Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work of fiction, nor do I own anything related to the Hunger Games Trilogy. That is the property of Suzanne Collins.
Peeta slides his hand across the curves of my waist, his golden locks lowering towards my body as his cheeks flood with an unexplainable heat. Wetness builds between my legs, as it does on the nights I have curiously attempted to take the advice of giggling maidens on how to get the feeling of sex. The bed coverings hide the lower parts of my legs, I am thankful for the lack of light in the room. It isn't much, the shadows of the bright lights in the accompanying rooms don't allow for complete darkness, but it is something. I could never be this intimate with Peeta, I don't think I could live it down, if the lamps were still on.
"What are you doing?" I question him, as he once again lowers his head towards my body, his fingers brushing against my inner thigh, causing a gasp to rise from my throat.
He looks up at me, his voice hoarse. "Do you trust me, Katniss?"
I don't respond to him. I'm not entirely sure if I trust him at all, but telling him that would ruin any progress we have made.
He catches on to my hesitation to respond, and simply says, "You're going to have to trust me. I promise you will like it."
I'm not entirely sure if I will, but I allow him to continue. He continues to place soft gentle kisses along the tender bare skin of my intimate places, his mouth reaching closer towards the spot where I suddenly realize I want him most. It's an odd thing to do, and I wonder if it's only practiced here, or if they practice this thing at home. I try not to overthink it and allow myself to focus only on the sensation of lust and want that fills me.
The edges of my body are filled with a mixture of shock and pleasure as his mouth dips into the heated part of my body, the wetness which must be his tongue flicks over the nub I have explored on occasion at night. Although, my fingers have surely never been this pleasant. I lose myself in the newly discovered sensations, arching my back and throwing my head against the pillow. My hands almost instinctively pull on his locks; with every movement of his mouth my muscles tighten, a need I have never felt before pulls at my core.
"Oh, Peeta," I murmur as the feeling intensifies.
He pauses for a moment, and looks up at me, causing this moment of lust to become awkward as I realize this man has done something to me that I didn't even know existed, "Is this alright?"
I look at him with a baffled look; of course it's alright. It's far more than alright, "Don't stop," I plead with him, "Please, Peeta..."
The corners of his mouth are raised in a smile as he returns to my body, a single finger slipping into my core. It's a tight sensation, and it barely quells the need I feel in this moment. It isn't long before I reach completion, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress, the other digging into the sheets. Every nerve in body seems to light up, and then almost simultaneously dim as I am brought to the feeling that I had never reached on my own.
"That had to be…" Peeta says, pulling up his body next to mine.
"Yeah," I say awkwardly, my face flushed as I pull the sheets above my chest.
"If we want, I mean, if you want, we can stop now. We don't have to go any further," he says to me, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it gently.
"What would the point be of this if we never go through with it. We've already started, might as well- I mean, I'm fine. Thanks, you know, for that," I stumble with my words and cast my gaze towards twiddling a loose thread with my fingers.
He smiles at me, instantaneously pulling my body over his, so that my bare chest lays against his.
My eyes stare into the bright blue abyss of his irises as we lie there silent for a moment, not moving or speaking, just staring into each other's eyes.
"You know," he says breaking the silence, "I heard about the conversation you had with my mother."
I fall slack against him, wondering if he is angry with me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
He cuts me off, "It's perfectly alright Katniss. Whatever you said to her, it doesn't matter. I only wish to let you know that if she bothers you, I can have her removed if that would please you."
"Removed?" I question him, my heartbeat quickening at the implications. The woman hadn't been an exceptional welcoming committee and I had heard of some of the things she had done, but I didn't wish for her death. And even then, if he had kept her alive and well for this long, why would my opinion mean anything towards the decision to get rid of her? Did he honestly think I would be pleased by having everyone who looked at me wrong killed?
He runs his fingertips against the palm of my hand, it must be a nervous habit of sorts because he seems to do it every time something gets heated, "Removed in the way you are implying, if that is what you wish for. Or if not that, I could simply take her away from the Capitol."
"But she's your mother," I say foolishly. It's a stupid comment, I'm aware of the way royal familial relationships worked. I'm aware of the way my relationship would be with any future children. 'Mother' didn't mean much here.
"She is, and that is why I have protected her from being convicted of the crimes she has committed. Trust me, there is enough to bury her. But Katniss, perhaps things are different where you come from, but my mother and I were never close. The opposite, actually. I grew up and spent the first nine years of my life in the country far away from my mother. You, however, are my wife, and I do not wish for you to feel uncomfortable or more importantly,
unsafe, because of her presence."
"Unsafe?" I question. I hadn't expected for my life to be in danger quite yet.
"My mother is a cruel woman. I wouldn't put it past her to try something," he starts, catching my startled expression, "not that you are in any danger of the moment. You shouldn't worry at all. You know, maybe my mother isn't appropriate conversation while my wife is bare in my bed," he says, shifting our bodies so that I am lying on my back with him hovering against me, his thing quite obviously brushing against me through the thin night clothes.
It's all very fast and sudden, and once again his lips are pressed against my neck, the action filling me with hesitation about what is to come.
"Can I kiss you," Peeta asks, running his hands against my bare sides. The tips of his fingers stroking my side.
"Of course," I say to him, "you're my husband."
He sighs into my chest and I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me into a kiss, a smile on his lips as he slips his tongue into my mouth. We remain like that for what seems like hours, each kiss providing more fuel for the fire that burns in me. I'm not particularly well versed on the subject of kissing, but this kiss calms by body and removes every doubt in my mind about what we are doing.
"I think, maybe you should, you know," I say, my voice tinged with breathy pants and my face filled with a smile.
"I should what?" he says in a teasing voice as he briefly kisses me.
"You know, remove your clothes," I murmur squeamishly. Peeta only laughs into my shoulder and he pulls me into another long passionate kiss, throwing his shift to the floor.
The night goes a bit more awkwardly after that, and pain consumes me as he enters me. It's an odd filling sensation, one that continually dulls with every thrust. I bite my lip, focusing on that instead of Peeta's groans or the tension in the room as he finally settles. It's not a particularly remarkable event, certainly not something worthy of the praise I had heard. I would prefer his mouth on any day, but it does bring peace to my mind in knowing that he was aware of my virginity and that the country will not view me as a useless wife.
Later that night, when we have slipped back into our night clothes and are lying in the bed, a foot between us as we fall asleep, he whispers to me, "It will get enjoyable as it goes by, trust me."
I am awoken that morning by the faint sound of what seems to be drums and maybe a trumpet coming from the wall that the bed is against. Although I must be crazy, it isn't plausible that music could be coming from there, there are no windows on that side of the room and it certainly isn't coming from across the hall.
The arm draped around my waist, Peeta, shifts and pulls me closer to him, causing pain to radiate through my sore body and bringing the thoughts of last night's event to my mind. It's weird and wrong to think of what we had done, even if he was my husband. We had only met a couple of weeks ago.
"Peeta," I say, tugging at the sleeve of his shift. "Peeta, wake up," I turn towards his direction and this time whisper it in his ear.
"Katniss," he says with a yawn as he removes his hand from my waist, stretching a bit and rolling over into his pillow.
"There are noises," I tell him, "Music, and is that shouting? Do you hear that?"
He sighs back into his pillow and pulls the blankets to his shoulder, "Oh, that's just the parade. You can go back to sleep."
"Parade?" I say, alarmed, "How is there a parade? Is it outdoors?"
"Oh, no. It's in the main hall. It's not the magnitude of Capitol street parades, but the band plays and they throw streamers and sweets and performers come through. It's really for the children, though."
A parade? In a building? It's a bizarre concept, and I can imagine the way Gale would scoff at this. 'Oh Katniss,' he would say, 'Are there really people who have parades inside palaces while others starve?' Gale was quite critical of not only the noble class that he belonged to, but the extravagance of other nations, Panem in particular. I had heard on occasion several rants about some of the parties held here.
He wasn't wrong. It's a bit sickening to have a parade indoors, even if the hallway was quite large.
"Is it for the wedding?" I ask the sleepy figure, "That was yesterday, why are they still holding events?"
I knew Panem had several feasts for weddings in events, but I didn't imagine a parade would happen the next day. In Seam we kept our celebrations to one day, except for the harvest festival and winter solstice.
"Oh, they are holding feasts and balls and parades all week, Katniss, didn't Effie inform you of the schedule?"
Effie probably did, and I don't want to get her in trouble with the King, so I cover for her. I have heard that favor in Panem's court is easy to break.
"Oh yes, I do believe she did. We aren't expected to attend, are we?"
"Why," he says in a groggy voice, rolling over to face me, "You don't want to go, do you? And while we are expected to pop in once in a while, we couldn't possibly attend all of the events. Of course, if you would like, we can attend the next parade. I didn't know you enjoyed them?"
"Oh, I don't really, just curious. We have the week off?" I question him pulling myself up and sitting against the plush pillows. The sunlight streams into the room and casts a checkered pattern on Peeta's hair.
"We do have this week off, and then, of course, when we take our honeymoon we can act in leisure. Perhaps we should get up and get on with the day, I was hoping to show you something, my dear wife," he says, his face lighting up with childish glee.
Yes, I know I haven't updated in almost a month. I have some good excuses (mid terms, I was on vacation until the 13th, essays I had to write, etc.) I will be free for a while so it will be updated pretty soon. I know this chapter is pretty short, but I had to cut it off here because the next scene is really important for their relationship and doesn't belong with the wedding night.
In the time/world that this is based on, Katniss would have been expected to have sex with Peeta on their wedding night. If they didn't, people would talk and their marriage would not be solidified. There may even be grounds for divorce as the marriage would not be concrete in legal terms. Katniss's main role as Queen is to give birth to Peeta's children, and the lack of sexual interaction on the wedding night would have not looked good for their future as parents.