"Are you s-sure?" Peeta asked, smoothing his hand over my skin. I took a slow breath, trying to quiet the hammering of my heart.
"I am," I said, too aware of the feel of his cock against my thigh. "Are you?"
"Yes," he said. I wrapped my arms around him, covering his mouth with mine before either of us had time to let our nerves run away from us. Peeta's fingers found their way between my thighs and he slid them over my folds. I gasped against his lips, meeting his tongue with my own as I felt his cock take their place, rubbing over my wetness before he began to sink into me.
It was different, so different from the way his fingers had felt inside me. I'd honestly expected that to prepare me, but it hadn't come close. A twinge of pain shot through me and Peeta stopped, his brow knitting together as he looked down at me.
"It's okay," I said, doing my best to smile, hoping to reassure him. "Just—slow. You won't hurt me." I didn't know if that was even true. I'd heard that this would hurt, but Madge had assured me that if I relaxed it wouldn't. I tried to focus on that; on relaxing my body little by little. Peeta pressed forward and I parted around him, my toes curling and every effort I'd made at relaxing going completely to waste as he filled me.
"Oh my god," I gasped, sucking in quick, shallow breaths. I let my head fall back against the pillows, forcing myself to take a deep breath.
"Ar—are you okay?" he asked, his voice fragile and quiet. I nodded, trying to relax again, setting my hands on his waist as I spread my legs further. Peeta pulled back, leaning forward as he pushed back into me, pressing himself deeper somehow. My jaw dropped and I tensed back up again. He brushed his hand over my cheek and I realized he'd said my name.
"I'm okay," I managed, forcing myself to look at him. He looked so open, so vulnerable. "It's just-" I cut myself off, trying to find the words to describe it and falling pitifully short. "Wow. Go, um—go slow, okay?"
"Okay," Peeta said, pressing his lips to mine and gently sucking my lower lip as he began moving again. I held onto him, my hands balled into fists at his back to stop them from trembling. Heat spread through me, intensifying as his movements grew smoother. He buried his face against my neck; his lips hovering against my skin and his moans vibrating through me. I laid my cheek against his hair, closing my eyes and losing myself in his rhythm, burning even hotter as his breathing grew ragged. I barely even recognized the sounds I made.
Peeta's arms slipped beneath me, pressing me against him as he pumped into me. He held me tighter, the motion of his hips becoming uneven and rough. I felt him moan something that sounded like my name against the crook of my neck and he buried his length in me. I pressed kisses to his shoulder as he slowly relaxed. I moaned quietly when he pulled out, the loss of that feeling as jarring as the fullness of him had been at first.
As Peeta kissed me a warmth bubbled up through me. I cupped my hands against his cheeks, prolonging the kiss as much as I could. I had never felt so close to anyone, and I didn't want the feeling to pass. I couldn't even contain the laughter that rippled out of me as he pecked a soft kiss against my jaw before pulling away. I turned onto my side and watched him retreat from the room, and tears I didn't remember being aware of before that moment spilled down the side of my face. I wiped them away, looking down at the wetness on my fingertips and trying to figure out why I'd started to cry. It wasn't sadness; whatever I was feeling was so far from sorrow I had a hard time believing I still had the capacity for it at all. It wasn't pain either. I was sore, but he hadn't really hurt me. A shiver rippled through me, and I tugged the blankets back up over my bare skin. When Peeta returned I was still trying to put a name to everything I felt.
I let him fold me against him, pressing as close to him as I could manage. No one had made me feel as safe or as loved as I felt in that moment for as long as I could remember, and the realization made me pause. Was that what I was feeling? Love? I cared about him, very much, but I'd never actually thought about how much, or how deep my feelings ran. Peeta's arms tightened around me and he let out a soft, contented hum that pulled me out of my train of thought. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy his warmth and the feel of his fingers tracing slow circles over my bare back.
"Katniss?" his hand stilled. "Did you—um. Did you—finish?"
"What?" I pulled back to look at him.
"D-did you, um, you know. C-come?" he said, biting down on the inside of his lip.
"Oh! Oh, um. It's okay-"
"F-fuck, I'm—I'm s-sorry," he said, panic edging into his voice. "I d-didn't mean t-to-"
"Peeta."
"I'm s-so selfish—I'm sorry, K-Katniss-"
"Peeta-"
"I c-could, um—use my fingers, if you want. Or-"
"Stop." I finally just put my fingers against his lips, laughing quietly. "I enjoyed it. And honestly, I'm a little, um, sore for that."
"D-did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.
"No," I kissed him lightly. "It was just... new. Different." He nodded, though he didn't look particularly convinced. I kissed him again, shifting on top of him as I did and lingering for a moment before I broke away and slid off the bed. "I'll be right back."
"Okay," he said. I picked up one of his shirts from the floor and pulled it on. Alone or not, I didn't exactly feel comfortable just walking naked through his house. I moved down the hall into the bathroom and found Buddy curled up in the sink. He blinked at me and stretched his paw toward my arm when I paused to look in the mirror. It surprised me, somehow, that I looked exactly the same. I felt different, beyond the ache settling in between my thighs, though I couldn't really figure out how. Buddy hooked his paw around my hand, pulling it toward him until I gave in and scratched his head. A streak of red on my inner thigh caught my attention, and I ignored Buddy's mewl of protest when I stopped petting him.
I swore softly under my breath, reaching between my legs and wiping my fingers over myself. The slick that came away on my fingertips was tinged red, and I wondered how the hell Peeta hadn't noticed. I lifted Buddy out of the sink, opening the door just wide enough to toss him into the hall before closing it again and turning on the tap to clean myself.
When I returned to the bedroom, I found Peeta sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers. Buddy was twisting around his ankles and purring furiously, though as soon as he saw me he darted under the bed. Peeta smirked, looking down at his feet before looking up at me.
"I kicked him out of the bathroom," I said, snatching my panties off the floor and pulling them on before I sat down beside him.
"No wonder he's—sulking," Peeta smiled, glancing back down toward the floor. I leaned against him, taking his hand and weaving our fingers together. What I really wanted to do was lay back down with him and fall asleep, but it was getting late enough that we were pushing our luck on the privacy front. Not to mention that it was becoming increasingly clear that as good as we both felt, neither one of us knew what to say to the other.
"I should probably get going," I said quietly.
"I wish you d-didn't have to," Peeta said, leaning a bit closer and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
"Me, too," I smiled, squeezing his hand before getting up to dress. I felt awkward with his eyes on me, and the absolute absurdity of that after what we'd done made me blush. I threw his shirt at him and turned my back to him. After we'd dressed, I gathered my books off of the floor and Peeta walked me downstairs.
"K-Katniss—I, um-" Peeta hovered outside the back door, scratching his hand into his mussy hair and biting his lip. "That—it was, um-"
"Wonderful?" I supplied. His shoulders sagged but his smile didn't fade. He nodded, and we shared another lingering kiss before I turned to leave.
As I walked, I tried to sift through everything going through my head, trying to figure out exactly what it was that felt different. Something did. We'd made a pretty big step forward, that went without saying, but the other firsts we'd shared didn't leave me feeling quite so changed. Was that what growing up felt like? Did he feel anything like I did? I know he'd felt the same happiness, it showed in how relaxed he'd been and in the gentle, warm smile that hadn't left his face afterward. Thinking about the look on his face made my heart swell back up, pushing the rest of my introspection aside.
I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked; the trip felt longer than usual. The heat between my legs hadn't faded, and as I walked the ache spread through me. My legs felt heavy and numb by the time I reached my neighborhood, and I wanted nothing more than a hot bath before curling up in bed.
"Hey, Katniss," Twain's voice startled me out of my train of thought. I looked up to find him just a few feet ahead of me, clearly headed back toward town from my house. "Kinda figured I'd still find you back home when I got there."
"Yeah," I chuckled, my heart leaping into my throat. Could he tell? What the hell was I supposed to say? I shifted my books in my hands and looked everywhere I could except directly at him. "We, uh, finished. You know, studying. So..." I had to physically suppress a cringe.
"Gotcha," he nodded. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," I said, a little too quickly. Twain smirked.
"Alright then," he said. "I'll see you Tuesday?"
"Yup," I said, waiting for Twain to start walking before I continued.
"Goodnight, Katniss," Twain called back to me.
"Yeah, uh, goodnight," I glanced back over my shoulder, frowning at the amusement in his tone. As I walked through my neighborhood it started to dawn on me that I was about to face my mother, who was likely making dinner, and probably wasn't about to stand for me just curling up in bed for the night to get lost in my thoughts. The thought made my heart jump into my throat.
There was no way I could feel so different without it showing. Even in the two sentences we'd exchanged Twain could tell something was off. My mother would figure it out in a heartbeat, and I'd be in for another horrifying lecture about sex at best. I didn't even want to think about the worst, but I was fairly confident it would end up involving both Peeta and his dad, and I cringed at the thought.
Relax, I reminded myself as I climbed the front steps. I ran through a hundred excuses to hide in my room as much as I could. I felt tired. My allergies were acting up. I didn't have allergies. I was getting sick. I still had homework. No, not homework, that would only make her wonder what the hell I'd spent four hours doing at the Mellarks' alone with Peeta. I took a deep breath, forcing the panic out of my head before opening the door and stepping inside.
"You're home earlier than I thought you would be," Mom said, turning away from the stove as I dropped my books onto the kitchen table. "You must have run into Twain on your way home."
"Yeah," I said, frowning at the pots she had on the stove and glancing over my shoulder toward the bathroom. The bath I had been hoping for wasn't going to be possible without being able to boil some water. "He said the same thing."
"Did you have a good afternoon?"
"What?" I snapped my attention back to her. I felt like I was wearing a sign listing everything I'd done with my afternoon.
"Are you okay?" Mom asked, leaning against the counter and looking me over.
"I'm fine," I said, flashing a brief smile. "I was just, um, hoping to get my bath before dinner. I'm a little tired."
"Oh," she said, as though that explained everything. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she turned away from me and toward the stove. "I'll heat some water for you, then. I can move this out of the way."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, hovering for a moment before going into the living room and dropping down onto the couch.
Once the water was boiling, I helped her drag the pots to the bathroom to dump into the tub before shutting her out as I turned on the tap to even out the temperature. The time alone helped me sort out my thoughts, and as much as I hated doing it, washing the smell of the bakery away settled my nerves a bit. I stayed quiet through dinner, retreating to the bedroom as soon as I could without earning myself any more raised eyebrows out of Mom. Prim wasn't far behind me, a book in one hand and a box of matches in the other. She lit the lamp on our nightstand before dropping her book to the floor and sitting beside me.
"Why have you been so weird tonight?" Prim asked. I rolled my eyes, leaning toward the nightstand and picking up our comb, gesturing for her to turn around so I could comb out her hair and braid it for the night.
"I'm not being weird," I said, frowning and shifting where I sat, the ache between my thighs flaring up again. Prim twisted around and gave me a look. "I am not being weird. Turn around, Duck."
"Fine," she huffed, facing forward again. She tilted her head back as I slid the comb through her smooth, blonde hair. After a few minutes I dropped the comb into the mattress and gathered her hair at the back of her neck. "Is it because of Twain?"
"What?" I asked, glad she couldn't see the look on my face.
"He's really nice, you know," she said.
"I know," I said, letting go of her hair and dropping my hands into my lap. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You're all mad about Mom dating him," Prim said. I sighed and gathered her hair again, unsure of what I'd actually expected her to say. "You shouldn't be, y'know. He's nice."
"It's just weird," I said, separating her hair and starting to weave it into a braid. "You don't think it's weird?"
"No," she said, as though that were the stupidest suggestion she'd ever heard. "Why would I? Why do you? If it's because of Peeta that's just dumb."
"It's not because of Peeta," I said defensively. "She's our mom."
"So she should be happy," Prim shrugged as I tied off the end of her braid.
"What about Dad?" I asked, regretting it as soon as I said it. Prim turned around to face me, dropping her shoulders.
"She said that's why you were upset and I think that's dumb," she raised her eyebrows.
"Really," I deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that dumb?"
"She still loves him, but he's not here to love her back," Prim said. "But Twain's here. And they make each other happy. Being upset about Mom being happy is dumb." I just blinked at her, wondering how the hell my twelve year old sister managed to be more mature and perceptive than me. She shrugged, picking up the comb from the mattress and motioning for me to turn around. I complied. "Plus, they're kind of cute for a couple of old people."
"When did you get so smart, Duck?" I asked, biting back a wince as the comb snagged against a tangle in my hair.
"I keep telling you that you'd notice this stuff too if you paid attention," she said, gently working through the snarl with her fingers before trying the comb again. "You're too busy with Peeta."
"I thought you liked the Mellarks now," I dropped my head back to look at her. She just rolled her eyes and pushed my head back.
"I do, but you still spend, like, all of your time with him," Prim scoffed. She combed my hair in silence for a few moments. "Is he why you're being all jumpy and weird? Did something happen today?"
"No," I snapped, jerking my head to the side to look at her over my shoulder.
"Uh huh," she said, her voice rife with sarcasm. "I know you're, y'know, fooling around with him."
"You don't even know what that means," I hissed. "And keep your voice down."
"I know it means more than just kissing," she hissed back.
"Are you still jealous?" I smirked, closing my eyes as Prim dropped the comb and gathered my hair, her nails nightly grazing my scalp as she did.
"I was never jealous," she said. I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Well, a little. But I missed you."
"You don't miss me anymore?"
"I still do," she said, carefully plaiting my hair. "But it's easier than I thought because he makes you happy. You smile a lot more than you used to. And laugh more. I like when you're happy." I turned around when she finished, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment.
"Are you happy?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, without a moment's hesitation. "We're not hungry anymore. And I know it's probably dumb but I like that we don't have to be so careful about saving our candles and oil like we used to and can stay up at night like this. And you and Mom are happy." I smiled at her for a moment before leaning forward and pecking a kiss against her cheek.
"I love you, y'know," I said.
"I love you, too," she smiled.
"I'm going to sleep," I said, pulling back the blankets and slipping under them as I shifted to my side of the bed. "But if you want to stay up and read, I don't mind the light."
"Thanks," Prim said, leaning over the edge of the bed to pick up her book from the floor. She slid under the blankets beside me, wiggling a little closer before opening her book. I nodded off with a smile on my face.
I spent most of the school day stealing glances across the classrooms at Peeta. More than once I caught him doing the same, and smiled at him as I felt my cheeks flush. I could feel what we'd done. The ache from him opening me had settled in overnight. It wasn't unpleasant, far from it, but it was distracting. Every time I shifted in my seat the feeling commanded my attention. More than once my train of thought ran away from me, leaving my heart racing and my skin on fire.
At lunch I moved my chair as close to Peeta as possible, leaning my legs up against his and finally satisfying the need to touch him. He smiled at me, bumping his knee against mine. Madge was unusually quiet, leaving most of the conversation to Delly. As soon as we finished eating I took Peeta's hand under the table, weaving our fingers together and smiling to myself as he stroked his thumb over the back of my hand. Madge raised an eyebrow at me, pursing her lips to hold back a smirk.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I said quietly, so as not to interrupt Peeta or Delly. Madge just shrugged, leaning back in her chair and looking at Peeta for a moment before looking back at me. I wanted to slap the amused little smirk right off her face. Had she figured us out? I shifted in my chair, the ache from the day before twinging between my thighs and making my heart jump. Peeta looked over at me and smiled, squeezing my hand and nudging me with his elbow.
We walked back to class hand in hand, something we couldn't do moving from one class to the next while he carried his books and leaned on his cane. I wondered if he realized how far he'd come in just a few months. His first day back he'd struggled with his balance enough that moving from his wheelchair to a desk was a challenge, and his grip on his cane seemed more relaxed than it had been at first.
The last classes of the day dragged. I was regretting my promise to spend the afternoon with Madge and Gale. What I really wanted to do was go home with Peeta and spend the rest of the day holed up in his bedroom. I missed the two of them. I spent a fraction of the time with them that I used to, but I wanted a chance to recreate that feeling I had laying in Peeta's arms. Being away from him was just going to leave my heart feeling deflated.
We parted ways after school anyway, though I felt bold enough to venture a kiss goodbye before he headed toward town with Rye and Delly. Madge, Gale and I headed for the Seam once Prim and his brothers met up with us. The three of them ran ahead of us, energized by the steadily improving spring weather. Gale and I talked through that morning's hunt, renewing our argument over where to set our snares. He insisted on leaving them where they sat, and his stubborn refusal to listen to reason was leaving me ready to just let him work his own damn line and set one elsewhere on my own, cooperation be damned.
"Why are you so quiet?" Gale asked Madge, backhanding her forearm gently to get her attention before taking her hand.
"It's nothing," Madge said, lifting her chin and biting back a smile.
"She was like that at lunch, too," I pointed out.
"What's going on?" he asked her again. She shrugged and shook her head. "Madge."
"Gale."
"Seriously," he gave her a look. "Come on." She looked over at me, then back to Gale before staring straight ahead, visibly battling with herself over something. My shoulders sagged as I realized what that probably was.
"Katniss had sex with Peeta," she blurted out, yanking her hand out of Gale's and clapping it over her mouth to smother her laughter.
"Madge!" I slapped her arm, my jaw dropping in disbelief. She had figured us out.
"Wait, what?" Gale looked at me. "You did not." I clamped my mouth shut, shifting my grip on my books and walking a little faster. "Oh my god, you did. Catnip!" I heard the two of them bickering in a whisper before they jogged a few steps to catch up with me.
"Are you mad at me?" Madge asked, barely containing her laughter.
"Yes!" I snapped, though the hurt look that crossed her face made me regret saying it. I wasn't. Annoyed and embarrassed, but not mad. "Well, no. Not really. I don't know!"
"Well, we need to talk about it," she said.
"No, we don't. Especially in front of him," I said, pointing at Gale.
"I don't want to hear about it," Gale said.
"Then you're going to need to fuck off somewhere," Madge said to him.
"I thought we were spending the afternoon together," he protested.
"This just turned into a girl afternoon," she hooked her arm through mine and waved her hand to shoo him off. "Go, like, check on my strawberries or something."
"The plants aren't even budding yet," he gave her a look.
"Then go kill stuff, I don't care," Madge snapped, shooing him away again as we veered off the lane and toward my house. "You're uninvited." I gave him a pleading look and he just smirked at me.
"Okay, then," he said, hunching up his shoulders and shooting me a teasing little wave. I just narrowed my eyes at him before turning and leading Madge into the house.
"I'm going to the Morgan's!" Prim called, rushing past us and out the door the minute I opened it. She couldn't have done more than drop her books and run; the door had barely closed after her when Madge and I climbed the front steps.
"Be home for dinner!" Mom called after her, huffing and shaking her head as we stepped into the house. "Hello, Madge. Good to see you."
"Hi, Mrs. E," Madge said, setting her books down.
"No Gale?" Mom asked, glancing at me.
"He's busy," Madge said.
"Ah," Mom nodded, pulling on the sweater she had in her hands. "I have to go into town for a while. That rabbit you brought in this morning is in the oven, Kat. Just leave it until I get home."
"Okay," I said, rolling my eyes as she pecked a kiss against my cheek before leaving. Madge just looked at me, an expectant smile on her face as I put my books down. "What?"
"Now you really don't have any excuses not to talk about it," she grinned, brushing past me and walking into the living room to drop down on the couch.
"Why are you so weird and pushy about this?" I followed her, sitting down on the opposite end to face her and tucking my feet up onto the cushions.
"I am not pushy and weird," she said. I just gave her a look. Madge laughed. "I'm just happy for you, okay? Peeta's really great, and he's obviously nuts about you. And you are about him. You're happy! And I'm happy that you're happy. And I want to know more about your happiness. Now tell me all about how he put his loaf in your oven."
"Oh my god," I groaned, laughing into my hands.
"Did you like it? At least tell me that," she said, turning to face me.
"Yeah," I said, dropping my hands into my lap. I knew I was bright red, I could feel it, and I couldn't stop smiling. "I did." Madge's smile grew wider and she stretched her leg out to poke at me with her toes.
"Look how cute you are about your little baker boyfriend," she hunched up her shoulders.
"You're so annoying," I laughed, slapping her foot away.
"Did he make you come?" she asked, though from her tone I could tell she knew the answer. I shook my head. "Don't worry, it took Gale a few tries to figure that one out."
"Are you just going to tell me even more details about your sex life with Gale? If so I'd like to uninvite myself from this conversation as well so I can go kill stuff with him instead," I said, hooking my thumb in the general direction of the Hawthorne's. Madge laughed.
"Okay, you tell me about Peeta and I'll stop talking about Gale," she said. I just stared at her. "Please? Was he all gentle and loving? I bet he was. Is he quiet? Are his moans sexy? Did he say your name? Because that's my favorite. What did his dick feel like?"
"Will you stop?" I laughed, covering my eyes with my hand.
"You know I'm only teasing, right?" Madge asked.
"I know."
"Though don't let that stop you from answering all those questions," she grinned. I grabbed the pillow I was leaning against and threw it at her. She laughed as she caught it, hugging it against her chest.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you," I shrugged. "You have sex all the time. You know what it's like."
"Yeah, but you only get one first time," she said. "It's a big deal, and you're my best friend. Was it just too short for you to know how to answer?" She smirked.
"Um, no?" I gave her a look. "How long is it supposed to take?"
"Depends," she shrugged. "Gale didn't even make it in the first time."
"Wait," I laughed. "How do you know that?"
"Because I was his first," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"No."
"Yes, I was," she laughed.
"What about that Brattice girl he dumped for you?" I said. She shook her head. I thought through Gale's laundry list of girlfriends, trying to figure out who he'd been with before Ada Brattice. "Not even Saffron? But she's-"
"A huge slut, yeah," Madge smirked. The expression faded into a genuine smile. She shrugged. "Surprised me, too. Um, and don't you dare breathe a word about that little detail I just shared. That stays between you and me. Well, and Delly."
"You told Delly that?" I asked, wondering how long it took her to tell Rye, and how much longer Rye was going to wait to drop that little bomb on Gale.
"Yes, and that sort of stuff doesn't make it's way back to our boyfriends. I can already tell you're thinking about that," she said. "She likes to talk about it. And you really should stop being so scowly and weird around her. She's fun, and she's funny, and you'd like her if you let yourself."
"I will try to be nicer to your new best friend," I said. Madge threw the pillow back at me.
"Maybe you'll be less uptight now that Peet's bumping your ugly," she said.
"You're such an ass," I laughed.
I spent most of Tuesday afternoon working in the bakery. It was too busy for me to slip upstairs unnoticed, and Peeta had looked so exhausted when we got out of school Twain refused the offers he made to help. It wasn't until Rye and I finished stocking the last of the day's baking that a lull came before the evening rush. Twain caught me looking toward the stairs and waved me off with a smirk before returning to the storefront. I pulled off my apron, draping it over Rye's face when he started to protest, and went upstairs.
I nudged Peeta's door open to find him sitting on his bed with his back to the wall. There was a notebook in his nap, though his attention was focused on Buddy, flicking his pencil back and forth on the bed beside him for the cat to chase. He looked up and smiled as I stepped in, closing the door behind me.
"St-still busy?" he said, his voice soft and tired and weak.
"It slowed down," I said, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "Feeling any better?"
"I s-slept a little, b-but-" he shrugged, looking down at Buddy and tapping the pencil against the blankets before tossing it to the floor. The cat took off after it, hitting the floor with a soft thump. It was a sketchbook in his lap, not just a notebook, with a few sketchy, rough drawings on the page. I picked it up before he had a chance to close it, flipping back through a couple pages of the same. They were still recognizable—his room, the cat, the view outside—but they weren't as delicate and precise as his older ones, though still amazing. "I thought I'd, um—try. I j-just ended up f-frustrating myself."
"Why? These are beautiful," I said. He took the book from my hands, closing it and tossing it to the floor.
"They're s-sloppy. They d-don't even—look like mine," he said.
"They're just different," I shrugged. "I kind of like them more."
"Why?" he scoffed.
"I don't know. I guess I like sloppy," I smirked. Peeta looked over at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and leaned in to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around him, leaning back and pulling him with me. He settled his weight on me carefully as we laid down, his hand cupping my breast as he deepened the kiss. I opened my mouth to him, gasping quietly as I felt him swell against my thigh. The reaction that brought out in me was different; more urgent and quicker to take hold. It felt as though I was opening for him, and I shifted under him, steepling my knees as he moved his hips on mine forward. I murmured his name between kisses.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, breaking away from my lips and moving his hand to my waist. He shifted to one side, easing his weight off of me without fully moving away. "I d-didn't mean to—um, get c-carried away."
"It's okay," I smiled, running my fingers through his hair and kissing him gently. "Should we, um, talk? About Sunday, I mean."
"Is s-something wrong?" he asked, his expression falling.
"No! No," I said. "Not at all. It just, um, seems like we should."
"Okay," Peeta said. The two of us just looked at each other in silence for a few moments before breaking into quiet, embarrassed laughter. "I d-don't know what to say."
"Well—did you like it?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, a little too forcefully. I laughed, dropping my forehead against his shoulder. "D-did you?"
"Yes," I said, pressing a kiss to his jaw before laying my head back against the pillows again.
"So, um, we c-can do that again, then," he said.
"Definitely," I laughed quietly.
"Maybe, um—n-next time we could get our own, um, c-condoms," he said. "So I d-don't have to run down the hall with a hardon."
"Good idea," I laughed. "Even though that means I have to get them." He just smiled and shrugged, and kissed me before I could protest.
"I think I, um—I owe you something," he said, his voice suddenly low and husky.
"Do you?" I bit my lip.
"Mhm," he shifted his kisses to my neck, moving his hips off of me and lifting the hem of my shirt.
"Peeta, your dad is downstairs," I said, though I made no move to stop him as he unbuttoned my pants. I shivered as he run his knuckles over my skin along the waistband of my panties.
"Then you should p-probably be quiet," he said, nipping lightly at my jaw as he slipped his hand into my underwear.
Yeah, I know, but this chapter ends there. Lynchings can be directed via tumblr toward myself (alonglineofbread) or my husband (yourpeetaisshowing). Thank you guys for all your follows, favorites, and reviews. You're awesome.