Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Setting: Post Mockingjay, Pre Epilogue 

~~~~~~~~~

My clit twitches desperately. 

I'm close. So close. 

I can almost feel the knot in my stomach unwind. Feel my muscles contract around him. Feel the sweet moan escape my throat. 

But he stills inside me. He hovers over, presses sweet kisses into my neck, holds my thighs up to take me at the right angle. But he won't move inside me. 

The tense feeling, the rising tide, lowers and flattens out again and my heart aches. All of me aches for him. 

"No please Peeta, I was so close," I whine, threading my hands into the sweat soaked curls on his head as he continues to pepper my neck gently with kisses. 

He chuckles lightly and moves up to nibble playfully at my ear. "Not yet baby, be patient."

I pull on his hair and he pulls back slightly to meet my face. He looks perfectly relaxed, enjoying every moment of my torment. 

"Please Peeta," I say. "It's been days. I need to come."

I'm not even joking. It has been days. 

It all started when he came home one late afternoon at the start of the week. He found me making dinner and decided it would be the perfect time to eat me out as I was chopping the vegetables. 

The feeling of him laving his tongue over my clit, drinking in my taste with enthusiasm left me shivering and shaking, clutching to the counter for dear life. And just as I was about to finish, he stood and asked what was for dinner. 

So caught off guard, I answered and he began digging out the pots and spices needed and I finished chopping the ingredients. I didn't even notice the taste as we ate; I spend the whole time thinking about his tongue, his hands on my thighs, his hot breath ghosting over my skin, playing the memory over and over in my mind. 

The next morning, I awoke to find him hard against me. When he realised I had awoken he lifted my leg lightly and began to rub himself between my legs. The feeling him against my clit sent shivers down my spine. 

After being denied the night before the tension build up was incredible. The ocean building a magnificent wave and then just as I let out a louder, desperate moan, he finished with barely a sound, he rolled away from me, put his prosthetic leg on and swiftly headed to the bathroom. I screamed into a pillow with frustration before getting up to start my day as well. 

That night, as we were watching Plutarch's singing show, Peeta's hand snaked it's way up my skirt. Every time I looked over he was acting oblivious, keeping his eyes trained on the screen as my pussy clenched around his fingers. His long fingers can reach so much further than my own, scratching that itch I cannot reach. The slightest graze of his thumb against my clit almost sent me over the edge, only for him to once again withdraw. 

The sight of him licking his fingers clean played on a loop in my head for the next two days. 

By day five of being toyed with I had given in. Curious how long he would go on like this I let him do what he wanted with me. 

Pushing me against the wall and kissing me until my knees were weak, trailing his hands down my back in bed, absently grabbing my breasts from behind and teasing me as I skin my latest kill, I kept quiet and let him. 

Until tonight. 

I got in bed early, exhausted from a long week of hunting and helping Haymitch tend to the goslings, I was sat in bed reading quietly when he came up the stairs. 

He has never been a quiet walker and the sound of his footsteps ascending the stairs made my heart leap with anticipation. Each step methodical and calculated. He wanted me to know he was coming. 

The sight of him stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his comfy trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips reawakened my excitement that has been toyed with all week. Arousal flooding through my veins, pooling between my legs. His smirk made me certain that if I had been standing in this moment I would have melted on to the floor.  

So that brings us to now.

His unrelenting plan to play with me over and over and let me get to the edge only to never fall over it has reduced me to a pleading, begging mess. 

"Please Peeta," I say. "It's been days. I need to come."

He looks over my face once again. Drinks in my reddened cheeks, messed up hair, and kiss-swollen lips. I look well and truly fucked. 

"Oh yeah?" He asks, pulling back slowly before thrusting back in harshly with a snap of his hips. A small whine escapes my throat. "Does my baby need to come?"

He teases me once again, pulling out slowly, making the loss of him devastating to feel, only to push back in and light fireworks behind my eyes. 

"… Please," I squeak out between gasps. 

"I don't know," he starts, pulling out once again, moving his hand down and beginning to rub his thumb over my clit. "Should I let you?"

He slides back in and I buck my hips up to meet him, desperate to feel more. He draws delicious circles around my clit and the feeling builds again in my lower stomach. 

"Please Peeta, let me come," I beg. 

My hands grasp at his back and my nails dig in as he begins to fuck me in earnest once again. 

The room fills with the wet sound of our skin slapping together and my desperate whines. I cling desperately to him as he pushes wave after wave of pleasure into me. My walls once again contract around him as I near the edge. 

His eyes meet mine and a mischievous smirk crossed his face again. My heart sinks as I think he's going to deny me again. 

"I know you're almost there baby," he teases. "You've been so good for me all week, so you can come once I finish counting down okay? You ready?"

I nod desperately so overwhelmed I can't answer. 

"Okay, five," he speeds up his thrusts, slamming himself into me like his life depends on it. "I love hearing your little noises."

At that I let out a string of noises and he chuckles lightly. I didn't even mean to, I've just never been very quiet in bed. 

"Four," he brings my legs up higher to wrap around his waist, thrusting even deeper into me. "You've done so well with all my teasing."

Tears spring to my eyes at his praise. It's been so difficult staying quiet and letting him do what he wants with me. 

"Three," his thumb circles my clit faster, each stroke propelling me towards the finish line. "Fuck, you feel so good baby. Wrapped around me. So tight and wet."

I give in to him and the stress from my week melts away as I let him tend to me. I'm so close. 

Too close. 

"Two," he says and-

A strong twitch goes through my clit and I fall over the edge, crying and clawing at him. I buck my hips involuntarily into his. Waves of pleasure flood through me and I feel my pussy clamp around him and spasm over and over. 

I barely hear myself as my once desperate whimpers turn to deep moans and shouts. My mother would certainly have something to say about my foul language, but at this moment I don't care. All I can feel is Peeta inside me, thrusting deeply, making me feel like I'm not alone anymore. 

"Fuck, I love you, I love you," he chants. 

After another few thrusts, he lets go himself and finishes inside me. His own shouts of pleasure fuel me and draws out my orgasm. 

The only thing I can remember to do is breathe, so for a few minutes that's all I can register. In and out as Peeta thrusts in and out, spilling himself into me. Our bodies merging into one. 

I lie in the bed, boneless and stare uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. My body sings with triumph and nothing else exists to me for a few wonderful moments. I can still feel aftershocks going through me. Pleasure flows through my blood, flooding to the tips of my being and blanketing me in happiness. 

Peeta, who apparently left at some point while I was flying high, strolls over to my side of the bed and places a glass of water on my bedside table before climbing back in next to me. 

I lay my head on his chest and we stare at the ceiling silently, just enjoying the feeling of being next to each other. 

"You got a little ahead of yourself," he says after a few minutes. 

"Well, I've never been very good at following orders," I reply. 

He laughs. "You were doing so well all week, just couldn't wait another couple of seconds."

I turn to look up at him. He looks back at me and my chest tightens slightly. "I'm done waiting for you. I waited long enough."

He wraps his arm around me and I know from the way he playfully squeezes my waist he's going to make me wait twice as long next time. 

That's okay. He's always worth the wait. 

Chapter Text

Setting: Post Mockingjay, pre epilogue 

~~~~~~~~~

"Okay but like when you say 'sit' do you mean like hover or do you mean sit sit?" Katniss asks me.

"When I say sit, I mean break my nose if you have to," I murmur into her neck as I smother her with kisses.

She giggles and tries to wriggle away from me but I grab her by the waist and roll over on the bed, pulling her atop me.

Her eyes meet mine and she has a moment of hesitation before crawling further up the bed, placing her thighs either side of my head and lowers herself to me.

I look up to admire her and think about her body as I work my tongue over her.

Her cheeks are flushed deep red. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in uniform waves like a waterfall. Since the war she's tried her best to begin caring for her hair again and the shortest bits where the fire singed it off have grown back. Her braid gets longer with each passing day and remains as beautifully woven as ever.

When she lets her hair down like she has now I take great pleasure in running my hand through it or pulling it to the side to kiss down the back of her neck. It's cute how doing that will send a shiver down her spine.

I begin to work her with small teasing licks. Long strokes over her lips, revelling in the sweets taste between her legs.

I can feel my dick harden and begin to demand attention. I ignore it, focusing only on her and what she needs and how beautiful I find her.

I'd be remise to not mention her chest. I suggested she be my live model as a joke one day a few months ago but surprisingly she agreed. We began with simple poses fully clothed. Sitting as still as she could, I would sketch her for an hour or so a week, varying the time spent on each sketch. Quick doodles in only a minute where she would comedically balance on one leg to which I would joke it 'must be so hard only being able to use one leg'. She scowls at this and I draw the expression as fast as I can.

Any longer poses she would prop herself in a chair and has only fallen asleep a couple of times.

Eventually I mentioned that getting an understanding of the anatomy underneath would be helpful. She casually removed her jumper and her naked top half was completely on display.

The soft curve of her breasts outlined in the page with swooping strokes. When I finally held them for the first time I poured all my love and affection onto them. Her skin smooth and soft against my lips as though I was kissing a the clouds. She lets out cute pants and whimpers as I circle my tongue around her clit.

With us both finally having access to a surplus of good food for the first time in our lives, a small pouch has formed on her midsection. The delight that crossed her face when I pointed it out one morning was infectious. She has been walking on air ever since and seeing her look so healthy has only increased my love for her.

My love for her. Never ending it seems as I get off on the feeling of being surrounded by everything that makes her perfect.

The soft curls that frame the top of her long beautiful legs. The pattern of scars that mark up both speak to a life of suffering from which we only survived because we had each other. Her arms, that hold me each night in the bed we share. Her eyes that ignite my heart. The sweet taste of her juices as I desperately lap at her. The tremble in her legs as she fights to stay upright against my onslaught of affection.

I bring my arms up and around the back of her thighs and pull her closer to me still. A strong twitch goes through my cock as I really start to strain against my boxers.

I meant it when I said sit, I think to myself as I can hear, see, feel, smell, taste nothing else but Katniss.

I can't swim but I would drown happily in the ocean of her love and arousal. I grip the back of her thighs and ass as I feel her begin to clamp her legs around my head. She grabs at my hair and pulls hard. Her pussy trembles and I bear down where it seems to please her the most.

She goes very still for just a moment before I feel her clit throb against my tongue and her legs squeeze my head impossibly tight and her hips buck into my face. A soft orgasm unknots in my lower stomach and my boxers are ruined in seconds.

I gasp against her and continue to lick and tend her through the aftershocks and feel my muscles relax as endorphins swim through my blood and leave me tired and spent.

Katniss eventually calms and she flops down next to me to catch her breath, leaning her head against my chest. "I'll get you in a minute," she pants, her face flushed.

I chuckle. "I'm… okay actually," I tell her.

She looks over and I meet her eyes. Her wonderful, beautiful eyes.

"You got off on just doing that?" She asks, smiling ear to ear. My cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment.

"You're just that damn sexy," I tell her, to which she rolls her eyes.

I tell her over and over and over why I love everything about her. She never agrees.

It doesn't matter if she doesn't believe me though; I know every reason why it's true.

Chapter Text

Setting: Modern Au featuring Finnick

~~~~~~~~~

I think most guys would be worried if they came home to the sounds of their girlfriend having sex with someone coming from their bedroom.

For me it just means I'm about to get the view of a lifetime. There's no where else I'd rather be.

I try not to interrupt the moment as the door creaks open to reveal Katniss facing the headboard, her hips hypnotically rocking forward and Finnick sprawled out on the bed beneath her.

Her hair has been released from the signature braid and floods down her back in a silky wave. Finnick's athletic body is tanned and toned underneath her and his strong hands hold her hips. I love it when he has his hands on my hips, pulling me to him with desire.

"Peeta stop leering at us and get in here," Katniss says, not even turning to face me. She speeds her hips up a bit and Finnick lets out a moan.

"How'd you know I was there?" I ask, beginning to shed my own clothes. No point wasting time.

They both giggle. "Sweetie, you are not as quiet as you think you are," Finnick informs me.

"It's like a giant just wandered in," Katniss adds on.

I roll my eyes and crawl up the bedsheets to kiss Finnick and he hums appreciatively. I can taste Katniss on his tongue. Even from here I can see her pussy is dripping.

"I'm sorry I'm late to the party, I didn't manage to beat the rush hour traffic after work," I tell them.

I run my hands through his hair just the way he likes and he lets out a groan that goes straight to my dick. Turning to kiss Katniss as well, I begin massaging her chest, making up for lost time. Her soft tits fit perfectly in my palms and she gasps as I tug and tweak at her nipples.

They continue to rock into each other and the room fills with the sound of their skin slapping together and moans of pleasure.

Katniss pulls me up to deepen the kiss forcing me to straddle Finnick's stomach and he wastes no time in running his warm hands along my body. They glide up my back, slide down my sides to my waist and around to cup my ass. I lean back into his warm touch.

I begin covering Katniss' neck in sweet kisses and keep massaging her breasts as I feel Finnick glide his fingers over my back entrance.

Slicked with his saliva, he pushes one in slowly. Katniss swallows my moans and after a few moments he adds another finger and begins stretching me out. He times his rhythm with Katniss grinding down on him and we all bask in the feeling of togetherness. All fucking as one.

Katniss reaches down and begins to stroke my cock. "I'm close, Finnick you can finish him right?"

I don't turn but I can hear the smug grin on his face. "Of course I can," he replies, bucking up to thrust into her.

Katniss tips over the edge a few deep thrusts later and switches places with me, laying her head on Finnick's stomach and littering his torso with kisses. She's not very big on physical touch most of the time but needs a lot during aftercare. Thankfully she's got two boyfriends who are more than willing to take care of her.

Katniss leaves Finnick slicked and ready for me and I straddle his hips and ease myself onto him easily, letting his thick cock stretch me out. The stretch feels good and I begin to slowly fuck myself, impaling myself on him over and over.

Katniss' eyes never leave my body even as she loves on Finnick. She traces swirling patterns into his skin as her eyes burn into mine.

I doubt they were going long before I got in the house but from the lust in Finnick's eyes I know he won't last long. And to be honest, neither will I.

"Fuck…" I gasp out.

I keep my eyes on Katniss and she understands what I need. I need them both.

She lifts her hand from Finnick's stomach and begins to stroke me again. She circles the head with her thumb. I race to the finish line feeling both of my loves take such good care of me.

"Come for me, darling," Katniss coos sweetly.

I finish with a shout, coming on both of them. I clench around Finnick and with a remaining few snaps of my hips he finishes inside me. His hands grip my hips painfully and the noises he lets out fill the room. He looks like a God coming undone.

The view is beautiful. My two favourite people in the world, spent and exhausted and beautiful.

There is no where else I'd rather be.

Chapter Text

Setting: Post Mockingjay, pre epilogue 

~~~~~~~~~

I wake in the early hours of the morning. A bitter chill clings to the air and makes emerging from the covers near impossible. I don't rise. I burrow into the warmth of the duvet.

When I can't seem to fall back to sleep I turn to look at the beautiful view next to me. Katniss lies in the bed beside me, almost impossibly still.

Too still.

She doesn't move a lot in sleep unless awoken by a nightmare, but her eyelids flutter slightly, her arms sprawl out and take up room and she makes small snuffling noises in her sleep. When I bring it up she insists that she doesn't snore. It's true that it's certainly not something she did when we would sleep side by side in our youth, but in the years since the soft noises of her laboured breathing is now what lulls me to sleep most nights.

My eyes trace the outline of her face as she dreams. She doesn't scowl in her sleep, and I find her relaxed sleeping face a joy to behold.

I notice her cheeks are slightly rosy and she seems to be impossibly warm for how cold it is. She radiates heat under the covers and a light sweat has broken out on her forehead. I wonder for a moment if she is getting sick and has developed a fever.

She stirs very slowly, dragging her arm under the covers and from the outline of the duvet seems to be running her hand back and forth.

For a moment I'm confused as to what she's doing before my eyes widen in shock.

Her eyebrows furrow slightly in concentration and her breathing quickens. She's careful not to disturb the duvet much. She begins a slow, consistent rhythm and just knowing what she's doing and watching her lie there pleasuring herself has me straining against my boxers.

I don't move. I can't ruin this for her by letting her know I'm awake.

She doesn't do this often and while I'm sure she would be grateful for my assistance, I find I don't want to do anything else but watch. It should feel wrong to watch her without her knowing but I can't help myself.

The covers inch down her body and I can see her nipples hard against her sleep shirt. My shirt that she has long since claimed as her own. She bites her lower lip, still gliding her fingers over her most intimate parts and I stifle a deep moan.

Apparently not well enough as she freezes and turns her head to look at me. I snap my eyes shut and pretend to be asleep.

For an excruciating minute, neither of us move. You could hear a pin drop on the other side of Panem. I don't dare peek.

Katniss let's out a sigh of relief and I feel the covers move again. At a small desperate whimper I slowly open my eyes again.

She pulls her legs up so her feet rest against the mattress. Her arm begins to move again, her back arches off the bed. She has found her rhythm.

That's it my love just like that, I think, willing her to continue.

Her face contorts with pleasure as her pace quickens, as if she could hear my thoughts. The things I would tell her if I weren't afraid to ruin the moment.

Her other hand comes up to palm her breast frantically. Her teeth dig into her lip and squeezes her eyes shut tight.

The wet sound of her fingers fucking her pussy reach my ears. Katniss bucks her hips up to meet her fingers and the bed squeaks slightly. My dick screams for attention and I don't know how much longer I can really deny myself.

Her knees sway and shake as she gives up any pretence of being quiet.

"Ah! Fuck Peeta…" she whispers into the night air.

My cock strains painfully as she says my name.

Let go my love.

She finishes with a long whimpering moan and trembles as pleasure floods through her. Her back arched off the bed, biting down on her fist to stifle her noises, her legs clamping around her hand as wave after wave crashes over her.

I am no stranger to watching her come but the image burns into my retinas; becomes all I can see when I close my eyes against the blinding light of her beauty.

For a blissful moment, we lie again in silence. Her legs flop to the mattress no doubt exhausted and I watch her smiling face, eyes closed, savouring the afterglow.

A bird tweets from the window ledge as if returning the song of her orgasm. I close my eyes for a moment to the sounds of our perfect life.

My alarm clock blares a few moments later, startling me. I jolt up and practically break the device by slamming my fist down to shut it up and the tinny noise is replaced which a giggle from the other side of the bed.

"You enjoy the show over there?" She asks.

She opens her eyes and turns to look at me, grinning ear to ear. I smile back. She leans over and kisses me lightly.

"Yeah," I tell her. "Gonna have my own show inspired by it, I think," I say jokingly, reaching below the covers.

Chapter Text

Setting: Au where Peeta and Katniss are forced by Snow into sex work a few years after their Games. They are officially dating back home 

~~~~~~~~~

"Katniss, I can't cum like this," Peeta whispers frantically in my ear.

Of course he can't. Who could?

We're surrounded by painfully bright lights, directors, and cameras all capturing our every move.

The ridiculous outfit I've been shoved into pulls at my breasts and catches on my skin uncomfortably. The velvet bedspread, though a beautiful pattern, is fuzzy and overstimulating.

Peeta hovers above me, thrusting in and out mechanically. The lack of enthusiasm breaks my heart.

This is a man that has taken me against the wall of our home the moment we get in the door. The man who wakes me every Sunday morning with his tongue buried deep inside me, drinking in my pleasure. The man who fucked me on the dining room table after finally beating Haymitch chess one night.

Now he seems to barely be able to sustain his hard on and ruts into me on command. If it weren't for the medication we were both on he would be limp and I would be as dry as a bone.

The meds in my system scream for more stimulation but mentally I have no drive. I stare at the ceiling as if the white tiles will give me the answer. The brightness is giving me a headache.

Peeta buries his face in my neck so it will look like he's kissing me but really I know he's hiding from everyone.

"It's okay," I try soothing him, raking my hands through his hair.

"No it's not, we can't be done until I finish," he reminds me.

I pull him up to face me. He stops for a moment and the crowd behind the camera groan in annoyance.

We're both tearing up from exhaustion. We promised each other when this started we would get through it together. We both know if we continue like this we'll only avoid each other afterwards.

"What do you need, my love?"

"I need it to be only us here," he whispers.

I nod and let him rest against my neck again. His breath against my skin sends the smallest shiver of arousal through me. I need him too. Only him.

"Okay," I lean down and whisper in his ear. "Imagine we're in the meadow."

He nods against me, readjusts his position and begins to thrust into me again. His cock scratches over my most intimate parts and elicits a small noise from me.

"We're walking through the meadow. You made us breakfast this morning. You woke me up with hot chocolate and cheese buns, fresh out of the over. Still melty and delicious."

His muscles relax slightly.

"We took a shower together, running your hands over my body, soap running down my thighs and kisses on your chest," I continue. "We got dressed and made a picnic basket and went to the meadow."

"Yeah?" He gasps out. His lips move against my neck and I buck my hips to meet his. The medication along with the false memory awaken my desire once again.

There is nary a day I do not crave him inside me. Even in the most dire of circumstances, I want him.

He seems encouraged by my sudden arousal and begins kissing down my neck and collarbone with enthusiasm.

"We lay in the sun and looked at the clouds, my head on your shoulder. I sang to the birds and you drew in your sketchbook."

I can tell from his breathing it's working. He can think of home, imagine the sound of the birds returning my serenade, the bright blue sky as opposed to blinding studio lights. My body against his like I am now.

I can feel him harden inside me and a blush spreads over my cheeks. "And then, after lunch, you slowly remove my braid, practically rip my dress off my body and pin me to the picnic blanket by my wrists."

He groans deeply into me as I move from talking about the domestic life we have carved out for ourselves to our usual pass time back home.

Surprisingly, he follows my suggestion and moves to hold my wrists above my head in one hand and with the other pulls my knees up. I wrap my legs around his hips and he plunges deeper into me.

The string of noises I let out seem to excite the director as he begins barking orders at the sound crew to get the mic closer.

The tension I felt dissipates and I become still and frightened.

"Keep going," Peeta gasps. "Ignore them."

It takes a moment to refocus. What was I on about? Meadow… Picnic… oh right, sex.

"You pin me to the picnic blanket by my wrists, and begin kissing down my neck. You play with my tits and kiss me everywhere," I instruct.

He dutifully follows. His other hand comes up to palm my chest, massaging the sensitive skin, circling the nipple with his thumb. He takes my other nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, rubbing his tongue over it and teasing me with his teeth.

I cry out and try to reach out for him but he holds my arms down to the bed and frustration mixes with my arousal. I buck my hips involuntarily into his and feel him twitch inside me.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I whisper to him. "You're doing so well, my love."

He pulls away from my chest and grinds into me desperately. His breathing grows shallow and sweat breaks out on his forehead. He's close.

He brings his lips to my ear, and in the most seductive tone I have ever heard from him he whispers, "When we get home, I'm gonna fuck you so hard like this I'll have to carry you home from the meadow."

He buries himself once again in my neck and kisses and bites me all over. Hot spurts of cum paint my insides and I do my best impression of myself coming on his cock.

I thrash and buck my hips and even though Peeta knows it's all fake, he doesn't seem to care. I know we'll make it up to each other.

For now, we can pretend it's real.

Chapter Text

Setting: Six years post 74th Games. They manage to convince the nation of their love in the Victory Tour and the Games continue. They are not reaped for the Quarter Quell. 

Tw: They are both drunk so somewhat dubious consent 

~~~~~~~~~

"You're so drunk!" I yell, grasping on to Peeta's shirt to stay upright as we ascend the stairs to the roof.

We stumble out into the cool night air and the sounds of the parties below emanates from the city. Not one person is at home tonight it seems.

"You're drunker than I am," he replies, slurring his words and tripping over his feet. He's gotten much better with his prosthetic over the years but that all goes out the window after however many glasses of wine we have shared downstairs.

Night before the Games. Nerves are high, the kids are worried sick about their mortality and for the first time in thirty years, Haymitch doesn't have to deal with any of it.

"I've done it long enough, you guys know what you're doing now, I'm not going," he had said before slamming the door in our faces on Reaping Day.

Oh well, more free alcohol for us.

"You uh… you remember that talk we had out here the night before our Games?" Peeta asks.

I sit down on the wall of a flower bed and try to keep my head up. Liquid happiness flows through my veins and all I can feel is joy. It's an emotion I never thought I could feel here.

The light pollution from the city hides the stars and heavens. No one should be able to dream or be happy here. The twinkling lights are the closest thing to stars.

Peeta sits next to me and I rest my head on his shoulder. "You said something about not wanting them to change you and I thought you sounded like a morally superior asshole?"

The look he gives me is one of utter betrayal. His facade cracks and we fall over ourselves laughing. "That's what you thought!?"

"I was worried about dying and you were worried about becoming a monster," I say, giggling at him. "And I was 16! I was an idiot."

"You weren't an idiot. I was just certain I was going to die."

I look up at him. It's been six years since that conversation and I remember it like it was yesterday. Every stirring emotion. My anxiety about the Games.

I was longing for trees in the arena and I got them. He was longing for me. He's still waiting.

"Come here," I say grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. He readjusts on his prosthetic and follows me. "Dance with me."

"Here?" He grins.

"Yeah," I say, pulling his body to mine, entwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his shoulder. His other hand holds my waist and we begin.

The clumsiness by which we execute this dance leaves us in stitches. I stand on his fake foot and apologize. He sways slightly too far to the left and almost topples us over. I go to lean my forehead to his and accidentally slam my head into him causing us to part.

We laugh it off and continue. He kisses my forehead where it hurts and I look away so he can't see me blush.

"That night I thought you were the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid my eyes on," he says. He's almost talking to himself more than me.

"Wasn't I in my pyjamas?"

He chuckles and places his head to mine as we sway. Perfect blue eyes shimmer in the light of the Capitol buildings.

"I couldn't care less what you were wearing. Everything about you is just so beautiful," he slurs out.

For a moment, his eyes flicker down to my lips. His warm hands slide up my back and pull my body closer to his. I sneak a glance at his lips.

Lips I have kissed a thousand times for the camera and only once for myself. In a cave, miles from here, at the age of sixteen. A warm feeling spreading through me, the urge to kiss him again overwhelming me.

I have haven't had that feeling since. The kiss we shared at our wedding a year later didn't come nearly as close.

He leans in for a moment and just as his lips graze mine he pulls away and stumbles over to the railing by the side of the building. He breaths are laboured and he clings onto the bars.

"I'm sorry," he gasps.

Immediately the chilly night air blows through me and I miss the warmth of him body against mine.

A small voice in the back of my mind nags at me. Why wouldn't he kiss you? He doesn't love you anymore. He's just drunk.

I ignore it and walk over and lean my back against the railing, turning away from the bright city lights.

My drunken brain can hardly put together a cohesive thought. The world sways and turns, and all I want it to reach for the person that is my rock. The one person who's kept me upright all these years.

"Why did you pull away?"

"Because sober me would be so mad if I kissed you. It's not what you want," he mutters.

I'm so drunk I don't even know what sober me would say in this moment. Would she pull back? I think so. What really is it to kiss someone when you're this drunk? Does it count?

I find that drunk me doesn't really seem to care in this moment. Between the Games and the pressure from Snow and the faces of the families we let down, I just don't care.

"Kiss me," I say turning to look at him.

He shakes his head miserably and continues to hang over the side of the railing. If it weren't for the forcefield I would worry about him drunkenly falling over the side.

"I thought you would want to," I say.

"I do."

"Then do it."

"No."

"Come on."

He finally looks at me. His eyes drink in my desperation.

"Please?" I whisper.

He reaches over and pulls my face to his. My eyes flutter shut. Soft, warm lips crash into mine messily and his fingers rake through my hair. I grab onto his shirt and pull him to me, the weight of him pushing me into the metal bars.

I can taste the red wine from dinner on his lips. To say the kiss is sloppy and messy is an understatement but the feeling grows inside me none the less. Warm and safe, it spreads out through my chest.

My desire for him deepens and I begin to grind my hips against his. I have no idea if I'm doing anything right. I've only heard stories from the girls who went to the slag heap back home. But Peeta seems to understand, brings his knee up between my legs and pulls my hips to him. I grind down on him.

A completely new feeling arises in me. My pants are soaking in seconds and the feeling inside my grows burning hot. I pull back from his lips and gasp at the feeling.

Peeta doesn't let up on me and teases his way down my neck with his tongue and his teeth. Nipping at my earlobes, sucking on my collarbone. I hold him to my skin and grasp onto his curls for stability.

Half dangled off the building, grinding down on his leg and singing my praises into the night sky I would be dizzy without the alcohol. With it, I am unequivocally happy for the first time in so long.

"Please Peeta," I beg, my voice almost drowned out by the wind chimes and partying streets below. "Make me forget where I am."

He takes the challenge in earnest, abandoning my lips and neck for a greater prize. His hands and mouth are everywhere. Cupping my breasts and squeezing me through the dress. Running his fingers down my sides, digging his nails into my ass for a moment, eliciting a surprised yelp from me before lifting my dress and dipping his head below.

In a moment, his warm hands drag my ruined pants down to my ankles and his fingers spread me open. I'm soaked, my pussy dripping down the insides of my thighs. Peeta begins with small kisses but eventually turns to licking my thighs clean, moaning at the taste.

He licks up and between my lips, drinking in my taste. I whimper pathetically and grind down against his face. He snakes his hands up and around the back of my thighs and eagerly continue, moaning as he goes.

His head buried beneath my dress, lapping at me just as messily as his kisses. His tongue laps at my nerves and plunges deep inside me. Arousal pools in my stomach and my knees almost buckle at the feeling.

The rhythm causes an unknown feeling inside me. And inch deep inside I need scratched.

"Like that, just like that," I whine desperately.

He doubles his efforts, teasing my clit with his wet tongue, the vibrations in his every moan bringing me closer to the edge.

Every sensation inside me builds. My skin feels light and airy. My eyes unfocus. The alcohol sloshes around in my head, making the world seems so far away.

All I can think and feel and know is Peeta.

I am drunk on him.

"I think… Peeta I think I'm… I'm gonna…"

A strong twitch goes through my clit and my thighs clamp around his head. A crashing, burning, joyful, wondrous feeling rockets through me. The warmth from my chest is nothing compared to this. It is like a firework explosion; a shimmering crescendo of light bursting across the darkness of my existence.

I grab his head and hold him to me as spasms wrack my body and grind myself on his tongue. I hardly hear the string of praises coming from my lips. The whimpers and moans tumble out of me.

Oh what a wondrous thing be has given me. My wonderful husband, I'm think.

At that thought the warmth returns to my chest and tightens. I know this was not a drunken mistake, but a sober need.

He continues his loving affection before the feeling between my legs fades, and the world descends on me again.

He pulls my pants back up, stands and kisses me, his tongue coated in my juices. Sweet and dirty and intoxicating. Sober me would be disgusted but I can't seem to care. I can only imagine what he will taste like.

"Feel good?" He smirks at me.

His eyes, still brilliantly sparkling in the light of the candy coloured city. The arousal in them is now evident, as he drinks in the look of my flushed face and kiss-swollen lips.

I nod shyly. When I go to reach for his trousers, he shakes his head, takes my hands and pulls me back towards the stairs. I follow obediently.

"Don't you want your turn?" I ask.

The door to the roof slams shut behind us as we enter the apartments once again.

"I do," he says, grinning ear to ear. "I'm just getting some coffee so I can remember it in the morning."