Chapter 6

Cato

I've really pissed him off, I think as I look into the darkness of the tent. I remember his face before he stormed out of, after I pulled the box from him. Why am I such a dick? I was just teasing. Maybe flirting. I got carried away, I guess.

Through the tent material I can see the fallen tributes being broadcast. I hear the national anthem being played, then silence and darkness. I see three glints at the other side of the tent, I guess they're weapons the others sleep with.

Maybe he's not annoyed with me. Nonetheless, I have to treat this situation very carefully. He did look super pissed. I can imagine his face now. We were glaring at each other and the only thing I could think was how hot he is. I had to distract him by laughing. He's so hot when he's angry. Blood begins to run south.

Nice one, now you're going to get a hard-on and I doubt it's going to go away quickly, I think. It's true. There's no use, I'm going to have to wank. I can feel my hardening cock through my trousers, it's not fully there yet.

I stroke it some more, letting out a long breath. I finally give in and unzip my flies. Letting my dick flop out. I stroke it, feeling the heat of my meat.

I can't help it. Usually I tease myself, prolong the pleasure, now I cut straight to wanking. I imagine me and Peeta earlier, glaring at each other. This time, when our faces are inches from each other, I kiss him. My anger turning into lust, I throw him on the crate we both lifted, climb on top of him, planting kisses into his neck. My hands explore his chest, his hands exploring my waist and ass. In one swift action he brings my shirt off, and in another, his is gone too. Our kisses and getting more passionate. I kiss his neck, then I kiss down his chest to his nipples, then to his stomach. I stroke his boner, feeling it poke through his trousers. My prize is within reach, all I have to do is take it.

My fantasy goes horribly wrong when I forget Glimmer, Clove and Three are metres away from us. They all laugh at me. Then I remember I'm being broadcast. Everybody in Panem is laughing at me.

I snap out of it, staring into the darkness as I continue to masturbate. I look to my left, remembering I saw the reflections of the weapons. Wait. I'm sure those two glints weren't there before. If only I had realized, I would have stopped pumping my cock by then but it was only when I realized they were a pair of eyes that I stopped.

Shit fuck douche prick mother fucking cum dumpster, I think, quite aggressively. Someone caught me wanking. It would be just my luck that it's Peeta that saw me. In my haste to put my dick back in my trousers I don't notice the eyes close.

I quickly stand up and run out the door, my semi swinging as I run. The cold bites at my skin and I don't know how long I can stay out here before I need to go back in to get warm.

I give it fifteen minutes before I presume he's asleep, I mean if he were awake, he'd have followed me out here. Before I return to the tent I look at the forest. Something looks weird. A pillar of cloud that's a different shade to the night sky. It's smoke. Somebody was stupid enough to light a fire.

Out first official kill. Let the Hunger Games begin.

Peeta

As soon as I realize what he's doing I close my eyes. I need to go to sleep before my brain uncontrollably starts thinking inappropriate thoughts. Like how big his dick is. Dammit, I think as I hear him stand up and leave the tent.

After a few minutes of silence I begin to drift off to sleep. Then I begin to wonder if he went outside to finish off wanking. I try to sleep but I can't help but imagine his long, hard cock. I wonder what he's thinking of. Me? I doubt it.

Suddenly there's a bright light, making my eyes flash open. I look around and see Cato waking the girls up.

"Come on, somebody was stupid enough to light a fire," he says, waking Three. I remember Haymitch telling us that if you make a fire you're asking to be found.

I sit up, stretching. I guess it can't be put off any more. I may not be killing anybody tonight, but people are going to be dead because of me. I need to accept that.

It's not long before we're walking through the dim forest. The moon doesn't allow us to see much, just enough to not bump into trees. Cato is in the lead, with the compass. The rest of us follow him in almost silence. Every few minutes Glimmer tries to make conversation but it doesn't feel right to disrupt the silence.

After an hour of walking I realize how tired I am. Everybody looks tired, except Cato. He continues walking ahead, occasionally ordering us to pick up the pace.

We continue walking deep into the night. Glimmer occasionally asks to take a break, but Cato orders us to keep walking. After a few hours I can tell even Cato is getting tired because our overall speed gradually begins to slow, and he doesn't blame it on Glimmer.

"Catoooo," Glimmer moans, "can we take a break yet?"

"If we don't see anything soon we will, okay?" Cato replies, the moon shining on his tired face. He looks at me for a second before we both turn away and continue walking.

The moonlight looks like it's brighter than it was when we first started walking, I can see better than I initially could. Maybe my eyes are adjusting to the dark. Cato stops. He's looking up, we all follow his gaze.

"Cato, what are you-" Glimmer begins to say, then stops. I assume she sees what he's seeing.

We're in a patch of forest where the trees are spaced further apart, letting us see more or the sky. Looking at the stars, scanning what I see, I wonder what's so important. Then I see it. Only because of the glowing moon I see a column of smoke, it's not far away. Maybe a half hour's walk, in the direction we've been walking.

"All right guys, when we get in visual range of the fire, we make sure we don't make any noise." he says in a hushed voice, for some reason. "Everybody got their weapons?"

"Yes," we all say, I clutch my spear.

It's a twenty minute walk until we see an orange glow not far off. Cato's so fast it's more of a jog, not a walk. We tread slowly and quietly. A twig snaps under Glimmer's feet and a sharp glare is shot to her from Cato. With a swift motion of his hand he orders us to hide behind the trees as we advance.

It's not long before we see the small clearing that had been made. A girl is hunched over the fire, inches away from it, with her back to us. I'm not sure if her hair's auburn or if the orange of the fire gives that impression. I notice the cruel irony of the fire she made being imperative to her survival, but ultimately being the thing that kills her.

We're a few feet from this girl as I watch Cato holding his sword, the fire glistening off the blade. He's moving now and I see he's walking out into the small area. The others follow him. She turns and sees the Careers gathered around her, but she's far too late. Her scream can probably be heard for miles.

I realize I'm not with the others. I'm still hiding behind a tree. The people of Panem will think I'm not really a Career. I guess I have to prove them wrong. I stand up and make my way to the group.

I look into the pleading eyes of the girl who's slowly dying. She sees me as a monster. If I want to survive that's what I have to become.

Why the hell did I volunteer to go back? I think as I walk back to the dying girl Cato just stabbed. We left her in a pool of her own blood but still didn't hear the cannon. Things began to get heated, so of course I said I'd go back and finish the job, just to avoid an argument.

I'm walking to the fire, managing to keep a straight face, now in eye range of it. How should I make sure she's dead? I'll just stab her where Cato stabbed her. I need something to distract my mind before I start to over think. I feel the thousands of eyes of Panem on me. All of them are boring into me. I feel naked. Not the good kind.

When I get there I see the fire is close to going out. There's a small flame in a sea smouldering ashes. She lies next to the fire. Her bloody hand laying limp. If I'm to prove myself, I have to kill her. Don't I?

Clutching the spear in my hand I stride over to her. The tip of the blade is hovering over her rising and falling chest. I should really put her out of her pain. All I need to do is thrust my arm down. Keeping my breath steady and my face blank I mentally count down. 3. 2. 1. Boom!

What? How could she be dead? I haven't stabbed her yet. I look down. She's not breathing any more. I guess she died just before I was going to kill her. As happy as I am not killing somebody, I know I'm going to have to at some point.

I turn around and walk back, the group must have been waiting a while by now. After five minutes I feel like I should have bumped into them by now. Am I lost? I can't find my way back to the Cornucopia on my own. I jump when I hear the sound of a hovercraft overhead. When I hear it fly off I begin to panic.

I pick up the pace, fighting the temptation to call out. I start a slow jog. Then a faster jog. The only noise I hear being my footfalls. What if I get ambushed? I start sprinting. I can't keep quiet anymore.

"Guys!" I shout, "where are you?"

I slow down to a jog waiting for a reply. I stop dead when I see a tall figure not far in front of me. The silhouette's tall. Is it Cato? Or is it that beast from eleven? I can't see who it is. He's by himself. There's no way I'd be able to fight him on my own. I was left out here to die. I begin to back away, maybe I can make a run for it.

"Where are you going?" I hear a voice laugh. Not any voice, it's Cato's. I let out a heavy sigh.

"I thought you were that guy from eleven!" I blurt out, "I was getting ready to run."

"Ha! Well, good luck with that," he says, walking forward allowing me to see that it's actually him. I guess I'm not dying tonight.

My breathing is returning to normal but my heart's still beating rapidly. I sit down, leaning against a tree trunk.

"You okay?" he asks, helping me back up.

"I'm fine, I just need sleep," I reply. I wait for him to show me the direction to walk.

We start walking but after a few minutes I realize he hasn't checked the compass. Did he leave it with the group?

"Why haven't you checked we're not going the wrong direction?" I ask.

"It's fine, I know we're going to right way," he replies.

"But how?" I ask, stopping. He points to the moon. I frown at him.

"I noticed that the way back to camp was in the direction of the moon," he begins, "so I offered to wait for you while they went ahead. I feel like I need to clear the air between us, anyway."

I remember the tense moment we had earlier over the crate. Then I remember catching him wanking. Which one is he talking about? Is he talking about both? I presume he's talking about the crate incident.

"Oh that? It's fine, it was me, I overreacted," I say, hoping to get closure.

"No, it's my fault, I don't..." he says, I notice we've begun walking again, "I'm a crap flirter."

"You were flirting with me?" I ask, he focuses on the ground, suddenly walking faster. I feel a small smirk growing in the corners of my mouth.

"I... I'm not good at it, I ended up pissing you off." he says, glumly.

What do I say to that? Usually I'm perfect at defusing awkward situations. I usually know exactly what to say. But now I'm drawing blanks.

"Hey, it's fine," I begin, where am I going with this? "just be more direct next time." Oh my god am I flirting with him?

"Next time?" he asks, now the one with a smirk on his face. What am I doing? I don't know what's worse, flirting with Cato, a sadist, live on national television or the fact I enjoy flirting with him. It's not often I'm left speechless.

"Anyway," he says, turning to me, hand extended, "I hope we can put this behind us."

The moon glows off of his face, eyes gleaming. Why does he have to be so hot? I shake his hand, with a laugh. Then he just looks at me. A knowing look. I'm lost in his eyes. How long have we been staring at each other? I see the moon in his irises. We should probably continue walking. But I know that's not going to happen so simply. I can't move. I'm trapped in his gaze. Oh god, he's going to do it.

He leans forward, his one hand curling around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Closing his eyes, our lips meet for a split second before I have to break us apart, free from his hold. I remember I'm on television. I remember he enjoys killing. But why was I reluctant to breaking the kiss? Why do I want him?

I catch a glance at him before gluing my eyes to the forest floor. In that look I feel like I've taken candy from a baby. Confusion. Rejection. False hope. I want the ground to open swallow me whole. I've never felt so horrible.

"It's not that I don't like you," I begin after a long uncomfortable silence, "I just don't know you and I don't want a quick fling. Not to mention we're in the arena. It's not like there'll be a happy ending."

"I was hoping it'd be something as simple as you not liking me," he says, I give him a weak smile. "I've just never really... connected with anybody. Sure I've got a few friends in my district but none of them I could share this kind of stuff with." He's looking for somebody to connect with? Something serious, not just a one night stand?

"Do your parents know... about you?" I ask, hoping it will steer the conversation differently.

"My parents couldn't give less of a shit," he says. For the next hour he explains how back in his district his parents only cared about how well he was doing at Career training. They'd beat him if he wasn't meeting their standards. He talks about his life as I listen, because that's what he needs. Somebody to listen.

"What about you?" he asks, looking vulnerable.

"Um, well..." I begin, how can I explain my life to him? To Panem? He just told me everything, I shouldn't be such a coward. "Well, my mother is a complete bitch. She looks for any excuse to beat me," I let out an empty laugh.

I tell him about my district. About the bakery. About my mother, father and brothers. We even talk about school. We spend the rest of the walk talking about each other. We've both forgotten about our almost kiss because at the moment we both need a friend. Not a boyfriend. Not a one night stand. A friend.

It doesn't feel like it took very long to walk back once we arrive at the tent. Everybody is fast asleep.

"I'm going to have some water, then sleep, I think," I say as I go to the crate to get some water. Cato notices me lifting the top crate with ease.

"I guess you have got it," he says, and we both laugh. It doesn't feel like very long ago we'd argued about whether I could carry it or not.

Cato

I find myself looking at the tent wall again in almost darkness, thinking about Peeta again. This time, my thoughts are pure. As pure as they could be with the given situation. There is no future for us, he knows that. But he doesn't see there could be a now. There could be something short, passionate and beautiful we could both share.

Again my thoughts wander over to the dark place in my mind. Where my hunger for Peeta lives. I'm already stroking my hardening cock. My handful of meat still growing. The cameras can probably see me, but without a doubt pretty soon they'll be seeing worse things than this.

I imagine Peeta in his kitchen, his hands covered in flour. The oven's letting out a sticky heat. He wipes perspiration from his brow, leaving a spot of flour on his forehead. His clothes are messy with the stuff. I walk over to him. My lips ease into his, fitting perfectly. I hold his waist, getting flour on my hands. My hands travel further down to his ass. God what I'd give to have a piece of that. My stone erection pokes his inner thigh, he pulls me in closer, poking him harder.

I slowly move my hands to his front, but he gets there first. His hand has already unzipped my flies and my dick has flopped out. He stops kissing me. His hand slowly, steadily working on my meat. He has pure lust in his eyes. A tense groan escapes me. With another kiss he increases tempo. Pumping hard. Hard and fast. His hand feels so right on my cock. I'm feel it building. Higher and higher.

I open my eyes as I dump my load on my chest, the fantasy over. I'm staring into the darkness, hoping to find a glimpse of Peeta's face I can associate with this pleasure I'm feeling. My panting slows down to steady breaths.

I'm just staring into the darkness. Nothing will happen between us. Not yet. He sees me as a friend. Oh well, I'd best get some sleep.

A/N: This chapter was originally in four parts, but I've put them all together to avoid future confusion.