking up on my desire for more contact. "The cheese buns, they have to be kneaded a bit differently because the dough needs to be lighter than normal bread dough. Otherwise they're too dense and they don't melt in your mouth the way they should." He says shakily, our hands moving in conjunction with mine as he corrects my movements. He's folding the dough more than I was, allowing more air to be introduced into it.
I can feel his muscles flex as his arms move, his damp curls lightly brushing the back of my head, making it increasingly harder to focus on what my hands are doing. I feel hot, my cheeks flaming, and I wonder if Peeta has any idea what his proximity is doing to me. I'm slightly embarrassed that such a simple action has such a profound effect on me but at the same time I don't care, the feelings too pleasant for me to be completely embarrassed of them.
We stand like that for a few minutes, although I've gotten the hang of it Peeta stays where he is, not that I'm complaining. I have to force myself to breathe slowly and deeply the entire time, otherwise I might combust on the spot from all the excitement. It slightly ridiculous how excited he makes me, even from touching me in a non-sexual way. I think he feels similarly though, if his shaky breaths are any indication.
He withdraws after an indeterminate amount of time, slowly moving his hands off of mine and drawing them up my arms as he moves away, making me nearly delirious.
I miss the feel of him the second he's not touching me anymore, my fingers sinking into the dough one last time so I don't lose control of myself and jump on him or something. My body is making it very difficult for me to be around him, constantly making me yearn for his touch, his kisses. Whenever I'm near him, especially after he just had his arms around me, I can't think properly, all I can think of is the way he felt against me and how badly I want to feel that again.
It makes me hard to do things like function in a non-mortifying way or speak. I keep my eyes downcast despite the overwhelming urge to look at him and see whether or not he was as affected by that as I was.
We both are quiet for a few minutes, him tossing the salad and then showing me how to form the dough into balls and fold the little bits of cheese inside and sprinkle it on top. He places them in the oven when we're done and he helps me clean up, even washing the bowl and putting it away for me.
"Do you want to have some salad while we wait for the buns?' He asks, reverting back to his previous level of nervousness now that he doesn't have anything to occupy his hands.
I nod and get two bowls out, setting my ancient dinner table while he serves us. We both sit down and enjoy the delicious salad he's made, full of nuts and cucumber, even some strawberries, topped off with a perfectly seasoned vinaigrette.
Neither of us know what to say while we eat, each of us nervous and afraid of embarrassing ourselves or saying the wrong thing. I slowly move my foot towards him, watching his face for a reaction as my foot comes in contact with his; my desperate attempt to be touching him in any way I can.
He looks up at me, surprised, and then a suppressed smile overtakes his face as he looks down at his food, taking a bite while he returns my gesture under the table and tangles his foot with mine.
I can't help but smile too, feeling like a silly little girl but not finding it within me to care, too distracted by the perfection of this moment. I can smell the cheese buns baking in the oven, nearing completion and filing my home with a delicious, savory scent. I can feel Peeta's foot moving with mine for no reason other than to feel each other. I see Peeta's smile, his obvious happiness that only feeds my giddiness and the stirring in my lower belly.
We finish our salads like that, silently playing our little game of footsy under the table while we wait for the cheese buns to finish. Finally my timer dings and I hurry to the oven, knocking my chair over in haste to get up. Peeta chuckles and gets up with me, his radiant smile doing wonders to ease my embarrassment. He fixes the chair for me while I put on a mitt and take the buns out of the oven, deeply inhaling their incredible scent and placing them on the countertop.
"We should wait a few minutes for them to cool," He says, chuckling again at my disappointment. He takes my hand in his, distracting me from my impatience. "How about I make some hot chocolate? They'll go great with the cheese buns." The idea of eating cheese buns with hot chocolate seems a bit odd to me but I can't deny that it is the perfect weather for some hot chocolate, the idea of sipping some while listening to the rain sends a pleasant warmth through me, adding to the feeling of comfort and excitement that Peeta's touch incites in me.
"I'll take your word for it," I say, unable to keep the goofy grin from my face as he tells me to trust him and gets some chocolate from the things he brought with him. I watch him as he melts the chocolate on the stove and adds milk and sugar to it. The smell of the warm chocolate mixed with the scent of the cheese buns is positively overwhelming, not helped by the fact that I'm watching Peeta's back muscles move under his shirt again.
A couple minutes later he pours the finished concoction into two mugs that I placed on the counter, along with placing two cheese buns on a plate, making a cozy little snack for both of us.
I take my mug and plate, looking back at Peeta as I walk into the living room, encouraging him to follow me. I move to the couch and place my treats on the coffee table in front of me, sitting down and patting the place next to me; Peeta setting his own drink down before tentatively sitting next to me. He's close but not close enough and in a moment of bravery I scoot closer to him, our thighs now touching. He's surprised by my brazenness but seems to enjoy the proximity, looking over at me with a big, goofy smile on his face. I take a bite of my cheese bun and can't help but make a sound in the back of my throat, the warm cheese and bread tasting impossibly good.
I look to Peeta when I open my eyes and find him looking at me in the peculiar way he does whenever I obviously enjoy something I eat. I smile bashfully and look down, trying my best to focus on my food and not the way that Peeta's thigh, the one that's not touching me, is bouncing a little bit, making his nerves apparent.
I pick up my hot chocolate and take a sip, closing my eyes and taking in the lavish flavor. It's rich and velvety, a fragrant and perfectly sweet concoction. I look to Peeta to see he's watching me and he tells me quietly to try dipping the bun in the hot chocolate and I do, the flavors filling me with another level of comfort. The sweetness of the hot chocolate compliments the cheese bun perfectly, enhancing both the flavors and somehow making them each more enjoyable.
I finish my snack with Peeta beside me, red-cheeked and sneaking glances at me every few seconds. The rain outside is pounding on my roof and I can hear gentle rumbles of thunder become increasingly louder, along with the occasional flash of lightening through the grey sky.
I listen to the storm outside with Peeta beside me, both nervous and calm at the same time. I sip my hot chocolate, the fullness in my belly and the tranquility of the situation making me feel warm and relaxed. When Peeta's finished I take his hand and hold it in my lap, watching him.
He looks positively beautiful with his golden curls falling into his eyes and his ruddy cheeks, his cerulean eyes looking at me tentatively. I'm once again overcome with a wave of affection and attraction for him, the familiar heat reigniting low in my belly and making me ache for the feel of his lips on mine. I put my mug down and scoot closer to him, practically moving into his lap as he puts his own mug down, smiling nervously in anticipation.
I bring my face close to his and admire him and his alabaster skin, gently cupping his jaw and absorbing the hungry look he gives me. I kiss him and immediately he responds, easily matching my enthusiasm. Our kisses become hungrier and more heated but not rushed, a pace that stokes the fire within me to a blaze, something that is overwhelming in its intensity.
Between the kisses, the rain outside, and the affection I have for him I feel relaxed and emboldened, not weighed down by my previous fears and insecurities. I know that Peeta wants me and it has become all too apparent that I want him just as much.
I move myself into his lap fully, placing my knees on either side of his hips and setting myself gently in his lap. We don't break contact but I feel him stiffen initially in surprise before pulling ay my lips even more passionately, placing his hands on my waist, holding me to him.
This is the closest I've ever been to him, the most contact we've ever allowed ourselves to have, and it feels incredible. I feel similar to when I had the wine at his house, a warm fuzzy feeling inside of me and a reduced sense of humility.
He moves his hands up and down my back in a soothing motion and despite its innocence I find myself even more excited, even more turned on by him; something I hadn't thought possible. I realize at some point that my hips are making small movements, seemingly of their own volition, seeking out some type of friction to quell the rising heat inside me.
The amazing thing is that I don't stop what I realize what's happening, I don't shy away in embarrassment and bolt out of the room like I expect myself to. I let myself enjoy what we have between us and feel Peeta's frenzied breathing, the desperation with which his hands roam my body.
I have no sense of time other than knowing that I never want this to end. I would be perfectly happy to stay like this all night, feeling his hands on me, but I know that this is building to a crescendo and it's only a matter of time before we become too desperate with want.
I can feel his erection underneath me, surprisingly large and stiff and I can't even find it in me to be embarrassed that I'm brushing up against it. One of Peeta's hands accidently slips under my shirt and touches the bare skin just above my hip and I moan, encouraging Peeta to place both his hands there and making me impossibly warm and excited, the feel of his large, soft hands on my bare skin better than anything I could've imagined.
We're both positively frenzied, neither of us able to control our movements or our labored breathing. My hips take on a faster pace, desperate for the release rising within me.
Suddenly, it's there and it's mind numbing, so much stronger than the releases I've sought on my own. My orgasm washes over me, making me break my lips from Peeta's and clench his arms, moaning softly, unable to do anything but revel in the bliss of it.
When I start to come down I notice that Peeta's watching me with a fire I've never seen before and he looks positively radiant, his own hips working against me before his face contorts in pleasure and his eyes shut. He moves against me one last time and stills, holding me to him incredibly tight, his face buried in the column of my neck as he groans and tries to catch his breath.
I hold him to me, awed at what just happened. I laugh a small, shaky laugh, the happiness and disbelief escaping from inside me. Peeta just nuzzles further into me; peppering light kisses on my shoulders and neck.
I pull back and we look at each other, Peeta embarrassed but smiling, his eyes taking on a lightness that I've never seen them have before. I chuckle again and kiss his nose, his eyes, his forehead, trying to make him understand how happy he's made me.
He looks at me with reverence, returning my kisses and holding me for a moment before shifting his hips uncomfortably and I realize that I should probably move so he can clean up or whatever he needs to do.
I don't know much about the male body but I know that their orgasm results in some kind of fluid, which is how pregnancy happens. I imagine he must be a bit uncomfortable so I move off of him, sitting to his side and taking in the grateful smile he gives me.
"Umm j-just give me one second I'll be right back," He says, his cheeks as red as they've ever been, his movements shaky as he gets up off the couch to go to the bathroom.
I sit there for a minute, dazed, not sure how to make sense of all the emotions whirling inside of me and not having the energy to care. I recline on the couch, letting my head drop back onto the cushion and the satisfied feeling calm me. I listen to the rain as I wait for Peeta, a small smile on my face as I let myself relax.