Peeta
I wish that I could tickle her feet until she wakes up. That high arch was one of the first things I noticed about her during that awkward taxi ride home from the square. I'm tempted to find out if the skin is as soft there as I've always imagined. But if she woke up, I'd feel bad. Besides, this is an opportunity to study her naked.
With the early morning rays permeating the cavern, I memorize how she lays her on stomach, her head twisted toward me and her dark hair covering part of her face. One arm is propped beneath her head while the other arm is tucked closely to her side, with her hand curled under her chin.
I think of what we did, unable to believe it happened. It's amazing that I lasted at all. At first, I'd felt like a victor and a klutz at the same time, basking in the moment but clueless about how to make it good for her. But God, the thing I did with the water—her pretty moans turned me into a superhero. And inside her, it was like the deeper I went, the closer I came to immortality. She sang out my name, made so many noises just for me.
Afterward, we dragged ourselves back into the cave, covered the fronds of the palm bed with our clothes to give us padding, and passed out again. Later, the clouds swooped in, the sound of the downpour pulling me from my sleep. In my drowsy state, I hauled Katniss outside once more to wash the sand from our bodies. We tipped our heads to drink, then we kissed, then I got hard. She touched me as the rain drenched us. She touched me while I grabbed onto her, my fingers in her hair, my hips rolling toward her hand. I fought not to lose it too fast. I held on until my muscles gave up, then threw my head back and called out to the wet sky. She supported me with her free arm, saving me from crashing to my knees.
This morning, my mind straddles a thin line between gawking at her breasts and debating what to do next. The CPR that I'd learned in Cinna's class saved her life, I was able to put those fire-building skills from Survival to use, and there are coconuts to drink from. But I'm worried about food and how to get out of here.
Not worried. Scared. I'm scared.
There aren't many options for returning to the mainland. There's no way in hell we're swimming back. We'd need a boat, or at least an accessible trail through the cliffs, but that kind of hike could take days, and there's no guarantee we'd run into fresh water.
Then again, no one's a greater ally than Katniss. When she wakes up, we'll face this together.
I settle closer to her. "I'm going to tell you a story now. It's about a guy traveling to a new place and meeting a girl who's the polar opposite of him. She's wild. She's got steely eyes and sun-kissed skin. She smells like orchids and sea salt. She has loopy handwriting and walks like there's always a guitar strumming in her head. Mockingjays sit on her shoulder when she whistles to them. The ocean knows her secrets. She's unafraid of showing off her body, but she's afraid of her own heart.
"And this guy's a dumbass who doesn't appreciate her at first, because unlike her, he's never been out of control a day in his life. Even his year abroad was meticulously planned, although it was naive to assume things would go his way in a foreign country. Anyway, maybe that's what he really wanted. To find himself by losing himself, if that makes any sense."
Katniss sighs unconsciously. She's the most beautiful person I've ever known. And I've been inside her.
I shake my head. "This girl knew what he needed before he did. She unlocked him, showed him what it's like to take risks without the fear of failing. She taught him how to play."
My finger curls around a lock of her hair. "The story has some funny moments as they get to know each other, but it gets harsh quickly. They're not friends, and then they are friends, and then they're more than friends, and then they force themselves to stay friends. The girl wants him, and he starts to want her, but he refuses to give in because he thinks he's being some kind of faithful knight. He breaks her heart repeatedly." My head dips. "And he's sorry. He's so sorry for that, Katniss. He should have figured he was doomed the minute she tried to intimidate him by stealing his shirt."
I feel a grin surface on my face. "By the way, you can keep the shirt. It's always been yours...I..."
"Well, shit," a mythological voice mutters.
I bolt upright. Finnick is standing just outside the cave, watching us with mixture of shock and weariness.
Am I hallucinating? No. All six-feet, four-inches of him are actually here.
Embarrassed, I fumble to cover Katniss. He glances away, bracing his hands on his waist and giving me time to take care of her and then leap into my pants. I cross over to him, craning my head over my shoulder once to make sure Katniss is still out cold. Seeing Finnick materialize out of nowhere, as if the ocean carried him here on a wave, adds to the Poseidon effect.
A motorboat bobs near the shoreline, a rope tethering the vessel to a nearby rock. I hadn't even heard the motor, but who cares? My pipes have never belted out such a long exhalation. Thank fucking almighty!
On the other hand, I need to proceed with caution. Now that he knows we haven't been eaten by sharks, an envious muscle ticks in his cheeks. He knows what Katniss and I have been doing.
Shadows peek out beneath his eyes. "Is she okay?" he croaks, as though sharp rocks crowd his throat.
"Yeah," I reply.
"What happened?"
"She went swimming and thought she saw Primrose." He glances up at this, and I abridge the rest. "She drifted. The waves were too strong, but I got to her in time."
He considers the broken bits of my story. "Thank you."
There's no use responding to that. It goes without saying that I didn't do it for him, even though I understand where he's coming from.
Finnick scrutinizes me. I don't cower away, but I do raise my hands, palms up. "Listen, I get that you hate me, but Katniss and I...this is...what happened was..."
He pinches the spot between his brows. "You know what? Don't bother."
"Dammit, I have to bother. This wasn't just some—"
"No, I mean you literally don't need to bother, Peeta. She ended it with me at the protest, okay?" he snaps, but it sounds like it's more from exhaustion than bitterness.
"I know," I admit. "She told me. But—"
"I don't want to talk about this with you. I'm not blind. She and I were just friends who shared a bed and whole lot of grief." He sets his mouth into a tight line. "She can't afford to lose anyone else."
"Good," I say. "Because I can't afford to lose her, either."
He studies me hard. It's like he wants to be certain I'm not bullshitting him. Who does he think I am? Considering the kind of relationship he had with her, what gives him the right to judge me? I'm too tired to hold it against him, though, and it was bad timing of me to bring this up anyway.
Finnick sees something in my expression that makes his lip twitch. Satisfied creases form at the sides of his mouth. "Alright, then."
"Peeta?"
Her voice stretches across the balmy air. Finnick and I turn. She's sitting up, her hair disheveled, and her cheeks flush as she holds her dress to her naked chest. I can't resist privately gloating, knowing she looks this way because of me and relishing Finnick's dumbstruck expression from hearing her speak.
My name. Mine.
She's mine.
Still glazed with sleep, she grins at me, but it only takes a millisecond for her to register that I'm not alone. Her eyes widen as they focus on Finnick standing beside me, and then she's yanking the dress over her head, jogging toward us, and pulling a shocked Finnick into a hug. Jealousy threatens to pull me under until I see the relief etched into her features. It's not a romantic hug.
Still, I feel a hell of a lot better when she lets him go and glances my way, a whole new light brimming into her features. I open my arms, and she rushes into them.
Her voice shimmers. It's surreal, whisking me to life and spanning my entire body as she whispers against my shirt, "I want to go home."
kpkpkpkpkp
Finnick came prepared, in case he found us dehydrated and starving. Wrapped in a blanket, Katniss and I huddle close, guzzling a gallon of water and devouring all the fruit, crab meat, and rolls in his cooler. The rest of the ride is silent, with Finnick operating the boat over the choppy, turquoise water and Katniss curling into my chest and staring out to sea.
Finnick casts us occasional glances. There's hurt there, but also acceptance. I used to see him as a willing boy-toy who treated Katniss like his grief cushion, not someone who wanted the best for her. Now, I know better. I guess we all do.
I give him a nod, quietly thanking him for finding us. He seems to understand and inclines his head.
Arriving back on the mainland, we tramp the short distance from the beach to the cottage. I offer to carry Katniss, but she glowers at me. The Everdeens fly out the front door and charge at us. The instant Katniss sees her mother, her face crumbles. "Mama," she cries as Violet scoops her into her arms, both of them shaking with tears.
"Oh, Katniss," Violet says. "Oh, my girl."
"Mama, I'm sor-sor-ry," Katniss hiccups.
"It's alright." Violet brushes her fingers through her daughter's hair. "I'm here. I promise, I'm here."
Even Haymitch does the unthinkable and crushes me to him, provoking a dry sob from me as my forehead presses into his shoulder. "Dammit, boy," he gasps, but that's all he manages.
My host family thanks Finnick profusely, and after embracing Katniss, and giving me one more look, Finnick heads home. Violet and Haymitch corral us into the house, where my host mother's former healing skills kick in. She gets to work, more clearheaded and industrious than I've ever seen her, checking us from head to toe for injuries, then grinding herbs for a tea that she tips down our throats, then making us take turns in the shower, then ordering us to bed.
Violet ushers Katniss to their room. Haymitch tugs me toward ours. Katniss and I swap helpless glances before being pushed through parallel doors. Forcing me into a change of clothes—my charm necklace is no longer in my jeans pocket, which means I must have lost it at some point—Haymitch grunts that the whole village has been searching for us. I start to apologize, but he plants a hand on my shoulder and shoves me into the bottom bunk, instructing me to sleep. When my head hits the pillow, I black out.
kpkpkpkpkp
My body feels heavy. My eyelids are cemented shut. Groaning, I pry them open and blink at the peaceful colors floating in the room. Gold and purple. It must be late afternoon.
It's quiet. No echo of the surf, nor the usual bustling activity of the neighbors. No guitar or children playing. I listen, anxious for signs of my host family, but there's also nothing. The silence reminds of me too much of waking up in District Twelve.
A mockingjay lands outside the window like a savior. It flaps its ochre feathers as if welcoming me back to the land of the living, then begins to tweet. The sound is similar to Katniss's voice.
Katniss. Whipping the sheet aside, I get to my feet and stumble into the hall. After taking two panicky steps, I hear the muted voices of Haymitch and Violet drifting in from the porch. The tension leaches from my bones. They're here. I peek around the corner and through the screen door, relaxing at the sight of their hunched backs as they gaze at the landscape. Two shells curved inward, heads bowed. A pair of shrunken adults.
"She spoke," Violet says in a flimsy but dazzled voice. "She spoke again. Did you hear it?"
"I heard it," Haymitch answers, also amazed.
"I'd forgotten what she sounds like. I just want to wake her up and hear it again."
"We'll hear it again."
"She let me brush her hair and tuck her in. I felt like her mother again."
"You were always her mother," Haymitch assures Violet.
"How did Peeta's father take the news?"
I grip the wall corner. Of course they would call Dad to let him know what happened.
"He sounded shaken," Haymitch admits with a twinge of shame. "Almost booked a flight down here until I convinced him that Peeta was fine and would call later." He sighs. "Those kids. I don't know what I'd do without them."
My eyes well with tears, my nostrils flare, and my insides burst at hearing Haymitch say this. I'm part of his family. And Violet brushed Katniss's hair, which must have made Katniss happy.
"I should have been the one to go find Katniss," he says. "I should have protected them more."
"Stop it," Violet lectures, her words cracking. "You did the best you could. I didn't do anything except abandon her. I didn't brush her hair. I used to braid it for her."
Haymitch slides his arm around Violet. "You're better now."
"I'm glad you brought Peeta here. He's special."
"He is."
Wiping a few stray tears from my eyes, I pad away as quietly as I can. I'm not sure how well I disguise my heavy gait, because when I inch open Katniss's door, she's already waiting for me.
Looking at her stalls my breath. The blanket covers her chest, her bare shoulders and nightgown straps peeking out. Her hair falls in waves down her chest, she's rosy from sleep, and her eyes alight on me. This is the first time we've been alone since we were naked together on the beach. I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect, but I know what I hope for.
She beckons me inside, and as I close the door behind me, apprehension trickles through my mind that she's reverted back to silence. I meander across the floor and stop beside her. She pats the bed and shuffles backward to give me space. As I sit, I notice Buttercup resting at the foot of the mattress and scanning me like, Where have you been?
I've never seen Buttercup in Katniss's bed. He must have kept her company while I slept. I'd like to have my job back, but the problem is that I'm at a loss for words. Whatever we've become, I don't want it to end.
We glance at each other. My hands fidget in my lap. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, I notice her nails are bitten down.
"How do you feel?" I ask.
"I..." she wavers. "I was worried. Are you well?"
"I'm in one piece. I slept like a rock."
"Rocks don't—"
"Never mind. It's just a saying."
"Oh." She hangs her head. "I wanted to go to you, but I wasn't sure."
She speaks carefully, tasting her own words, getting to know them again. It's all I can do not to grab her.
I try to focus. "You weren't sure...?"
"If you wanted me there."
Oh, hell. She thinks I'm second-guessing this thing between us, that I might have gotten carried away at the cove because of the insane situation. That I've had time to rationalize about the inevitable stuff, like what happens when I leave in three months.
I scoot closer, the blankets rustling underneath me, and take her hands in mine. Katniss glances up in surprise. Can she tell how jittery I am? Can she feel my sweaty palms?
"Last night," I begin.
Her blush expands to her neck. I've never seen her this shy before, which proves I'm no expert on Katniss Everdeen. Not yet, at least.
"What happened," I begin again. "It wasn't just because we almost died or were stranded. Yeah, everything happened fast, but honestly, did it really? Haven't we been swimming toward this for eons?"
"You are a good swimmer," she acknowledges.
"It's a metaphor."
"I know."
My eyes fall closed. My head tilts to rest against hers. "It was the most incredible night of my life."
"It was new for me," she answers.
"Me, too." I open my eyes, spiraling heart-first into her strong gray ones and landing with a thud. "Katniss, I don't know where this will lead, or what'll happen when the year's over, but I want to be with you while I can."
"You should pinch me."
"Don't do that. This isn't a dream. It's real. You said so yourself."
"It must be a dream," she insists. "To have this much goodness in one day."
"Do you have any idea what it does to me to hear you speaking?"
Her brows knit. "It's strange?"
"No. It's the best sound that's ever existed. Better than rain or music or the click of my dad's camera. Your voice is the last sound I want to hear before I die."
"Too much pressure," she jokes softly.
"We're used to pressure. We can handle it. I want to make the most of our time left. I want you for as long as I can have you."
"You can have me any way you want me."
Goddammit. She sounds good enough to suck on. We've had sex, but there's still more. Plenty more to know. A mouth-watering amount more. I want to pull the covers away and explore the rest of her, see what each part of her body is like, what would happen if I touched there or right there. How else it responds to mine, what else we can do together, and how else it can be done.
She toys with the blanket near my inner thigh. I should tell her to stop, only because it's getting me excited, and we can't afford to think like that with her family in the house.
So how did my thumb sneak up to the hollow of her throat without me noticing? How did I end up stroking her there? The up and down of my touch produces goosebumps along her skin. I'm a slave to the amazing way she responds to me.
"We should be careful, " I murmur even as I continue what I'm doing. "There's not much time to get this right, but I want to try."
"But we decide what is right," she tempts.
"What's right is you and me being together. And...and, um..." I chuckle, sheepish. "The last time I declared myself to a girl, I had a speech prepared. I kind of wish I had one now, but I don't think any speech I'd come up with would do you justice, and I know you're not a girl who would want a speech anyway, and in the grand scheme of things, speeches are pretty unromantic when a guy's asking a girl out. And you're not just any girl to me."
I shut up and find Katniss smiling. She didn't stop me from babbling, much less attempt to. Matter of fact, her smile invites me to talk for as long as I want.
"So," I continue, my thoughts suddenly easier to formulate. "So what's right is us letting this happen. All of it."
"As we did on the sand," she says.
"No, not just with sex. That's what I meant about being careful. I've never done this when it mattered, and you deserve the works, and I want to give that to you, because if we just lose our minds and go nuts—trust me, it was incomparable, but if we keep doing that, fucking ourselves into a frenzy—"
"I liked it."
"I liked it, too, but this is worth savoring. I want us to experience us. As something real."
She frowns in uncertainty. What else makes it real?
Her silent question is surprisingly nostalgic, despite the fact that she's only been talking for a day.
I pray that I'm not about to sound stupid, or lame, or cheesy, or sentimental. "I mean, growing together. Dating."
"I haven't been with someone that way," she confesses, staring at my chest.
"Katniss, it would make me super happy if you'd look at me." When she does, I explain, "It's almost the same as being friends. Going places, doing things alone. Except—"
"I know what dating is," she says, insulted.
"—except I get to kiss you."
That makes her laugh. "Intimate friends," she muses.
"But exclusive. Friends as lovers. Flovers," I joke, earning more of her laughter. It chimes through the space and seems to make curtains billow. Then I say simply, "Boyfriend. Girlfriend."
"I'll allow it. If I can touch you," she declares.
"One touch at a time," I add, my confidence fueling quickly. "And eventually..." I quirk a brow. "We can do more."
"Tell me about more."
"More would be...my tongue wrapped around yours. I'd...I'd like to discover you slowly. Kiss you for hours, also slowly."
The room itself may as well be blushing, for all the hot moisture in the air. I lick my lips to cool them down, but they still burn. My words tug us closer to each other, her leg sliding over my lap and my hands sliding around to her lower back.
I struggle to contain myself. "And after days of kissing you like crazy, we'll end up in this room."
"And?" she prompts.
And I gulp. "I'll finally find my way under your shirt and...and let your breasts fill my hands until we're both wiped out. And one night, when I can't help myself anymore, I'll lower my head between your thighs and taste you. All sweet and moist. Slowly."
My throat and ears are so damn warm. I have no idea where this is coming from, but Katniss's expression is fierce and expectant and alive. Only that one look. I know from that look that she's wet. And she knows I'm hard. But we do nothing but stare.
"Soon, we'll be together again," I say. "Like last night. We'll be right here, and we'll take our time."
"A long time," she whispers. "I'll fuck you slowly."
Now, I'm really hard. "Or we could make love."
"Can't we do both?"
We giggle. Our noses rub together.
Katniss hesitates but nods. "Slowly."
I brush my lips against hers. "Slowly," I agree. "Katniss, I feel everything for you. Every single thing."
Her chin wobbles. "So do I. For you."
"Come here," I say. Even though I'm the one who said it, she's the one who takes my arms and guides me under the covers, like she has a better idea of what come here means.
Katniss. With me.
Not forever. But for a little while.
We make our own island in her bed, our legs and arms winding together. My hand settles on her hip, along the crinkled outline of her panties under the nightgown. She wiggles slightly, causing my breath to stutter against the slope of her ear. Contentment, desire, and an achy sort of desperation stream through my veins as I imagine the more we talked about.
Nope. Going slow isn't going to be easy.
Buttercup hops off the mattress and slinks across the floor. More movement in the window catches my attention, a set of feathers flapping in the breeze. A whistling melody that soars into the big, open sky.
Curled into me, Katniss hums the melody back. A slight vibration of her vocal chords, a hint of how it would sound to hear her sing. And right then, I feel it. Beyond arousal and peace, another sensation builds in me, until I'm overflowing with it.
It's the biggest emotion I've ever felt in my life.
All my gratitude for the beautiful response to the last chapter!
Also, thank you for nominating Waterlily and my other stories in the Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Awards. And congrats to the other HG nominees. I'm stoked to be in such wonderful company.
I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.