From the vault: That Mouth Was Made for Sitting by @ambpersand
In an effort to make our tumblr a little more navigable, we'll be highlighting older podfics that we've done so you can find them via our tags. Our first From the Vault is a steamy little number ...
That Mouth Was Made for Sitting by @ambpersand
Rating: E
Pairing: Draco x Hermione
Length: 6:04
Tags: Light Dom/sub, Face-sitting
Summary:
The first time Malfoy pulled her up the length of his body, situating her thighs on either side of his face, Hermione had been struck motionless with shock and uncertainty.
She was no stranger to the feel of his mouth, or the way it felt to undulate against his tongue. Hips seeking and rocking toward more, it was one of her favourite things. He loved giving, and she loved receiving.
12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?
honestly i've hit a good number of them that i've wanted to hit? i did a couple healer things this holiday season which scratched that itch some, though i think i'm still harboring vague interests in a more long form healer thing. but we shall see. the other one that interests me is professors, which is on the docket!
13. If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?
the first thing that comes to mind is b&e. i think it would be interesting to abridge it? or even two abridge it in two versions, like two totally different (and shorter) books you could read: b&e the romance and b&e the bildungsroman journey.
30. Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.
no :) but i am very slowly picking away at my professors idea. i'll tell you about it on my walk tomorrow. tumblr doesnt get to know all the details yet.
so hiiiiiiiii hello howdy, dear ambpersand. i made you a thing and i decided i fuckin’ hate it (it didn’t help that my darling boyfriend came up behind me when editing this and had the absolute audacity to ask me if it was from fifty shades of fucking gray) but i can’t keep staring at and editing it cause the hatred will just grow stronger lmaooo
anyways hope you like it. i curse the wasted years not knowing of your work miss ma’am. thank you for all of the amazing content you provide for us thirsty dramione goblins. you’re a peach. <3
Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous]
Rated E.
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“Hey Katniss, It’s Delly… I just wanted to let you know that Peeta is here at Sae’s bar tonight, but he doesn’t look so good… I don’t know what happened but you might want to come get him.”
Delly left the message on my voicemail twenty minutes ago, but I jumped in my car so fast that I don’t bother calling her back. My mind is racing with too many questions to be able to focus on anything except driving and getting to Peeta.
Is he okay? Did something happen? Was there an accident? Why is he at the bar alone on a Friday night? And why didn’t he tell me?
He’s my best friend, but as far as I know, nothing special was supposed to be happening tonight. It’s just another Friday. Or is it? Did I miss something? Did he have plans that he told me about, but I forgot? No, I think, searching back through my memory. If he wanted to go out, he would have asked me. Or he would have given me a heads up, because that’s what we did. We checked in with each other. We looked after each other. It’s been that way for six years now, but this has me spinning.
We made that promise when he finally admitted that his on-again-off-again girlfriend was actually a one night stand, and she was 6 months pregnant. They couldn’t make it work, and she wanted to give the baby up. He’d been sitting on the secret for months without confiding in me, and it wasn’t until he was almost completely wrecked that he finally confessed that he was going to be a single dad all on his own. He was afraid to say anything in case it scared me off, and he cared too much for our friendship to let something like failed birth control get in between us. Since then, I’ve been by his side. Through thick and thin. Helping him when he needed it most, never judging. But now… Now he’s out at a bar on a Friday night, and he didn’t tell me. It seems inconsequential, but with how close we are, I know it means something.
A heavy feeling settles in my stomach when I realize that he’s obviously been keeping something from me again. Whatever it is. And if he’s at the bar… Where’s Lily?
We usually tell each other everything. We text occasionally throughout the day, but we spend most of our weekends together. Even tonight, when he asked me what I was up to, I responded back with a picture of my dinner framed in front of my TV. He responded back with a couple of emojis, but didn’t give me any impression that he wasn’t at home doing the same thing.
What’s going on?
The bar is packed, which is unsurprising for a Friday night, but I spot him almost immediately after walking through the door. His blond waves stand out at me like a beacon, shining in the low lights from the row of stools in front of the bar top. What I can’t see, though, is his face… He’s sitting slumped forward, his fists pressed into his eyes, and an empty glass in front of him.
“Peeta?” he jumps when I place my hand on his shoulder, so I pull it back quickly. He’s never had a problem being touched before, but the way he twists away from my hand is enough to make a frown start to pull at the edges of my mouth.
“Katniss?” my name sounds thick and slow, like his tongue and lips can’t get through the syllables quite right, and his eyes are glassy when he turns to face me. The sudden movement has him grabbing at the edge of the bar for support, and my immediate instinct is to reach out and steady him with a hand on his back.
“What are you doing here?” blinking rapidly, he squints at me like I might be a mirage. His confusion doesn’t help to reassure the strange, betrayed feeling that’s started to settle in my stomach, but I squash it down. He’s drunker than I’ve ever seen him before, and he needs to get home before he blacks out on the dirty floor of the bar.
“I’m here to help get you home,” I tell him, digging in my purse for a few dollars to throw down in front of his empty glass. I don’t know what his bar tab is, and I’m not sure I want to know. He’s obviously had more than one beer, which is his standard when we grab dinner together. When the bartender doesn’t notice me waiting after a moment, I give up and turn back to Peeta. We’ll have to come back and settle it in the morning, I guess.
“No,” he tries again, shaking his head. The movement is more of a circle than anything else, and it makes him dizzy again. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you home,” I repeat, slower this time. God, how much did he have to drink?
“Katniss,” he reaches out, placing his wide palm against my cheek. “No.”
As frustrated as I am that he came to the bar to get shit-faced without telling me, I want to laugh at how ridiculous this conversation is. I’m not usually the one who’s good with words, but right now he’s almost incoherent.
“Peeta, yes,” placing my hand over his, I pull it away from my face. When he frowns a little, I shake my head. “You’ve had too much to drink. You need to get home.”
At the mention of home, I cringe. I should have remembered.
“Where’s Lily?”
“Hmm? Oh,” a wide smile breaks out across his face at the mention of her name. “She’s with Rye.”
His slurred answer sounds more like sheswifrye, but I let out a relieved sigh. On the off chance he needs a sitter for his daughter, he calls me. But his brother? That’s usually only when he and I have plans together, or if I’m busy. I’m always the first person he calls, and I try to resist scowling at the snub. “Come on, then. Let’s get going.”
He doesn’t fight me when I stoop down to wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling his weight up and forward so I can act as a human crutch. He’s just tall enough that my shoulders settle into the side of his torso, but it will do.
“Why though?” he asks, stumbling forward a little when we begin to make our way to the front door. My arm is wrapped around the opposite side of his stomach, and I can feel the solid strength of his abs underneath the button up shirt he’s wearing.
“God, you are drunk,” I huff out a laugh, because he’s heavy. “I told you already.”
“No, why?” he persists, pulling his head back to look down at me with a bleary gaze.
It takes me a second to realize that I must be missing the point. What is he trying to ask me? Why am I at the bar? To take his drunk ass home to sleep it off.
“Because I’m your best friend,” I try a different tactic with my answer this time, thankful when we make it through the door without him falling over completely. His steps are heavy and shuffling beside mine, but he smiles easily when I speak again. “And you would do it for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Always,” he sighs the word and leans into my embrace a little as we walk down the sidewalk toward my car.
An easy silence falls between us, even though I’m full of questions. I won’t get anywhere questioning him now, though, and he’s going to need to take some water and painkillers before getting him into bed.
“Did you drive here earlier?” I ask him once we get to my SUV, and I manage to get the passenger side door unlocked and open with my free hand.
“Yeah,” he swallows heavily before climbing into the seat in an uncoordinated movement. Once he’s finally settled, he pats around at his pockets before finding his keys and pulling them out to hand to me. “Here, you drive.”
“I think I will,” I laugh, pushing them into my purse for safekeeping. I guess we’ll have two things to take care of in the morning.
Once I’m settled in to the driver’s side and pulling out into the street, I cast a glance in his direction. He’s got his head leaning back on the headrest with his eyes closed, and even in the weird yellow glow of the streetlights he’s still the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. With a wide set jaw and long eyelashes the same color of his wavy hair, he’s always been hard to look away from. Light freckles dot his face, scattered across his cheekbones, nose, and forehead from so many summers outside with his brothers. With a wide nose and plush lips, I could stare at him all night if he would let me. Thankfully, he’s used to me staring at him.
Even with his eyes closed right now, he can tell. “Thanks,” he says, sighing a little. His voice is still slurred, but it’s starting to grow heavy with sleep. Shit, I won’t be able to carry him inside if he passes out now.
“Peeta,” I say his name loud enough to get his eyes fluttering open. “Why were you at the bar tonight?”
I don’t say the question I actually want to ask.
“I asked you first,” he chuckles, sitting up a little and blinking rapidly like he’s trying to clear his vision.
“And I answered,” I point out, hoping that this will be enough to keep him awake and engaged for another ten minutes while I drive home.
“No you didn’t,” his voice is playful, and he rolls his head to the side to look at me. Even in the dark I can see the vibrant blue of his eyes. “I didn’t tell you I was gonna be there. Are you following me, Katniss?”
The sound I make is more of a scoff than anything else, and I move my eyes back to the road so he doesn’t see me roll them at the absurdity of the idea. It isn’t until his words sink in that I realize what he was trying to ask me all along. Not why, but how.
“Delly called me,” I tell him, rolling my lips between my teeth. The slight stinging feeling is back in my chest now, and I take a deep breath to try and dislodge it.
“She shouldn’t have,” Peeta shakes his head and looks out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.
“Why not?” my question is genuinely curious, because I don’t know how he would have gotten home if someone hadn’t come to get him. And if Rye is busy, then that leaves me. Was he expecting the bartender to call him a cab or something?
“Because,” he sighs heavily, letting his eyes fall shut again. I know this look. It’s his frustrated look, when he’s searching for the words to say something difficult, but can’t find them just yet. I’ve seen him give this look to Lily on occasion, but never me.
“I was fine,” he says instead.
“You’re drunk,” I correct him.
“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” he shrugs, but I can see the defeat that’s written on his face. He’s hiding something, or a few somethings, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it might be.
“You can tell me anything, you know,” I soften my voice so I don’t sound so accusatory. “You’re my best friend.”
“That’s why I can’t tell you,” he exclaims, pulling his hands up to tug at his hair. “It’s fine, okay? Everything is fine.”
It’s not fine, I want to say. Five years ago he and I made a promise to stop keeping secrets from each other, but apparently I’m the only one who kept up my end of the bargain. When I don’t respond back, he looks at me, and even though my eyes are straight ahead, I see the way his jaw drops open a little.
I’m sure I look angry. I kind of am, but I’m more annoyed by anything else. I get woken up at 10 PM to come get his drunk ass, and he can’t even be bothered to be honest with me.
“Katniss,” he pleads, leaning forward and resting his head on my shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad,” I sigh, careful not to dislodge his head when I turn the steering wheel.
“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Just one and done and then I would be okay, you know?”
“What?” it’s like he’s speaking in riddles. Drunk riddles.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he sits up and shakes his head, but the movement must make him dizzy again. “Whoa,” he grabs at the center console to steady himself, and I give him a worried look when I see his normally pale complexion is more of an ashy white color.
“Please don’t puke in my car,” I eye him wearily. “Just sit back, okay? We’ll be home in a minute.”
“I’m okay,” he sucks in a few deep breaths through his nose, and he sounds confident enough that I believe him.
After another moment, his eyebrows knit together. “Home?”
“My house,” I correct. My place is closer than his, but I didn’t even think of taking him back to his house instead. Someone needs to watch him tonight to make sure he’s okay, the last thing I need is another phone call in the morning that he fell down the stairs trying to make it to the bathroom because he was still drunk at 2 AM.
“I like your house,” he sighs happily, and I can’t stop the smile that stretches across my lips. Even though I’m annoyed at him, he’s still unquestionably nice. It’s my weakness.
“Good. We’re going to get you some water and get you into bed, okay?”
“Bed?” he says the word like it’s the best reward I could give him, and I can’t help but laugh a little.
My place is a small one bedroom bungalow, but it’s okay. He can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.
“Yes, a bed. But you have to stay awake until we get there, okay?” I tell him when I notice that his eyes have drifted closed again.
“Okay,” he agrees, even though his eyes are still closed.
“Did you eat dinner?” I try asking another question instead to try and keep him awake.
“Hmm?” it takes him a second to process the question, but then he shakes his head slightly. “No. I was waiting, but then you showed up.”
“You were waiting?” A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s past 10:30 now, and I can’t imagine what he means.
“Mmhmm,” he nods, but doesn’t elaborate.
“How long were you waiting for?” I ask instead, trying not to sigh in frustration.
His fingers begin ticking the numbers off, and I wait while he struggles with the math. Apparently, numbers and alcohol don’t mix.
“Uhh,” he stops, running his hand across his face again. “When was 6?”
“You’ve been waiting at the bar since 6 PM?” my eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah,” his confirmation sounds sadder than I expect, and I can’t stop from looking at him. Even though I’m still driving, we’re close to my house in the residential part of town. There’s no other cars around, and I let my eyes focus on him for a brief second.
His eyes are cast down at his lap, and his shoulders are slumped forward again like they were when I first walked into the bar. Normally he’s in a good mood, upbeat and outgoing, but this is… something else entirely.
“Who were you waiting for, Peeta?” I ask him quietly. “I would have come if you would have just told me.”
“You couldn’t come,” he shakes his head in a vehement no, and I immediately frown.
“Ouch,” I try to laugh it off, but it’s true. His words sting, and I know in the morning he’ll barely remember any of this.
“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs again. “It was dumb.”
Before I can get too angry about the strange and sudden secrecy, I notice how embarrassed he sounds.
“It’s okay,” when I pull into my driveway, I glance at him again, surprised to see his cheeks and ears stained pink. “Let’s get you inside.”
“I’m sorry,” he mutters as soon as we enter my living room, and he kicks off his shoes on instinct. He’s walking a little steadier now, but I keep close just in case he stumbles.
“For what?”
“Everything. You weren’t supposed to be bothered.”
“You think I’m bothered by helping you?”
“I was trying to get help on my own,” he drops his head back, and the frustration is practically rolling off of him in waves. His moods are swinging around wildly, and I can barely keep track if he’s upset or confused or angry. Or maybe it’s just all three, and I rarely see him this worked up.
My living room, kitchen, and dining room all bleed into each other, and I’ve never been more thankful for the cramped floor plan. When I direct him to the small dining table, he doesn’t fight it. “You sit here while I get some water, okay?”
“You don’t have to do this,” he grabs my hand before I can walk away, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
“I do, or you’re going to have one hell of a hangover,” I purse my lips, but I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s going to have a nasty headache in the morning either way. He never drinks like this, and it’s bound to come back and bite him in the ass.
“No,” he tugs down on my fingers, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re the only one who takes care of me. You don’t have to do it.”
Ahh, I almost laugh. We’ve reached the emotional stage of his drunkenness. “I want to, Peeta. I like helping to take care of you. You take care of me too, you know.”
At my words, his neck flushes red and his eyes dart away. Narrowing my eyes, I watch as he shifts in his seat a little, but his hand feels burning hot against my skin.
“That’s not…” he tries, but has to swallow before he can continue. “You can’t take care of this.”
“I can’t take care of what, Peeta?” getting him water?
“Me,” he emphasizes by pressing his other hand to his chest.
“Okay, Peeta. You’re drunk. Let me go get you some water,” this time I do laugh a little bit, because later I’ll be angry. When he’s asleep, I’ll get to think more about how he’s starting to hide things and keeping cryptic secrets.
He finally lets my hand go, but only so he can scrub it across his cheeks. “I’m sorry for being such a wreck. I just… I just wanted…”
“You just wanted what?” I know I shouldn’t push, but I need to know. I need to know what was so important that he thought he had to hide it from me.
“God,” his hands move from his face into his hair, where he scratches his nails against his scalp. “Shit. I just… It’s been so long. It feels like I’m about to lose my mind.”
“It’s been so long since what, Peeta?” I lean against the table next to him, not trusting myself to move any further away. “You can tell me anything. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you. You know I would.”
He chuckles a little, but the sound is short lived. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” I poke at his shoulder. He’s been the most constant influence in my life for years. Supporting me through both my mom and my sister moving halfway across the country. Bringing me food and taking care of me when I’m sick. Celebrating when I got the big promotion at work. Helping me with repairs around my house when I needed a second hand and couldn’t handle it alone. “Anything, Peeta. Always.”
“You’d pity fuck me?” he must be going for shock value, and it works. My jaw drops open on a gasp, and it’s the least thing I expected him to say. Even drunk, he shrugs at my response. “See. I told you. That’s what I thought. You can’t always help me.”
“That’s…” I have to blink a few times to get my bearings. My body feels suddenly flushed at his confession, and I don’t know what to do with the information. “That’s what you were doing tonight?”
“What I was trying to do,” he drops his head forward, and I can see that his neck is still burning bright red. “Until I got stood up and then drank my weight in liquor. Fuck, I’m sorry, Katniss. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry–”
“Peeta,” I cut him off before he can spiral any further. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were on a date?”
“Because,” he sighs again, but his words are starting to sound a little clearer now. He might be starting to sober up, but only barely. “Because it’s been five years since I’ve had sex and I’m desperate. It’s sad.”
Five years. It’s been just under five years since Lily was born, which means… “You haven’t had sex since Clove?”
“I told you,” he lets out a weak laugh. “It’s sad. But the last year or so… It’s just…”
“You’re finally ready to start dating again?” I try to fill in the blanks. I remember a conversation, shortly after Lily was born, when he met a pretty blonde named Madge. She could have been the perfect stand-in for Lily’s mom, but he wasn’t interested. He turned her down multiple times, and kept insisting that he wasn’t ready. Eventually she moved on, but Peeta kept his sole focus on Lily. Until now, apparently.
The thought sends a flash of jealousy through my system, ice cold and unexpected. As much as I want what’s best for Peeta, I’m taken aback by how much I don’t like the idea of him being out with another woman. Maybe it’s because he’s kept most of his attention on Lily, the bakery, and me for the last five years, but my reaction is as confusing as it is strong. I don’t own him, I try to tell myself, but it does little to quell the spike of pressure in my chest.
“Not even,” he blinks a few times, fisting his hands together, but he won’t look at me now. “I’m desperate. I feel like a teenager again. It’s all I can think about. I thought maybe a quick date would help take the edge off so I could go back to normal, but…”
Oh. “You, uh…” I struggle for the words, but a smile is tugging at my lips. “Just needed to let off some steam?”
“God,” he snorts a laugh. “It’s pathetic.”
“It’s not!” I try to argue, but I can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of my chest.
“Trust me, I’ve tried everything else.”
I don’t even know where to begin dissecting his statement. Everything? What does that even mean? Oh, I realize, and I can’t stop the visual once it’s in my head. His hand wrapped around his erection, pumping long and slow, with smooth movements as his palm encircles the tip…
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says once I go silent, but I snap out of my filthy little dream. I can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing against the back of my neck now, and I avoid looking at him in case he sees it written across my face.
“You’re fine, Peeta,” I don’t want him to be embarrassed, but my body is flushed with an odd sensation that feels warm and tingly at the same time.
“I know you said you would help me no matter what, but this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he finally looks at me again, his gaze harder than usual.
“I–” I what, exactly? “I’ll do it.”
The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and his eyes go wide at the same time mine do.
“You what?”
“I’ll do it,” I force myself to repeat the words, and they sound choked as I push them past my lips.
“Katniss, no,” he tries to sit back, but the chair keeps him from going anywhere. He’s sputtering a little now, confused by my sudden offer. I’m just as surprised by it as he is, but I can’t take it back now. “No, you don’t need to–”
“You said just once, right?” it feels like I’m the one who’s drunk now, but I can’t help it. The tightness in my chest has expanded, wrapping around my lungs and abdomen with a kind of pressure I’ve never experienced before. “Let me help you then. This way you don’t have to wait for a stranger at the bar.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead staring at me with the same hard gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not,” I breathe out. I’ve always been attracted to him, but now… He needs help, and I’m his best friend. I can do this. I can help him out, no strings attached. I can. If he says yes.
“Katniss, I can’t,” he starts to shake his head slowly, and my stomach sinks like a heavy weight. “It would ruin everything…”
“Okay,” I nod, forcing my face into something that doesn’t look as hurt as I feel by his unintentional rejection. “That’s fine. I just thought I would offer. I’ll go get you some water, okay?”
I’m up and over at the sink before he can respond again, and all I hear is a choked noise from the middle of his chest. “Katniss…”
“Come on, you need to get some sleep,” when I finally return to the table, he hasn’t moved. I usher him forward with a hand on his palm, and he raises to his feet slowly. He’s still drunk, but he’s managed to sober up somewhat by the shock of my offer. Hopefully he still won’t remember this in the morning, but I know him well enough that even if he does, he’ll be too polite to say anything.
He lets me push him down the hallway to my room, and collapses into my bed without argument. “Drink this,” I hand him the water before moving to grab the blanket from the end of my bed, tossing it over his lower body.
He doesn’t say anything, instead staring at me with a steady gaze as I move around the room. Once the bottle of aspirin is on the bedside table, I flip off the light. “I’ll be on the couch. Come get me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay,” his agreement is slow and quiet, and I let out a sigh as soon as I close the door shut behind me.
Shit.
———————————————-
I don’t know what time it is when I hear the sound of the toilet flushing, but from the blue light beginning to peek through the curtains, it must be early. I’m a light sleeper, and when you’re used to sleeping in a house alone, any errant noise will wake me up instantly.
“Peeta?” I call out, my voice groggy and rough from sleep, and pull myself from the couch. My joints are a little stiff, but I probably feel better than he does.
“Yeah?” his voice is weak from the other side of the bathroom door down the hall, and when I reach it I rap lightly with my knuckles.
“You okay?”
“No,” his response is heavy with misery, and I let out a slight laugh. “Don’t come in. I’m dying.”
I crack the door open, unsurprising when I see his legs sprawled out on the floor.
“I’ll call the coroner, then.”
“Please do,” he replies, his voice muffled. When I push the door open the rest of the way, I see that he’s stripped off his shirt and is using it as a pillow against the cold tile of the floor.
“Wow. You look like hell,” I nudge his calf with my toe, and he winces as if he’s in pain. His skin looks pale and clammy, shining slightly in the overhead light.
“You don’t have to shout it,” he croaks, trying to wave me off, but the motion is weak and half-hearted.
“You look like hell,” I mock-whisper at him, having too much fun to leave him alone. I know I probably should, but after last night… He deserves to get a little bit of shit from me, I think.
“That’s better.”
“So,” I move into the bathroom and slide by body down the back of the door, tucking my legs in front of my body. “What did we learn last night?”
“To not mix beer and bourbon,” he groans.
“Good lesson. Did you take the aspirin I left you?”
“Yeah,” he swallows heavily. “Then I puked it up.”
I snort, unsurprised. “You should shower. You’ll feel better.”
And you smell like the back of a bar, I skip telling him that part, and he groans.
“That means getting off the floor,” Peeta sighs. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. Now come on,” I move forward to help him up, and he lets out another groan as he rises to his feet. I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but now, in the light of day after my embarrassing offer, I avert my eyes.
“Can we get breakfast?” he asks on a heavy sigh. I’m not surprised he wants food, now, even as sick as he is after his unintentional bender. It’s probably been 18 hours since he’s last eaten.
“How about I make some omelettes and we can crash on the couch until the bar opens?”
He starts the shower spray and gives me a confused look, obviously unaware of how he left the bar last night. Good, I think. Maybe then he won’t remember the rest of the night, either.
“We still need to pay your tab and pick up your car, you lush.”
“Shit,” he curses, closing his eyes and rubbing his knuckle across his brow.
“Yeah, shit,” I echo. “You know where the towels are.”
The soft noise from the shower should be reassuring as I get started on breakfast, but it’s not. It’s a reminder that Peeta is naked in my house, just a few dozen feet away from me. Usually, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, either. But now it is, because I had to go and fuck things up. Even if he can’t remember my offer, that’s exactly what I did. And because of it, I’m stuck imagining what he looks like standing in my shower, water cascading down his chest, his hands soaping his body–
“Hey,” his voice surprises me, and I almost jump out of my skin when he speaks from just a few feet behind me. “Whoa, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I take a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart, but he gives me a careful look. “Just focusing on cooking, that’s all.”
When I motion to the pan in front of me, he goes still. “You’re making potatoes?”
They might be his favorite, and I might be stupid for thinking about it when I saw the bag of hash browns in my freezer. “Figured you could use the carbs.”
“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?” he praises me, moving to the electric kettle next to the fridge.
“Don’t kid yourself, I’m just racking up favors now. That’s all this is,” I laugh it off, focusing on the sizzling pan in front of me while he moves to make us tea.
“Sorry I don’t have any more coffee,” I tell him with a shrug. I usually keep a bag on hand for him in the cabinet, but I’m pretty sure he drank it all at least a month ago.
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “My stomach probably couldn’t handle it right now anyway.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“If by better you mean half-alive, sure,” his laugh is soft and warm, and Iet my eyes flutter closed at the sound and grip the spatula a little tighter. A comfortable silence fills the kitchen, and he works to grab plates and utensils while I finish cooking. Once we’re sitting down on the couch, food in hand, he clears his throat.
“Thanks for last night.”
“It’s no problem,” I assure him, hoping he doesn’t take it any further, but when he opens his mouth again I almost groan. I know the look on his face. It’s persistence.
Shit. I was wrong… He does remember after all, and I can see the careful look in his eyes. It’s the same one he gets when he’s trying to deal with Lily when she gets cranky and he’s trying to avoid a full blown meltdown.
“We don’t need to talk about it,” I try to cut him off before he can get started. We absolutely don’t need to even acknowledge it. It was a stupid offer, and we should just move on.
“You don’t even know what I’m about to say,” he quirks a blond eyebrow up at me and sets his fork down.
“I do, trust me. And we don’t.”
“Katniss,” my name is so soft against his tongue that I barely hear it. “I–”
“We talked about it plenty last night. It’s fine, Peeta. Really. We can just move on and forget it ever happened.”
Please don’t make me relive that rejection. Please.
“Okay,” he nods after a moment. “If that’s what you want.”
Instead of answering I nod and shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth, turning back to the TV in front of us. To something normal and easy. Something that doesn’t remind me of my lapse in judgement last night when I offered to fuck my best friend.
The next time he speaks, he offers me a slight smile. “Thanks for everything.”
———————————————-
It’s almost 3 PM when my phone chimes with a new text message, and I’m halfway through unpacking my groceries. After dropping Peeta off at his car and an awkward goodbye, I came back home to get a shower, then ran a few errands to get what I needed for the week. It helped to feel some semblance of normal, but when I see his name on my screen, that strange tingling feeling resumes in my stomach.
Peeta:
You busy?
I wait until I’ve got the rest of my bags unpacked before getting to the message, then head to the living room.
Katniss:
Not really, why?
My phone buzzes again almost immediately, another text message from him popping up in our conversation history.
Peeta:
Are you home?
Katniss:
Yeah, what’s up? Did you leave something here?
When he doesn’t answer, I set my phone down on the coffee table and grab the remote, settling in to watch some TV until I need to make dinner. Before I can finish scrolling through the menu, my doorbell rings.
Confused, I make my way to the door, but freeze as soon as I swing it open.
It’s Peeta.
“Why did you ring the doorbell?” I cock my head to the side, but he’s biting down on his lower lip hard enough that the delicate pink skin has turned bright red. Usually he knocks before opening the door and letting himself in, but now he looks almost hesitant to step forward. It’s a strange thought, but I also notice that he’s changed clothes. So he went home and then… came back here?
He shakes his head, ignoring my question. “Did you mean it?”
“What?” confused, I take a step back, but he follows me, crowding up closer to my body without stepping fully into the house.
“What you said to me last night,” he clarifies, staring into my eyes with more purpose than I’ve ever seen. “Your offer. Did you mean it?”
Oh god, the offer to sleep with him? “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that,” I shake my head and take another step back, but he mirrors the movement again. Like a predator following his prey, I’m locked in his sights.
“I thought I could let it go,” he shakes his head, letting his eyes drift closed for the briefest of moments. “I was wrong.”
“Peeta,” I try, but he shuts the door behind him and cuts off my words. My heart is pounding now, sending shocks of adrenaline through my system as I try to figure out my next move. Do I tell him I didn’t mean it? Do I laugh it off?
“I’ll only ask this once,” he says, his voice low. “Just tell me the truth.”
“I–” my throat suddenly feels dry and tight, and I have to swallow a few times to push past it. “I think so.”
My answer is barely a whisper, but I see the relief as it washes over his features.
“I need a yes or no,” with another step, we’re inches apart.
“Yes,” I manage a nod, but it’s shaky, and my thighs hit the back of the couch. I’m stuck, backed up as far as I can go.
“Do you think…” he takes a shuddering breath, like he’s trying to breathe me in, but it’s the only crack in his facade. Everything else seems so intent. So desperate, that I don’t doubt him for a moment. “Just once?”
“Just once,” I agree, echoing his words with another nod.
“And nothing will change?” his eyes drop down to my lips, and in a movement that seems almost involuntary, his tongue peeks out, swiping across his own lower lip. “I can’t lose you, Katniss. I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“It wont,” I try to assure him. It wont. It can’t. He’s my best friend, and I’m his. We’ve been through everything together… And if he needs help, I would rather he come to me than anyone else. “I promise.”
The word promise cuts him loose completely and he pounces on me, releasing all the pent up tension that he’s been keeping in his broad shoulders. His lips crash down on mine and I barely have time to suck in a gasp before his fingers are digging into my hair.
“Fuck, Katniss,” He sighs against my lips, but I can’t think. His mouth is working mine so effortlessly, and it feels… Holy shit. It feels like I’m floating, and it takes everything in me just to stay upright while he ravages me. With his hands cradling my jaw and neck, he tilts my face back, opening me up to him so he can press his lips down my neck. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
“You really do need to let off some steam, don’t you?” I try to joke, because it’s the only thing I can do while he’s nibbling on the soft skin beneath my ear. I’ve never seen him like this, either. He’s like a completely different person, holding me still while he takes what he needs.
And this is only the beginning.
“You have no idea,” his shoulders shake slightly with laughter, and the slight stubble on his jaw brushes over the sensitive skin on my neck. I can’t stop the noise that squeaks out of my chest at the feel of it, and my body moves on instinct, pressing against his so I can get more of whatever he’s offering.
One of his hands drifts down my neck, skirting along the outside of my breast and down to my waist. When he slides his fingers under the hem of my shirt, he pauses. His palm is hot against my skin, and I can feel the way his hands are trembling with want. It’s enough to make my center coil even tighter, and I wish his hand was pressed against my underwear instead of my stomach.
“If I don’t stop now, I wont,” he’s breathless, practically panting already, and I can feel the rapid thump of his heart when I lean forward. When he presses his hips forward into my abdomen, the growing hardness underneath his jeans is enough to make me realize just how worked up he actually is.
“Then don’t,” I have to stop myself from grabbing at him in what I’m sure would be a too-desperate move. I want to feel more of him, to know what’s underneath his clothes in a way that I’ve only ever seen from afar.
He bites off a curse at my response, nipping at my ear and pulling the lobe between his teeth. The sensation causes my body to tremble, but before I can make a move, he spins my body around.
“You have no idea,” he pushes my arms forward until I’m braced against the back of the couch for support, my hips bent forward just slightly. Just so he can get me into the right angle to grind himself against my ass, pushing his erection into the soft cradle of my thighs. “God, I’ve wanted you.”
“You have?” I should be ashamed of how breathless I sound now. How weak and trembling my voice is. But the only thing I can focus on is the way he’s moving against me, and the path that his hands are tracing as he tucks them under my shirt to grab at my waist. My hips. My ribcage.
“Why do you think I’m so desperate?” he leans forward to brush his lips against my ear, whispering the words. His hand tracks down around the front of my stomach, reaching forward until he finds the button of my jeans and snaps it open with a quick twist of his fingers.
“Do you know how hard it was not to come out here last night and see if you really meant it?” he growls, pushing his hips against me again. He’s hard, so hard, and I’m aching now. It’s a physical pain between my legs, and even though it hasn’t been as long for me as it has for him, I know it won’t go away until I’m filled completely.
“No?” I shake my head, only willing to tell him the truth. He’s putting himself out there for me now, and I can’t risk it. I can’t risk anything… If I lie, he’ll know. He always does.
“Or this morning?” the chuckle that vibrates his chest against my back sounds more like a growl, and his fingers dip low enough to start tracing the outside of my panties. It’s slow, maddening circles, and I can tell he’s mimicking the movements he would use on my clit if I opened my legs wide enough. “When I walked into the kitchen to see you cooking breakfast in those little shorts you wear?”
He likes my shorts? It’s the stupidest thought to have while he’s grinding in to me, but I can’t stop it from floating through my head. They’re old, probably back from my days in high school, but they’re comfortable and worn-in. And short. Which I hadn’t thought about before, because I didn’t think he was looking.
“My shorts?” I don’t know what else to say, but I know I want him to keep going. Pulling my hair from my neck, he presses slow kisses down my nape, taking his time. He’s not as frenzied now that I’m trapped like this, up against the couch while his fingers dip lower and lower toward the apex of my thighs. But I’m frozen, waiting, because if I make the wrong move I know I’ll risk him stopping completely.
“Everytime you wear those shorts I want to see what your thighs taste like. They sit so high that sometimes,” he pauses for another kiss, this time opening his mouth a little to trail his tongue along the skin, “when you bend over I can see the slightest shadow by your underwear. And it’s all I can think about for days.”
“Oh,” I breathe in, tilting my hips toward his touch. I can’t help but think about all the times I’ve worn those shorts around him. Around Lily too, when I babysit. But I never realized her father was watching me.
“What would you have done? If I came into the kitchen and dropped to my knees in front of you? Would you have opened up so I could have a taste? Or would you have teased me a little and made me work for it?”
“I–” I suck in a gasp when his fingers finally dive beneath the edge of my underwear. He still doesn’t push them inside or seek out my clit, instead continuing his slow, careful circles. I’m probably soaked by now, and I rock my hips forward to get more of his touch. I can barely think about anything else… I’m surrounded by him. His hands. His hips. His words.
“Tell me,” he coaxes, his hand moving just far enough to trace the seam of my opening. It’s teasing and light, but his middle finger slides easily against me. Oh god. There’s a heat radiating from my center, pulsing out with every pump of my heart… I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.
“I would have–” I have to swallow again, searching for the words. What would I have done? “I would have let you do whatever you wanted.”
“Mmm,” he hums, his lips moving up to my ear again. “What I wanted? I wanted to lay you out on the table and pull those little shorts down your legs, kissing every damn inch on the way down. And then,” he nips at the spot just behind me ear before lathing his tongue across the sting, “I would have licked my way back up. Until you were squirming around, chanting my name. Until you were just as desperate as I am.”
“Peeta,” his name is barely a whisper of breath, but I can’t stop it.
“Just like that,” he laughs a little, finally giving me something of a reprieve. His fingers dip inside of my opening just enough to gather the pooling wetness before dragging it up to my clit and giving it a light brush.
“Oh my god,” on instinct I open my legs wider, but he’s got me caged in. I can’t go far, but I work my hips in tandem against his fingers, pressing down harder for more friction. “Please, Peeta.”
“Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about you saying my name? Begging me for it?” he growls the words a little and rubs himself against my backside, but doesn’t stop the movement of his hands.
“How long?” I ask. I have to know. I need to know. He said he was desperate, but this is… More than I ever expected.
“Days,” when he pulls his hand from my underwear I almost cry out, but he doesn’t stop moving. “Months,” his hands work to pull down my jeans over my hips and down my thighs, and he barely pauses before I hear him unzipping his own. “Years. So long I can’t even remember the first time it happened.”
“What…” I have to swallow through the tight lump in my throat, but his hands are back on me in an instant. Running over the exposed skin of my ass, I tilt my hips back into his touch when he begins to knead the handfuls of flesh. I don’t care if it’s a wanton move–I’ll give him anything right now. Everything. “What else did you imagine?”
“What haven’t I imagined?” his breathless laugh is a warm brush of air on my neck, but one of his hands disappears and I have to fight the urge to glance back to see what he’s doing now.
“I think about it all the time, Katniss. I thought about it this morning when we were on the couch, and I wanted to see if you preferred my fingers or my tongue on your clit. If I could hold off on fucking you long enough to make you come more than once.”
My answer is nothing more than a soft gasp, but when he chuckles again I can’t stop myself. I have to see him. When I turn my head around and finally take a look at him, need coils tighter inside of me. His blue eyes, normally so bright, are dark and stormy, and his jaw is tense. His chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths, and I’ve never seen this kind of look on his face.
It’s determination. And desire, burning hot. It’s pure, unbridled want for me.
When my eyes dip down lower, my jaw drops. He’s running the palm of his hand down the length of his erection as he watches me, unashamed.
“This is what you do to me,” Peeta gives me a hard look, his fingers squeezing as he strokes himself. The head of his cock is an angry red, stretched taught and swollen. “This is all for you.”
I can’t see the details, but I see enough to know that it’s thick. Thick and long, and I’m a little ashamed at the way my eyes lock on him. His movements are quick and expert, like he’s not even bothering to play coy. No, this is how he gets himself off. His fingers squeeze tighter just underneath the head, and he swirls the palm of his hand up and over the tip before dragging it back down. Over and over again, I’m completely entranced.
“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You want me to take you to your bedroom? I’ll do it. Or do you want me to fuck you right here so you can never look at your couch again without thinking about me?”
“Right here,” I breathe out the words. I don’t care if it’s too desperate or needy, I need him now. My desire has ratched up to the point where my core is actually aching, desperate to be filled. I don’t want to waste any more time than we already have.
A grin tugs at his lips, and it’s a sudden reminder of how devastatingly handsome Peeta can be. How he is, really, all the time.
“Take your shirt off,” he directs me, moving to do the same. In an instant, we’re both naked in the middle of my living room, and my limbs begin to shake with the slightest of tremors. I don’t know if it’s from anxiety or anticipation, but I wait for his next instruction. If this is only going to happen once, I need to make sure that it’s exactly how he wants it.
“Fuck,” biting his lower lip, he reaches out to brush his thumb across my exposed nipple. The sensation is enough to make my entire body start trembling. I feel like a leaf about to blow away, but when he moves down and brushes a wet kiss across the tight peak, my body goes still. “I’m going to be dreaming about you for weeks.”
When he switches to the other breast, lathing his tongue against my nipple before sucking it between his lips, I have to lean back against the couch for support. “Do you remember…” he starts, his hand trailing down his stomach to give his cock a few rough strokes. “That bathing suit you wore to the lake last year?”
“Yes,” I give him a shaky nod, even though it takes me a moment to clear the haze of lust from my mind long enough to remember what he’s talking about. It was a plain black one-piece that Prim convinced me to buy from some overpriced department store, but it’s the only one I have. The neckline dips low and the legs are cut high, but it covers everything better than a bikini would have.
“You went swimming with Lily and when you climbed back on the pier, I thought I was going to go out of my mind,” he stands back up, leaving my nipples swollen and red from his attention. When his hands come to rest on my hips, I let him turn my body back around until I’m braced against the couch, my legs wide and hips tilted up. Like I’m on display.
I love it.
“You must have been cold, because your nipples were these hard little points and it took everything I had in me not to pull you down to your towel on the beach and suck on them through the material,” he braces his body behind mine, positioning his cock right underneath my opening. He doesn’t push in, though, and instead holds himself there.
“You should have,” I admit. Had I known, I probably would have tried to shield myself away from him. But now? Knowing this is how he is? And what he thinks when he’s being so polite and good on the outside?
“Oh, I dreamed about it. Over and over again,” he slides himself forward, running his head between my slick folds until he reaches my clit and then back again. Not quite dipping inside of me, but giving me just enough to stimulate what it might feel like if he gave in. Sucking in a harsh breath I rock back toward him, needing more stimulation. It’s filthy, the way he’s fucking me. Teasing me, really, with the head of his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves. It doesn’t feel as good as his hand did, but I want to work myself on top of it nonetheless.
To drive his point home he reaches around me to pluck at my left nipple, pinching the tip between his deft fingers, rolling it around until it aches. They’re never usually sensitive, but he’s playing with them like he’s thought about it. A lot. And it feels good, with the right kind of roughness and pressure to send more wetness rushing down to my core.
“Peeta,” I whimper his name, begging him for more. I don’t know how much more teasing I can withstand without melting into the floor entirely.
“You want it?” he slows his thrusts to a maddening pace, drawing back and forward like he isn’t digging his fingers into my hips hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow.
“Please,” I urge him, moving my hips back and forth to seek out more force, more stimulation. My eyelids feel heavy, and it’s taking all the strength I have not to tilt myself back so the head of his cock can slip right inside. I’m wet enough that I know it wouldn’t take much, but I have to let him choose. I’m on birth control, but the last time Peeta had a one night stand he ended up with a daughter.
A one night stand. I try to ignore the way the thought makes my chest feel a little hollow. That’s not what this is. This is more. It has to be.
“Fuck,” he curses when my hips falter, his head dropping forward to rest on my shoulder. “I have a condom, but you feel so good…”
“Get it,” I urge. “Please. I need you, Peeta.”
When he pulls away to dig around for his jeans, I can’t help but shiver at the lack of warmth. Before I can get too uncomfortable, though, he’s pulling at the foil packet with his teeth and rolling the rubber down his length.
“Lean forward,” he coaxes with a hand between my shoulder blades. I follow his lead, bracing myself farther down and backing up so my ass is in the air. When he nudges my feet, I open them wider. I’m even more exposed now than I was before, presented and ready for him.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” his words are barely more than a whisper, but I catch them above the rapid pounding of my heart. It makes my skin flush hot, building from my chest all the way up to my ears. “Are you ready?”
His words are teasing, but I can feel the way his hand is shaking slightly when he lines his erection up at the apex of my thighs.
“Yes,” I drop my head forward, clenching my eyes tight. “Please, Peeta.”
A low groan builds in his throat when he pushes forward, my walls tightening around him as our bodies join together. “Oh fuck,” he curses again once he’s seated all the way inside of me, but I can’t answer him. I’m panting, out of breath even though I’ve barely done anything, but my senses are completely overwhelmed. My nerves are on fire at the feel of him inside me, and the head of his cock has bumped that sensitive spot just at the front of my pelvis that brings tears to my eyes.
“Oh my god,” my voice is strangled, and I drop down to my elbows against the back of the couch. The movement only serves to open my hips wider to him, and Peeta grips me tightly.
“Are you okay?” he pauses, his voice tight, strained with tension. I know if I look back at him right now he’ll be gritting his teeth, but I can’t. If I do, if I let myself see him right now, I’ll fall apart entirely. And it’s too soon. I have to hold on for as long as I can.
“Yes,” wetting my lips, I nod. “God, yes.”
I’m sure he’s worried that it’s too tight of a fit and that I’m in pain, but that’s not it at all. My legs are shaking because he feels so good inside of me. So right. So much so that all I want to do is rock back and forth on his cock like some desperate, wild version of myself, giving everything I have to him at once.
So I do.
When he doesn’t immediately move, I do, reaching up on my toes and sinking back down in a careful maneuver so the head of his erection doesn’t hit too deep. The movement makes him shudder out a breath, but he stands frozen while I work myself on top of him, snapping my hips back with every thrust. It feels so good that I can’t, the friction of his length stretching me as I work him deeper and deeper inside. I only mean to do it once or twice, but now that I’ve started, I can’t get enough.
“Peeta,” I groan at the sensation. I’m so wet now that he’s sliding in and out of my pussy with ease, and when I risk a look at him I’m almost overwhelmed at the sight. His eyes are glued to where we meet, his hands digging into the flesh of my thighs while his chest grows bright red. I can feel my inner walls clench against him when I realize that he’s totally entranced by my movements, and I slow my pace down, rocking back and forth with shallow thrusts.
“Do you like that?” I risk asking, even though it sounds awkward coming from my mouth.
At my question, his eyes shoot up to mine and he takes a deep breath. I expect him to smile, but he doesn’t, and gives me a hard look instead. “I like everything you do.”
It’s enough to unleash him, and he grabs my hips to take back control. Holding me in place, he thrusts forward, then pulls back until he’s almost out of me completely. He gives me everything he’s got in steady strokes, pushing and pulling until I’m almost sobbing from the sensation of him. The tight coil of heat that’s been building in my abdomen climbs higher, but it’s not enough. Not yet.
“I need–” I gasp for air, gripping the back of the cushions so hard my knuckles turn white. I’m trying my hardest to keep up with his pounding tempo, but I can barely think. “More. More.”
It’s the only way I know how to ask. I need his fingers on my clit again, working in tandem with his cock. I need his body wrapped around mine, caging me in so that he’s the only thing I can feel. I need more of him, in any way he’s willing to give it to me.
I hear the groan deep in his chest right before his steady pace falters, like my plea was enough to throw him off course. “God, Katniss,” he pants, biting down on his lip. He doesn’t stop though, and only increases the force of his thrusts… Almost like he can’t stop.
When his hand loosens its grip from my waist, I can feel that he’s shaking just slightly. His whole body is trembling despite the desperate way he’s fucking me, and it’s the only thing that gives away just how close he is to losing it completely. Despite his shakiness, his fingers are confident when they find my clit and begin to rub in short, tight circles.
“Oh,” I cry out at the sudden sensation and my knees come together, locking his hand in place, but he doesn’t let up. “Oh, oh oh–” my hips start rocking on their own, like my body is in control, seeking out more of that delicious friction where I need it most. I can feel myself growing wetter and tighter against him, and I can’t stop.
“I’m almost there,” I bite down on the inside of my cheek from crying out too loud. There are a thousand sounds trapped in my chest and if I let any of them out, I know the neighbors will hear. “Keep going, oh, please keep–”
I can feel my orgasm steadily approaching, building more and more pressure in my pelvis with every stroke of his fingers and every push of his length inside of me.
“No,” Peeta stops suddenly, pulling out and grabbing me by the waist. “Not yet.”
“Wait–” I sputter, but he’s pulling me down to the rug before I can even ask what he means by not yet. Before I even know how he’s moved me around so easily, he’s laying flat on his back with my knees bracketed around his chest, which is rising with rapid breaths.
“I want to taste it the first time you come,” he demands, pulling my hips up toward his face.
Holy shit. I’ve never– “Peeta,” I try to resist, but his hands are like iron brands on my skin. I can’t move, and he holds me in place while I try to formulate my protest. “I’ve never–”
“Then let me be your first,” he breathes, licking his lips. “Please. I need this, Katniss. I need you.”
As hesitant as I am, I let him pull me forward the rest of the way until my knees are situated on either side of his head and my lower legs are resting underneath his shoulders, keeping me in my spot if I try to move or squirm in any direction.
“Are you sure?” I ask him, keeping my hips high enough and away from his face while I look down at him, but his jaw is set in a hard line and his eyes have gone dark again. When he nuzzles the inside of my thigh with his nose and takes a deep breath, my entire body breaks out in goosebumps.
“More than anything,” he answers, sweeping his hands down the outside of my legs and back up my thighs, coaxing me forward.
When I lean my hips to the spot over his mouth, he rewards me with a soft kiss at the crease of my thigh, then moves to the other side to mimic the motion. He circles my pussy with light kisses until I’m panting, my hips shaking with want. But he’s taking his time and exploring me with his mouth, his lips, his nose, brushing the light stubble on his chin against the sensitive flesh but never going where I want or need him the most.
“Peeta,” I whisper, moving my hands down to my hips where he is holding on to me, and I wrap my fingers around the outside of his palm. To anchor myself, maybe. Or just to touch him. He’s got me so scrambled that I don’t even know which way is up anymore.
“Now you want it?” he teases, never stopping his trail of kisses. When he nips lightly at the sensitive skin of my outer folds, my hips jerk.
“Yes,” the word falls from my lips easily, and I don’t care if I’m begging for it now. I need whatever it is that he’s willing to give me.
His response is to give me a long, slow lick right up the seam of my lips, lathing his tongue flat when he reaches the swollen head of my clit, and I cry out.
“Oh god–” I choke, gasping for air, but I barely suck in a lungful before he repeats the motion, this time focusing more on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Swirling his tongue around it, he gives it a light flick before flattening his tongue again. Over and over he switches his technique until I’m panting, my legs shaking around his head. I was close before he stopped, and his attentions on my clit are enough to ramp my arousal right back up to the precipice.
“Peeta, oh my god, Peeta,” it’s more of a chant than anything, but it gives my mouth something to do. If I don’t, I’ll start moaning and whining so loud that the entire block will know what we’re up to. “Please, please please please–”
When he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks lightly, I almost fall forward. I would, too, if it’s hands weren’t holding me in place, keeping me upright while he licks me with as much fervor as I’ve ever seen. When he lightly swipes his tongue back and forth across the sensitive bud, my legs start shaking hard.
“Come on,” he coaxes, his breath warm against my swollen flesh. “Don’t fight it.”
With the slight pressure of his hands, he encourages me to rock against his face, flattening his tongue and flicking at my clit in even, steady strokes.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp, moving my hips back and forth across his mouth while he fucks me with his tongue. I can hear how wet I am, and how sloppy it sounds when he’s sucking and licking at my flesh, and the telltale heat of an oncoming orgasm starts to build in my stomach. It washes over my skin and my pulse quickens, fueling me to keep bucking against him. The tremors in my legs spread into my pelvis and my movements go from a steady push and pull to more of an erratic shudder, but I can’t stop. Not when I’m this close.
“Please,” I beg him, ramping up my pace, pressing my hips down harder until I’m grinding against his mouth. I should be ashamed of how bad I want it, and how bad I love the way his mouth feels against my aching pussy, but I can’t get enough. I need it. I need more of it, and him, and everything he’s doing. He must know that I’m getting close, because he leans into it, groaning when I press against this tongue and snap my hips back and forth. The vibration of his groan sends my flying even closer to the edge, and I can feel my entire body start to shake.
I’m so close now, and every pass of his tongue inches me toward what I know will be an overwhelming orgasm. The kind where I lose sight of where I’m at and what I’m doing, and I’m helpless against the pleasure that seizes my body. If his jaw is getting sore, he doesn’t give me any indication. If anything, he’s just as into it as I am, and his pace never lets up. He flicks at my clit, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue, giving me just enough pressure and friction that I struggle to keep my eyes open.
It isn’t until I look down at him and see him staring back at me with dark eyes that my orgasm finally crashes over me, breaking against my body like a tidal wave on the beach. It crashes against me at once, starting in my center and radiating out in flashes of white hot heat, sizzling against my nerves and sending shockwaves to my center. I can feel my walls clenching at the emptiness, and although I don’t feel him move his hand, Peeta’s fingers are suddenly there to fill the space.
Like he knew.
“Oh god,” I gasp at the renewed sensation, and the added pressure inside my pussy is enough to send me careening into another shock of pleasure. This one blurs my vision, and I gasp for air, bucking against his hand and tongue to get more, to ride out the bliss that’s washing over me and trickling down my limbs. “Oh god, oh god, oh god–”
“Mmmm,” Peeta hums, lapping at the moisture that’s leaking around his fingers, and I can’t stop the shudder that wracks my body. Holy shit.
In the aftermath of my orgasm I’m dazed, but I’m struck by the sudden and overwhelming urge to return the favor that he just gave me. I need to show him how much I want him, and to give him the same kind of pleasure that’s still singing in my veins.
Although my joints are stiff and my limbs heavy, I manage to pull away from his mouth where he’s still licking at me with lazy, slow swipes of his tongue.
“What–” he tries to grasp me as I pull back, but I laugh, the sound breathless, and shake my head.
“My turn.”
Scooting down his chest and torso, I settle in around his waist and grip at his erection, which is still hard and prominent against his stomach. He didn’t even bother to take off the condom, and I let out a sigh of relief when I sink down slowly.
“Oh, fuck,” he bites out the curse, his hands immediately grabbing at my waist when I rock my hips against him, working the head of his cock through the tight channel of my core. My walls are swollen from the effects of my orgasm, and I swear I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I finally seat myself on him fully.
“Katniss–” he breathes, fingers digging into my ribcage, and I watch his face closely when I make my first move, pulling my hips back and sliding forward again in a single thrust. His lips part on another breath and his eyes flutter closed, so I do it again. And again, over and over until my pace has quickened and I’m pulling my hips back and forth steadily. It takes him a second to recover from the sensations, but he does, rocking against me and lifting his hips to meet mine in an easy give-and-take.
“Touch me,” I plead, leaning my body back so I can snap my hips forward a little bit harder. I don’t care where he touches me–my clit, my breasts, my face… anything.
“I’ll touch you whenever you want,” he grits out when I circle myself on top of him but complies, one hand moving to my breast and the other down to my clit. He works his thumbs in concentric circles, brushing over the sensitive spots with deft hands. “Wherever you want.”
I’m sure it’s an empty promise, considering we just agreed for this to be a one time only deal. But now, looking down at him and seeing the heat building in his eyes again, the tightness in his neck as he meets my thrusts, I don’t know how I’ll be able to go back to what we had before.
When his right thumb presses down against my clit, I cry out, my hips faltering in their movements. He’s starting to shake now too, and I can feel the slight tremble in his legs as he works his hips in time with my own. The friction from the rug beneath my knees is starting to burn, and I can only imagine how red and raw his back must look. Despite that we’re both breathless and shaking, desperate for each other and rutting as hard and fast as we can. It’s not beautiful, tender sex. This is fucking like our lives depend on it, as if we’re racing to give and get as much pleasure as we can before the clock runs out.
“God, Katniss,” he lets out a deep groan before sitting up, his hands moving to my face to cradle my jaw. His lips press down against mine in a desperate kiss and I open up to him, circling my hips while lapping at his tongue.
I let out a light squeak when he moves his arms down, wrapping them around my torso and holding my weight as he leans me back. Back far enough that now he’s the one on top, with my legs wrapped around his waist, never once pulling out.
“I can’t believe I waited this long to have you,” he admits, trailing open mouthed kisses down my neck.
“I hope it’s worth the wait,” I try to tease, but it comes out weak and breathless, and I lift my neck to the side to give him more access. I don’t have much leverage underneath him but I do what I can to meet his thrusts, tilting my hips toward him with every push of his own.
“You have no fucking idea,” he laughs, moving his hand back between our bodies and seeking out the spot where we join. His fingers brush against my clit again, still swollen and sensitive, and I tighten my legs around him when he starts circling the bud with quick strokes.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he admits, moving his head until our foreheads are resting against each other. With his gaze heavy on me, I see that he’s telling the truth. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, the white of his teeth digging into his lower lip while he concentrates on working his fingers and hips in time together.
“Then don’t,” tightening my legs around his waist, I work my hips against his hand, urging him on in any way I can. “Don’t hold out.”
“God,” he groans again, letting his eyes fall closed, and he unleashes everything he’s been holding back. His pace picks up to an almost frantic speed, pounding into my center with all the power his body contains. It’s enough to make me cry out, but the sound morphs into a choked moan when he leans down and sucks at the spot where my neck meets my collarbone.
“Yes, Peeta,” I gasp, holding on while he pushes us farther across the rug with each forceful thrust. It’s all I can do to hold on, but that’s enough–his fingers are working me so easily that I can already feel the quick build towards my second orgasm. It won’t be nearly as big as the first one, but the telltale tightening in my center is enough of a signal to know I’m getting close.
With every press of his cock and stroke of his fingers, I tighten against him even more. He doesn’t let up, even when his pace grows erratic, moving from long and hard to short and fast, pistoning between my thighs like he’s desperate to reach the finish line.
“Oh,” the moan slips past my lips and I hike my legs higher, opening my thighs as wide as they can go around his waist. It changes the angle of my clit and I gasp, because suddenly, I’m there. I’m crying out before I know what’s happening, tumbling straight into another wave of pleasure as it floods my system with warm, sparking sensations.
“Oh god Peeta–I’m coming,” I don’t know why I tell him, because I know he can feel it. My entire body seizes up, tightening around him as I ride out the orgasm against him.
“Katniss,” he groans, his hips faltering for a brief moment, and I can feel it when he starts to come. His cock pulses inside of me, heavy and strong as his thrusts finally start to slow. He pushes through his orgasm like he doesn’t want to stop, his lips and mouth still sucking against my neck while his hips draw lazy circles against mine.
Oh my god, we’re both out of breath and completely wrung out, and after a moment of holding on to each other, Peeta extracts himself from my grip and falls to the floor beside me. When he flashes me a leisurely grin, I can’t ignore the swooping sensation in my lower stomach.
And I know it has nothing to do with the two orgasms he just gave me.
“That,” he starts, pausing to catch his breath, “was worth the wait.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a heavy swallow. The only problem is, now that I know what I’m missing… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to how we were before, even though I promised that it would be “just once.”
I want to laugh at the ironic humor of it all, of how I was the one to promise it could be a one time thing. But I can’t without letting on how truly screwed I am. It was a stupid promise that I shouldn’t have made… Of course I would think it was possible, no matter how dumb it seems now. That was before I knew how perfect he was in bed. How raw and filthy and real he is underneath the facade of my nice, caring best friend.
For the title prompt! I also love song titles so: Room to Breathe
Katniss has never been in love. She’s really not into the whole relationship thing. Or the feeling something for another human being thing. She’s been a little closed off since her younger sister died.
Unfortunately, she’s pretty sure she’s in love with the guy who lives in the apartment across the hall.
He has a little girl, although he must not be with the mother, because his daughter’s visits are erratic. Usually the weekends. Not consistent. But she’s super cute and always dressed like a princess, and one time, Katniss ran into them in the elevator, and the little girl was dressed as Cinderella and Peeta was literally dressed as the literal Prince Charming, and it was all Katniss could think about for the rest of the night.
Honestly though, Katniss has only spoken to Peeta a handful of times, so these strong feelings she has for him are ridiculous and have no basis in reality. They’ll go away.
(Okay, fine, last month was Prim’s birthday and she may have gotten so drunk that she tried to let herself into Peeta’s apartment, thinking it was hers. And he may have woken up and answered the door without a shirt on, and he may have held her hair when she got sick, and she thinks she told him a bunch of stuff about herself, but she honestly can’t remember, and she flees at the sight of him. So.)
Then, she overhears some guy yelling outside her apartment, and when she looks through the peephole, she sees Peeta’s daughter crying and some asshole that looks sort of like Peeta yelling at her.
Turns out, the little girl isn’t Peeta’s daughter but his niece, and his brother is the absolute worst and before Katniss knows what she’s doing, she’s out in the hallway telling the guy to back the hell off. Peeta isn’t home, and the guy just leaves his daughter there with a complete stranger. Father of the year, clearly.
At least the little girl (Lily, Katniss finally learns) recognizes Katniss, and after she’s calmed down is actually really excited to hang out with her because her Uncle Peeta has told her so many stories about Katniss. Apparently, Katniss is a princess and has a lot of adventures, and Katniss doesn’t know how to process any of this.
She doesn’t know what to think when a very panicked Peeta comes home, desperate to find Lily and nearly breaks down when he finds out she’s been with Katniss for the past few hours. And then hugs Katniss. With his actual arms. And he smells so good. And feels so good. And what the fuck?
Apparently, Katniss and Peeta are friends now. And Lily is living with Peeta now. And Katniss is coming over for dinner or to watch a movie or just to hang out, and suddenly, she has all these feelings for both of them, and it’s all way, way too much.
Peeta is stuck in a rut. He’s tired of dating and falling in love only to have his heart broken and for the cycle to repeat. It’s like he gets so close to the finish line, but can’t ever seem to cross it. He just wants what his siblings have. What his best friend, Finnick, has with Annie.
A wife. Children. No more highs and eventual lows that the dating scene seemed to dole out to him continuously.
He knows it’s crazy, but when he sees an ad on Capitol television, looking for candidates to participate in a series of tests that could potentially lead to an instant happily ever after, his romantic heart takes it as a sign to leap head first into the experiment.
When he meets his match, he couldn’t be more relieved by how pleased he is. Katniss Everdeen–his wife!–is everything he could’ve asked for. Almost too good to be true…
…And she is. Everyone has secrets, but she knows that hers could be catastrophic to their relationship if they ever came to the surface.
send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it
@ambpersand you are a delight! I was stoked to see you come back last year and not a single story has disappointed. Enjoying you being back in the fandom ❣️
I stayed up super late last night reading all of your holiday fic, and I loved it so much. Poor Katniss trying to flirt with oblivious Peeta who kept talking himself out of the possibility things could be real. I don’t have the fic pulled up to get a direct quote but Peeta saying that he would have been happy just wanting Katniss forever was so dang sweet. Thank you for sharing!
Aaaa!!! Thank you so much!!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the fic!!! Poor Katniss indeed, and also I’m gonna copy/paste the quote you’re referencing but I promise it’s not because I’m a narcissist:
“What do you mean, why?” I bring both my hands to her face. “Because you’re you. Because --” I hesitate, and then I realize that there’s absolutely no point in even attempting to play it cool. There’s no going back to whatever was going on before all of this. I don’t think I would want to, anyway. “Because you’re incredible.” I’m so close I can’t make her face out, not really. Just those silver eyes boring into mine, nearly impatient for me to make my point. “Because you’re funny, and you’re beautiful, and I’ve wanted this for so long and --” my breath catches. “And I guess . . . I guess I just sort of thought you would always just be a dream.”“A dream?” Katniss repeats, the word tinged in disbelief.I nod solemnly. “Nothing this good ever happens to me,” I add, not even pitying myself for it. “I would have been happy just wishing for you forever.”
bolded because I’m really, really amused and impressed and unsurprised that the particular line that you were struck by in this fic was ACTUALLY WRITTEN BY @ambpersand Amber did like, so so much for this fic from the very start and spitballed with me forever and ever about pretty much every scene in this story, and is generally amazing and incredible and I love her, but specifically this line, dude. I messaged her in the middle of writing the big culmination scene and I was like “I NEED HELP” because I kept trying to find a way to communicate Peeta being incredulous and I coudn’t find a way that wasn’t coming out as caveman possessive, and I stalled on it fucking forever and finally asked for help and she hit me with the sweetest line in the entire fic.
