#awkward smut

[soapy0-0]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

When Eren finally scores a date with the prettiest girl on campus, he's nervous he won't measure up. He's got to learn, and he's got to learn quick. But what's an 'How To' session without a demonstration?

 Chapter 4: Eren realizes his feeling, where will they take him?

[chubbybarba]

Soo I finally finished chapter 5 - I just need to edit

[orngepeel]

sapphicscience replied to your post:realtalk girl meets girl is still my favorite sex...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

lowkey inspired me for a future chapter of my sense8 hsau.........

[the-peeta-pocket]

Hi I love your work just wondering if you could do a Katniss and Peeta first time fic .

I haven’t visited the whole non-AU Everlark universe in a while, so I’m a bit rusty! But anyway, I hope you enjoy fluffy and awkward smut, because that’s literally all this is.

Bon voyage, you hooligans.

(Sorry for any typos. I may or may not be on NyQuil at the moment.)

XXX

May I?

“Peeta, I think we should have sex.” She brings the water glass in her hands to her lips. “Oh, and can we have white sauce instead of red sauce with the pasta?”

I accidentally drop the serrated spoon into the pot, my eyes bugging out at her. She’s propped up on the counter beside the stove, her legs swinging out over the edge as she keeps me company in the kitchen.

I can’t help but gawk at her sudden declaration.

“What?”

“I mean, if you’re really attached to the marinara, I guess we can stick to that. I’m just in the mood for white sauce.”

I’m not sure which is more appalling: that Katniss wants to randomly hand over her virginity after nearly two whole years of safeguarding it as aggressively as a dragon’s hoard, or that she mentioned it in the same sentence as pasta sauce.

“We can, uh, have white sauce, I guess—you want to have sex with me?”

She nods, her lips latching around the rim of her glass as she dutifully avoids my eyes. If her catching me off-guard hadn’t left me incapable of any emotion besides dizzying shock, I’d probably smile at the soft blush that colors her cheeks.

“Right—right now?” I choke, mortified. Shit, I’m totally unprepared. I don’t even have condoms, let alone the composure necessary. Oh my god, she wants to have sex with me, and I won’t even be able to get it up—

“No, not now,” she laughs. “I was thinking later tonight, maybe. We could go to the market, get some, uh… you know, some things, and just give it a go.”

Her innocent naiveté gives me some peace of mind, my heart rate calming just enough so that I can remember to fish the spoon out of the boiling pot of pasta. “Are you—are you sure you want this?”

“Well, we’ve been living together for almost two years now. So I think it’s time.”

“You think it’s time?” I’d be perfectly content with maintaining the arrangement we have now. It’s a little odd – most people who sleep together every night have actually slept together – but it keeps her comfortable, and as long as she’s content, I can deal with conserving the chastity of a Tibetan monk.

She clicks her heels against one of the drawers underneath the counter. “Well, I’ve been thinking it over for the past few weeks. I love you. You love me. Neither of us appear to be going anywhere, so…” She sloppily motions to her legs.

I can’t decide whether I should be confused or absolutely elated that the girl of my dreams has somehow arrived at the conclusion that she wants to sleep with me.

Ultimately, I choose the latter, my hips aligning with the counter between her knees as I bracket her face with my hands.

The elation endures through dinner, through washing dishes, and even through our trip to the town’s marketplace for some prophylactics and lubricant. But the giddiness quickly morphs to amusement as she blushes the entire way, her face the color of a tomato’s skin as we browse through the bins.

I tuck her in my side, kissing her temple. “One word is all it takes to back out.”

She whips her head to glare at me defiantly. “I’m not backing out,” she hisses, her stubbornness as brilliant as ever, and the reaction puts me at ease.

“That’s my girl,” I chuckle.

The tension that’d strung her body stiff as a scarecrow begins to wane, and I feel her relax against my side.

XXX

“Alright,” I begin.

“We should do this.”

“We should.”

She pauses. “Yeah.”

We’re sitting on top of the comforter, the overhead light off and the bedside lamp left strategically dim. Our clothes are in the hamper; I’m wearing nothing besides a pair of boxers (typical), and she’s clad in a thin nightgown (also typical).

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she breathes after a while, ducking her head down and toying with the end of her braid.

“Neither do I.” I turn to look at her, my fingers extending toward her chin, lifting her face and turning it to me. The molten silver I fall in love with every day are darker than usual, anxiety pinched in her features. “But we’ll figure this out together, alright?”

“Sounds good.” She nods, and then unceremoniously spreads her legs, looking up to me expectantly. “Well, let’s go.”

I try to choke back my laughter, with little success. The poor girl thinks this is designed to be a three-minute-or-less ordeal. “Katniss, I don’t think I’m supposed to just stick it in there and call it good.”

“Well I don’t know what we’re supposed to do!” Her palms flatten against the mattress, and she sinks down slightly. “I mean, they taught us the mechanics in school, but that wasn’t very helpful.”

“Here.” I reach between us and untuck the covers, shimmying beneath the fabric. After gulping in a breath the size of a bear, she follows suit, and I latch my arm around her waist, pulling her against me. “Maybe we should start with the basics.”

“The basics?”

“You know, kissing.” I brush my nose against hers. “Touching.” I brush her cheek with my thumb. “We’ve done most of this before.”

She swallows hard. “Yeah, but I was wearing underwear then.”

“We’ll go slow,” I murmur, and cup my hand around her elbow, urging her hands to find me under the blankets. The moment her fingers swipe over my bare chest, however, all I feel is fire, her warm touch leaving stripes of white-hot flesh in their wake. “We can stop anytime. If it gets to be too much, feel free to push me off the bed.”

The slight smile she cracks renders me weightless, and I dip my head in, catching her lips with mine.

She’s impossibly rigid at first, but after a few moments I feel her sigh against my mouth, softening in my arms. She flattens her body against mine as her lips begin to move in response, soft but insistent. As always, I try to be gentle, but her taste makes it so difficult. It drowns me, swelling around me like the fog in our second arena, prickling my skin with excruciating pleasure.

I love her, I love her, holy hell, I love this girl.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” I whisper against her mouth. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, but Katniss’s consent is my Constitution, and I refuse to topple the laws I’ve built for us. Without her trust and her faith that I’ll protect her, I’ve got nothing but cheese buns going for me.

She gives me her blessing by taking my palms in her tiny hands, curling my fingers for me in the fabric at the bottom of her gown. With her help, I slowly lift it over her head, leaving her body completely bare against mine beneath the sheets.

“You can touch me now,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss softer than snowfall to my throat. “Everywhere.”

Remember to get some oxygen to you lungs, Peeta, I chant in my head to prevent any accidental asphyxiation. Dying minutes before you lose your virginity is definitely not in your game plan. Imagine what they’ll say at your funeral.

My hands are trembling as they find the heated expanse of her skin beneath the blankets, lightly ghosting over the flat planes of her stomach. She recoils slightly at my touch, but then mewls, stretching against me to allow me a wider range. I chart her skin like a map, her gasps my pilot.

I’ve felt her breasts before, but only over her nightgown, and so when I brush my palm over one, I about pass out.

“Jesus, Katniss. You’re so soft.”

“You’re not,” she replies, her voice a low rumble as her pelvis rolls against mine. Fuck. Fuck. Come on, Peeta, hold on. And then she snorts. “Wow, that was dirty.”

“What have you done with my Katniss?” I laugh, gulping hard, trying to summon some of the blood from down south to circulate to other places, like, oh, I don’t know, my heart, which is beating at the speed of hummingbird wings and needs as much help as it can get.

I didn’t think feeling up a beautiful girl could burn so many damn calories.

She’s giggling slightly, but the moment my palm cups her breast and curls gently around the flesh, the sound dies in the back of her throat, replaced with a soft whimper.

“That feels nice.”

As I work over her breast, I dot her throat with gentle, open-mouthed kisses, celebrating with internal cartwheels as she moans under my touch. She’s wound her arms around me, her nails raking over my skin as she pulls me on top of her. Her hips welcomingly cradle mine, and I have no doubt in my mind she can feel exactly how hard I am, which scares me a little. I try to draw back, but her legs wind around my thighs, holding me against her like a child does to their blankets. When she absently rocks her hips against mine, I about crumble against her.

“You, Ms. Everdeen, will be personally responsible for my premature, untimely death.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

I flutter kisses down the column of her throat, over her collar bone, dropping them like raindrops over her sternum until I reach her breast, taking one in my mouth. The sounds she makes as I circle her with my tongue and draw her between my lips would make me smirk, if only my mouth wasn’t otherwise preoccupied.

“Peeta, Peeta—” Her hands weave in my hair, holding me to her in a death-grip so unrelenting that I briefly wonder if I’ll have to suckle her forever (which would not be a bad thing)—“Oh, god. I—ugh.”

“You alright up there?” I murmur against her flesh, unable to tell if I’m more amused or turned on at the moment. By the rate at which my blood continues to abandon all of my organs for the one straining against my boxers, I think it might be more of the latter.

“No, I don’t think I am. Is—it is normal to feel like your stomach is about to twist itself to death?”

“Now look who’s being the drama queen.”

She shoots me a scowl. That’s my Katniss.

Shifting my attention to the other breast, I trail my hand from her ribs down her side, ghosting over her hipbone and dancing along the skin of her leg. She inhales sharply as I drag my fingers close to her center, over the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, but I wait for the go-ahead. I’m not about to touch her there, where I doubt she’s even touched herself before, without any semblance of permission.

“May I?” I whisper, my breath fanning over her breast glossy from my saliva, making her shiver. Her eyes are wide as she gazes down at me, obviously mulling it over. But the curiosity must win over, because she nods with a gulp, twisting her fingers a little tighter in my hair.

“Yeah, just… be careful.”

Circling the pad of my finger over her soft skin, I dabble kisses up her chest, past her collar and neck, my lips meeting hers. Her mouth is so soft and pliant beneath mine, but her breath is short, and I can tell she’s nervous.

So, rather than draw it out for twenty years and make her poor little heart shatter from all the tension, my hand glides up to her center, gently parting through the slick heat I find there.

Our resulting moans twist together like vine stems, unidentifiable from the other’s. She’s so wet, and so warm… I feel myself growing dizzy with the thought of what it’ll feel like to replace my finger with myself.

Yep. That’ll be the exact moment I go into cardiac arrest.

When I dip my finger in, she groans softly against my mouth. “Peeta.”

It’s just my name, but those two isolated syllables are enough to make me fall in love with her for the millionth time today. She whispers it like it’s a love song, like a poem of its own, and never has it sounded so right.

“Does this feel alright?”

She nods and presses her forehead to mine. “It’s a little strange, but… but good. I don’t know how you’re going to fit your, um… your thing in, though.”

Thing. God, she’s so pure. I want to marry this girl.

“That’s what we’ve got lubricant for.” I bury my finger inside her all the way up to the knuckle, enamored with how velvety she feels against my skin. “Although, if we really had to, we could probably do without it. You’re… you’re soaked, Katniss.”

She groans, her head smacking against the pillow. “That’s humiliating.”

“It’s incredible,” I grunt against her throat. “You’ve got to be the sexiest creature on the planet.”

She throws her arm limply over her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked.”

Oh, here we go. I can’t let her get away with that.

“Katniss Everdeen,” I begin, gently prying her hand from her face so I can have her full attention. “I have loved you since I was five years old. I went through two Hunger Games with you, almost watched you die a handful of times and then almost got myself killed a handful of other times, was taken by the Capitol and dragged outside of my own body, replaced with some psychotic, confused version of myself so that I was the farthest away from loving you that they could make me. And yet, here I am, after having crawled my way back into that body, back into who I’d been before, back to loving you even more than I had in the first place. So, no, I am not just saying that because you’re naked. I’m saying that because, after everything, not a single person has even come close to captivating me as fully as you.”

I’ve never said that in so many words, mostly because I thought she knew. I still think she does, even, but Katniss has an awful propensity for seeing the worst in herself and the people around her – after the world’s broken you so many times, optimism isn’t exactly viable, so I can’t blame her – and so reminding her every so often that I’ve got good intentions isn’t beyond me. I love this girl more than life itself, the girl who hunts for us, and who asks me to shampoo her hair even if it means she has to bathe in her underwear so I don’t see her naked, and who takes off my prosthetic for me every night, even though I’ve never asked her to.

She blinks up at me for a few seconds, and for a brief while I want to punch myself in the face because I think I’ve ruined the moment my hyperactive romanticism, but then her lips collide with mine so fiercely it nearly knocks the wind from my lungs.

“I love you, Peeta.”

After breathing a sigh of relief, I can’t help but chuckle. “I know.” Ever since she told me “real” that first time we got swept up in kisses for a solid half-hour, I’ve trusted her, because Katniss doesn’t lie when it comes to love. “And I love you, too.”

“I want you to make love to me. Right now.”

Well, there goes all of my composure.

“Right now?”

As a response, she strains to reach for the condoms; I make it easier on her and grab the box and the small container of lubricant off of the night stand, handing them to her. After I’ve struggled out of my boxers and she’s hesitantly applied a little lubricant to herself, I roll back on my knees and reach out to take the small foil square she’s holding.

But she doesn’t move, the packet clutched tightly in her fingers as she stares at my length like she’s engrossed in a film, and after a few moments I can feel my face growing red in embarrassment.

Is there something wrong with it? I mean, I never thought I was small, per se, but who knows. Having the girl you’re in love stare at your erection like it’s green or has teeth isn’t exactly the most soothing of potential situations.

And then she inhales. “Idon’tthinkthatwillfitinsideofme,” she gushes without any prelude, her words slurred together.

I try to laugh, but all that comes out is some nervous walrus-like sound. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

“Oh my god. What am I doing?”

Oh no. Oh no. She’s backing out.

“Katniss, it’ll be okay. Just take a deep breath.”

I expect her to reduce to a total catatonic state, as she often does when she’s stressed, but she actually follows my advice, her chest heaving as she inhales and exhales sharply.

“If it hurts…”

“It will hurt, Katniss,” I warn her softly, my head bowing. “But I’ll go so slow, okay?”

She nods tightly. “Yeah. Slow. Okay. Slow sounds good.”

“And the second you ask me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

She hands over the foil square, and I rip it open, carefully rolling the condom over me. Even the touch of my hand makes my entire body shimmer. Fuck. I’m going to last two seconds, and then I’ll be the laughingstock of the district, and Katniss will never look at me again.

“Peeta?”

Her voice startles me, and I look down to her, her face flushed in the soft lamplight, eyes wide.

“You… you’ll be gentle.”

It’s not a question, or a request, or even a command. It’s a statement, because she knows I will be.

I lower myself against her, my nose brushing hers.

“Of course,” I whisper, my mouth slanting over her lips as if they’re as delicate as butterfly wings. I feel her sigh against me, and her arms coil around my shoulders. With her breasts flattened against my chest, and her tongue curling over the seam of my lips, I’m suddenly vitalized. I can do this.

Granted, I probably won’t make it to the ten second mark, but whose first time is perfect?

But then one of her hands slides between us, ghosting down the expanse of my stomach, and she grips me confidently in her small hand. I bite back a yelp.

Oh my god. Her hand. And… oh no, she’s moving.

Her fingers work over my length lightly, but her touch is enough to make the ache there swell up to a painful high, and I have to grasp her wrist to keep her still.

Her eyes widen, peering up at me through her dark lashes. “Did that hurt?”

“The exact opposite,” I chuckle, the sound strained. “Just a heads-up, my stamina is probably going to be pretty, uh… substandard.”

She cups my cheek. “You’ll be wonderful.”

Ah, how misguided she is.

As she soothes me with a kiss, I take my erection in my palm, feeling her center with my free hand to find it hotter and slicker than before. Choking down a hiss, I align myself with her entrance.

“I’m going to push in now,” I warn her.

“Okay. Go slow.”

“Slow. Alright.” My hips rock gently into hers, meeting resistance right away. She’s cringing. Oh, god, I can’t even get it in—

“Peeta…” Is she trying not to laugh? “You’re a solid inch too low.”

“Oh.” I readjust slightly. “Is that it?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. Well, second time’s the charm, right?”

This time, as my hips drive forward, the soft heat takes me in, each inch feeling like another layer of heaven. A moan builds in my throat, and I crash my lips into her collar, muffling the inhuman sound that fills the hollow of my mouth.

“Oh my god…”

Her body is still stiff against mine. “Maybe you should just… you know, just do it.”

“Does it hurt?” I pull back, brushing a wayward tendril of hair from her eyes. Her jaw is tight, but in contrast, her eyes are soft.

“A little. Not too bad.” She inhales sharply. “Just do it all at once. Please.”

I nod, trailing kisses from her lips down her jaw, finally latching onto her neck. And then, with a stomach clenched so tightly that I can see stars welling behind my lids, I snap my hips forward, burying myself completely inside of her.

Holy fucking mother of fucks. If the smell of rain, the taste of chocolate, the feeling of hands in your hair and the sound of a symphony all had a combined sensation, it would be this. It would be Katniss.

“I think I’m about to die,” I choke out, my voice muffled against her skin. And then I pull back, searching her eyes. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Her eyes are slightly wet, but she shakes her head and presses a shaky kiss to my cheek. “I’m happy it’s you, Peeta.”

Pleasure’s sharp talons skewer my heart, and my entire body thrums with love for this beautiful, gentle, wonderful girl, for who no song, poem, or painting could ever do justice.

“It was always going to be you,” I whisper quietly, knowing that’s the only proper response. “Is it okay if I keep going?”

“Please, do. Maybe it’ll feel a little better then.”

I nod, sealing her lips with mine as I pull myself out of her, then surge forward again. I taste her soft moan, and I kiss her harder, my tongue coaxing hers as I rock into her slowly, gently at first, over and over again. The ethereal summit I’ve been climbing toward since I first kissed her tonight seems too close, but at least I haven’t come already, which is leaps and bounds better than I predicted. Mental confetti canons go off in my head.

She feels like silk all around me, so tight but fitting perfectly, and I can’t imagine that anyone would feel better. There’s no way that another warm body could possibly accommodate me more perfectly. She’s the only one. She’s been my only possibility.

How’d I get to be so lucky?

“It’s feeling a little better,” she says after a while, her lips sloppily meeting my cheek with each thrust. My rhythm is hopelessly uneven, and she’s tried twice to angle herself to meet me better, which resulted in disaster both times. But this is still incredible. Mostly because it’s so not incredible. It’s awkward. It’s clumsy. And it’s perfect – I couldn’t have wished for anything else.

“Here, let me try something.” One of my hands leaves her hip to seek the spot where we’re joined; back when I was younger, and my older brothers thought that I’d actually put their sex tips to use in the immediate future, they’d tell me about their excursions and how to please your woman, Peeta. It all sounded so stupid and foreign then, but a tiny piece of advice flickers to mind, and I can’t help but give it a spin.

My fingers part her slightly, searching for something I’m not quite sure even exists – my brothers could’ve just been fucking with me, for all I know. At first, she barely reacts, until my thumb finds a sensitive spot, a little bundle of nerves, and her back arches off the bed, a whimper bubbling from her lips.

“Holy sh—Peeta, do that again.”

I graze over the spot a second time, my stomach curling with pleasure as I see her reaction. Oh my god, she’s exquisite.

“Does that feel alright?”

“Yes, yes,” she chants, her eyes squeezing shut as she throws her head back. “Peeta, keep… oh fuck, don’t stop.”

I center on that spot, transitioning from tender strokes to more focused circles. With each surge of my hips and rotation of my thumb, a sharp moan rips from the back of her throat, and fire shocks through every synapse in my body. All I feel is heat, sweat, satin, Katniss, and it’s all I want to feel, need to feel…

“Peeta, I… it feels so good—”

My lips connect with hers, our quiet, desperate sounds fusing together as our bodies mimic our voices. She pulls me in, and I follow willingly, forever a slave to her heart and soul. Exactly how I want it.

Tension claws at my stomach as I fill her, over and over again, fueled by the way her body clenches me and her soft whimpers welcome me to paradise. I’m almost there, my pace growing even more erratic.

“Katniss, I won’t… can’t… hold on,” I warn, my sweat-beaded forehead softly tapping hers with each thrust.

“I’m almost—I’m almost there, Peeta, I’m… fuck—” she chants, her chin pointed to the ceiling as her back bows off the mattress. A scream that sounds like a sonata, ringing and pure and magnificent, rips from her throat as she uncoils beneath me, and it’s the sight of her coming undone that pushes me over, too. I feel like I’m being electrified, white-hot pleasure shocking through me in pure, fatal voltage, and I cry out my own welcome to rapture against the soft skin of her neck.

My entire body feels numb for what could be hours, and she kisses my forehead to pull us both down from our high, her nimble fingers tracing delicate patterns all over my spine.

“That was so…” Her voice is raspy and tender. “So not what I expected.”

“Was it better?” I roll off her, and onto my back, praying that the feeling in my joints will return within the next two days.

“I don’t know. I’d anticipated either unbearable pain, or the most blissful thirty-seconds of my life. I think it was somewhere in the middle.”

“Me, too.” I look over to her, reveling in how beautiful post-sex-Katniss is. Just as beautiful as everyday-Katniss, but she’s glowing now, her skin shining and her braid the victim of dreadful bedhead. Pure perfection. “Think it’s worth doing again?”

Her eyes bug out. “Now?”

“No, god, not now. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for another solid week.”

The sound of her giggle makes my head flutter. “You are such a drama queen, Mr. Mellark.” And then she sighs. “But… yeah. I think I might be up for a round two. Someday.”

“Someday?”

“Yeah.” Her hand finds mine beneath the blanket. “If you’ll allow it.”

My heart swells to the size of an elephant.

“Yes, Ms. Everdeen. I will definitely allow it.”