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Ah a brave soul who asks after my "Wtf is this shit?!?!" folder. Just remember that I warned you. The excerpt below the cut is entirely likely to infuriate someone, and also entirely unlikely to be developed into a full fledged story. Even if it is, it'll probably just be something I write to flex my angst writing muscles but not share in full.
Also it's very much rated E for sexual content.
Also also, Katniss and Peeta don't even know each other yet at the point in the story this takes place.
Broken Resolutions
Peeta pauses in the doorway to take in the sight of Branford, his oldest half brother and the scion of the family name. His blond hair slicked neatly back and his skin barely showing any signs of his age (forty-three), his suit expensive and crisp and his smile cold and calculating as he talks to one business connection or another, his hand resting possessively on Primrose’s hip, keeping her close to his side as she sips a mimosa and smiles.
She’s clearly showered and changed into designer slacks and a sweater that falls off one shoulder to reveal her creamy skin. The same skin Peeta kissed and moaned against last night. She’s redone her makeup, and she looks fresh, beautiful, and young.
There’d been a small scandal last year when Branford announced his engagement to Primrose Everdeen, only twenty years old and young enough to be Branford’s daughter. From a family nobody had ever heard of before. A poor girl putting herself through nursing school. Then again, Peeta’s own mother was just nineteen when she married Warrick Mellark and had Peeta. She turned nineteen just two months after Branford, Warrick’s oldest son from his first marriage, did. Warrick himself had been forty-eight at the time.
Primrose’s smile wavers for only a fraction of a second when she sees Peeta and Branford calls out to him.
I resolve, Peeta thinks as he steps into the room, to never sleep with my brother’s wife ever again.
One Year Later…
“Hurry,” she urges, her breath hot and tickling his ear right before she sucks the lobe into her mouth. Peeta’s hands fumble with the condom. His pulse thundering in his ears as he rolls it down his length. His temples throb with the champagne he consumed and as he licks his lips, he can still taste it, even under the heady flavor of her release coating his lips and tongue.
As soon as he’s sheathed, he positions himself, watching his tip slip into her soaked pussy, gently parting her lips. She leans back against the door, her cheeks flushed from the orgasms he’s already given her. Her chest heaving with the effort to breathe.
“Peeta,” she whimpers, and he can’t wait any longer. An entire year. He stayed away from her, at least sexually, for an entire year. All the while torturing himself with memories of how good it was between them. How perfectly right he felt with her in his arms, with her body naked and moving in harmony with his.
“Oh god, please,” she mewls and Peeta thrusts upwards, burying himself inside her and making the door behind her rattle.
It’s quick and almost brutal, her breasts bouncing between them as they fuck. Her dress this year has an almost corset style top, and whatever undergarments she might be wearing underneath it have her tits pushed up into tempting, bouncing mounds. His shirt and her dress get caught in the crossfire. He can feel the fabric getting caught in their thrusts, growing damp with the fluids of their sex. Her legs clamp tight around his waist when she comes, her walls fluttering over his cock as she buries her face against his neck.
“Yes! Fuck! Yes!”
Her lips brushing against and then her teeth grazing his sweaty skin, the vibrations of her moans send him careening over the edge. He slams into her and stays, his vision gone black and his palm landing flat against the door as he empties himself inside the condom.
They stand there after, catching their breath. Peeta listening to the dull thud of his pulse in his ears and against his temples. His legs shake and he hopes they don’t give out on him. Her head drops back against the door and Peeta winces at the closed eye grimace she’s wearing.
“Fuck,” Primrose mutters. He leans forward and kisses her lips, but only for a second. Any longer and he’s terrified of what happens after.
Setting her feet on the ground, Peeta steps back, letting his cock slide out of her. Uncertain of where they stand. When she wipes at the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, the diamond on her wedding ring gleams in the lamplight.
Her phone rings and Primrose curses as she bends over to retrieve it and her clutch from the floor. She gives Peeta one glance and he nods. He gathers his pants up from around his ankles and ducks down the hall into the bathroom as Primrose answers. It must be a FaceTime call because he can hear Branford’s voice loud and clear, telling Primrose that he thought he’d call and wish her a Happy New Year, even though it’s still a few minutes to midnight in her timezone, and why isn’t she downstairs enjoying the party?
“Didn’t feel right without you,” she says. Peeta can’t quite catch his brother’s response as he peels the used condom off his dick and tosses it in the trash can.
They hang up and Peeta makes his way out to the sitting room where Primrose stands, staring out over the city skyline. He stands behind her and eventually, she turns to face him.
“This was a mistake,” she says again and his gut churns with the same awful feelings it did when she said those same words a year ago. Her lip is quivering and her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“Branford will never know,” he promises with a nod.
The first crack of fireworks startles them both. They watch the display for a moment, standing a foot apart.
“You know, last year, I made a resolution,” Peeta tells her. She glances over at him and Peeta takes her silence as an invitation to explain. “To never sleep with you again.”
Her eyes flash with the light from the fireworks and something Peeta can’t quite name.
“Tripped up right at the finish line,” he says and nods towards the explosive display.
“I guess you’ll have to make the same resolution again this year?” she asks, whisper soft.
Peeta nods and they both turn to look out the window. He shoves his hands in his pockets and is simply glad she hasn’t kicked him out yet.
“You know,” she eventually says, “I don’t think the New Year truly starts until the fireworks end. And since you’ve technically already broken your last resolution…”
She gives him a tentative, almost hopeful smile. Lovely and sweet.
They fuck on the floor, facing the window. Primrose laid out on her belly and Peeta on top of her. Their knees spread and burning on the expensive rug as Peeta slams into her again and again, his groin popping against her ass, drawing out astonished, pleasured gasps from her mouth. Their breath fogs up the glass and their hands leave sweaty streak marks while the sky dances with light and sound.
WIP File Game
