Summary: Set during Catching Fire, Katniss and Peeta wake up together the morning of the day they will picnic on the roof.
A/N: In honor of Suzanne Collins new book, I’m kicking it back to one of my favorite couples ever!
I wake because the room is too bright. Or maybe because I’m too warm. Or maybe because my neck hurts from the way I’m laying on my side, my face shoved half into the pillow. Or maybe because I’ll be back in the games in a matter of days. I close my eyes again, pushing the thought from my focus by focusing on Peeta’s arms around me, the length of his body pressed against my back, his good leg between mine, and something rigid pressing against my backside. I’m groggy but it only takes a second for my brain to register what I’m feeling. My body stiffens and a deep blush spreads across my cheeks. I hear Peeta’s voice in my head, “You’re so…pure.” Admittedly, I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but I’m not so stupid that I think he went to sleep with a remote or something in his pocket.
I try to will the blood to drain from my cheeks, but Peeta is shifting behind me. His hips press forward, pushing that rigid flesh harder against me and my blush only deepens. He must feel my body go even stiffer because his head jerks off the pillow and he whispers sleepily, “Nightmare?”
I don’t answer because my mouth won’t work. He tilts my chin towards him with the tips of his fingers and see’s my flushed cheeks. The brows over his concerned blue eyes tighten their furrow. “What’s wrong?” he asks. I’m unbelievably embarrassed at this point and I can’t even lie to him when he’s looking down at me like that.
“You’ll make fun of me.” I squeak out a last-ditch effort to get him off my back. My back, which is still pressed tightly to both the soft and hard parts of his sleep-warm body.
“I promise I won’t.” He looks serious. I huff a huge sigh and press my burning face into my hands, not able to meet his eyes.
“You have a situation.” I pull one hand off my face to reach behind me and push his hip back, relieving some of the pressure. He doesn’t answer and I peek between my fingers. He’s clearly trying not laugh, his lips pressed into a tight line. But he doesn’t. Peeta keeps promises. He rolls away from me onto his back and stretches; his pants are sort of tented at the front. I’m annoyed that he doesn’t even seem the slightest bit embarrassed.
“Sorry, happens sometimes,” is all he offers, the corners of his mouth still pulling upward. Something feels kind of fluttery in my stomach.
“Because of me?” It’s barely a whisper from my lips. I crane my neck towards him when he groans. It’s his turn to put his face in his hands.
“You’re killing me, Katniss,” he says through his fingers. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?” I’m not sure if his protests are because the idea is so ridiculous to him that it’s just funny or if it’s because it’s true. He drags his hands down his face and looks at me. There’s a smile playing on his lips, but the blue of his eyes is stormy. Maybe both. “It just happens to men when they’re sleeping sometimes,” he continues and then stops to think for a moment. His gaze doesn’t stray from mine. I can see his pupils dilating. “It doesn’t help the situation when you’re here pressed against me, though.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, “And smelling like that.” His eyes stay shut and he let’s out his breath in a sigh. It sounds sort of sad. I know Peeta loves me, but I’d never considered him desiring me. I’d never given much consideration to desire at all. I reach out and brush the tips of my fingers from his temple to the corner of his jaw. His fingers tighten into fists, but his hands stay at his sides. I let a finger trail down his neck to his chest, my palm flattening over his heart. It thumps rapidly into my hand. I go back to brushing his skin with just my fingertips, feeling the soft blond hair covering his chest, watching his face. His eyes stay shut, but his lips part and the stiffness is twitching at the front of his pants. I don’t know if I’m emboldened by seeing his body respond to my touch or feeling my own body start to respond, the fluttering in my stomach turning to heat, but I lean forward and press my lips tentatively to his.
We’ve kissed so many times before, but it’s clear that this is entirely different. Energy hums where our lips are connected. Where my palm presses against his chest. Where his fingers twist in my hair. His tongue slides easily past my lips. Oh yes, this kiss is different. I’m bewildered. This whole time, he could’ve been kissing me like this? Making me feel like this? My brain is fuzzy, lost in his mouth on mine, one hand holding my head tightly to his, the other finding my hip to drag my body to press against his own. The rigidness of his erection is now pressing against my belly. The presence of its pressure against me again makes the heat in my belly pool between my legs. I want to feel more of it. My hand travels down his side while his tongue continues exploring my mouth. My palm slides over his hip and over the fabric covering the bulge at the front of his pants. He inhales sharply through his nose, pulling away, and grasping my wrist. My hand is frozen on his package as he holds me, breathing heavily, and looking into my eyes.
“Katniss…you have to be sure,” he says. His voice is deep and husky. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this, but I need you to be sure that this is what you want too.” I stare into his eyes, now almost a dark blue. Peeta. Ever looking out for me. Always putting me first. I should be thinking of what this means to him. I should be thinking of what this means to me.
“I do. I want this. I want you,” I whisper. I hold his gaze while his eyes dart between mine a few times. He knows what is true and what is not when it comes from me. Still, he doesn’t move for a moment too long.
“Sorry,” he grins and buries his face in my neck, “I just needed a minute for that to stop ringing in my head.” I’m grinning too; and then giggling because his nose nuzzling and his breath on my neck kind of tickles. And then I’m making an embarrassing yelping nose when I feel his teeth scrape against the tender flesh and his lips and tongue kissing behind it. My brain retreats from its moment of clarity back into a haze as Peeta’s lips continue on my neck, at my jaw, tugging on my earlobe.
“Oh-“ I whimper at the sensation. I’m learning a lot about Peeta’s kisses this morning. I suddenly remember my hand cupped around the bulge in his pants and I gently squeeze my fingers. He groans into my collar bone. I keep feeling him and he keeps kissing until I can only guess he’s through with my tentative touches. He pushes me onto my back and then he’s over me, kneeling between my legs. I’m very conscious of this position, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed. It’s as if he can read my thoughts because he begins tugging at the edge of my shirt. Just like that the top half of me is as bare as he is. I’m fighting the urge to fold my arms over myself because Peeta is just raking his eyes over my uncovered skin. The streaming light from the windows illuminates soft olive skin over hard muscles and soft round breasts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says with wonder is his voice.
“It’s not real, just the full body polish,” I deflect.
“Don’t say that,” he’s looking in my eyes again, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I might believe you; this all seems too good to be real, and even if it isn’t, I’m not ready to wake up.” I laugh. No one can so quickly ease tension in me. “You should do that more,” he says, grinning widely down at me. He leans down, resting his weight on one of his forearms, and kisses me. After a few seconds he pulls back, “Hmmm…feels real,” he says, faking deep thought. He kisses me again, sliding his other hand up from my stomach to cup my left breast. His hand gently massages and I’m getting breathless under his lips at the new sensations when he pulls away again. “That feels real too, but I better keep testing.” His tone is still playful, but I can hear the husky desire creeping back into his voice. This time when his head dives in again, his mouth closes over my nipple.
“Peeta!” I gasp, fingers gripping at his hair. His tongue swirls and then he sucks lightly, scraping the hardened bud over his teeth and I cry out again, wordlessly this time. He moves to give my other breast some attention. My head tipped back and fingers gripping at the thick muscles in Peeta’s shoulders, I’ve become a gasping creature that I don’t recognize. I have a fleeting thought of frustration that Peeta seems to know how to make my body respond like this while I had no idea that people could feel this way. The need for him to touch more of me becomes quickly overwhelming and I have no words to spell out this desire, just moans and breathy cries of his name.
He’s kissing down the flat muscles of my stomach and his fingers slide into the elastic waistband of my pants, inching them down to expose more skin for his lips to explore. He pulls my foot up to him to yank the fabric over my heel and then pushes my leg back out to kiss, lick, and nip at the tender flesh on the inside of my thigh. He meets my eyes when plants a hot kiss where I want him most, right over the wet fabric that is sticking to my flesh. He looks down again for a moment, seeming to admire the dark saturated spot on the front of my underwear, and then peels them off.
I don’t have time to be embarrassed of my complete nakedness before his mouth is on me. His tongue swirls and laps in the same torture he executed on my nipples, but I’m unprepared for how much more intense it is. My fingers twist in the sheets and I squeeze my eyes shut with the effort of keeping myself from shattering into a million pieces.
I’m feeling something building quickly in me as Peeta’s tongue glides over my swollen bud. He sucks it gently between his lips and I nearly buck him off of me. I open my eyes and find him staring up at me, eyes a blue fire, as he continues his torture. I feel my thighs shuddering on either side of his head. I see this jaw working as his mouth moves methodically against my burning flesh. Licking, suckling, his face pressed so tightly to me his nose has disappeared into the thatch of dark hair above my sex.
Suddenly the blue fire rips through me, burning out from my center. “Peeta!” I cry out as the fire burns and pulses in the most wonderful heat. Then I’m gasping as my body throbs and slowly extinguishes. I’m aware, first, of Peeta relinquishing the tight grip on my thighs to keep me from crushing his head between them. Then, of him moving, sitting up on his knees between my, now liquid, thighs. I’m finally able to get my eyes to focus on him. His sandy hair is disheveled, sunlight glowing through the tips and he has a devilish grin spread across the glistening lower half of his face. I don’t know what to say.
“I don’t- I didn’t- wow,” I say lamely.
“Katniss Everdeen, at a loss for a witty retort,” he laughs out loud at his own joke. I roll my eyes.
“You’re still dressed,” my voice sounds hoarse in my ears. He looks down at his gray sweats, still tented at the front.
“This next part is going to be tricky with those on,” I say, adopting Peeta’s sly smirk. His eyebrows fly up in real shock, but he quickly springs off the mattress tugging them down. He stumbles a little trying to get the fabric over his prosthetic leg. “Eager,” I chuckle.
“You have no idea,” he grins back, crawling back over me. He kisses me slowly again and the heat is building back up low in my belly even quicker than before.
I push up at him gently with a palm flat to his chest. I want to look at him. He pulls away, propping himself with his hands on either side of my head. I look down between our bodies. My eyes travel down the smooth muscles of his more familiar upper half to uncharted territory. I reach my hand down to wrap my fingers around the hard length bobbing between us and he instantly groans and bucks his hips forward. I look up at his face again to see his eyes squeezed shut and lips open, his brows furrowed in pleasure. So I can do it to him too, I realize. I give his length a few curious strokes, enjoying my view of his blissed-out expression. “Katniss,” he whispers, opening his eyes, “are you ready?” Suddenly I realize how large he feels in my hand.
“We don’t have to do this,” he replies, reading my apprehension too easily. I feel him trying to pull away.
“No, please!” I reach up to grip both of his shoulders, “I want this Peeta, just go slow.” I kiss him before he can protest again and wrap my legs around him. My heels push into his ass until I feel his cock sliding against my slick folds. We both moan into the others lips at the contact. He takes over, moving his hips to slide back and forth, dragging against my sensitive flesh until I’m gasping again. He breaks our kiss and pulls away slightly, reaching down to guide himself until I can feel him notched at my opening. He pulls close again and gently brushes my lips with his. His eyes lock on mine and I nod my head.
He pushes almost all the way inside in one quick movement and stops. I gasp sharply as I feel a small pierce of pain and I appreciate his quick entry. The band aid is ripped off and I want to laugh because the pain is probably pretty equivalent to a band aid. Now It just feels weird and full.
“Are you okay?” Peeta asks. His voice sounds concerned, but when I meet his eyes, I see that blissed-out looking hiding just beneath his expression.
“I’m fine,” I smile back and move my hips a little for good measure, “you can move now.” He does, slowly drawing back and pushing back in. His head drops down to my collarbone.
“Oh God, Katniss,” he groans. On his second slow thrust, I get it. His hard cock is prodding and stroking where that hot desire sits low in my belly, where his tongue couldn’t reach. The stretch of his thick cock opening me up doesn’t feel overfull, but exactly right. He drags along the sensitive walls with each slow thrust; there’s pleasure in every movement. My hips are rising to meet his thrusts, urging him on now.
“It feels so good,” I whisper raggedly into his ear, “more Peeta.” I angle my hips to take him deeper. He pulls his face from my neck to look at me. His expression is awe? Admiration? Astonishment? I’m not sure because it changes back to a look of sheer pleasure when he starts moving in me a little quicker and feels the new depth of this position.
I watch him. His blonde locks falling in his eyes, the muscles standing out in the shaky arm gripping the headboard above me. I look down where our bodies are connected. The sight of his cock, swollen, pink, and coated in a red tinged slick, moving in and out of my body should look strange and foreign to me. But seeing our bodies move together, combined with the heightening pleasure each movement elicits, is too much to keep my eyes in focus. I shut them and listen to his ragged breaths and quiet grunts of pleasure, along with the sound of our bodies meeting. When I open them again, he’s looking at me, drinking in my pleasure the same way I did his. His lips meet mine sloppily, desperately. He pulls one of my hands from his hair and brings it to my own breast.
“Feel yourself,” he says, encouraging my fingers to touch myself like he touched me. I fight the strange feeling of touching my own body this way and move my fingers the way he showed me. I pinch my pointed nipple and pleasure shoots down to where I’m clenched around his cock. I moan loudly and he responds in a hiss, “Yes, Katniss.”
His hand moves between us and I feel his fingertips slide against the sticky wet flesh where his mouth had moved earlier. The combination of pleasure burning in these three places at once send me reeling and I hear the small moans coming from my throat on nearly every exhale.
The rhythm of his thrusts picks up speed again. “Cum for me Katniss,” he whispers. His voice sounds distant. I’m only aware of the wet slap of our bodies and the decadent fire building to a burning peak in my body. My head tosses back, and my mouth emits a strangled cry as my body erupts with pleasure that has to be at least triple as intense as the first time. I’m high on a plateau, riding out the overwhelming burning with my mouth still hanging open soundlessly.
I can feel Peeta driving into me in fast, shuddering movements. He’s gripping my hips with both hands to push into me deeply, pulling every drop of pleasure out of me. He stills suddenly just as I begin to float back to Earth. He grunts loudly, his hips jerking forward, and I feel heat spilling deep into me in long spurts.
He sinks bonelessly towards me and presses his damp forehead to mine. He pants his hot breath out against my cheeks. His lips are planting gentle kisses everywhere on my face he can reach. I can taste the salt of my own sweat when I capture his lips against my own.
He pulls his spent body from mine and a rush of fluid coats my already damp and sticky thighs. My body feels empty without him. He lays on his back and pulls me from the wet spot on the sheets to his side.
We lay quietly for a moment in the position I like to fall asleep in, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. His heartbeat is slowly evening out under my ear.
“I can’t believe that was real,” he whispers into my hair, “I never thought-“ he stops.
“I know,” I whisper back. “Me either.” We’re quiet again for a minute. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop,” he squeezes my arm.
“How would you know that?”
“Haymitch literally said it to me.” I pull my heavy head from his chest to look at him.
“Haymitch,” he laughs dryly, “he knows a different Katniss.” He sighs. “Why are you saying this anyway?” I don’t reply. I don’t know. He’s clenching his jaw. “I don’t want to hear the excuses. You don’t deserve me, I should be with someone else, whatever. This wasn’t a mistake. This was right. You know it felt right, Katniss.” His voice is angry, but his eyes, back to their normal lighter shade of blue, look sad, imploring. He’s right and it scares me. I’m self-sabotaging because it’s what I know how to do. I don’t know how to deal with what I feel about him. How to love him. I love him.
“I love you.” I say with finality. He doesn’t reply, maybe he’s shocked. I am. Maybe it’s because confusion is still etched into my face. I say it again, “I love you, Peeta.” He grabs my face with both hands.
