Hi Everyone! I first wanted to thank everyone for your ongoing support and attention these past few months. As some of you may have guessed I have had major writer's block. I still do. Which is why I've decided to publish this half written chapter as what may be my last one. I don't know if this story is going to come back to me so I can finish it. I'm sorry to leave you with something incomplete but I do promise that the very next time I'm inspired to work on it I will publish right away. Again, thank you all for your ongoing support.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or it's characters. These belong to Suzanne Collins.
"When I have an orgasm," I say to Peeta. He rolls his eyes instantly and starts moving away from my nearly naked body, "my uterus will dip into my vaginal cavity looking for semen to pick up to fertilize one of my eggs."
If we're going to do this we're going to do it the right way. Peeta complains that I am taking all of the fun out of it but I don't care. In fact, I beginning to think I'm a natural at this whole teaching thing.
"You sure now how to ruin the mood," Peeta says under his breath. I ignore him.
"That's why it's so important for us to time our orgasms. Where are you going?" I ask as he rolls over onto his side of the bed.
"Why do we have to time anything? Do you think our parents conferred with a molecular biology book before having sex," he asks.
"I prefer not to think of our parents having sex." The memory of them dating before my mother met my father peeks its head but I quickly dismiss it.
"That's not the point, Katniss. We don't have to time anything. It'll happen if it's supposed to happen," he says. He pulls my body towards his, trying to coax me to get on top of him. "Stop trying to control everything."
"I'm not trying to control everything," I argue. I give in and position my body over his. "Just this," I say moving my hands over him. His eyes close and his head leans back further into the pillows. "I can stop though…if you want" I say abruptly, taking my hand away.
"No, no, don't stop!" he pleads. I smile mischievously at him.
"Don't stop what?" I ask. "This…or this?"
"Both," he says barely audible. "Don't stop both."
Our return from the Capital a few months ago flowed sinuously into our new routine in the district. The school and bakery have completed construction so Peeta and I are both on working schedules. Teaching isn't as bad as I thought it would be. After our telecast in the Capital more people came forward to help out working in the school. Instead of having to know a little bit of everything we now have separate specialists that teach in different blocks of time. There's an English teacher, math, science, history and physical education teachers. Even after months of preparing and learning all of the other subjects I decided to tackle the PE classes. After all, there's no one better equipped to teach archery in this district than I am. And finally, the last addition to our teaching faculty is, to my surprise, Peeta. He asked if he could teach a few art classes. These classes have become his own form of art therapy so we don't waste our precious time painting in the evenings or having the vent talks anymore. Instead we focus on more important tasks. Like trying to make a baby.