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Present

Peeta's voice is firm as he speaks, "Gale, Katniss and I are to be wed."

The entire square lights up with murmurs. I can practically feel the heat of the crowd around me, the anger radiating from the girls and mothers who wished they were in my spot. My eyes shoot towards Peeta, and I narrow at him, pulling a little farther away.

But Peeta won't have that. His hand, the same hand that has touched me, felt me, in private, rests on my back. I can feel the enwrapping weight of it, the public declaration of our relationship, bearing down on me.

This man will soon enough be my husband. I will be his - always.

Gale aligns, shifting his satchel to the other arm. "No," he shakes his head, "when, why?"

Peeta's body pulls tighter against mine. "Perhaps we can go back to my lodging, discuss this matter in the comfort of privacy," he says, motioning towards the gathering crowd.

Gale shakes his head, eyes flitting downward, "I have to go to work."

Peeta's forehead wrinkles, "I can speak to your foreman-"

I interrupt Peeta, unwrapping myself from his body. The offer, while perhaps generous, would only piss Gale off.

"Just come," I say, grabbing on to the edge of Gale's sleeve, "and don't make a scene here, you don't want that."

Three Months Prior

Suddenly the entirety of him seems to touch me. His hands are there, sliding up my legs, pulling at my undergarments with a need that I can't explain.

His arms encompass my body, his lips never leaving mine as I wrap around him, nearly weightless, and tumble to the dewy grass below. He lies on top of me, elbows propping himself up, as we kiss and touch, his fingers running against the tops of my breast, grazing the edges of my body.

We're incandescent with need, and in the moment it doesn't feel like I'm even me. I don't think of his position or where I might end up, I just think about the feeling of it all, the pleasure that courses through me as we roll around together. It has been a long time since I have felt this free.

And then his hand grazes under my skirts, his fingers touching me at my core, slipping into my body. A ripple of shock and pleasure courses through me, an audible gasp emerging. I'm not ignorant, I've heard of this, from babbling girls at the marketplace, and from the boys in the sidelines at school, but I didn't expected for him to...do that, didn't expect for him to feel me in that way - but I can't say the touches are unwelcome.

"Do you," Peeta pauses for a moment, leaving the need in me into rise, "do you wish for me to stop? I won't..."

I shake my head and wrap one of my legs around his, pulling him downwards towards me. We both collapse against the ground in a sea of loose clothing and touches. My hair, now loose, fans down into the grass as he lies there with me, drawing me into his body.

And then he stops, heated breath against my neck as he pulls me closer into him. "Do you want…?" he questions, head rested against my shoulder.

I don't know what to say, but I don't want it to stop, so I answer by pulling at the buttons of his pants and slipping my fingers underneath. I have never felt a man before, but I'm glad for the closeness of our bodies, glad that I'm not forced to look him in the eyes, or worse, look at it. Despite our actions, the thought is unbearably uncomfortable.

Peeta groans as I touch him loosely through the opening in his pants. His hands clamp over mine, guiding me lightly. "Can I?" he asks, pushing my body upward. It's barely a question, and I can't even see his face, but I know what it means, know what he's asking of me.

"Okay."

With that he leans into me, slipping himself inside of me with little warning. It hurts at first, he's bigger than I expect him to be - but the pain's duller than I'd imagined, fiery and filling and conjoined with an aching pleasure. But there's still pain, even if it is lessened, and I cry out as he first enters, the strangeness of it all coursing through me.

He stops for a moment, his hands drag my body upward, pulling me closer to him. I see then, as he forces me to look at him, that his body is coated in the same fevered sweat as mine.

His hand moves upward from my waist to brush a stray strand of hair away as he stills inside of me, "Do you want to stop? Are you...sure?"

My eyes screw shut, unable to look at him. It's too intimate to stare at him while his thing is inside of me.

"No," I tell him, leaning back. It's already done, the deed has passed among us, what need is there to stop the pleasure?

"Okay," he says, almost dumbly as he pushes me back into the grass, our bodies finding a rhythm, the pain subsiding into a needy ache.

"Oh Katniss," he cries, as he digs further into me, his body nearing what I can imagine must only be his release, "I'm going to-"

He pulls out of me quickly, the fullness subsiding as he spills beside me on the ground. And then, as quickly as it came, the moment is over. The thought of what I've done floods my mind as he rolls over beside me, a grin on his face.

"You never.." he trails off, placing a kiss on my bare shoulder,"do you want me to...with my mouth?"

I shake my head, pushing away all thoughts of his heated tongue on me, the wonder if it would feel better than his fingers. "No," I say, as I attempt to fasten the back of my dress, "I should go."

"Go?" he raises an eyebrow, rolling his body over mine and pinning me down with a lackadaisical kiss, "but you didn't even finish."

"Maybe I did?" I say to him as I stare up at the grey blankness of the sky, desperate to focus on anything but this.

He laughs, his fingers running through my hair, "I think you'd know. So," he cocks his head, "you have never felt that release before? Come on, never by yourself or with the others…"

I shrug, squirming free of his touch. "I've never done this before," I tell him plainly, gathering my things.

He snaps up at that. "Wait," he pauses, "that was your first time? That's why you..."

His eyes crinkle at me, the confusion evident on his face. Wordlessly, I pull my undergarments off the ground and fasten the lasts bits of my dress. It's one of my newer ones, a blue and red calico that my mother had saved up for last year. Prim and I had matching ones, it'd been cheaper to buy the fabric in bulk.

"Yeah, so?" I sniff a little, turning away from Peeta. Now that the shadow of lust has fallen, I can see what I've done clear as day. What was it about this man that brought me here, allowed him to touch me and feel me and take from me?

"Well," he says matter of factly, "if I had known I certainly wouldn't have bedded you in the forest."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter," I tell him, even though it does. I never intended on marrying, until now there had never been a moment where I had allowed myself to fall into it with a man. And the fact that Peeta assumed I had been with countless others grated at me.

"My dress," I bite the inside of my cheek, unable to look at him, "it's torn."

Peeta pulls on his jacket. "I'll buy you a new one," he says with a wave of his hand, "it's just a dress."

I don't reply to that, don't let him know that I'd never accept anything from him, much less a dress - not when it might be construed as some kind of payment.

"Why would you think," I pause, my voice shaking, "that this wasn't my first…"

I already know the answer, but I have to ask anyway.

Peeta slides beside me on the ground. "Well, you did-" he starts.

I don't let him finish, I can't hear it. Can't allow myself to sit half naked beside him and listen to him recount what I have done, what I had allowed myself to do.

"I have to get back in time for supper," I say, pushing up off the ground, the top button of my dress still unfastened as my hair tangles wildly through the woods.

He calls after me. I hear him screaming my name as I pick my skirts up, but I don't - can't - stop.

Peeta Mellark had ruined me, like a storm I'd run straight into - and I had let him, liked it, even.

I manage to avoid Peeta for an entire week. I don't tell a soul what I did with him into those woods, not my mother or Gale or my friend Madge, the mayor's daughter. I can't bear my mother's disappointment, nor Gale's rage, and it feels too awkward to tell Madge, who despite being my only female friend, I don't know all too well. Besides, I'd much prefer to keep it to myself and forget about the whole thing, just as Peeta seems to forget about me.

It isn't until the Harvest Festival that I see him again. The whole square is decked out in a way I have never before witnessed, most likely for Peeta's benefit. The main court is lined with strings of berries and leaves, wooden tables set up on the sidelines. They even manage to spare candles for the place, lights that flood through the evening's dimness as the crowd laughs and dances, one of the older men at the fiddle.

Aside from a couple of dances with my sister and Gale, I stay at my mother's side for most of the night, idly listening to some of the other women gossip. We don't have enough money to spare for any of the treats being sold, but the gaiety of the event is entertaining enough, a nice break from the monotony that will come with winter.

And then, as I'm sitting one one of the split-log benches between two girls my age, my mother a handful of feet away, I spot Peeta sitting at a table on the far end of the stretch. I must linger on him for too long, must stare at those blue eyes for more than I intend, because he catches me looking at him and calls out to me.

"Katniss," Peeta waves at me from across the square, a bright shining smile beaming across his face. I'm too absorbed in my thoughts to notice it at first, and one of the girls, Leevy, I think, has to tap on my shoulder. "Psst…" she says, wide eyed, "Peeta Mellark is calling for you."

I stand up, anxious to dart away, maybe to the woods or to find Gale, but my mother has already noticed - confusion passing through her face as she hears Peeta Mellark calling out to me. Running will only make the rumors worse.

So with nothing more than a sigh, I trudge over to Peeta's table. "What?" I say to him, arms crossed.

"Hey," he smiles, setting his drink on the table and reaching to stand, "Would you like to dance? I can't say I know any of these, but I'm sure you can teach me."

His hair isn't slicked back today, it's loose and falls over the sides of his head like a boy's. His suit isn't as fine as the others, either, a fine brown thing by Twelve's standards, but one of his lesser outfits. It rubs me the wrong way, even I find it attractive, even if he looks more real, that he doesn't think our events worthy of good dress.

"I shouldn't," I tell him, shaking my head, "and can you be any louder?"

He bites his lip, "Are you still...cross with me? I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to speak with you, I have been holed up in my office all week. You know how it is, busy, busy," His eyes brighten as he pushes a little white pastry box in my direction, "Here, have a slice of cake. It's divine."

I shove the box back to him. "Why are you talking to me," I hiss.

The locks of his hair fall as he turns his head, "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes," I lean further into the table, "in public, no less!"

Peeta's forehead wrinkles, "I mean, we - I thought, if you let me do that, talking to you in public would be at least acceptable."

I flush, heated in anger and the thoughts of what had gone on between us, "Just because I let you... doesn't give you any right to me, Peeta." I take a sip of his drink, "From now on, stay out of my life."

Author's Note: Well that's that, what did you think of their encounter? How do you think Peeta will respond to Katniss's request? This episode is pretty flashback heavy, hoping nobody minds all too much!

As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety and everlarkfanfictionclub! I post updates and inspiration for all of my stories over there!

TLDR: Don't use the pull out method, kids!