"I gotta get going," Katniss said, though she didn't make any move to pull away from me. I had my arm looped around her waist; hers was draped over my shoulders. She'd just finished the last of the prep work, and the two of us were watching Rye try to scrape smears of frosting out of a crack in the top of the worktable.
"Okay," I looked over at her, kissing her lightly before she pulled away. I followed her out to the mudroom, helping her into her sweater. Katniss shoved my hands away with a smile when I straightened it around her shoulders.
"I hate it when you do that," she turned to face me, barely able to stop smiling long enough to kiss me. I grinned, sliding my hands over her hips and softening my lips against hers.
"I know," I said. Katniss laughed, shoving me back a step before turning toward the door.
"See you tomorrow," she said, glancing over her shoulder as she left.
"B-bye," I said, waiting until she'd closed the back door before going back into the kitchen. I sat down at the worktable. Rye glanced up at me with a smirk before turning his attention back to the cleaning.
"Are you taking her to that fucking dance thing?" he asked.
"What?"
"That dance," he repeated. "At the end of school."
"That's t-two months away," I said. "Why?"
"Delly already fucking started in on me with that," he frowned, dropping the rag in his hand and picking up a knife to try to scrape the last of the dried out frosting from the grain in the table.
"You haven't t-taken her to the other ones," I said, holding back a smirk.
"Yeah, but now we're like-"
"P-public?" I supplied. He gave me a look.
"Yeah," he dropped the knife in favor of the rag again, straightening up and wiping down the table. "Which was the dumbest fucking idea I've ever had, for the record. She still hasn't let up with all the bullshit Hawthorne does for whatsername-"
"Madge."
"Whatever," Rye scoffed. "She won't fucking shut up about it. And you know what else sucks? Dates. Like, real ones. They're bullshit. You lucky little asshole with your low maintenance girlfriend."
I wanted to do more for Katniss. Rye probably wouldn't consider dates such bullshit if he couldn't physically handle them. I wanted to take her out. I felt bad that we spent all of our time in the bakery. We hardly even spent any time together at her house. Rye didn't realize how good he had it.
"C-can, um, c-can I ask you something?" I said. Rye paused and looked up at me.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Um," I scratched my fingers up under the edge of my hat, trying to figure out how to phrase it. I didn't want to talk to Rye, of all people, about this, but I hardly had any other options. Even when I still had friends I wouldn't have had options. There wasn't a single one of the guys I hung around with I trusted to give decent advice. At least I knew Rye wasn't lying about his experience.
"Is it about Katniss?" he grinned. I sighed and looked away for a moment. "I knew it. And I can tell you haven't fucked her yet, so is it that? Are you getting ready to exchange v-cards?"
"No," I sighed, rolling my eyes.
"Why not? She wants it. She spent half her afternoon in your lap," Rye chuckled.
"D-don't be vile," I snapped.
"Then what have you done?" Rye asked.
"I'm n-not—why?" I said, frowning at him.
"You want advice, don't you? How the fuck am I supposed to advise you if I don't know what you two are doing?" Rye said. "Plus, if Katniss is talking to her little girlfriends, Delly won't tell me shit. So, come on. Dirt."
"Rye-"
"Have you made her come?" he asked, smirking. I just stared at him, rolling my jaw and refusing to answer. "Has she made you come?" I sighed and shifted, looking away. "Peeta."
"What?"
"You'd better be getting her off," Rye pointed at me. "Because if she's doing that for you, and you're not reciprocating every single time, we have to have a serious fucking conversation."
"I am," I said, straightening up indignantly. What kind of guy does he think I am? Of course I do.
"Good," he said, sitting down across from me and folding his arms against the edge of the table. "Now tell me."
"I d-don't, um-" I cut myself off, trying to figure out how the hell to just spit it out. Rye watched me with an expectant look on his face.
"Is it about fingering her?" he asked. "I thought for sure you'd have done that by now. That's a fucking disappointment. Are you sure we're actually related?"
"Shut up," I snapped. "I'm not th-that clueless." I folded my arms across my chest. He didn't need to know she'd walked me through that, and I certainly didn't need to think too hard about how she had.
"If you knew anything you wouldn't be so afraid to ask a simple damn question," Rye said, tossing the rag past me until the sink. It smacked against the basin loud enough to make me flinch. "It's like you haven't even kissed her yet. Most guys would be bragging about this shit, you know, not holding out on their brother."
"I'm n-not hold—fine," I sighed, shaking my head and leaning against the edge of the table.
"I can already tell this is going to be good," Rye grinned, wagging his eyebrows at me.
"After she, um, yelled at Dad, when we went upst-stairs?" I started. Rye nodded, and that stupid grin hadn't faded a bit. "We were, um, fooling around and I, uh, end-ended up on t-top of her. We were, um—undressing each other-"
"Hold up," Rye held up his hand. "This happened when DAD was downstairs?"
"Yes," I gave him a look. "P-please d-don't interrupt. It makes m-me forget what I'm s-saying."
"Sorry, sorry," he swept his hand through the air in front of him. "Continue."
"Sh-she, um, pulled off my underwear and I kept on, uh, you know, on top of her and we, um-"
"Are you kidding?" Rye raised his eyebrows. I nodded and he laughed, reaching over to slap me on the shoulder. I flinched, jerking back out of his reach. "Holy shit, Peet. You dog."
"Sh-shut up," I leaned forward against the table, looking down at my hands.
"And I thought you were such a nice boy," he teased. "You basically fucked her, is what you're telling me."
"Will you st-stop saying it like that," I said, shifting uncomfortably. It sounded rude and aggressive and not at all like anything I wanted to do with Katniss.
"Sorry," Rye chuckled. "That's just... really hot."
"Rye," I pleaded.
"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands. "What do you want to know?"
"She wants—um, we want—to t-try oral," I said. I could feel my face getting hot and I looked away. " d-don't really know where to st-start."
"Wait, so you guys rode the slip'n slide, but you haven't gone down on each other?"
"Rye, will you j-just help me out. P-please," I sighed, yanking off my hat and dropping it on the table. I scratched my hand through my hair.
"Okay. So. Have you undressed her yet? It turns them on when you do that," he said. "Delly likes it slow, but Katniss seems more like a rip her clothes off kind of girl-"
"Yes," I snapped, letting out a little sigh of relief at being able to cut him off before he got any further by having an easy answer. "We've, um, b-been doing that."
"Okay, start there, get between her legs, and make sure you take a minute to enjoy the view because it's..." Rye trailed off, an absent smile on his face. He chuckled to himself before continuing. "Anyway, look, and she'll like that as long as you don't, y'know, start staring and make her uncomfortable. You've found her clit, I hope."
"Um, yeah," I gave him a look. Did he seriously think I was that stupid? Rye smirked, pulling out a stool and sitting down across from me. I did my best to focus on what he was saying; on what to do with my lips and tongue and my fingers. I just hoped I'd somehow manage to remember even a fraction of what he had to say when it came down to actually doing it. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Katniss.
"Okay," I chewed on my lip. A headache was starting to creep in from struggling to sift through all the information Rye had dumped on me. "But wh-what about, um. Like. R-receiving."
"What do you mean 'what about receiving'?" Rye gave me a look.
"What do I d-do?" I asked.
"You watch her suck your dick," he said, an air of confusion in his voice. "What do you mean, what do you do? You just... sit there. That's her problem. And try not to pull her hair too hard; they don't like that."
"Okay," I frowned, chewing my lip.
"Peet," he said. I looked up at him. "You're probably going to be terrible at it. Just so you know. But she won't know the difference, anyway. Just make her come and you're fine."
"Are you s-sure?" I said, rubbing my hand across my forehead. The dread of screwing it up was just making my headache worse.
"This is literally the only thing in life I take seriously. Of course I'm sure," he scoffed. "And hey. Terrible at it or not, it's going to be the greatest moment of your life."
"Thanks," I muttered. Rye smirked, getting up from the table and punching my shoulder affectionately as he walked around the table toward the sink.
I lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling and turning it all over in my mind. I felt just as lost as I had before Rye's advice. I'd seen her naked, but I hadn't actually seen her. I had no idea what I'd be looking at, or how different it would feel under my tongue than it did under my fingers. The thought of it sent a jolt through me, and I took a slow breath before pushing my boxers down off of my hips. The thought of my mouth against her pussy made my head spin and my cock twitch. I wrapped my hand around it and began to stroke.
I thought about the noises she made; the quiet whimpers and smothered moans that leaked out of her when we were together. Knowing how good she was feeling when she sounded like that was so intense and sexy, but I couldn't help wondering what she would sound like with my face between her legs. Would it be different? I had no idea what to expect, but knowing it would be with her made how new and different it would be less intimidating.
The idea of her kneeling between my legs brought me closer. I tried to imagine how her mouth would feel and tried to picture what it would look like. I tightened my grip, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth to hold back a groan. The idea of her looking up at me, smiling, and taking me into her mouth with my hands in her hair pushed me over the edge. I bit my tongue to keep myself quiet, pumping into my hand as I came.
"You know this Sunday dinner bullshit was Mom's thing," Rye grumbled, dropping a stack of plates onto the table.
"Yeah, and it's one of the very few things she actually got right, so quit bitching and set the fucking table, thank you," Dad snapped, turning away from the stove long enough to glare at Rye. "And how long has it been since you saw your brother?"
"I don't know," Rye scoffed. "Who cares?"
"You're a d-dick," I chuckled.
"Like you give a shit about seeing Phyl," Rye shot me a look. I just folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the wall by the door, keeping my opinion to myself. Truthfully, I didn't mind. Phyl had gotten much more bearable without Mom in the picture. We didn't see him very often, but somehow he and I had managed to grow a bit closer, though when he decided to be a jackass that went right out the window.
Phyl and Darla arrived with the baby shortly afterward. His job with the District meant trips to the Capitol a few times a year, and he'd just returned from one. Whenever he was able he brought things back for us, though this time all he had was a couple of bottles of wine and some impossibly boring stories about the liaison from One he'd become friends with. Darla seemed about as invested in the conversation as I was. She focused on Little Twain instead, shooting me looks from time to time that told me she'd heard what Phyl was prattling on about already, and it hadn't been any more interesting the first time around.
"Is he still having seizures?" Phyl asked. I tuned back into the conversation. I'd managed to completely tune it out, too entertained by Little Twain using my hands to pull himself up to stand and babbling at me as he stomped his feet against the floor.
"Sometimes," Dad said, lowering his voice. "They don't seem to be as frequent, but it's hard to tell. They don't really look like anything." I looked up at the two of them. I hated being talked about like I wasn't even in the room, and that had become more and more common over the past few months.
"You know, I talked to some doctors while I was there-"
"How is school going?" Darla asked brightly, distracting me from whatever Phyl was about to say. She was sitting on the floor in front of me, her hands nervously hovering around Little Twain any time he faltered. "Your dad said your grades are even better than last year."
"It's, um—it's okay," I said, watching LT grab onto the leg of my pants, taking a few shaky steps away from my hands. "It's k-kind of easy to d-do better when I d-don't really—take any tests."
"I bet it is," Darla laughed softly, holding her hands out to the baby. He shoved her away with an indignant little cry, continuing with his halting progress to the other side of my leg without assistance. Darla rolled her eyes and sat back. "We have to do everything on our own."
"Oh, do we?" Rye grinned, reaching down and snatching LT off the floor, yanking up the front of his shirt and blowing raspberries against his belly. LT shrieked with laughter. I chuckled, the sound dying when I glanced over toward Dad and Phyl, who were still engrossed in conversation. I couldn't make out what they were saying, and the look on Dad's face told me I probably didn't want to.
"Any more episodes?" Phyl asked as we sat down to dinner, glancing toward me.
"I'm right here," I muttered.
"Keep your bullshit up and we'll probably get one," Rye flashed a sarcastic grin at Phyl, picking up the bottle of wine on the table between them. Dad snatched it out of his hand to pour a glass for himself.
"He's doing better," Dad said, passing the bottle to Phyl. "And you're more than welcome to ask him these questions yourself, since he's sitting three feet away from you."
"Sorry," Phyl muttered, glancing toward me briefly. He wouldn't ask. As much as things had improved, he had yet to actually acknowledge what happened to my face. I wasn't expecting that to change any time soon. He changed the subject, pouring a glass for Darla as she settled LT in his high chair between the two of them. I turned my attention to my meal.
"So how is everything going with Katniss?" Darla asked, her voice low to avoid interrupting the conversation Phyl and Dad were having that I was doing my best to tune out.
"It's, um, it's good," I said, glancing up at her. With my class schedule picking up, I had missed out on the last couple of visits Darla had made. It had been nearly as long since I'd seen her as it had since I'd seen Phyl last.
"I would say so," Rye smirked at me. "She spends as much time in his bedroom as he does."
"You little Lothario," Darla winked, setting down her fork and reaching for her glass of wine.
"I'm sorry," Phyl turned away from Dad and pointed at Rye. "What did you just say?"
"I said nothing," Rye said, punctuating his sentence by shoveling a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.
"Really? Because I thought you said something about Peeta and his little girlfriend in his bedroom," Phyl said, raising his eyebrows at me before turning back toward Dad.
"Oh, calm down, Phyllo," Darla huffed, shooting Phyl a look. He gave it right back to her before turning to Dad again.
"Do you honestly allow that?" he demanded.
"Yes, I do," Dad said, without pausing in his eating.
"How the hell do you think that's appropriate?" Phyl snapped.
"Alright, Lilith, Jr.," Rye muttered under his breath.
"Rye, shut your mouth," Dad said, pointing at him with his fork before turning the utensil on Phyl. "And you. Just because you're a dad now doesn't mean you're his dad. Cut the crap."
"What happened to the rules?" Phyl asked. "Darla was never allowed in my bedroom."
"I would not have gone into that disgusting bedroom," Darla said before glancing at me. "No offense."
"None t-taken," I smirked.
"That was your mother's rule," Dad said, folding his arms against the edge of the table and reaching for his glass.
"Then why is Delly still not allowed up here?" Rye asked.
"Because you're a little pervert," Dad said. Rye paused, turning the idea over in his head for a minute before nodding in deference. "If you want it you can work for it. And don't act like those rules actually put a stop to anything. I'm not that stupid."
"Darla and I waited for marriage, thank you very much," Phyl snapped.
"Why?" Rye scoffed.
"Because it's the respectable thing to do," Phyl retorted.
"Not to mention," Darla whispered toward me, shielding her mouth from Phyl with one hand. "I wouldn't have sex in that basement." I snorted, pressing my knuckles over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. Phyl looked at me before cutting his eyes toward Darla. She just smiled sweetly at him, taking a sip of her wine without breaking eye contact.
"So why do you allow that with him?" Phyl said, pointing toward me before dropping his hand against the table. The sound caught Little Twain's attention, and he banged his hand against the tray of his highchair.
"That kid's going to be an asshole just like you," Rye said.
"Will you shut up, please?" Dad cast an exasperated look toward Rye. "I allow it because your brother deserves a normal relationship with his girlfriend as much as either of you, and I don't see you falling all over yourselves to wheel his ass out to the slag heap."
"That's disgusting," Phyl frowned.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that's right, you spent all of your time in the basement," Dad gave him a look. "You'll have to forgive me for not finding the time to rebuild the stairs to the make-out hole."
"You're really turning into an ass, you know that?" Phyl said.
"I've always been an ass, I just spent two decades keeping my mouth shut," Dad retorted, draining the rest of his glass. "Peeta, you're behaving yourself in there, right?"
"Y-yes," I said, after a moment's hesitation. Rye snorted, dropping his head forward as his shoulders shook with laughter. I backhanded his arm. "Shut up."
"Of course you're going to say that," Phyl said to me, rolling his eyes before turning back to Dad. "He knows anything else means losing that stupid, misguided privilege."
"My stupid, misguided parenting led to three boys physically incapable of getting away with lying," Dad said, casting a pointed look at Rye and then me. "You guys don't get away with shit; you just think you do." Darla stifled a laugh, excusing herself and getting up from the table to see to the baby as he started banging his hands against his highchair tray again. "Sorry, Darla."
"You can stop apologizing for your language in front of me, Twain," she lifted LT out of his chair, wiping stray bits of food from his chin. "We know how grampa talks when we're not here." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, taking him out to the living room as his babbling turned to shouting.
"Could we get through one dinner without you antagonizing your brother?" Dad said to Rye. "Would it really kill you to behave yourself?"
"Yes, it would," Rye said seriously, looking up at the frown on Phyl's face and flipping him the bird. Dad reached over and slapped the back of Rye's head before picking up his fork again. The conversation mercifully shifted away from me, mostly quieting down as we ate. Darla returned a few minutes later, keeping Little Twain in her lap. That just led to her systematically having to move everything in front of her on the table out of his reach one piece at a time instead of actually eating her dinner.
"You should bring Lavender over again sometime," Darla said to Dad, finally relenting when Phyl reached for the baby for a fifth time. "How is she?"
"She seemed to enjoy herself," Dad said, dropping his eyes and smiling down at his plate. "She's, um. She's good."
"Unless you ask Katniss," Rye scoffed, casting a glance toward me.
"Uh oh," Darla pressed her lips together.
"I take it that didn't go very well," Phyl said. "Not that I expected any differently out of her."
"She has every right to be upset and that needs to be respected; now drop it," Dad said, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"I'm just saying," Phyl said, starting the same ritual of moving everything out of the baby's reach that Darla had just performed. "You should have told her sooner."
"Or, y'know," Rye chimed in. "Actually told her instead of letting her walk in on you copping a feel off her mom."
"I will hit you again," Dad said to Rye, earning nothing but an evil little laugh in return. I looked down at my plate, pushing the remains of my meal around and letting the rest of the conversation drone around me. I was rapidly running out of the energy I needed to keep up with it. After Darla finished eating they went back out to the living room, leaving Rye and I to take care of the dishes.
"Hear that?" Rye said as we cleared the table. "We don't get away with shit. He's onto you."
"Th-that applied t-to you, too," I shot back.
"Yeah, well, I don't think it's going to get much worse for me than confined to the house at seven fucking o'clock at night," he snapped. I smirked, leaning against the edge of the sink to regain my balance for a moment before shifting my focus to the dishes. I had to force myself to focus on the task, my thoughts rapidly deteriorating into static as I tired out. When everything was cleaned and dried and stacked on the counter, I found myself at a complete loss as to where any of it went, and couldn't even find it in me to ask. I wiped my hands against the legs of my pants, sorting through the task in my head and hoping to jog the memory on my own.
"What?" I paused, realizing Rye was talking to me. He looked at me with concern for a moment. "I d-didn't hear you."
"I asked if you took my advice," he said. I looked over my shoulder toward the living room. I could only see Phyl sitting there from where I stood, but he was fully engrossed in conversation.
"N-not yet," I said, turning back to the sink.
"You should probably get a move on with that, you know," he said. "It's not going to be long before he puts Katniss on the no upstairs rule, too."
"Shut up," I snapped, though he was just voicing what I was afraid would happen. That would easily put an end to the way my relationship with Katniss had been developing. We didn't go out—couldn't, really—and I tired too quickly to get to any of the spots people usually went for a little privacy. The slag heap was out of the question, and even the meadow was still out of reach. Being reduced to holding hands and sharing brief, self-conscious kisses wasn't something I wanted to happen.
I kept thinking about the promise of 'next time' we'd made. We hadn't found much privacy since, though there seemed to be more chances in our near future. Rye's curfew had been lifted, which meant he took off every night the minute his obligations at the bakery were finished, and Dad was more open about his relationship with Mrs. Everdeen with everything now out in the open. I overheard them discussing plans before my appointments and hoped they fell during times I'd be with Katniss.
Mrs. Everdeen and I worked through the last of one of my workbooks. As aggravating as the exercises were, I was more than relieved it wasn't a question day. There was no way I could have handled that list, and the places it went, with the thoughts I'd been having about Katniss. We'd have the house to ourselves as soon as the bakery closed that night, and the way her cheeks had flushed when I mentioned it at lunch told me her thoughts were in the same direction as my own. It made me a little nervous, and made concentrating on my work more difficult, but if Mrs. Everdeen noticed she didn't point it out.
After the appointment was over, Katniss and I sat in the living room with our homework. Just another thing for me to be completely unable to concentrate on. I watched Katniss as she read, twisting her braid through the end of her fingers. She pursed her lips when she concentrated, her brow knitting together while she focused. I couldn't bring myself to look down at the book in front of me; I was too busy watching her. I found myself doodling idly in the notebook in my lap, my fingers curled loosely around the pencil to avoid aggravating the pain in my wrist. Katniss didn't seem to notice me watching her. She looked up from where she sat on the opposite end of the couch and flashed a nervous smile.
"Why are you staring at me?" she straightened up.
"I'm n-not staring," I smirked, looking down at the notebook in my lap. I hadn't paid much attention to what I was doing, and the drawing of Katniss on the page in front of me took me by surprise. It was loose, different from any sketches I had done before; loose and rough. The lines were less delicate, a little shaky, but it was still very clearly her. Katniss slid closer to me, leaning against me and reaching for the notebook.
"Peeta," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You didn't tell me you started drawing again."
"I, um, I haven't r-really," I said, my face flushing. I'd never really stopped doodling; the margins in my notes were filled with half formed animals and abstract shapes and designs. "I wasn't really, um—t-trying."
"So this is what happens when you don't try?" she raised her eyebrows, letting out a quiet chuckle and pulling the notebook into her lap. "Maybe you should start trying again."
"Maybe," I said, watching her face. She touched the page gently with a faint smile. "You c-could pose for me." She gave me a look, and I smirked and raised my eyebrows. She picked up the notebook and slapped it against my chest.
"You just want to get me naked," she said.
"Well," I paused and shrugged. "Yeah." Katniss leaned forward and kissed me.
"Then come on." She put her hand on my knee, pushing herself up off the couch and heading toward my bedroom. It took me a moment to realize what she was doing, though once I did I all but ran after her. I closed the door behind me as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you ready for this?"
"Are you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. She smiled, letting out a nervous little laugh. I crossed the room to her and sat down on the bed. "Is, um, th-that a yes?"
"Yes," she said, nudging me with her elbow and kissing me softly. I turned toward her, pushing her braid back over her shoulder before pressing my lips to hers.
Katniss leaned back as I kissed her, lowering myself onto the bed on top of her. I pushed her shirt up, sliding my palm over the soft curve from her waist to her ribcage. She arched her back as I did, then lifted her shoulders to allow me to take off her shirt, while pulling at the fabric of mine as I brushed my lips over her chest. She pulled my shirt off over my head and dropped it to the floor before smoothing her hands over my shoulders.
I ran my tongue over her lips before kissing her again, laying as much of my weight on top of her as I dared. Katniss whimpered softly, curling her hips up toward mine. The sound of her voice gave me a burst of confidence and I hooked my hand under her thigh and lifted it against my side, pressing myself closer to her. I let my kisses fall to her neck, seeking out the hollow under her jaw that made her breath catch in her throat; smiling to myself when I felt it. Her hands moved down my back, her fingers slipping under the waistband of my pants.
"Are you s-sure?" I murmured, nuzzling against her hair as she moved her hands to the front of my pants.
"Yes," Katniss paused, turning her face toward me. I felt her tongue against my skin as she licked her lips. "Are you?"
I nodded, not quite trusting myself to get out a single coherent word as she unbuttoned my pants. She pushed them down off of my hips, wrapping her arm around my back and curling up against me to push them as far as she could reach. I pressed my lips against her shoulder, reaching between us to unbutton her pants.
"K-Katniss," I breathed, forcing myself to take a deep breath and kissing her cheek softly. She murmured wordlessly in response, spreading her legs beneath me. "C-can I, um—I want to—b-before you, um." I breathed against her skin, my train of thought rapidly running away from me as she moved under me.
"Okay." Her voice was a quiet murmur against my lips. I let out a breath before kissing her, groaning softly and dipping my tongue into her mouth. I kissed my way down her neck and over her chest, lingering at the edge of her bra. I pressed wet, open mouthed kisses between her breasts, taking a deep breath to try to quiet the hammering of my heart as I moved lower. I kicked my pants to the floor before kneeling between her legs, taking slow, shaky breaths.
Katniss bit her lip, watching me as I pulled her pants off of her legs. I was so nervous, so afraid that I'd somehow fuck up and scare her off for good. I pulled her panties down her legs, pressing my tongue between my lips. She kept her thighs pressed together, drawing her knees up as I slipped her underwear off her feet. Her nervousness made me feel better about my own. It made me want to see her even more.
I set my hands on her knees, pressing them apart gently and leaning down toward her. I pressed a kiss to her hipbone, dragging my knuckles up her inner thigh before touching her softly. Katniss gasped softly, her thighs tensing up under my hands. I froze and looked up at her. She was chewing her knuckle so hard I fully expected her to draw blood, her eyes wide as she looked down at me.
"Are, um, are you sure—ab-about this?" I asked, resting my hands on her thighs.
"Yes," she nodded, flashing a brief smile at me.
I returned it, sliding my fingers over her and feeling her wetness. The sight of her made me short of breath, and I carefully spread her folds, leaning forward to flick my tongue against her soft, pink flesh. Katniss let out a quiet whimper and I repeated the motion. When I sucked her clit between my lips she combed her fingers into my hair, spreading her legs further and pressing toward my mouth. I let the sounds she made guide me, exploring her with my fingers and my lips and my tongue, putting what little I could remember about what Rye told me to use.
Katniss' fingers tightened on my hair, her thighs clamped against the sides of my head. She moaned, her back arching, and I silently hoped that we still had the house to ourselves. I sucked her clit again, grazing it gently with my teeth. She tugged at my hair, her hips bucking against my face, and I felt her clamp down around my fingers. I lifted my head, carefully pulling my fingers back as she relaxed under me. I glanced up at her, smiling at the look on her face and the mix of relief and pride I felt.
"Wow," Katniss breathed, combing her fingers back into her hair as I moved to lay down beside her. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before turning toward her.
"Good?" I asked, sliding my hand across her stomach and pulling her closer to me. She nodded, a dreamy smile on her face. I smiled and pressed my lips to her shoulder, tilting my hips toward her. My cock was straining against my boxers, just the contact against her hip made me gasp.
"Do you, um, still want this?" Katniss asked softly, turning toward me.
"If you w-want t-to," I said. "You d-don't, um, have to." She smiled, leaning in to kiss me, silencing my protest and pressing me down onto my back as she did. Katniss' face was flushed when she pulled back, licking her lips as she moved down beside me. I watched her as she pulled down my boxers, her eyes widening briefly as she looked me over. She shifted to kneel between my legs, flashing a nervous smile at me and curling her fingers around my cock. I could barely keep my eyes open as she lowered her head, and I balled the sheets into my fist when her lips brushed against me.
She was soft and warm and wet. Her tongue against me made the room spin, and the sight of her taking me in her mouth was too much. I set my shaking hands on her hair, moaning as she moved over my cock. I had to force myself not to press her down, not to push up into her mouth. My fingers curled in her hair and I dropped my head back, panting and moaning and straining to keep my hips still. She moaned quietly, the sound vibrating through me and pushing me over the edge. I hunched forward and Katniss pressed her hands on my hips, holding me down as she sucked my orgasm from me.
Katniss pulled back, her fingertips pressed against her lips and her eyes wide. When she dropped her hand I realized she'd been hiding a smile behind it, and she moved to drop down onto the bed beside me. I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her slowly. It vaguely registered for a moment that it was myself I was tasting on her tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I nuzzled against her hair, tightening my arms around her and taking a breath to speak. I froze when I realized what nearly came out of my mouth.
I love you.
Did I, though? Of course I loved her, but was it the kind of love that makes you just say that? Was it the orgasm talking? Katniss nuzzled against my neck, curling up against me and settling her head under my chin. I stared at the opposite wall, absentmindedly playing with her braid and wondering what the hell had gotten into me.
I couldn't believe how strong the feeling was, and how perfect and comfortable everything felt with her in my arms. None of what we'd done seemed as straightforward or dirty as Rye had phrased it. I felt closer to her, closer than I thought it was possible to feel to another person. I closed my eyes and turned my lips toward her hair, pressing my hands to her skin and sighing contentedly. I felt Katniss smile against my chest, echoing the noise as she nuzzled closer to me.
Katniss pulled herself away from me as we heard the sound of footsteps on the back porch. I glanced toward the open window, sighing and wondering who it was, and also wishing they weren't coming home so soon. I got up, watching her dress as I pulled on my clothes. She was impossibly beautiful, and when she looked over at me, combing her fingers through her hair before braiding it again, I found myself wanting to say it again. I smiled and kissed her instead, leaning my forehead against hers and wishing she didn't have to leave.
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