Author's Note: Here we go, this chapter is a smutfest, so be warned. And don't tell me I didn't warn you because I did. So get over it. Anybody knows of a good Hunger Games archive where I can post this, btw?

Chapter Four

My eyes shift from the green liquid in the glass I have in my hand to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The liquid is definitely inviting, rather than a medicine (which is not anyway), it looks more like a mint ice tea or something of that sort. On the other hand, my reflection is definitely not inviting at all. Weeks have passed since I was sick and I have fully regained my forces: I have been hunting, I have eaten cakes and buns every day (the only plus side on being hill is having Peeta spoiling me) and I have been happy. Everything is fine, except for sleepless nights. I lie there, waiting, minute after minute, for Peeta to make a remark about our sex life – or lack of – and about the Silphium leaves. But, night after night, he just sleeps with his arms tightly around me and chitchats of the silliest things. It is almost more unnerving than having the actual conversation. I suppose he doesn't want to say anything that he thinks it would upset me and then maybe I would leave again.

So, tonight, I decide to take matters into my own hands and… make the move. I would be lying if I said that I don't want to bring our relationship to another level, too, but I try not to think about it and convince myself that I am doing everything for Peeta. The thumping of my heart and the butterflies in my stomach don't really allow that thought. I don't know, I think I was less nervous when I had to appear in front of all the people of the Capitol on a chariot in a dress on fire.

My hand grasps the glass with all its might and I notice little ripples on the surface as I bring it closer to my face. I'm shaking a little.

"Enough nonsense, Katniss Everdeen," I scold at my reflection. "What are you afraid of?" I can't reply to my own question, so I look even more harshly at myself and down the liquid in one gulp. It's not only odorless, but also tasteless. As if I were drinking plain water. A bit of me is deluded, I hoped it tasted like mint. I really don't feel any change, I don't feel better or worse than before, don't feel as if my womb has been dried of anything fertile or as if I might just vomit at any minute. I feel like nothing has changed. But something must have had, because my mother would never give me something she is not confident about.

I put the glass back on the sink and walk out of the bathroom and into the room. Peeta is sitting on the bed, writing thoughtfully in a book on his lap. He is writing a cake recipe book at the moment. Baking, drawing, writing. I feel like I am not doing anything all day long except hunting every now and then, while he is just doing everything and more. He doesn't even raise his eyes from the page he is writing when I walk towards the bed, extremely focused on the little words he is neatly writing.

I take a deep breath. "Those Silphium leaves don't taste like anything," I say, waiting for his reaction, which is immediate because his eyes darts from the page to my face.

"Silphium?" he asks weakly. "The ones your mother brought?"

I nod slowly.

"Okay," he says, closing the book and placing it on the bedside table. He is absolutely calm, and I envy him at this very moment.

I sit on the other side of the bed. "So, yes," I start, turning towards him with one leg on the bed and one on the floor, "I guess that if you want… I mean we can do you know… if you want to, like you don't have if you don't want to I don't think anything happens if we don't even though I already drunk it because it is all natural and I—"

He kisses me to shut me up and I am only grateful for that. His warm, big hands are at both sides of my face and I really can't believe there was a time when I wanted to save him and thought he needed my protection, because now he is making me feeling like I am the one who needs safety.

"Shut up, Katniss," he says softly against my lips and his tone is not harsh, but I like him taking charge of the situation and now that he has shut me up I can't stop thinking. He starts planting kisses all over my face, soft pecks with his lips that leave my mouth free to talk again.

"I love you, Peeta," I say with my hands on his wrists.

"I love you too," he replies, between kisses.

"I have waited so long, too, you know," I say weakly, "not just you, even though you must think that I—"

He kisses me again on my lips. "I know," he says when he moves back.

I feel really scared all of a sudden. "I don't know how to…" my words trail away and die in my throat.

He smiles. "We'll manage." He starts kissing me again, lightly. Then his mouth moves towards my chin and he trails my jaw with his tongue. When his lips finally find my neck, I feel a throbbing at the bottom of my stomach. I take a sharp breath and move my hands to his face, pressing it against my neck.

He starts licking and sucking on the sensitive skin and my breathing increases with his ministrations.

"Does this feel good?" he asks smiling against my skin.

I nod, quite breathlessly. "Don't stop now," I say, urging him to continue when he moves back.

He smiles again, as if he likes the fact that I am liking this more than I intended. His hands go on my waist, he grabs the hem of the white tee-shirt that I usually wear in bed and eases it slowly over my torso, chest, bare breasts and shoulders, until it is over my head and on the floor.

He looks at me for an excruciatingly long moment, then I feel his fingers on my ribs, slowly tracing them up to my breasts. He grabs them, firmly, his thumbs caress my nipples. Then it is all a twirl of sensations and feelings and butterflies for me. He kisses me and pushes me on my back, hooks his fingers in my pajamas bottoms and push them down my legs. I try to do the same with his, but he is faster than I am and soon they are both lying in a corner of the bed, an entangled mass that mimics our bodies.

My body is squeezed under Peeta's and I can't fully expand my ribcage to breath, but I love it anyway. I love the feeling of his skin against my skin, of his muscles over my chest, of the way his legs move between mine, a little bit awkwardly, as we both try to make sense of what is happening and try to figure everything out. But those things do come naturally, so he hooks his hand behind my knee and brings it up. I can feel him at my entrance. He looks at me straight in the eyes and enters me. Slowly at first, his clouded eyes probably trying to understand if I want to stop or if I am in pain or upset or anything in between. I am not, none of the above. All I want is more proximity, I want it to go on, I want him to push into me as far as he can go, I want more.

I can't wait for him to move, so I hook my leg behind his calf and push my lower abdomen up, towards him. When he let out a moan, I can't help but smiling, even though somehow there is a subtle pain down there, I feel it is nothing compared to the other feelings. Peeta's breath is ragged as he pushes himself up to look at me. He is surprised I got so playful all of a sudden, or that's what I think. I grin, but my breath is ragged too when I speak. "Waiting for one, two, three, go, Mr. Mellark?" I ask as I tease him with my toes on the back of his leg.

Peeta smiles softly. "Look at you all sassy," he says and, without notice, starts a rhythmic pounding which has the power to shut the both of us up.

There is something unique about the way he moves on top of me. Not that anybody has ever moved on top of me, but I just can't stop looking at his muscles tensing up then relax, at his face all screwed in concentration and at the sweat on his forehead. I find every detail mesmerizing, as if I am watching him for the first time. In a way it's almost as if I am. And then there is the butterflies, they have moved south, I can feel them everywhere, at least where our bodies join and all around that area. Every sensation, every thrust is amplified and I feel like something is building inside of me. And I am right. A few more thrusts and I feel that same something exploding in me. It feels so good, I can't speak, I can't move, I can't see anything but my eyelashes. Then Peeta grunts and his thrusts become less urgent but deeper. And then he falls on top of me and doesn't seem able to move ever again. He is still inside of me throughout the long moments where all we can hear are each other's pants and gasps for more air than we can get. He has his cheek on my shoulder and my temple is on his head, his hands on my arms, my eyes are wide open, but my view is still clouded. He moves back a bit and looks into my eyes, his lips parted as he tries to gulp down more oxygen. I raise my head and kiss him, ravenously, like I don't think I have ever kissed him. He kisses me back just as intensely, then pushes himself off me and exits me with no effort at all. He falls on my side on his back like me and for a while we stare at the ceiling. When I push myself closer to him, he hugs me and pulls me against his chest, I hug him back and I love the proximity. Our bodies are sweaty and hot, and I feel half drunk and half sleepy.

Peeta grunts to conceal a chuckle.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him, my voice low and more sensual than usual.

Peeta plants a kiss on my head and hugs me even tighter. "I am thinking that I love you," he replies, "so, so much." I know that he knows that I am smiling. "What are you thinking?" he asks back.

I push my head on his chest and hear the furious thumping of his heart that is slowly trying to go back to normal. "I am thinking that I am going to drink Silphium leaves every night," I say matter-of-factly, and that makes Peeta laugh.

xxx

At breakfast, I think it is virtually impossible for Greasy Sae not to notice that something is different about us, and in fact she does notice. At first, I think it is because I have changed overnight, that I am a woman now and everybody can see it. But probably Greasy Sae's comment about something weird isn't just because I went to bed as a girl and woke up as a woman, but because of the hickey on my neck that I have not even tried to conceal. It is black and blue and bigger than my thumb when I try to cover it. Well, good job, Peeta.

"It was cold last night, wasn't it?" she asks as she places two plates of bacon and eggs in front of Peeta and me.

"I didn't notice," I say, pushing my fork into a piece of egg.

"I bet you didn't," she murmurs, with a smirk on her face. I think she wants to add something about us finally doing something, but she restrains herself. I think she never believed I was pregnant during the Quarter Quell and knows fair more things that I am comfortable about.

Now, in the light of day, in the kitchen, with Greasy Sae chattering about what is going on in the village and her granddaughter speaking to herself, I don't feel as sassy as last night and I am just happy when nobody mentions the hickey and Peeta doesn't try any loving effusions.

After breakfast, Peeta wants to draw, and I go and see Haymitch. He is sitting outside, a stick in one hand, stale bread in the other. A gaggle of loud and messy geese are looking at him viciously. I walk up to him and the animals pay little attention to me as I sit next to him.

"No alcohol?"

"No alcohol," he replies sourly. "It's that time of the year again."

The geese start to honk and get closer to Haymitch and the bread. One of them, I imagine a male, stretches its wings and flaps them threateningly. Haymitch uses the stick against its neck, quickly but softly, enough to scare it without hurting it.

"Why don't you just give them the bread," I say, feeling bad for those poor animals.

He doesn't look at me, his eyes are fixed on the birds. "They have to learn."

"Learn what? They are geese," I say, shaking my head.

"Learn that they have to wait for the food, not that they can have it whenever they want." Haymitch raises the stick in front of a goose that is coming dangerously close to him and it stops.

"Okay," I say, "what for?"

"I don't want them to come quacking at me in the middle of the night if I forget to feed them," he replies. "Now sit!"

Considering the fact that it is the stupidest thing ever to ask a goose to sit, I decide to laugh it off. "I am sitting," I say in my most amused tone.

Haymitch turns towards me. "Katniss," he says faking a sweet tone, "when you were in that arena fighting for your life and people were interviewing me and asking me what was your skill; what that quality that set you apart from the other tributes, what do you think I replied? Your archery skills? No. Your way of finding a way out of every bad situation? No." He takes a deep breath for some fake emphasis and adds, "I said, her sense of humor, ladies and gentlemen." He screws his eyes and continues, "Hey, what is that on your—"

A goose, probably the same male that was trying to threaten Haymitch earlier, throws itself at the bread and flaps its wings right in Haymitch's face. I manage to jump back just enough to avoid the feathers going right into my mouth, but Haymitch is not as fast. The goose runs away with the bread in its mouth and the gaggle at its heels, honking loudly, but not loud enough to cover my laughter.

"Glad you are enjoying yourself, sweetheart," says Haymitch, standing and shaking feathers from his clothes and hair.

"I love the relationship you have with your geese," I say with mirth.

He comes closer to me and narrows his eyes. "And I love the relationship you have with Peeta, apparently," he says with what I suppose is amusement.

"We—I—we didn't…" The fact that I am stammering doesn't help I guess.

"Sweetheart, don't you worry," he says, patting my head, "you just did what all of Panem think you have already done three years ago. No big deal!"