Boom. The sound of the cannon is louder and more resolute than I believe I've ever heard it before.

"What the hell?" Cato yells, practically jumping out of his sleeping bag from shock.

Under this heavy state of breathlessness, I don't think I could possibly muster up a response, or even look him in the eye. I've come off my high of surging rage, and I'm now left with the dire results: A stray, bloodless arrow. The fact that Cato's probably just suffered the rudest awakening of his life. And of course, the girl lying in a bloody heap on the ground, my no longer shiny dagger wedged in her breast.

"Peeta!" he yells at me, reinforcing his presence.

But right now, all that I can even see is the carcass on the ground. Because I just killed Katniss Everdeen.

I don't even know what my own body is doing. I'm hardly in control of it. I've got my head tucked into my knees, curled up in a ball on the cold stone. My mouth is agape and some kind of sound is bellowing out. Am I screaming? Am I crying? All I know is what I did, and that there's no way to revoke it. I can just kiss my sponsor privileges goodbye. But it doesn't matter. I don't want to live anymore. According to the common opinion of any of the Games' spectators, I've just done the evil of all evils: I killed my District partner. The girl I've had a crush on my whole life. The girl who volunteered for her sobbing sister at the Reaping. The girl who kept her family alive with her skills. What would happen to them now? Did I inadvertently kill her whole family, too? Couldn't I have forgiven her for a little bit of deceit? I'm a monster. More atrocious than any bloodthirsty Career, any corrupt government or any ravenous beast to ever exist. Everyone must hate me. Everyone. Gale, my family, District Twelve, Effie, Haymitch...

"Peeta! Damnit, talk to me! What the fuck is your problem?"

Cato.

I realize that the older boy has moved over closer to me, shaking my shoulders. He stares into my eyes, with desperation written all over his face. He stops shouting for a moment.

"Peeta. Talk to me. Please."

The soft tone of his voice is so foreign to me. What happened to his volume, his bluntness, his sarcasm? I've never heard it sound so endearing or gentle. His face isn't scrunched into a grimace, either. No. His eyes are locked on mine, almost as if he's trying to read the thoughts that I'm clearly not sane enough to speak. I can't help it. Just staring into his concern-ridden eyes plucks some string in my heart that just sparks an entire orchestra of emotion. For some reason, I just ditch the strong facade and allow myself to break before I can instruct myself otherwise. My heaving sobs cause my body to convulse, and I find myself crying so hard that hardly any tears can come through. I don't care that I'm showing weakness right now. It's not like I have a chance to survive anyway, or like I'd even want to anymore. The Games could drive anyone to the point of a nervous breakdown.

Before I know it, a pair of strong and heavy arms have wrapped themselves around my shoulders and pulled me into an amorous embrace. My face is buried in Cato's soft, black shirt, where the familiar scent of nicotine comforts me. I don't even care about putting up my strong man mask at all anymore. Maybe there's a sympathetic person out there can see that the Capitol has writhed the sanity right out of me, but I doubt anyone can look past my atrocious actions right now.

"You know, this is exactly what they trained us for." he says, in the most tender voice I've ever heard him use. "Just don't worry. You really need to get used to it."

I take advantage of his compassion and just cry more in his arms. I think of all the things that are pent up in my memory, things that can only be expressed with tears. My longing for the life I once lived before the arena. Clove's death. All of the dead Tributes, namely Katniss. How filthy I felt holding a knife over the carcass that's sitting just a few feet away. I can't believe Cato's just letting me cry on him. As strong, mighty and cocky as he is, I don't see why he doesn't just sit back and enjoy my pathetic show without feeling a need to console me.

"Cato..." His name slips through my deep, racking breaths.

He kisses the top of my head, which again, is totally out of his general character. Still, I don't care. My tears are letting up, but my feelings for him aren't. That proposes a whole new thing to cry about, though. The fact that one morning, I was a normal boy attracted to girls, and now I'm going completely mental, kissing boys in caves. And not just any boys, either. I'm kissing the enemy. The manipulative, cunning and formidable dominatrix that has an uncanny soft spot. A soft spot that apparently, only I'm allowed to see.

He takes my red, puffy face in his hands. Gently, almost as if he thinks I would shatter into a million pieces if he weren't so careful. "There is an up side to this, Peeta."

"How could there possibly be an up side to killing my District partner?" I squeak, taking deep breaths and trying to assert myself.

"Well, I was getting pretty damn jealous of her, hogging up all your attention like she did. I don't know why you killed her, but honestly, I don't really give a fuck. I'm just glad it's just you and me again."

"She tried to kill you." I say, stabilizing my shaky voice. "You didn't even know. Her arrow was arched right at your head when I woke up."

Cato smiles. He's been doing that a lot lately, and every time he does, it gives a little sunlight to the overall darkness of the Games. "Well, I think I know who you chose, then."

I sigh, sitting back and regaining my composure. "I just wish it didn't have to come down to this. I didn't know I'd have to kill her."

He frowns. "Didn't your mentors teach you anything? Of course you're going to have to kill the other Tributes. It's the Hunger Games. At least you didn't eat the bitch like that one freak would have."

Perhaps the biggest monument in the history of the Games was the one cannibalistic Tribute. I think his name was Titus. The Gamemakers had to cast the net very quickly to retrieve the corpses before he ate them. Raw. Just the thought of it makes me shudder. "Well, yeah, that was pretty gross."

Cato chuckles. "Tell me about it. See? It makes knifing someone look like simple child's play."

"Why do you get so bitchy when I talk about Katniss? I didn't even tell you the whole story of why she was going to kill you yet."

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, why don't you tell me then?"

"She pulled a fast one, Cato. She lied. She wasn't going to find a loophole for the three of us. She was going to kill you so she and I could get back to District Twelve alive."

I recap that awful moment in my mind. Even though it couldn't have happened more than ten minutes ago, it still feels surreal, and not in a good way. He looks at the ground, his hesitation indicates that he's processing all of my words. I don't blame him. It's a lot to process.

"I had a feeling she was full of bullshit, right from the start." he finally says. "There's no way that could have happened."

"What could have happened?"

"Us getting out alive together."

Both of us pause. It's perhaps the most inevitable truth of the Games. Every time I try to think around it, it just seems to pop right up in my face.

"But Cato," I begin, staring him straight in the eyes. Even though it doesn't matter because of our situation, I still say what I feel anyway. "I made my decision, just like you asked. I chose you. I know we haven't known each other very long, but I don't even want to think about losing you."

He meets my gaze, moving closer so that his body blocks the view of Katniss's corpse. "Well, for your sake, it sucks that it came down to killing her. But I'm glad you did."

Even though the mood is probably really unfitting, I allow our lips to touch. It's so warm and inviting. For some reason, the word compassion comes to my mind. Like his kiss acknowledges my feelings of remorse and still chooses to touch me. Yet all in comfort, not in lust.

But as we part, a gleam of sadness comes over his face as he stares into mine. "What's wrong?"

Why is he asking me that? Do I look sad or something? I don't think it matters anymore if I act strong or not, but either way, I should tell him the truth. "Well, other than the fact Panem hates me and my District partner died at my hands, I'm kind of scared."

"Why?"

...What a stupid question! "Why? Are you kidding me? Cato, it's the Hunger Games. And there are only four Tributes left. Counting us."

He sighs, averting his eyes from mine and staring at the ground. I don't even bother to ask what he's thinking about.

"And anyway, I can't even think straight. I'm starving. The sponsors all hate me. Everyone hates me. I killed my fucking District partner!" I shout. "And we still won't get out of here alive."

I can't help it. The tears just begin to flow again, until my head is resting hopelessly in my hands. But before I can throw my pathetic fit for too long, Cato's hands prop my face back up, allowing me to find that his is only inches away. He bites his lip, almost as if he's nervous about something.

"I can't promise that we'll both get out, but I'll bust my ass to make sure you do. No matter what. Because I don't want to lose you, either."

"Thanks." I say, now trying to man up and be strong. Or at least as strong as I can be through a bout of sniffles.

"And you know, not everyone hates you."

I feel the short-lived tears begin to subside. "Well, it feels like they do."

"But I don't hate you. And damn me for being such a shitty romantic, but Peeta, if we weren't in the arena, hell, I'd date you. I..." he stutters over his next sentence. "I love you."

My eyes well up again, but not for the same reason. A tear trickles all the way down to the corner of my broadening smile. "Do you really mean that?"

He makes a face, almost like he's just taken a bite of something that was too sweet. "Yeah. I really do. And you just made me realize it. You're the only one I can really trust."

I knew he trusted me, but now he loves me...? That's something I never honestly thought I'd ever hear him say. But right now is probably one of the most gratifying moments of my life. Maybe it's pathetic that he means this much to me, and only after such a short time. I mean, I don't even know his last name. But these past few days feel much longer than they actually were. I never thought I was good enough for him. I feel myself blush as I recall our first kiss, his oath on my life, how he taught me to swim, and of course, the way he speaks so kindly to me, even though he isn't exactly a "kind" person. I smile, looking into the expectant boy's face. Could this be that rumored feeling that I told myself I felt for Katniss? The provocative language spoken by his eyes tell me that it is. Smiling harder than I knew I could, I can feel the next words that I say resonate up from the depths of my heart. "I... I love you too, Cato."

He smiles, laughing a little so that his teeth show. "Well, I'm glad!"

Oh my gosh... It's the most genuine and beautiful smile I've ever seen. I can't help it, I lean in and give him a full kiss, my arms wrapped around his neck. I guess it doesn't matter anymore what the cameras see. I've already done the worst, and Panem already despises me. But Cato doesn't. I definitely need something positive in the midst of my sadness, and he's perfect. I focus on the soft feel of his lips and tongue rather than the bitterness in my gut.

We pull away, but only because of an unmistakable beeping noise infiltrating the cave from the outside. A sponsor's gift? It can't be... can it? Cato gets up and fetches it, leaving me a moment to stare at the dead body. I get instant chills. Her eyes are wide, almost exactly like Clove's were when she, too, dropped dead on the ground. Here is Katniss Everdeen, laying in a pool of blood that I've shed with my own hands. I just can't stop repeating this to myself. It's like it's just not clicking with me yet. Thankfully, Cato returns with a shiny, silver pot attached to a parachute, and sits right between Katniss and I again. It's almost like he's doing it purposely, so I don't have to look at the grim sight.

Like a child on Christmas morning, he opens the pot, discarding both the note and the parachute. We'll read it after we eat. His face lights up even more when he sees the contents of the dish, and we both peer inside. Two spoons are attached to the bottom of the lid, and the warm aroma of savory beef stew wafts up the second he opens it. My gosh, a simple stew has never looked so appealing. Without a word, we grab the spoons and start stuffing our faces. As much as I have the inkling to read the note, and brood over the sponsors' feelings about the things I've done, I just choose to enjoy my food and the company of the one I love. Even though we don't exchange a single word until the very last bit of stew is gone, his presence just means so much to me. Those words he said are just like a song set to repeat, playing over and over again without a single pause. I love you, Peeta. Again and again.

I guess my head's too stuck in the clouds, because I hardly even notice that Cato's already picked up the note and read it. He notices my staring and waves the note in front of my face. "Peeta, wake up and read this."

I take the slip of paper, along with a deep breath.
"Surprise. We still sponsor. Love your act. - H and E"

"See? What did I tell you?" Cato places the pot next to Katniss's corpse.

I sigh. "It's not an act. But yeah, I guess you were right. I'm certainly surprised, though. Haymitch took quite a liking to Katniss, so I was almost positive he'd be upset."

"Well, it was for the best. Now I can have you all to myself." he says jokingly, draping his arm around my shoulder.

It's certainly nothing to joke about. But before I can even open my mouth in response, reality comes crashing back down around us in the form of an unmistakable cannon boom. We look at each other, both of us likely thinking the same thing: There is only one other Tribute besides us remaining in the arena. My stomach churns. This is always the climatic point of the Games, when only two or three of us are left standing. Generally, the Gamemakers will concoct some kind of catalyst to jump start the end. It's usually something like freak weather or muttations, just to spice things up. One year, they flooded the entire arena, leaving no way for the two last Tributes to breathe. It just came down to whoever drowned first. And just like everything else in the Games, it scares me to death. But now that I've got more confidence about what people think of us, I crawl sheepishly into Cato's open arms.

"Now we've got even less time." I whisper, trying to callous myself to the vexing truth. "If none of us kill each other, then the Gamemakers will do it for us."

Those strong arms close around me, like bars on a cage. But the confine feels more comforting than trapping. He sighs, as if something were wholly occupying his mind. I try to tranquilize my own thoughts by listening to the beating of his heart against his smoke-scented shirt. I can't help but feel a little passive and effeminate as he strokes my hair. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, because I still like to feel like a dude, even if I am in love with one.

"Well, I'm not going to let it phase me today." He finally says, letting me go and standing up.

"What do you mean? That's basically impossible."

"I mean, if I'm going to die, I'm not gonna sit here and kiss the Gamemaker's asses for the rest of my life. Come on, we can go swimming, or do whatever we want for that matter. Let's just forget it all for a while and have the best damn day any Tribute's ever had." He holds out his hand and smiles. "Come on."

"Alright." I smile back, taking his hand and accepting his offer. His take-life-by-the-horns attitude is something I've really come to appreciate. I've always been the type of person to live life according to some kind of plan or outline, and I've always been sensitive. A little spontenaiety never hurt anyone, right? Maybe I need someone who can pull me out of that, someone abrasive that can live life by the seat of his pants. Maybe I don't just want Cato.

Maybe I need him.

When we step out of the cave after gathering our supplies, I can feel the immediate relief from the musty air. A few cirrus clouds streamline the clear blue sky, the mockingjays sing merrily and a refreshing breeze brushes past me. I inhale deeply and stretch my limbs. The smell of a chipper meadow is much more uplifting than that of a broken and bloody corpse. Cato too seems to be initializing the fresh air, his eyes closed gently as the rise and fall pattern of his chest exaggerates.

I yawn, feeling the satisfaction of a full belly and a somewhat happy heart. "What is it you wanted to do today?"

The swordsman opens his eyes and stretches lazily. "Nothing specific. But I guess we could go swimming again?"

"At the lake? That's a really long walk."

"It's not like there are many Tributes to be afraid of. And anyway, if the guy shows up, I'll kick his ass before he can kick ours."

Personally, I think it's a little cocky of him to talk like that, not knowing how strong the other Tribute might be. If it's the District Eight boy, I guess I could understand his approach. I never saw him as much of a threat. But if it's the District Eleven boy, I don't think it'd be so easy for Cato to take him down. That guy is huge. Deciding not to call him out on his arrogance, I shrug my shoulders. "Sure, whatever you want. It's not like we're on a schedule or anything."

He smiles. "Good. Let's go, then."

I really don't feel safe walking the whole distance from here to the lake. Whether there's one Tribute or twenty in the arena, they've all got the same motive. They want us dead. And there's still the Gamemakers. But before I can change my mind, Cato's taken me by the hand. Except it's more like he's grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward. I can't help but chuckle to myself at his way of expressing affection - and wonder what he thinks constitutes as a "romantic" dinner. Either way, I try to reciprocate by softly grazing his hand with my fingers. I know we aren't technically dating by any means, so it doesn't really matter what he does or doesn't do. And since I'm not a prissy girl, I can understand how a guy could care less about his avenues of showing concern. Especially someone like Cato. Even though I've never dated, I've known enough couples and seen enough dramas to understand how it works.

It takes about a half hour to get to the lake. I'm really surprised that the other Tribute didn't come at us, even though we were walking directly in plain sight. From loudly talking and huffing, to taking a few bathroom breaks, we were anything but inconspicuous. I can't even believe how much we've slowed down this past week. Maybe it's the hot sun beating down on us, or maybe it really is our strained and starved muscles. Whatever it is, it's truncating our abilities vastly. By the time we've reached the water, we're almost too winded to swim. Regardless, Cato takes off his shirt, followed by the rest of his clothes, revealing his sweat-dusted muscles. Is it more okay for me to stare at him, now that we've better established our feelings? I mean, you can have lust along with love, right?

"Oh," Cato moans. "This feels awesome."

I'm not going to lie, a naked, moaning Cato really turns me on. But I definitely don't want it to show like last time. So before I strip down, I've got to think of something that will distract me... Haymitch? Soy hot dogs? I threw up a soy hot dog once... Maybe Haymitch eating a soy hot dog? I wince. It's definitely repulsive. I've got the right idea.

"I'll be right in!" I yell, simultaneously taking my clothes off and trying to picture my drunken mentor chomping on a link of processed meat- or whatever it is.

Finally, I've completed my task and quickly throw myself in the water. Wouldn't want Cato to catch sight of how disgusting I probably look naked. I can't help but moan a little bit, too. I forgot how good this felt.

He swims closer to me. "Do you remember anything I taught you?"

I try to do what he called a dog paddle, treading a few yards before running completely out of wind. My eyesight's even blurring out. I manage to pant out a "yes".

"Well, I'm a pretty good teacher then. If you had more stamina, you'd have that dog paddle nailed."

He watches me catch my breath for a while, staying completely silent. Or at least I don't hear him say anything over the sound of my obnoxiously loud breathing. I probably couldn't even comprehend much more than the expanding pain in my lungs right now. But when I've finally come past my mini bout of suffocation, he's only about a foot away from me. He must have swam over without me noticing. Which means I must be really dense or something, because that means he was right in front of my face the entire time.

His face contorts into a sly smile, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing our bare bodies together. "And there's definitely more that I want to teach you."

I don't think he's talking about swimming anymore.

I look up, but before I have the chance to analyze his expression, he ambushes me with a forceful kiss. I moan under his lips as he grinds up against me, his erect manhood grazing my thighs. Oh gosh, it feels stellar. I've never been flesh to flesh with anyone before. I'm not even going to try to think about Haymitch or odious vegan cuisine. Right now, all I can think about is Cato and how amazing this feels.

"You like it?" he asks, after pulling away from our kiss.

I answer him with another moan. I'm so close. He better not-

And of course, he does. He stops cold.

Frustrated, I assert myself. Or at least as much as I can assert myself in the nude. "Damnit, Cato, why do you keep teasing me like this?"

What the hell? He's just holding me firmly, like he's trying to compress me, looking around the trees. "Shut up," he whispers. "I think I heard something."

We listen in a petrified silence, the only sound audible is that of my heavily thumping heart. It goes on for what seems like forever, just watching, waiting. I sigh. I guess it's probably best that he snipped our moment short, because just the idea of being found naked and vulnerable in the lake by the other Tribute freaks me out. I know it's somewhat out of my control, but I've decided that if only us three Tributes remain here, I want Cato and I to be the last two standing. And unless the Capitol decides to bend their District partner rule regarding joint victors, I want him to win.

"Come on," he whispers, patting me on the shoulder. "We need to get out. My sword's our only weapon, and I can't use it if I'm wet and naked."

"Alright." I nod. I decide being aroused over Cato's body as he lifts himself onto the shore can wait, so I follow as quickly as I can.

In a flustered rush, we pull on our clothes, which proves itself difficult considering we're soaking wet and our clothes are dry. They've picked a very bad time to act like towels. But as uncomfortable as it is, we force them on, gather our things and run in the direction of the cave. If it weren't a life or death situation, I would have a hard time running due to my chaffed stiffness, my boxers dusted with sand and only pulled halfway up my thighs. But since it is, I try not to care about my discomfort and persevere in my stride.

"Where are we going?" I breathe out, finally aware of the fact that we're running aimlessly.

"Back to the cave," Cato pants. "It's probably safe there."

"Alright."

We run through the thick brush, through the groves of dense greenery and finally, through the valley. By the time we reach the carved stone entrance of the cavern, I could swear our faces have been tinged purple from the over exertion. Still, Cato grips his sword, walking into the shaded shelter, prepared to slaughter whatever has found its way in. I follow at a bit of a distance, lifting my arms above my head so that the oxygen can better find its way into my airways.

"Hey look, Peeta, they cleaned up Katniss." He says, pointing with his sword at the place that her body formerly lay.

I can't even express how relieved I am, now that that brutal and awful sight is gone. "Oh, what a relief."

After he's determined that we're completely alone, I slide down on the wall, resting my exhausted body against the cool stone. Cato peels his shirt off, allowing me a good view of his defined abs and pecs. His peachy skin and dusty blonde hair have tiny beads of sweat here and there, which I'm not denying is downright sexy. Noticing me staring, he smiles the same sly smile that he flashed at the lake.

"Liking what you see?" He asks, his voice sing-songy and saturated with lust.

"Very much." I say, grinning as well.

"I'm sure you do. And since you like it so much, I'm gonna let you have the view all to yourself. No one else deserves to see me like this."

Confusion strikes me as he picks up his sword, walks up to a certain spot in the wall and thrusts the blade forcefully against it. But when I hear the clang of breaking glass along with the initial reverberation of his blow, I put two and two together.

"It's not very often that I'm the responsible one caring about the cameras." he says teasingly, dropping his sword and turning back to face me.

"Don't they have backup ones?" I ask. He's right. I wish I would have been a little more responsible about the things I've done in the public eye, because I'm not exactly sure of the Capitol's censoring mechanisms. I definitely wouldn't want someone like Prim or Rory to have to see me do the stuff I've done so far. Actually, I really wouldn't have wanted anyone to see it, but I decide not to stew over what's already been done.

"I doubt it. I've checked every square inch of this place and haven't seen another. But it doesn't matter, does it? We're finally alone."

I feel myself getting solid again, as the older boy crouches down to where I'm sitting and peels my wet shirt off for me. Ugh... if I weren't so horny, I'd definitely object to it due to my abs, or lack thereof. But as I mentioned, I'm too aroused to care.

"You've got a nice body." He says. I swear he just said that to be polite, because my body's barely worth a second glance.

"Thanks... You do, too." I moan a little as he straddles my lap, lightly kissing my neck and rubbing my growing erection. It feels great, until a rather daunting thought penetrates my mind's hazy state.

"Hold on," I begin, pushing back his chest a bit. "Um... Have you ever done this stuff before? By will, I mean."

"Um, I've fooled around with this one guy back at my training academy in Two before, but I swear it wasn't much. Only once, actually. Why, have you?" His voice is honest and straightforward, which leads me to believe that he isn't lying. Even though it usually would, the fact he's slightly experienced doesn't exactly bother me. The only thing that even begins to irk me about it is the things that have been done to him by his mother. I shudder, deciding not to let it wreck my moment.

"Cato, you know you gave me my first kiss." I chuckle, nervously running my fingers down his chest. "I'm about as clean as they come."

He smirks devilishly. "I hope you don't mind me fucking you up a little, then."

"Not at all, as long as you finish." I consent, realizing I'm being somewhat of a smartass. Truthfully, I don't care about anything else right now. My hormones have taken over. I just want Cato to fuck me.

"Trust me, I will."

He turns our bodies away from the wall, pinning me down on my back on the floor. The chill of the cold stone against the bare skin on one side of my body and the hot and heavy boy pressed atop the other feels amazing as it is. I decide to let him dominate me completely, not because I'm a pansy, but because he's been through a lot and deserves to feel in charge for once. He leans down and kisses me, his tongue grazing my lips as if to ask permission to enter. I part my lips with a moan, folding my arms around his waist as his tongue greets mine. Gosh, this feels so right. I can't help but drool a little at the feeling of his warm tongue wrestling with mine. His hands venture down to the front of my pants, making me even more stiff as they rub me gently. Oh, how I wish he would hurry up! I'm so solid it hurts.

Our episode goes on for a while, until he trails his kisses down my neck to my chest. I pant, feeling a flighty tingling sensation as he teases my nipples with his tongue. Noticing my obvious state of pleasure, he slides his hands down my sides and ventures over my abdomen. I laugh. It actually tickles! He snickers quietly in response. But my laughter quickly fades into more moaning as his tongue peaks slightly under the belt of my pants. Oh gosh... I've heard it from guys back home say that getting blown is the best feeling in the world. I run my fingers through his hair, waiting in anticipation as he unzips my pants, peeling them and my boxers down to my knees.

"'Mmm... I like what I see." he says, his voice deeply longing.

I'm a little embarrassed, lying on my back and sticking straight up at him. I'm only a little over half his size; I feel so tiny compared to him. "Uhm, thanks."

He strokes my bare shaft for a minute before lightly kissing my head. Without even thinking, I moan loudly: The mere feeling of his warm breath on me is electrifying. But calling it ecstasy is putting it mildly as he takes me into his mouth, sucking lightly and stroking me with his tongue. I feel all my muscles contract, focusing all their attention on my pleasure point. As if my moaning were a command, he begins rubbing me with his free hand, sucking harder. Ah... As much as I want to hold it in and savor the moment, it isn't possible. He slows his pace before removing me from his mouth, staring me straight in the face. It's almost as if we were at war with one another, fighting over the victory of granting the other the first climax.

I'm letting him win.

"Mmmm... C-Cato..." I grunt out. "Don't stop. Please."

"Come for me." he demands.

Quickly, he returns to my throbbing length, his hands roaming all over my thighs. I know I'm close when I become hyper-sensitive to every fleck of his tongue on the underside of my stock, the blood rushing away from my brain as he takes me deep into his mouth.

Finally, I break into somewhat of a cold sweat, feeling the tingling rush of endorphins overwhelm my body as they push my seed into his mouth. My legs and toes twitch, but I can hardly feel anything except for pure euphoria.

To my surprise, he's swallowed the entire load. When the initial haziness from the orgasm fades away, I sit upright, beginning to feel a little embarrassed. I remember how small I am, and how awkward it might have been from his point of view. Did I do everything alright? Damn, he's like a sex god. I'd sure hope so. I always feel this way after I come, though. It's like hormonal backfire.

"Cato... That was awesome..." I pant, stuttering out my words. "Um...I'm sorry if I was too small, though. Or if I did anything wrong. Did I?"

"Not at all. Just return me the favor before I top you." He commands, carelessly rolling onto his back.

Finding myself abnormally curious to explore his body, I straddle on top of him and passionately kiss his lips. For a few minutes, his hands wander all over my body, seeming to favor my backside. He's very direct with the nonverbal, motioning and pulling me where he wants me to go. I suck the skin on his neck, causing him to quietly grunt. He even tastes heavenly, musky and sweaty with a note of sweetness. While running his fingers through my hair, he pushes down on my head, motioning me to his lower body. Trying my best to reciprocate his style of lovemaking, I slide my body down his, crawling downward on my hands and knees. Before attacking his chest with my tongue, I take the time to admire his muscle tone. Eight, perfectly defined abs, two bulging pecs, and a defined V-shape leading below the belt. A light trail of gold hair leads downwards, and the strong scent of nicotine still stains his skin. He's perfect, to say the least. I try my best to maneuver my tongue over his nipples, being careful as to not be too rough. I definitely don't want to hurt him. His moans gradually become louder as I move over his abs and down to his waist.

"Ready?" I ask, just to make sure it's alright.

He unzips his own pants, pulling them along with his boxers down slightly. Guess he's impatient. "Go right ahead."

To say the least, I'm a little intimidated. He's easily about nine inches, his veins popping through his length as he stands straight up, just waiting to be pleased. He rests in a curly nest of golden hair. It's... Quite beautiful, actually. But I can tell he's growing even more restless. Even though I've never done this before, I jump right into a process of sucking and stroking. He moans so loud, I swear the other Tribute could be sitting right outside, jerking off to the mere sound of us. But that's highly unlikely, right? Trying not to think about it, I focus solely on Cato, who is pushing my head slightly down on his shaft. Does he want me to go deeper? Without gagging myself, I try to take more of him in. He stays content for a while, seemingly in a plausible state. Looking up at his face, his lips are slightly parted and his eyes are rolled back. My hair is intertwined in his fingers, which act virtually as his control reigns on my head.

"P-Peeta..." he moans my name, making me hot all over again.

He pushes down a tad bit more, and as his pleasure escalates, he thrusts his hips at my head. I humbly begin to doubt myself. Physically, I hope I can take this.

...And of course, I can't.

He climaxes, and his warm seed shoots into my throat. I can't help but be humiliated as I choke and gag, spewing his load right back onto him. Oh no. How embarrassing! I really can't do anything right.

After his thrill has passed, he props himself up on his elbows, sitting up and analyzing the damage.

"You okay?" He asks, chuckling as if it's no problem.

"Oh my gosh, Cato, I'm so sorry..." I can't even think of anything to say past that point. I'm so embarrassed. I stand up and pull my clothes together, wiping my mouth. "I really am."

He stands up, fixing his appearance as well. Chuckling, he pats my head. "Don't be. That was a damn good blow job, especially for your first time. At least you didn't stop."

I smile, probably looking pretty stupid. "Still. I'm sorry."

He smiles. "You tasted great, by the way."

I blush, remembering his slight taste of chlorine mingled with salt. It wasn't unpleasant, but I definitely wouldn't flavor a cake after it. "You too."

He stretches. "I guess we can stop for now, even though I didn't get to legitimately fuck you. I can tell you're not ready."

I'm not even going to bother with being offended. Even though we both want it, we both know it's the truth.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's fine." The boy yawns. "But I'm tired now, a good quickie can wear anyone out. I think we're safe for a while, if you wanted to take a nap."

I contemplate the idea. It's not like we've got much to do in the arena, and I'm sure we're both tired after our escapade. "Well, now that you mention it, I am pretty tired. It's not like we slept very well last night."

He takes the sleeping bag out of his backpack and lies down on his side, positioning his elbow outward. "Come here, then."

I lie down as well, resting my head on his bicep. I don't so much want to sleep as much as I'd like to just cuddle with him, as weak and pussy as it may sound. "Thank you, Cato."

He holds me tighter. "Love you."

I smile at those words, nuzzling my head into his neck. "Love you too."

Seeing that he's drifted off, I allow myself to fade out as well. The throbbing aftershock of my climax is still prominent, almost as if the hormones in my body are still recovering from the jolt of pleasure. Now that my head is clear, I really contemplate the things that just took place. Was it technically considered sex, even though he didn't enter me? Am I still a virgin? If it was, and if I'm not, I can truthfully say I'm having some mixed feelings. I mean, I've only known Cato for about two weeks. Up until just recently, I wouldn't even think that I had a sincere place in his heart. But on the other hand, my memory back tracks through all the time we've spent together - from the observatory, to lying here in each other's arms. It all seems to have aided me in the time I needed it most. I love how even when I fuck everything up, he doesn't even care. I couldn't even fuck right, and he still didn't care.

Sighing, I look back at the sleeping boy next to me, quietly snoring as he pulls me close.

I definitely do need him.

I nuzzle back up to him, trying to concentrate solely on how happy we are. But as jubilant and content as I feel, I can't shake the thought of the ever-present threat of the Games. Especially since there are only three Tributes left. And that my District partner's dead.

And especially since our time is imminently running out, like sand in an hourglass.