Here's the promised Chapter Seventeen! I'm actually going to post Chapter Eighteen after this, if the site doesn't keep messing up on me. It keeps timing out or something, it's weird and making it hard for me to post chapters. Anyway, here is it! You guys deserve it, really.
SakuraDrops141: Thanks so much for still reading! Oh, I think you'll quite enjoy the beginning of this chapter.
ENJOY!
Chapter Seventeen.
"I have a question," Peeta says as he slips his hands under Cato's shirt, feeling the dips of his six-pack, the strong lines. He swallows, his pants growing tight as he trails his fingers higher, pushing his ripped shirt up, as he settles himself more comfortably on his lap. Cato sucks in a sharp breath at the movement on his growing erection, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of Peeta's fingers.
"What?" he gets out, his voice lower, huskier. It turns Peeta on more. He runs one of his fingers around Cato's nipple and tilts his head to the side, watching as Cato's teeth latch onto his bottom lip. He's never seen Cato make such a sexy face before and if he knew there would be more nights like this, he would already have all their clothes off.
"Have you been on the bottom before?" he asks and as Cato tenses, he tweaks his nipple, twisting it gently. Cato's body jerks and his back arches, the tension leaving as soon as it came. He wiggles his ass against Cato again, just because he likes seeing his back arch, his face twist up in pleasure and want and need. Peeta never thought he could be so turned on before, never thought someone could make him feel this lava, this heat, this want, this need.
"Yeah," Cato whispers, reaching up and grabbing his shirt, tugging on it. It's a silent demand, he wants it off. Peeta lifts his hands, tugging on Cato's shirt and giving him a look. Cato grins a little and leans up, kissing Peeta's throat before leaning back. They slip off their shirts and toss them aside, the cool air hitting their heated skin and making them both shiver. It's just them, no Capitol, no Districts, just them, inside the Cornucopia, with the dim light from the oil lamp.
"Shouldn't be so bad then," Peeta grins down at him and Cato rolls his eyes, pressing his fingers against Peeta's nipples. Peeta jerks, surprised at the jolt of pleasure from the simple touch. Peeta briefly acknowledges the relief he feels that they're in the sleeping bag, hidden from the prying cameras of the Capitol, but it's gone quickly because right now, it's just him and Cato, two people in-love.
"You think you're so damn special, being able to top." Cato chuckles and runs his hands down, stopping at the top of his undershorts. "Remember, the night is still young and we have a lot of time." he says as he dips his fingers into Peeta's undershorts.
Peeta gasps and a strangled noise comes from his throat, mixed with pleasure and want. He's going to hold Cato to that because tonight, they would both become each other's, they both would become one with passion and love and care that they have for one another. Oh, Cato certainly doesn't disappoint Peeta. Not in the first round or the second or the third and then Peeta stops counting because all of it starts to blur, the touching becomes natural, the tastes become familiar, the little noises become instant turn ons. They explore each other and learn what the other likes and doesn't like, they explore and discover hot spots and take advantage of them, they make love and they fuck. But above all, they fit all this sexual exploring, all this passion, into one night, into hours until the sun raises and touches the golden horn that's becoming their favorite place, besides the death that happened early on in there, and after it all, as they begin to drift off, wrapped up around each other and breathing each other in, they both utter the three words. Not the three words that sting Peeta's heart but the ones that make Peeta's heart soar and fly and drop and pound and jump and lift. And he knows, Cato's heart is flying with his.
...
"Shit, that's bright." Cato grumbles, waking Peeta from his dreamless sleep. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the bright sunlight entering the Cornucopia and nearly blinding him. He's on top of Cato, stretched out, their legs and arms tangled, his face in his neck, the sleeping bag reflecting their heat back and making him sweat some from it.
"Shit, you're loud." Peeta grumbles back, smiling against his skin.
Cato chuckles, shaking Peeta a little from it. "Go back to sleep, Lover boy." he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Peeta closes his eyes, smiling more. God, he feels so relaxed, so happy, so sore. That last one wasn't the best but it was a reminder that Cato and him had a night he would never forget, even after death.
"I won't be able to now." he says, pushing himself up and looking down at Cato. His cheeks are flushed, his hair sticking up, and his lips are red. He looks amazing. But one thing Peeta notices are the heavy bags under Cato's eyes. "Did you sleep at all?" Peeta asks.
Cato frowns, breaking eye contact, looking up at the golden ceiling. "... For a few minutes. But I woke up." Peeta knows he means a nightmare kept him awake.
"You could have woken me up." Peeta replies, reaching over and grabbing his undershorts, that were thankfully in reach. Actually, he hopes they're his. Cato has the same kind. But, they've already done nearly everything sexual in this sleeping bag so it wouldn't matter if he puts on Cato's undershorts. He shifts and lays on his side beside Cato, who scoots over to give him more room to get on his undershorts. The holes those little bastards left are still fresh-looking but they aren't bleeding. Peeta smiles to himself as he notices them. Cato had kissed every last one last night, in such an affection, loving way. The memory makes Peeta's heart swell.
"Nah. You're cute when you sleep." Cato nudges him and slips out from under the sleeping bag, getting up. Peeta's face flushes for him. He just doesn't care about everyone seeing, does he? Or he's just pretending he doesn't. Peeta spots the dark mark he left with his mouth on Cato's hip and he grins. He hopes everyone sees it before Cato puts his undershorts on and covers it up. He pulls on his pants next and then his shirt. Peeta gets out from under the sleeping bag and gets his own clothes on, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders.
"You're cute when you sleep too." Peeta says, turning to Cato. Cato looks at him and swirls his sword in a cirlce he has in his hand and points it at Peeta.
"Don't call me that." he says, giving Peeta a warning look.
Peeta feels a grin coming onto his face. "Cute? But you are. And adorable." he says.
Cato steps closer. "12, I'm warning you." he says, twirling his sword in a circle again.
Peeta tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms over his chest. "You're cute when you get all soft. You're cute when you bite your lip. You're cute when-" his words turn to a grunt as he's tackled to the ground and he feels the cool blade against his neck. Though, he doesn't feel fear. He knows Cato won't hurt him, he knows Cato doesn't mean anything by this. Of course, he's probably expecting Peeta to be scared but instead, Peeta laughs. Now he knows Cato expected fear because he looks lost, his brows furrowing and a frown marring his lips. "You're cute when you get angry like this too." Peeta whispers.
Cato scowls and tosses his sword aside. "Damn you Peeta." he snaps and leans down, giving him a bruising kiss. If this is his new punishment for pissing Cato off, he's going to piss him off a lot more. He lifts his hands up and tangles his fingers in Cato's hair, giving him the equal amount of hardness, roughness, into the kiss, maybe even a little more. They both break away when their lips start to hurt and their eyes clash. Cato shakes his head and gets up, grabbing Peeta's wrist and pulling him with. "I'm mad at you," Cato says like a child and heads towards the mouth of the Cornucopia after grabbing his sword.
"What?" Peeta makes sure his knife is still on the inside of his jacket and darts after Cato. "What do you mean, you're mad at me?" he asks, as Cato stops and turns to him. Peeta stops and stares up at him, his brows furrowing.
"You..." Cato takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I should want to stab you but instead, I just want to fuck you. That's not right-"
"Oh, shut up!" Peeta says, throwing his hands up and rolling his eyes. "Can't you just accept the fact you love me and move on? Just accept that I make you a different person, that I bring a side out of you nobody else has before?"
Cato glares at him. "It's hard to accept, Peeta! I've been raised to not... feel this way! It's been beaten into me to-"
"Why?" Peeta interrupts him, his face falling, as he looks down. He clenches his jaw, trying to not get too upset. He will not cry over Cato freaking out now. He will not cry over Cato possibly regretting what they shared last night.
"What?" Cato mumbles, gripping his sword hard as he stares down at Peeta.
"Why are you so upset about it now? You've had a chance to be upset about all this before. Why after what we shared last night? Something you encouraged." he says, keeping his eyes locked on the ground, because, goddamnit, if he looks at Cato and sees hate or disgust or regret, he'll break down and never be the same. He briefly thinks about some of the people watching. They probably think they're stupid kids. Probably think they can't possibly be in-love because they barely know each other. But that's not true. What Peeta feels, it's love. He's never felt this way before but he knows it's love. And he can only hope Cato feels the same way, feels the same unfamiliar feeling.
Cato steps closer, putting a finger under Peeta's chin, intending to lift his face up. Peeta jerks back, looking off to the side, clenching his jaw hard. He will not cry. Not in front of the people watching. Esepcially not in front of Cato. He'll probably laugh, mock him. The thought brings the sting of tears to his eyes and he trys his hardest to hold them back. "I'm scared." Cato whispers and grabs his chin, forcing his eyes up. The instant Peeta locks eyes with him and sees how Cato's eyes are glassy, swimming with unshed tears, his burst and begin to trail down his cheeks. He crys for the both of them as Cato pulls him close, dropping his sword and holding him.
Peeta sobs into his chest as Cato's hands smooth up and down his back, his lips at his ear, whispering words to calm down, to stop it before he's the same. But that's what makes Peeta cry harder. Cato's scared, that's all he is. He's scared of what he feels for Peeta and Peeta's scared too. Cato's voice is thick and tight and Peeta almost can't believe that he so strongly affects Cato but Cato does it to him so he can believe it. He crys for Cato, he crys for the fallen tributes, he crys for the fact only one person can win, he crys for all the wrong in the world. He just crys as Cato rocks him slowly, still whispering in that thick tone and when Peeta feels something wets against the side of his head, dripping onto his shoulder, he loses it, sobbing louder and harder, clinging to Cato.
He's going to lose Cato. Cato, an asshole. Cato, a lover. Cato, a fighter. Cato, a Career. Cato, somebody who Peeta is so madly in-love with, he can't stand the thought of being without him. It tears at his chest and his heart and he can't breath when he thinks about it. He's gasping through his sobs now, the pain in his chest unbearable. But Cato's here right now, he isn't gone yet. Yet.
"Hey, hey, hey," Cato pulls back enough to grab his chin and force him to look at him. Cato's cheeks are wet but his eyes are dry. It kills Peeta to see him that way and he presses his lips together, trying to stop them. But his lips are quivering so hard, he can't keep them together, and the sobs keep coming. "You need to stop, Peeta. C'mon, stop. Please." his voice is still thick and his cheeks are glistening but his eyes are dry. Seeing Cato being strong, holding back his sorrows and choking them down for Peeta, it makes Peeta be able to do the same. For Cato. He sucks in deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut and slowly, the sobs die down and his tears cease. Cato's rough fingers brush his cheeks dry and shakily, Peeta reaches up and wipes his cheeks dry too.
"I'm sorry," he croaks out, remembering that everyone's watching and feeling ashamed for showing such weakness.
"Nothing to be sorry about." Cato whispers, cradling his face and staring into his eyes. "I'm sorry." he adds softly, dropping his eyes.
Fuck, Cato's so hard to be mad at. Esepcially when he's looking so guilty. Peeta leans forward and gives him a soft kiss. Cato returns it, returns the softness and Peeta's heart flutters. "I forgive you." Peeta whispers against his lips.
Cato's lips twitch up into a smile. "Of course you do." he says when he pulls back, dropping his hands. Peeta steps back and Cato bends down, retrieving his sword. "I'm too cute to be mad at, right?" he says, giving Peeta a smile that Peeta has decided is his, a smile only reserved for him.
Peeta laughs, feeling light again, like the previous emotional moment hadn't happened. "Yeah, you're too cute to be mad at. So, what are we doing?" he asks.
Cato smirks and he's back, the blood-lust Cato, the Cato that was born and raised to kill. He hasn't been present in a while, not at this force, and Peeta feels his heart skip a bit in a bit of fear. "We're going on a hunt, my dear Peeta." he says, sarcasm thick in his tone, before he turns on his heel and heads into the forest.
Peeta knows this hunt isn't for animals.
...
There it is! I hope you guys enjoyed it. The next chapter is going to have, mm, a lot of problems. I think you guys will enjoy it a lot. Much love to you all. Till next time, my lovelies.