Thanks to everyone who's been following this story (and insisting I hurry up with this chapter). It's a little short but I've already started on the next. Your reviews are greatly apprecaited. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters or settings related to the series. These belong to Suzanne Collins.
My clothes are soaking wet. Rain droplets fall from my hair and explode into icy bullets as they land onto my bare feet. I shiver involuntarily with the freezing night still stuck to my body and although my lips quiver with cold I don't allow myself to be distracted.
"Peeta…I'm sorry," I start. "It's hard to accept that I get to keep you when so much has been taken from me and that's why I haven't told you how much I love you. That's why you don't know that I can't survive without you. It's only been three days and even though I know you're just two houses down I've been lost in your absence. You have to know I never doubted your devotion to me; I only doubt the stability of the world that we live in." The darkness makes his face impossible to see. I'm not even sure that his body is facing me. It makes no difference, the words continue to rush out of me.
"You are so free with your love and when we make love I become consumed with not wanting to get pregnant that I don't give myself to you the way I should. And for that I'm sorry. I have been sorry for that for months and I should have told you. I should tell you every single day that I love you. You should know, unquestionably, that there was never any choice between you or anyone else because there is no one else in this world that I trust to take care of me and protect me the way you will. I was sure I didn't want kids and I felt like I was betraying you by not making that clear. I did lie to you, at the time, anyway. I told you I thought I could change my mind but I didn't mean it. But now…I can admit that it could happen. Because the more I think about it the more I realize that this is the safest I've ever felt in my life. That is because of you. I think you would make an amazing father and I'd be lucky to be the mother of your children. I know I don't want that right now. But I also know that as long as you are with me this world is bearable. Life is worth living. This life, that we have created, is significant. It's worthy of sharing. Worthy of a family that is both you and I…created out of our love."
As soon as the words are out of my mouth I realize how much I mean them. I am also deeply aware of the fact that I have never felt so much in my life. I have never felt as alive as I do in this moment. I close my eyes trying to regain my composure after having vented every last secret, every lie, every fear, and every guilty thought I have out into the open. It's because of this I don't realize that Peeta has gotten out of bed. I don't expect the way his lips find mine and I certainly don't anticipate the way his hands grasp around my waist. Before I know it he's pulled me towards his bed. He sits and shifts my body between his legs where he desperately clings to me as if I'm the only life vest in his sea of despair.
It's not until I run my fingers across his back that I realize his shoulders are rising and falling with tears that I cannot see. Now I'm left without words. Are his tears of joy? Or does he doubt me again? I can't be concerned with the reason because at this moment my heart breaks for him either way. And then it is I who cannot control the tears that flow.
Lightening strikes outside the window and startles both of us from our embrace. Impatient to find his eyes I slump down in front of him and force him to look at me. In the dark I can just barely make out the redness, the puffiness of his eyes but I can see the tears cascading down his cheeks. He doesn't look angry. He doesn't even look hurt anymore. If I had to assign an emotion to his behavior I'd have to guess that he is moved. I want to press my lips to his but I refrain. I refrain because I'm almost certain that I am watching him fall in love with me all over again.
After what feels like a never ending stare he finally encircles me. I wait for him to say something. Anything. I'm thankful that I chose to speak without thinking because if I had known that I would be that honest – not with just him but with myself – I probably wouldn't have come. I would still be stuck in my head yearning for him. As he is pulling me into his bed I allude to the fact that I am still soaking wet. He stands and pulls off my shirt and then my pants. The window, though only barely ajar, hurls streaks of icy wind toward me and I'm desperate to be wrapped in his warm blankets. I am not disappointed. He slides into the bed with me and takes me into his arms. I feel myself breathe for the first time in days. It's then that I admit to myself that how foolish I was being.
I rejected a dream I had never dreamt. I took away his hope without ever understanding that there was hope to be had. I convinced myself there could be a day when Peeta left me when it's obvious that I would never let him go. If I had to stalk across the district, the country or the world to have him in my life I'd do it. I'd follow him anywhere he went because our love is unyielding. It leaves no room for questioning or fear. It is too strong for those trivial suspicions. Our love is too powerful to restrain. Our love would overflow and create new life if I let it. It would be effortless because there is so much to give. So much to share.
The peace I feel embraced by him flows through my body relaxing it almost instantaneously - so much so that I'm startled when he finally calls out my name.
"Katniss…," he wavers. His lips are close to my ear as my forehead rests against his collarbone. I want to move so I can see his eyes but his arms are a fortress around me, trapping me in his hesitation. "I never knew you felt that way about me," he finally chokes out and I can tell that he is softly crying again.
Guilt washes over me. After everything we've been through he still didn't understand how much he meant to me? This is my fault. I put up a wall around myself impenetrable to even the one person for which I live my life for. I should be the one comforting him but I can't contain the grief that I feel at this revelation. I cry for the pain that I have put him through and for wasted days of questioning what we were to each other. I tell him over and over how sorry I am. I promise that he will never have to doubt my feelings again. And I swear to tell him and show him every single day for the rest of our lives how much I need and appreciate him.
Somewhere between our cries and our embrace our lips desperately find one another. I don't wait for him to choose to undress. I pull at the bottom of his shirt until he takes it off with his pants. I don't wait for him to do anything for that matter. It's not that I need him. It's much more than that. It's as if I feel like the very essence of my being will cease to exist if I don't join myself to him immediately. This time is different than any other time we have shared because this is the first time that I have admitted how much I need him. How much he is to me. I give myself to him unequivocally. It doesn't even occur to me to stop and get a condom. Stopping the way his hands and lips are caressing my body is not an option. The tears haven't stopped, I'm still raw and vulnerable from my confessions but this doesn't take away from our lovemaking. It amplifies it.
If I thought I felt alive before I was wrong. Nothing compares to the way I feel now. Instead of worrying about getting pregnant and feeling guilty about everything I've done to him my mind is free as he glides in and out of my body. It's almost like it was the first time but better. Better because each I love you means more. And better because he finally realizes that his love for me is reciprocated. I love him back and I need him just as much – if not more - as he needs me.
Peeta lasts well into the morning despite the fact that my body has convulsed with writhing pleasure multiple times. This is probably because he keeps stopping to stare into my eyes. Like he's trying to make sure this is real without asking the question. The first time he stopped I thought something was wrong. I was about to ask him if everything was okay but he silenced my lips with his finger. It trailed down my jaw to my neck, over my shoulders and past the swell of my breast before eventually caressing the curvature of my hip. He caressed with the back of one finger, then two, which turned into three, into four, before his entire hand gripped my hip closer to him effectively restarting the process of making love all over again.
Even though I love the feeling of his weight on top of me we reposition ourselves repeatedly. It's not consciously. Our bodies just rearrange themselves as we move from one side of the bed to the other and back again all the while never exiting our union.
As he comes closer to releasing the massive build up of hours of love making I can feel a hesitation that is all too familiar. He searches my eyes for a sign that he should stop; a sign that we should protect ourselves from an unwanted pregnancy but I don't have the strength to pull myself away from him now. So before he can say anything I crush my lips to his and move my body in a way that will guarantee he will not stop me. I am grateful for the thunder and lightning storm outside because it promises to cover up the moans of pleasure that escape my mouth.
Afterwards he holds me close to him, our bodies still connected, mine straddling his. We are both sweating, our bodies convulsing internally, when my tears reappear. They aren't for guilt this time. No, this time they are for hope. Because for the first time, in my short life, I feel hope for something better.