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I startle awake from a dream. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m 18 years old. I live in District 12 with a cat. Peeta planted Primroses alongside my house. I recite these facts silently and snuggle back into the warmth of Peeta’s chest. His arm twitches against my back and I’m tugged closer to him. Just as I’m about to drift back asleep, I catch something in the corner of my eye. It’s backlit from the still smoldering fire in the hearth, but I can just make out the edges. It’s a little hard to place at first and I consider that it’s an odd fold in the blanket. However, my memory kicks in and tells me that pulling on the cover tightly won’t smooth out this bulge. My breathing quickens as I realize it’s Peeta’s completely natural erection and not some trick of the light.
“Katniss?” Peeta croaks, “are you awake?”
I nod my head, shuffling it against his shirt.
“Nightmare?” he asks, concern etched in his tone.
I shake my head, making a different rustle against his body. I keep an eye on his development and reply evenly “It was a good dream, it almost didn’t seem real. We were in the meadow at sunset,” I say, my voice thick with sleep.
“What woke you?” he asks.
“I don’t know, but I did notice that part of you was awake,” I hint towards his groin. I risk a peek up at him and a rosy blush has spread across his face.
This is new. This honesty. The small steps back to each other and first stages of intimacy in general. His arms comforted me and eventually his lips as we spent more time together. We’ve both agreed to a slow pace with our kisses and touching. We’ve never ventured under our clothes though, so this part of him remains a mystery to me. I remember being curled against his hard on when we slept during the tour and I’ve woken up to the heat of it pressed on my backside a few mornings here. I’m alert and curious now though and want to see, want to feel him. My first urge is to reach for him without words, but I don’t want to surprise him either.
“Can I touch you?” I ask, one slight octave above timid.
The mattress shifts as he scratches the scruff on his chin. My head rises and falls on his chest with his deep, measured breaths. “I’ll allow it,” he finally says.
I start over the covers, moving my fingertips along his hips and thighs, giving him plenty of time to stop me. While my hands inch closer to my target, I notice that his bulge grows taller. I skim the base and wait for a reaction.
“Pull down the blanket,” he tells me and I oblige the request.
The tent in his pajama pants is more prominent now as I reach to grasp him. Once my fingertips encircle him to graze my thumb, a shudder ripples through his body. I pause.
“It’s okay, I’m okay. Keep going,” he instructs.
A thrill runs down my spine when my touch draws forth quiet moans and incoherent mutters from Peeta. The same feeling settles low in my belly, that pleasuring him feels good for me too. I slide my thighs together to abate my needs for now while I focus on Peeta.
“It’s different, being able to feel you in my hand,” I manage as I continue my exploration with feather-light strokes and squeezes.
“How so?” he chokes out, seemingly affected by my ministrations.
“Well, grinding against you through clothes is not the same as wrapping my fingers around you,” I explain. His cock lurches in my palm at my words.
“Oh,” says Peeta, “It feels good this way too.”
“You know, it would be easier without your pants in the way,” I suggest, my voice hinting with a smile.
“Oh, I don’t care if you see me,” says Peeta in a playful tone.
I’m sitting halfway up to strip his pants down when I realize what was so remarkable about that small comment. Peeta sounds like his old self again. I recall him saying the same thing in the first arena. He’s the one who could always think of the right thing to say when nobody else could, when I resorted to actions and not words. My movements are clumsy and unpracticed, but if touching him can help bring him completely back to me, I’ll do whatever it takes.
I ease his pants down over his hips and his cock springs forth at me. It’s thick, angry and red looking, no doubt chafed from the rubbing. I chance another glance back up at Peeta, who has gone from blushing to beet red.
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper in request. It seems like a kiss would soothe the irritation and redness of his swollen member.
The shadow of his nodding head plays against the wall as I take hold of his shaft and place the gentlest kiss to the head. I notice moisture leaking from the tip and I swipe at it with my tongue. His body begins to tremble.
“Can you do that again?” he begs.
I reach forward again to envelop the whole head in my mouth for a kiss, laving my tongue all around the crown of his cock.
“Katniss…please don’t stop,” he gasps.
I approach him from a different angle, licking from bottom to top and back down again. Peeta unleashes a series of passionate groans as I pop as much of him as I can back into my mouth. As soon as I start applying suction, I feel him grappling with my shoulder.
“Katniss, I’m coming. Move!” he implores.
I back away just as spurts erupt from him and fall on his stomach. I realize the biology of what’s happening in front of me but never imagined it would be so beautiful in person. Perspiration has gathered along Peeta’s hairline and he’s positively glowing. His eyes are shining pure devotion at me.
“I’ll get you a towel,” I offer. I don’t want him to move since he looks so relaxed.
“Wait, c’mere,” he requests and pulls me in for a kiss.
He cups my jaw and plants a kiss on my lips. I open my mouth for the next kiss, lightly probing my tongue to his. I trade his top lip for the bottom as our kiss deepens.
“Towel,” I remind him and trot off to the bathroom to find something to clean him. I return and start dabbing at his stomach.
“Here, let me do that,” he says and I yield over the towel. “Thank you. I could wake up to that every night,” he jokes.
“Every night? What about me?” I laugh in jest.
“Well, I could wake you up with a treat too,” he flirts.
“I’ll allow it,” I echo from his earlier sentiment.