Peeta was right. This place is perfect and low key and smelled amazing from halfway down the block. Katniss doesn't feel out of place in her jeans and simple blouse, even though Madge had tried pressuring her into a dress, and she had felt inordinately plain when Peeta came to pick her up dressed in a soft blue crewneck sweater that looked like he had just cut the tags off. But she noticed his scuffed brown boots under well fitting khakis and she felt herself relax just a little.
He yammered on about classes the entire ride over, and would glance over at her every few minutes to gauge her reaction. She gave him a simple smile in response, which he took as a signal to keep talking, like he knew it relaxed her.
By the time they were sitting and Peeta had somehow charmed the old Italian woman into serving the both of them wine, Katniss felt relaxed enough to answer some of his questions, though she felt how careful he was being not to pry too much. And she even began asking some of her own, realizing how little she knew about him and how much she had simply assumed.
"I didn't know you painted, too," Katniss says, tearing off a chunk of bread and swirling it around her plate to soak up the leftover sauce.
"Yeah, oils mostly. I use charcoals a lot. I tried sculpting, too. I have steady hands," Peeta says, and she studies them not for the first time. "But my pieces always ended up looking random and abstract. And not in a good way." He laughs. "Kinda clumsy looking, you know?"
"Are you clumsy at anything?" she asks seriously, because even when it came to asking out a girl he'd been scared to talk to for most of his life, he still managed to make sweat break out along her forehead and a "yes" to sit right at the tip of her drunken tongue.
"Um," he starts sheepishly, scratching behind his ear. "Absolutely, yes. But I'd prefer if you don't find out about that until absolutely necessary."
"Okay," she laughs. "And you don't want to do that for a living? Art, I mean. It would be nice to do something you love."
"Um, I don't know," he says uncertainly, leaning forward like he has been most of the night, arms folded on the table. "I'm not sure anyone would ever pay for my stuff." She stops herself from cutting him off to assure him how great his stuff is, how certain he should be, because she's never actually seen any of his work. But she doubts there's any way it could ever be bad. "Anyway, I'm kind of torn. I want to do something I love, but I also don't want to take something I love doing and torture it into a way to make money, you know?"
"Yeah," she says quietly, thinking to herself. "I think I know what you mean."
Peeta brings one arm up to rest his chin on his hand, and she feels him studying her and the way she keeps finding ways to clean everything off of her plate and his.
"What?" she asks self-consciously.
"Nothing," he responds, but his smirk says otherwise. "I just like watching you eat."
She blushes, and gestures to the mushroom she'd stolen off his plate with her fork. "Sorry, did you want that?"
"No, go ahead," he laughs. "I mean it. It's just nice to see you enjoy yourself. Your whole face relaxes. You don't scowl as much."
"It's the wine," she says, struggling not to scowl in response and prove him right. "And you're making me feel like a fatty."
Peeta laughs, deep and rich. "Not even close, and you know it. Besides, you're very graceful about it, even when you're stealing my food. Are you clumsy at anything?"
He's teasing her, but she takes the question seriously for a moment, biting her lip in thought. For some reason, the way he talks to her makes her want to be honest. Even if it's just so he doesn't continue to live with some idealized vision of her. "Just with my mouth."
His lips part on a breath and he freezes just as she does.
"Not like that! I meant-oh fuck," she mutters. "Like that." She gestures pathetically at the air between them. "With words. Obviously. That's what I meant."
The waitress comes to clear their dishes and Katniss studies the pattern of the tablecloth. They share their first awkward silence of the night.
"Okay, knock it off," Katniss finally says, still not looking up.
"What?" Peeta asks innocently, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "I didn't do anything. You can't even see me."
"I know what you're doing and thinking, so stop it."
"I'm not!" he insists, though the accompanying laugh is unconvincing. "Just look at me." She reluctantly lifts her eyes with an exasperated sigh. His eyes are warm and intense, but there's no trace of a smile on his face. "I was just going to say that you're wrong. You're not clumsy with words."
"Liar," she says immediately.
"You're just…" he continues, "remarkably honest. Which is probably why you keep your mouth shut most of the time." She continues to eye him warily, but her expression softens. "I really kind of like it. Do whatever you want with your mouth."
"Goodbye!" she says, sliding off her chair.
"Wait, wait!" he says through his laughter, grabbing her arm before she can run away...though she was mostly bluffing anyway. His hand slides down her arm to tangle with her fingers, and he runs a thumb over the back of her hand. The air between them feels thick and he looks at her with impossibly blue eyes. "I promise I'll stop. You haven't even ordered dessert."
She reluctantly settles back in her seat. "I'm staying for the drinks," she says, pulling her glass to her and shooting him a warning glare.
His grin turns mischievous again. "You don't want tiramisu?"
She considers this for a moment, but her stomach aches trying to digest her eggplant parmesan and all the garlic bread she inhaled. "That actually sounds amazing," Katniss sighs. "But believe it or not, I am full."
"We'll get it to go then," Peeta says quickly, trying to flag down the waitress.
"No, Peeta! Don't be ridiculous. I don't need dessert."
"You do need dessert. Everyone needs dessert," Peeta says, his expression deadly serious. "Besides, I didn't bring you flowers, so you get tiramisu instead."
Katniss shrugs almost shyly. "You got me basil," she says.
"Well, when you say it out loud, it sounds stupid," Peeta laughs. He tries to play it off, but she can see his ears burning red.
"It wasn't stupid," she says, reaching across the table and putting her hand over his. She meant to just pat it reassuringly, but he turns his hand so they're palm to palm and doesn't let go.
"Um," Katniss starts, staring at her shoes. "I would invite you up. Really. But Madge is probably there and just...if I have to kill her, I don't want there to be any witnesses."
Peeta tilts his head back and laughs, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and she likes that the streetlamps around the quad illuminate the golden stubble on his jaw.
"I understand," he says. "She's not...Madge hasn't been giving you a hard time has she? About me?"
"Well," Katniss hedges, "Madge gives me a hard time about everything."
"Right," he laughs. "I'm getting that. I just don't want you to feel compelled or...pushed into anything. I didn't put her up to it, I swear."
"Peeta, I know. She can be relentless, but I wouldn't do anything I wasn't comfortable with."
"Okay, good," he says, his sigh of relief audible. "I don't really want to go up there either, honestly. I feel like she's gonna make us pose for pictures like we're at Prom."
"God, you're right," Katniss says, and the image is almost too real to be funny. "I'm so glad she wasn't there when you picked me up."
"I guess I'm lucky. I got a single this year," Peeta says with a shrug. It's just a basic piece of information, but as soon as it leaves his lips the both of them seem to freeze, Peeta's easy expression morphing into wide eyed apprehension.
"Oh yeah?" Katniss asks, and her throats feels uncomfortably dry.
"Mmm," Peeta hums in agreement, like his tongue won't work. He doesn't let the moment go on too long before speaking again. "I got lucky in the housing assignments. Plus, I had a horrible roommate last year that got written up again and again, so I guess they felt sorry for me."
"Lucky," Katniss agrees with a quick laugh. She swallows and tries to get saliva back into her mouth.
"Yeah," Peeta says, pulling his hands out of his pockets and moving half a step closer. "Well, thanks for-"
"Where is it?" Katniss blurts out before he can finish. "Your room," she explains when he just stares at her.
"Oh, um." He points to another dorm building on the other side of the quad, almost identical to the one she lives in. "Just over there."
"Oh. Close."
"Yeah."
"Did you want to hang out?" she asks boldly, remembering the way his hands felt the other night when they brushed against her waist.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Sure. Uh...this way." Peeta gestures his head to the building he'd just pointed out and she laughs. His hand makes it to the small of her back.
"Wow. This is cozy," Katniss says. And she means it. The room is really only big enough for one person, but it's tidy and he has a few lamps around the room that soften the whole place, and the off-white carpet could be in worse shape. His desk is really the only place where there's any clutter, and he has a few colorful art prints on the wall.
"Thanks," Peeta says, hands in his pockets again as he stands back and lets her observe. "The food situation is a little dire." He nods to a microwave in the corner next to a small electric kettle. "But you can't beat the privacy."
Katniss reaches out to lay her to-go box of dessert on top of his dresser. Then, she moves forward and only allows herself a moment of hesitation before perching on the edge of his twin bed. His adam's apple moves in his throat and she eyes him expectantly. He steps forward, but takes the desk chair a few feet away from her.
Peeta runs his palms up and down his thighs and she notices the way the close-fitting fabric clings to the muscles there.
"Do you get lonely?" Katniss asks, her voice sounding too loud in the small space between them. He seems to be genuinely thinking about his answer before responding.
"Living in this room by myself? Not so much. Like I said, terrible roommate experience," he says, and she nods, leaning closer. "But yeah, I guess I do sometimes. I made a lot of friends last year, but they were mostly partying-type friends, you know? Not so good for actual conversation, and that got old after the first few months."
"And you like people," Katniss notes.
"I do like people," Peeta confirms with amusement.
"You're very...non-judgmental," Katniss ventures. "And you get along with everyone. You don't seem very picky."
"Actually, I like to think I'm very picky about who I spend time with," he says in a low voice, their faces only inches apart.
She swallows, the sound filling the space between them.
"You're different than I thought you would be," Katniss says slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. Peeta's eyes travel over her face like he's trying to gauge whether or not this is a good thing. She gives him a tiny smile.
"You're even better than I imagined," Peeta responds huskily, closing the distance between them before she can blink.
His lips press firmly against hers and it's only a moment before she decides she likes it and closes her eyes to respond. He doesn't try to push it too far, just brushes his lower lip lightly against hers before sealing them around her top lip. His hand reaches up to find purchase on her neck, his thumb sweeping gently over her jaw.
It's a sweet, curious kiss, the slightly calloused flesh of his thumb raising goosebumps on her skin. He pulls away and leans back just a few inches, never letting go of her face, and looks at her with hazy eyes. She almost wants to hate it, but she can hear her own unsteady breaths in the otherwise silent room. Peeta licks his lips like he's trying to savor the taste of her. Her eyelids droop a little watching him.
"I've waited my whole life to do that."
He says it in a daze. He says it so easily and dreamily that she wonders if he meant her to hear it. But she does hear it. And her blood freezes in her veins.
She realizes a second too late that she's been staring at his lips, mostly because they were the last thing she was looking at when he said that, and he takes this as a signal to press forward again.
It's about ten seconds into their second kiss when she realizes she's not breathing. Katniss pulls back with a gasp.
"Are you okay?" Peeta asks, his face so close it's nearly making her dizzy. She screws her eyes shut tight and murmurs in the affirmative. Peeta tries to draw his hand away, maybe to repeat the question, but his cold fingers feel good against her neck, which is burning up, so she covers his hand with hers to keep it there.
"Katniss?" he asks softly. He nuzzles the other side of her neck, dragging his nose across the soft skin. She shudders just a little. She is nervous and uncertain and feeling buried under the weight of a million expectations. But he smells so good. And even if he's the one scaring the shit out of her, she still finds his presence comforting.
Katniss takes a shaky breath and pulls back. Peeta's eyes sharpen in focus and his mouth opens, but before he can say anything, she lets herself fall back on the bed. He stammers something she can't make out, but she's too focused on the white of the ceiling and the tightness in her chest. She takes a deep breath.
"Are you-"
She kicks off her shoes and pulls her legs onto the bed, using them to scoot herself backwards so that she's laid out on it, her head on his pillow. She rolls onto her side and looks at him. He's standing now, still a foot from his bed, hands hanging limply at his sides.
She moves so she's right up against the wall, enough room now for his body to lie beside hers. And he takes this as an invitation and kicks his shoes off. He almost stumbles forward before seeming to reconsider, bending over to toe off his socks too. This makes her laugh just a little, a high pitched noise that releases from her along with some of the anxiety.
Peeta gets on his knees on the edge of the bed, and as he lowers himself, he hovers over her for a second, his presence so looming that it makes her heart stutter. But he shifts so he's laying lengthwise next to her, both of them on their sides, their heads sharing his pillow. Everything about his face is open and expectant, as if he's willing, and waiting, to follow her lead. But she doesn't want to lead this. She wants him to know exactly how this goes so she doesn't have to stumble at every step.
His pillow against her cheek smells like masculine soap, and maybe even cinnamon, and she inhales it, her eyes closing briefly. And then his hand at her waist makes her startle. Her shirt has ridden up just a little so that a few of his fingers rest on bare skin. She doesn't notice she's clenching her jaw until his lips ghost over it.
"You okay, Katniss? We don't have to-" he trails off.
She knows what he means. They don't have to do anything. They don't have to have sex, they don't even have to kiss. She could leave here right now and never speak to him again and he'd probably still forgive her. Just the way he looks at her seems like too much sometimes. And what she offers up in return seems so paltry. But he could have this, right now. Even for just the night. And so could she.
"I want to," she says, so softly there's no way he'd have heard it if his ear wasn't mere inches from her lips.
She feels his head lift away and turn toward hers, and she opens her eyes.
"You don't say things you don't mean," Peeta says, though really it's a question. He searches her eyes, his face solemn.
Katniss shakes her head to confirm, resolving to keep her mouth shut as much as possible.
Peeta leans in to kiss her again, coaxing her mouth open and sweeping his tongue inside, but she nearly chokes on it because she's not remembering to breathe through her nose.
"Sorry," she gasps. Peeta's lips are pink and wet when she looks at him, his eyes shining. He shakes his head dismissively and runs a soothing hand through her hair.
This time when he leans in, he goes straight for her neck, covering it with soft kisses, and when she sighs in contentment, he starts to worry the skin with his teeth. Her hand shoots straight to his hair, and she doesn't have the presence of mind to register how long she's thought about touching it.
Goosebumps raise on her skin, but when he moves to her collarbone, his teeth scrape across it almost painfully. She hisses.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he says quickly, pulling back. When he does, his elbow lands on her hair.
"Ow!" she cries out before she can stop herself. It was more startling than painful, but Peeta's face turns completely red in mortification; no faint, freckled blush like she's used to. "It's okay," she hurries to say.
"Um," Peeta swallows and moves away from her, struggling to keep from falling off the narrow bed that scarcely has room for his body alone. "Sorry it's so small. Do you wanna-?" He lays down flat and gestures to his body as if he wants her to climb on top of him.
"No!" she says quickly. She's embarrassed by the franticness in her own voice, but she'd be more embarrassed on top of him, having to take the lead and let him see...everything.
"That's okay," Peeta says soothingly, and he moves to hover over her, his thumb on her cheek. She wishes he'd just keep doing things like that. The frenetic energy coursing through her body seems to slow at these touches.
His presence is still stifling, but she feels safer underneath him, wrapped in a cocoon of his steady warmth. Almost too warm. He's showering soft kisses on her face when she notices the perspiration dotting his forehead. "Are you warm?" she asks, without thinking.
"Oh," he says, pulling back, immediately wiping at his forehead, his face now perpetually flushed. "Yeah, it's just a little hot in here," he says sheepishly.
"Do you want-?" She grabs for the hem of his sweater, and her small fingers brush against his stomach. She feels his muscles jump and when she grazes the hair under his navel, she immediately clenches her fingers into a fist to stop their shaking.
"Yeah, if that's…" he starts, unsteadily. She makes a sound in the affirmative, and pries her fingers open again, pulling his sweater up with both hands. He arches his back over her body and she's pulling it up with ease- until it gets stuck on his ears. She stutters out an apology, but they both manage to get it off, and when he settles down again, his hair is ruffled and his face still sweaty.
"I should have taken this off, too, probably," Peeta says, gesturing to his white undershirt. His smile is nervous, but he quickly pulls it off without meeting her eyes.
It gets thrown somewhere to the side of the bed and soon, he's looming over her again, almost cautiously as if he knows he could smother her, so easily. His eyes are so blue and wide, almost swimming with reverence, that she finds it easier to look at all the newly exposed skin on display. Katniss lifts a trembling hand to his mostly smooth chest and it seems to instantly stop shaking upon contact. She can see his chest heave a bit at her touch, but other than that he's completely still and silent. Her hand ends up resting over his pectoral, feeling the racing thump of his heart.
Peeta finally shifts to one side, still eclipsing her with his broad upper half, one leg resting between hers, and she doesn't know how long she's been staring at her hand on his chest. He raises a hand to her face and gently begins tracing his index finger over her cheeks, then the bridge of her nose, his touch feather-light.
"What are you doing?" she asks with a shaky laugh.
"Counting," he says with a small smile, and she smacks his hand away.
"You're not drawing me," she says sternly, turning her head so that strands of hair obscure her face.
"Too late," he admits sheepishly.
"Peeta," she says warningly, sitting up.
"No, no, I'm kidding," he says quickly, pulling up to sit beside her. "I wouldn't-I mean, I won't." He takes a deep breath and runs his hands up and down her arms, stopping at her shoulders and digging his thumbs into the flesh there. She can't help but to relax a little under his ministrations as he works the tension out of her muscles.
When his fingers catch on the bra straps under her blouse, she pulls back a little.
"I should...probably-"
"Oh, right," Peeta says, dropping his hands, his body deflating. She realizes that he thinks she might be leaving. And maybe this is her opportunity to do it. To scamper out and say she'll see him soon and just keep him in her periphery of friends with the promise of occasional awkward interactions around campus.
"Take this off," she finishes before she can over think it, pulling at the hem of her blouse.
He visibly relaxes for a split second before his muscles tense up again, his mouth forming an "o" around the large breath of air he lets out. The blouse flutters to the floor before either of them can fully register the movement.
Katniss lies back onto the pillow, hoping to be shielded under his broad form again. Peeta is instantly drawn down against her like his body is tethered to hers and all its movements. This time, his eyes are glued to her chest and it's not as if she can protest; she'd done the same thing to him moments ago.
He traces his hand along her flat stomach and it quivers.
"Ticklish," Katniss tells him quietly, biting her lip.
He smirks and runs his fingers over the soft plane again.
"Peeta!" she gasps, grabbing his hand and pulling it away. But in her haste, she only manages to pull it up- right to her sternum, so that his hand lies right between her breasts, clad only in a black bra.
They both seem frozen in the moment, until his fingers spread out, grazing the soft skin above the bra cups.
"You are so-"
She clasps a hand over his mouth, shocking both of them. Whatever he was about to say in that awed, honey-toned voice is muffled, then silenced completely. Knowing Peeta, it would have been too much. She won't believe it anyway, and it's not going to be true tomorrow. So to shut him up and quell the almost hurt look in his eyes, she moves the hand across his mouth to the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.
When their tongues finally touch for the first time, sliding wetly against each other, she whimpers lightly, clouds breaking in her mind. At her noise, he intensifies the kiss, licking under her top lip before drawing it into his mouth and biting on it gently. This almost distracts her from the large hand that's begun grasping at her breast.
Katniss tries to lose herself in the kiss, but his hand is insistent at her chest and it's making the underwire of her bra dig into her skin. She lays her hand over his, trying to gentle the motions, and she's enjoying just the feel of that- her palm against his warm skin, the way it almost feels at home there, though his hand is easily twice the size as hers. But he stops almost immediately, pulling back from the kiss too.
"Is this...not okay?" Peeta asks nervously, glancing down at their hands on her breast.
He looks so desperate to please her and so terrified of overstepping that she wants to say something reassuring, but she's never been good at that.
"No, it's fine. You were just kind of...kneading them," she says hesitantly, searching for the right words.
"Right, sorry," he says quickly, pulling his hand away, leaving hers to fall to the side. "Baker's hands, you know?" He laughs quietly, his voice hitching.
"It's fine," she rushes to say. "I'll just, um-" She reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and his eyes go wide again.
"I can do that," he says quickly, halting her movements. He reaches behind her and his fingertips along the skin of her back make her shiver. "This I think I can manage, at least." He smiles self-deprecatingly, and finds the clasp at her back. He has it undone in just a few seconds and the material goes slack around her chest.
His eyes lift to hers, a question in them. Katniss nods, and he pulls the straps down her arms, lifting the material away and adding it to the pile beside the bed.
"God, Katniss-" Peeta starts, his voice low and rough.
"Shh." She stops him again and, like last time, hurt flashes briefly in his eyes. Katniss grabs his hand and returns it to her now bare breast.
His touch is so light now it's almost painful, and she arches her back to chase after it. Peeta takes the hint and focuses on her nipple, running his thumb over it before pinching it lightly between his fingers. She keens. He hovers closer to her, and though her eyelids are drooping, he maintains eye contact, his own bright and intent in the low light. His mouth drops open as if he's about to say something, but he quickly clamps it shut again.
Katniss squirms underneath him, unwilling to voice her desires now in the persistent quiet. But he sees her movements and leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth.
"Oh!" she gasps, trying to stifle the sounds she's making. Peeta runs the flat of his tongue over it before flicking it repeatedly and her hips move in tandem with his rhythm. He seems to be lost in her, and the way her groin is moving tightly against his thigh, because he bites down just a bit on her nipple and she gasps, this time in discomfort. The pain only last for a second, and it's followed by a rush of endorphins that only encourages her warm, flushed body, but Peeta looks worried again, moving away from her breasts and burying his face in her neck, unwilling to speak or look at her.
Katniss can feel him hard against her thigh though. He still wants her, even though she's nearly ashamed at her own rigidity, her inability to control her reactions, both good and bad, and her mortified reluctance to voice any of her needs. But she can't watch his dejected expressions anymore. He deserves more than this.
"Do you wanna maybe..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. It helps that he's not looking at her. "Get undressed and get under the covers?"
Her voice sounds clumsy and childish to her own ears, but he lifts his head to look at her, and she runs her hand across his cheek, hoping to soothe him.
"You're sure?" he asks hoarsely.
She unbuttons her jeans in answer. He falls onto his back beside her and they both lift their hips to shuck off their pants, sneaking nervous glances at each other. When they're down to their underwear, she hesitates and he seems to sense it.
"I can turn off that lamp over there," Peeta offers, looking at the the floor lamp in the corner.
"Okay."
He gets up and Katniss watches the muscles of his shoulders and back move as he makes his way across the room in his boxer shorts. She licks her lips, thinking how grateful she should be, not just that he's so beautiful, but that he's so...good. And Peeta. And she could ruin him, whether she stays or goes.
He flicks off the lamp and turns to give her such a sweet smile that she seems to shrink in her skin. He moves back to the bed, the room now illuminated only by the small lamp on his desk.
When Peeta settles back down next to her, his hands and eyes return to a searing exploration of her mostly nude body, his fingers catching on the elastic of her underwear as they run from hip to thigh.
"I'm-" Katniss starts. "I like it when you're on top of me." She does, for many different reasons, but his answering smile is a relief.
Peeta pulls himself over her, his hips settling between her legs. He moves to kiss her again, his lips gentle as they brush hers, steadily applying more pressure and coaxing hers open. When their tongues tangle, she makes a noise that is embarrassingly loud in the tight space. This only causes Peeta to groan in response, his fingers abandoning their exploration of her abdomen to find her hand and tangle them with hers. It's too intimate. Too tender. The touches, the noises. And this all feels like it's taking an eternity. She wants to get lost, and though she's never quite managed that with the other men, it was at least over relatively quickly and she could get up and get dressed and get off in the comfort and privacy of her own bed.
Peeta is just too close. It's like he's stealing the air she's breathing and eclipsing her body beneath his own and before, she wanted that- to be obscured- but now she can't untangle her limbs from his.
She frantically grasps at the waistband of his boxer shorts. He pulls back and looks at her with eyes that are wide with questions. "Don't talk," she says shortly, colder than she intended.
His brow furrows, but he says nothing, just continues to search her face for a long moment before he complies, and then begins to pull his shorts down. When he makes a move to return to his position above her, she lifts her hips up, motioning for him to take hers too. He stutters something incoherent, before snapping his mouth shut and pulling her underwear down her legs with almost grave determination.
Peeta is on top of her again in an instant, returning to that place he discovered on her neck, the one that feels like a weakness, and she bites her lip to keep from whimpering. Without any direction from her, his fingers travel over her skin, raising tiny, almost invisible hairs on the skin of her stomach, before dipping down and delving between her folds.
His fingers travel up and down a few times and her hips are just about to start following his movements shamelessly, but he halts near the top and his fingers seem to stumble through the slickness like he's searching for something. She wants to say something, something that will smooth the wrinkles from his brow, but her mouth is too dry. His ears are turning pink again and she hears the barely audible exhale from his lips, a huff of frustration and embarrassment, before he seems to give up and slides his fingers back down.
That feels good, the movement of his large, calloused fingers against her slick, sensitive skin. But then they're delving inside her, almost uncomfortably because it's been so long. He's studying her face while he does it, so she closes her eyes and tries to control her expressions. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't really feel like anything explosive either. Nothing is building up the way it should and she's cursing her own, stupid body when he speaks.
"Does that-feel okay?" he asks cautiously, almost grimly like he knows "okay" is the best he can hope for.
"Um…" Katniss starts. His fingers halt.
Fuck.
She shouldn't have said that. "Um." It's how she starts most of her sentences, but it's definitely not what he's looking for. It's not something you say in the throes of passion. It's not something you say to a sweet boy who looks at you like you're the only woman he's ever seen on earth.
And it shouldn't have been a sentence anyway. It should have been a moan or a sigh or some incoherent expression of ecstasy.
"Keep going," she says frantically. He's not bad with his hands, she knows this. He can't really be bad at anything, she suspects. She just doesn't know how to unlock that thing within him that will make him remember that- it seems like nothing she's saying or doing is coming close to coaxing it out of him.
But Peeta's fingers begin to move again. She tries to raise her hips like she had wanted to before, to chase the movement and add to it. Maybe that would help. Peeta takes that moment to bring his thumb into the mix, returning it to that place where he seemed so lost before. It catches on the hood of her clit and she gasps. His eyes fly to her face, desperate to read any reaction. Katniss licks her lips and finds her eyes meeting his steadily.
But then his thumb begins to tap a rhythm against her clit. Katniss can't keep her face from pinching in confusion. The tapping of his thumb seems to throw off the movement of his fingers inside her as well. Katniss is thankful his eyes aren't on her for once, but he's staring down between them with such intense focus, almost agitation. She would normally be embarrassed at a guy- and well, Peeta- staring intently at her vagina, but she's too confused to think about it. He looks like he's trying to crack some secret and he's working it out in Morse code.
"Peeta," she starts timidly.
"Yeah," he breathes, stopping his hand completely, head hanging.
"That feels good, but maybe we could just…" He looks up and she tries to smile bracingly at him, shrugging her shoulders. His eyes follow the way the movement lifts her breasts. "If you have a condom," she adds.
"I...I do," Peeta says, half in wonder. When she continues to look up at him expectantly, he stumbles forward. "Not because I thought...you know, that you and I-or me and anyone...I just-"
"Peeta," she says lightly, stifling a laugh. "It's okay."
"No, I just mean. I have a fire extinguisher, too, ya know? It's not like I ever think I'm gonna use that either. Not that I want to use that-"
"Are they in this drawer?" Katniss interrupts, reaching out for his nightstand.
She fumbles around before his left hand settles over hers, stilling it for a second and stealing the breath from her lungs. Which is ridiculous, because his other hand is still settled firmly over her crotch.
Peeta settles back on his side and finally removes his hand from between her legs. He goes to open the packet, but his slick fingers fumble over the foil. Katniss almost offers to help, but before she can, he brings his fingers to his lips, the ones still wet with her arousal, and sucks them clean. His eyes flutter shut for a second. Katniss' heart stops and she can feel herself becoming wetter, even more than she was with his fingers inside her. Peeta doesn't seem to notice her change in demeanor. The heightened flush on her cheeks. He just wipes his hand on his bedspread to dry them before finally getting the foil open.
Katniss instinctively opens her legs for him again and he sits between them on his haunches, rolling the condom down his length. It's the first time she's really looked at him, at it. There was always a part of her that assumed she should be more turned on by the feel of the male organ, by what it could do to her, than what it looked like- so blunt and inelegant. But she likes the look of him. Really likes it, she thinks in the five seconds she has to study it before he rolls the condom on. She swallows the extra saliva in her mouth.
Once Peeta has it on, he lowers himself slowly back over her. She spreads her legs further to allow him to settle in, his hips coming to rest between hers almost too naturally. They both gasp at the feeling of him sliding against her; even through the condom, the sensation seems to be pleasurable enough to make his eyes shut and heavy breaths to come through his nose.
"Are you sure this is okay?" Katniss asks. She feels stupid the moment the words leave her mouth, but he looks so nervous and this could be all wrong- the time, the place, how little they know about each other- but he'd know that better than she would. So she has to ask.
Peeta lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh. But his eyes grow serious.
"Yes," he says. "As long as you are."
Katniss bites her lip and nods quickly.
Peeta leans down and kisses her softly; it surprises her more than the heavy length of him between her thighs. He pulls his lips away before she can begin to respond.
His hand is reaching down between them and she can feel the head of his cock rubbing between her lips. She inhales sharply. He seems to fumble for a minute with where he should...start. So Katniss looks away, aware that her eyes on his movements will only make him nervous; and her too, maybe, seeing the flesh and blood reality of all of it.
Katniss fixes her gaze on his bicep, where it's holding up the weight of him over her; the muscles tremble slightly beneath his smooth skin, but by the looks of his arms, he could hold himself there for hours. She gets the strange urge to sink her teeth into it the firm skin. Instead, she turns her head ever so slightly to leave a soft kiss on his bicep and Peeta enters her slowly.
When he's more than halfway in, Katniss starts to grimace. She doesn't even know she's doing it, but Peeta's hazy, unfocused eyes sharpen when he takes in her expression.
"Am I hurting you?" he asks, his voice tender, but rumbling in his chest where she can feel it pressed against hers.
"This isn't my first time," she blurts out, suddenly horrified that he could get that impression.
"O-okay," Peeta says with a light laugh, but the sound is strained. "But am I hurting you?"
He sweeps a strand of hair away from her face and the tension in her forehead smoothes out.
"I'm fine," she whispers. "Just...been a while."
"Me too," he whispers back. He manages to make the deep blue of his eyes seem warm instead of cool.
Peeta kisses the tip of her nose and pushes gently the rest of the way in. Katniss forces herself to release a breath she didn't know she was holding, and his hand comes to rest on her thigh. She inwardly curses the fact that she never shaves that high up, but his hand runs back and forth against the skin, unencumbered by the tiny hairs, and it coaxes her to open her legs even more, relaxing them against the bed.
At this, he slides in even deeper, if that's possible, and his forehead falls suddenly against the pillow above her shoulder. Peeta stays there for a second, gripping the pillow tightly above her head where she's currently caged in. His entire upper body heaves with his deep, steady breaths, and she's about to ask if he's okay, when he pushes himself back up again.
Katniss is barely aware that her mouth is hanging slightly open, watching and waiting for his every movement. He feels good there, inside of her, even still, even in the almost unbearable silence. But so close. Too close. He has to start moving. She shouldn't be thinking this much. This is the opposite of what she always thought sex was supposed to be about.
Katniss plants her feet on the bed and thrusts against him gently to get him moving. It tears a groan from his throat that affects her more than the silence and the screaming thoughts in her head.
But it does get him to start moving. Peeta builds up a rhythm, one that's careful and sometimes a bit clumsy, never thrusting too hard, sometimes losing the motion for a second. And again, it feels good, but not quite enough. He's staring down at her, biting his lip as if the sight of her does even more than the gentle thrusts of his hips.
So she pulls him down so she can bury her face in his neck. Which smells good. So good. She can't resist running her lips along the smooth skin, and she's about to trace the muscles of his shoulder with her tongue-an intention she'd barely beeen conscious of before he suddenly loses his rhythm altogether.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
Since she pulled him down against her, their chests have been pressed together and she likes the way her nipples scrape against his chest, and the way his thrusts have become shallower, just grazing the hood of her clit with his cock. But she can see him second guess himself, and he props himself up on his arm again. He uses his free arm to cup her breast, his fingers sweeping over her nipple and making the skin tighten and pebble.
Her head is tilting back into the pillow when he loses his rhythm again. She sees that his arm is shaking.
"Um, Peeta," she says gently, running a hand down his chest.
"Mmm," he mumbles in response, voice strained. "I'm-I'm sorry this isn't…" He trails off, eyes shut tight. He opens them again, seemingly refocused. "I can try something else."
Katniss merely blinks at him. She has no idea what that even means. If it were anyone else, she might thoughtlessly suggest that they at least get this right before moving onto something else, but he looks so hopeful.
His hand is reaching for her thigh again, and she remembers liking that so yes, maybe-
Peeta grasps her thigh, smoothing his hand down the length of her leg until he's moving it out to the side and trying to pull it over his shoulder.
Katniss hisses loudly, both at the unexpected stretching of her limb, and the way his cock slides into her so deeply that it hurts, definitely hitting something it shouldn't hit and fuck she should have paid attention in Health and Safety or Anatomy or Madge's disgustingly frank conversations with Glimmer, because this is not something you learn about in vanilla porn.
"What is that-am-I'm sorry! Are you okay?" The words leave his mouth in a panicked rush and he grips her ankle and eases her leg back down to the bed as gently as if she were made of glass.
And she feels like an idiot. She could have said something like, no, no, just give me a minute to adjust, or at least pretended that her experiences hadn't been limited to missionary. But she just mumbles some version of "it's okay" and he leaves a gentle kiss on her forehead, so tentative it almost seems like he's afraid to touch her.
Which is ridiculous. Because he's balls deep inside of her. But her body is just cold and frigid and rejecting him like it would a splinter because she is so clearly not made for this. And he's made for so much more, his skin soft and pliant and sweet to taste, like he's a peach ripened by the sun and she's an ice box. She curses herself mentally.
"Let's just keep going," she says, trying and failing to hide the tightness in her voice.
Peeta nods against her hair.
He picks up the rhythm again and even though it isn't smooth and practiced, it's enough to get her to realize she likes it. She likes him there, so hard where she's soft, sliding between her walls like he belongs there. And that thought is enough to mentally throw her off from whatever might have been building. She clenches her jaw in frustration. And she must unconsciously clench elsewhere too, because Peeta groans and buries his head in her neck.
"Fuck," she thinks she hears him whisper, and just like the sight of him sucking on his wet fingers did earlier, the sound of this dirty word against her ear from the mouth of a boy who looks like an angel sends a jolt through her body. "I'm not- I don't think I can-"
He cuts himself off with a quiet moan, his thrusts getting clumsy again. But he licks and bites at the skin of her neck almost desperately and she moans in response, drawing another curse from him. He even manages to bring a hand up to caress her skin from hip to shoulder, stopping at her breast and pinching her nipple. And it feels so good, their skin growing slick against each other, but not enough to bring her there, not with her mind and her body running in completely opposite directions.
"Will you touch yourself?"
It's so abrupt that it makes her own hips halt their gentle rocking motions; or maybe it just felt abrupt because she'd never expected him to say anything like that. Ever.
"What? I-no," she says, laughing incredulously.
"Please, Katniss, just-" Peeta pulls her hand away from where it was gripping his back and brings it down between them. She just stares at him in shock. "I'm not gonna last long. I just...want you to enjoy this."
At this, he nudges his hips forward, his cock grazing her walls and reminding her of its presence, something she had almost forgotten in her momentary shock.
"Mmm, please," he breathes into her ear, picking up his movements again, pushing into her more roughly than before.
She shoves his face back into her neck so he can't watch her and decides just to humor him. There's no way she's going to finish and there's no way he's going to last long, so she'll just do this and maybe...fake an orgasm?
God. No. She can't do that. She's a horrible actress to begin with, but the only reason real orgasms don't embarrass her is because she's usually too caught up in the moment to care. But she definitely can't lay here, head (mostly) clear and eyes open, and start scrunching up her face in fake ecstasy. She's cringing just at the thought.
But she does start moving her fingers. Almost unconsciously. Timidly. But as he pants against her ear, his strong hand gripping firmly to her hip, his soft waves grazing her forehead...it all starts to feel good.
Until he comes abruptly with a load groan.
"Oh fuck, Katniss," he pants desperately into the skin of her neck, his hips jerking with the last of his orgasm.
They finally still against hers, and so do her fingers; she's holding her breath while he lets out a deep one. The sweat where their stomachs are pressed together starts to grow cool in the air, and she expects him to flop over exhaustedly like the other guys did. But when he senses his weight on her is becoming too much, he merely pushes up from his elbows again.
His hand immediately reaches down between them and presses against hers, where it had been trapped between their bodies. Katniss' mouth drops open when he urges her fingers to keep moving.
"Peeta-" she gasps.
"Keep going," he urges sweetly, his blue eyes fairly begging her.
She opens her mouth to protest further, but all that comes out is sputtering nonsense. But it's ridiculous. She's not going to do that- get herself off in front of him, underneath him, while he watches silently, already content with his own release, still inside of her and still...hard.
He's still hard.
Not fully of course, but his erection hasn't completely flagged like she always assumed it did immediately afterward. And his fingers are still pushing hers in gentle motions, and before she knows it, she's moving them in circles, his fingers lightly following hers and trying to learn the movement.
Katniss turns her head and presses her face into the pillow. Peeta takes this as a sign and stops watching her, instead moving his face to her neck where he trails his tongue across the skin up to her ear before taking the lobe into his mouth.
"Mmm, oh god," Katniss gasps into the pillow, her hips jerking upwards. She uses the practiced motions she knows will get her off the quickest, but it doesn't hurt still having him there inside her, half-hard, his tongue laving her skin, his perfectly sculpted chest looming above her, the scent of his pillow-
"Oh! Fuck, fuck," she pants as her orgasm seizes her, and tries to bury the embarrassing noises further into the pillow as the pleasure crests, electricity shooting down to her toes. Her free hand claws at his broad back while aftershocks overtake her, her muscles still jumping and unclenching as she comes down from her high.
"Um," Peeta says with a sheepish laugh, interrupting the soft kisses he was showering on her face through her release, "I'm gonna-"
He pulls out gently and she can see that he was possibly even harder than he had been a few minutes ago, but he simply moves to the trash can by his desk, discarding of the condom and grabbing a few tissues to clean up. He offers her one across the small space, unabashed in his nudity, but she merely blushes and shakes her head, pulling the sheet over her.
"I can just use the bathroom to clean up," Katniss says quietly as he settles in beside her.
"It's down the hall," Peeta says, drawing near to her and running his hand up her side. "But it's kind of a shared bathroom."
"Oh," Katniss says quietly, her head settling on his chest. The last thing she wants to do is scamper down the hall in her disheveled clothing to clean herself off in a bathroom where anyone could walk in.
What she really wants is a shower. In her own private bathroom next to her bedroom where she can grab her most comfortable PJs and spread out in her own bed. But she can't do that. She knows she can't. And it's not that it isn't nice, lying here in his arms, his fingers running sweetly through her hair. It's that it's almost too nice, and she can't remember the last time she was pressed up against someone for this long. Maybe because she never has. And it's this thought that makes her spine stiffen.
Peeta seems to sense her tension because his hand halts for a moment. But if he has anything to say, he stifles the urge and nuzzles his nose into her hair instead. The silence is almost oppressive and she wishes he'd just fall asleep.
As if the sex weren't awkward enough. This is almost worse, both of them lying stiffly, clearly miles from sleep. The afterglow has worn off and their bodies aren't slack with exhaustion like they should be. They're too aware of each other, or at least, she is of him. She can hear his steady breaths, but they're not slowing into drowsiness. She's actually terrified that she shushed him into near-muteness and he won't make any jokes to put her at ease, or whisper sweet nothings that will make her squirm, or at least say something reassuring and steady, the way he always does when he's putting someone at ease.
Katniss shifts, moving her bare back away from the cold wall behind her. Peeta tries to scooch over to accommodate her, but it looks like he's centimeters away from falling off the bed, even closely entwined with her. She moves back to where she was with a small, unconscious huff. Of course, he picks up on it.
"Sorry the bed is tiny," Peeta apologizes, lips turning up in a small smile. "Um, maybe I can sleep on the floor, or-?"
"Peeta," she laughs shortly, "I'm not gonna make you do that. Don't be ridiculous."
"Or if you need to go home for your stuff, or…" he trails off, scratching his ear sheepishly.
Katniss lifts her head at this. The smile drops off his face.
"Oh."
"No!"
They speak at the same time, Peeta reluctantly, and Katniss insistently, trying to make him think that it's the last thing she wants, even though her whole body perked up at the suggestion.
It's not that she wants to run out of here after their night together. She kind of hates herself for considering it. But it's just about comfort. And peace of mind. And she's not going to achieve either of those things lying next to him all night, his body entwined with hers, probably overwhelming her as much as her racing thoughts will.
She doesn't even know what this makes them, though the devastated look on his face tells her exactly what he wants them to be.
It was just one date she had promised. Just one. Her mind didn't (couldn't) follow that trail any further. And maybe if the sex had been amazing, it could have just been that, in the convenient way people talk about, like it's just going to the gym to work out some tension. Or if the date had been bad, it could have been the last one.
But all this expectation and potential for hurt when she's increasingly convinced there's something just not right about the two of them together...it's too much.
"I can walk you home, Katniss," he says quietly, as though he could read the thoughts in her head during her pregnant pause. She tries to reach for him, but he doesn't notice because he's already pulling away, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. She feels the loss of him like a stab in her gut. "I don't want you to be awake and uncomfortable all night."
Peeta reaches for her clothes first, placing them on the bed beside her without meeting her eyes. He pulls his boxers on and she watches him walk around the room, the muscles in his back moving when he bends over to pull on his khakis before pulling the discarded sweater back over his head, ruffling his hair even more. She tries to flatten her own, probably obvious, sex hair. Then, she quickly pulls on her clothes before he can turn back to her.
After she slips on her flats, she stands to find him rifling through a drawer. She fidgets nervously with her hands.
"It's cold outside," Peeta says after a moment, shutting the drawer and handing her a heather gray sweatshirt with their high school logo and his last name on the back. Katniss blinks at him. "It's a few years old, so I figured you wouldn't be swimming in it." He shrugs and his eyes meet hers finally, but flit away after a brief moment.
When she starts to put it on, she takes a moment in the darkness to squeeze her eyes shut against the unexpected moisture building, before poking her head through and adjusting the collar, hoping he won't notice the way her nose has probably turned red.
The walk across the quad is silent and she wraps her arms around herself so she doesn't have to wonder if he'd hold her hand if they were dangling down by her side. And she doesn't have to think about the fact that she'd be disappointed if he didn't.
Every few steps, she thinks she feels his hand on her back again, but it's so light through the thick, loose sweatshirt that she can't tell.
When they get to the front steps, she turns to him to say goodnight, but he merely reaches around to hold the door open for her and follows her to her front door. She turns to him again and his face is solemn, his eyes dull.
They were here just a week ago, in a similar position. And though she was filled with a similar nervous stirring in the pit of her gut, last week was full of frightening possibilities, and the fear this time is tied to some kind of sad finality. And she's even more depressed by the fact that she was the one to bring it about. She misses his warm sheets already.
"Thanks for coming out, Katniss," Peeta says, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
It's not as though he can thank her for the rest of it, not without sounding like a creep, but it stings to hear him refer to their date and nothing else, like the rest of it didn't happen; though in the past, she was always happy to immediately try to burn all the awkward experiences from her brain as soon as she was dressed again.
Katniss takes a step forward and he eyes her nervously, like he doesn't know if he's going to get slapped or kissed. And she hates that she put that look on his face.
She stretches up on her tip toes and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Peeta," she says, lingering against the stubble on his cheek before forcing herself to take a step back, shooting him a pained smile, and immediately shoving her key into the lock.
When she gets inside, she marches straight past Madge, who shouts questions at her from the couch, and falls asleep in his sweatshirt, her pillow held close to her heaving chest.
A/N: As always, apologies for the wait. There will be one more chapter after this, if you're curious. :) Many thanks to didntheramble and misshoneywell for their immeasurable help in bouncing ideas back and forth, and to amelia-day for pre-reading. Find me on Tumblr at dirtytalkingpeeta. Obviously.