A/N: I was going to wait until next Monday to post this to keep with the schedule since I missed last Monday but I figured since it was the last chapter I'd let you have it now :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Sixteen

"Cato, you're being unreasonable."

"I am not, I'm being completely reasonable."

"Actually, I think you'll find that you're not."

Peeta hurried to keep up with Cato as he walked down the street, his boyfriend's legs much longer and therefore enabling him to take larger strides. "If I had known that that guy was flirting with me I would have told him that you were my Master. Simple as. But I didn't, therefore there really isn't that much substance to your rage."

Cato stopped in the middle of the pavement and Peeta bumped into his back, the sudden stop taking him by surprise. Cato turned around and stared at him with wide eyes. "Take a look at yourself," he said.

Peeta looked down at himself. He couldn't wait until he could get out of the silly leather garments as they were rubbing his skin the wrong way and he could already feel a rash forming. He glanced back up at Cato, who was waiting for him to come to a conclusion he had already reached himself. "Uh . . . leather isn't my best friend?" he guessed.

"No. You're dressed in submissive costume. Now look at me," said Cato.

Cato really suited his master costume, the leather seeming to be much kinder to his skin than it was to Peeta's. Thankfully it was Halloween night, so no one was questioning why they were out in the streets looking like something out of a horror film based on BDSM. Cato had chosen the day he would take Peeta to his first S&M club carefully, as Halloween night would be the night were no one would see anything wrong with seeing two guys scantily dressed in leather. Hey, if girls could do it, why couldn't they?

"Okay, I know this one, you obviously suit leather much more than me," Peeta concluded, folding his arms proudly and smirking.

"No," Cato sighed. "I'm dressed in dominant costume. Now, how was the guy commenting on your complexion dressed?"

Peeta screwed his eyebrows up. "Pretty much like you," he said. He put his hands on his leather clad hips and quickly added, "Only a lot less sexy. Er . . . sir?"

"Exactly. Did he have a submissive on his hip?" Cato asked.

Jeez, what was with the fireball questions? Peeta shook his head. "No, he hadn't."

"Then what did you think he wanted? A picnic in the park?" Peeta opened his mouth to say maybe the guy wanted a picnic which Cato didn't know and maybe he was just striking up ordinary conversation, but Cato held his hand up to silence him. "Don't even try and say 'maybe' in that cute, no flies on me innocent way you always do."

"I wasn't going to," Peeta lied.

Cato rolled his eyes and grabbed Peeta's wrist, the rest of the walk going on in silence. Once they reached Cato's house, Peeta felt a lot less tense. It wasn't that he was particularly stressed outside but the comforting warmth Cato's home provided made him feel much more at ease, especially when he was wearing something so naff. The hooks at the back of his shirt were cold against his back as he followed Cato up the stairs. They were designed to have the same effect as a strait jacket, similar hooks also lining the long sleeves of the shirt.

"I'm sorry, sir," Peeta said. "Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry. If I'd known the hot Goth guy was requesting my services as submissive I would have lobbed him with my bottle of Sprite, is that you'd have liked?"

"I'd have liked that you told me immediately so I could show the pale freak who you really belong too," Cato growled, already yanking his leather get-up off. Peeta followed suit, de-threading the complicated arrangement of ribbon that joined both sides of the shirt along his left side.

"We both know if I told you immediately then this night wouldn't have ended here, it would have ended with me paying bail for you," he answered.

"Would that really be a bad thing?" Cato muttered.

Peeta struggled with the ribbon on his shirt. It was Cato who tied it and years of experience caused him to tie things maybe a bit too tight. Peeta's fingers kept getting stuck under the ribbons and he had to yank them back out, leaving an odd, stinging sensation behind where it felt like his fingernail was going to fall off. "Yes, it would," he ground out between gritted teeth while he fought with the annoying binds.

When it finally came loose, Peeta almost whooped with joy. He yanked the ribbons apart and pulled the shirt over his head, folding it up and neatly depositing it on a shelf inside the wardrobe. He examined his arms and torso, internally noting that he'd have to apply some ointment or something later because his skin was looking a little pink. Cato had only taken off the leather straps that had formed an 'X' across his chest and back and stood by his bed, staring at the opposite wall. Peeta unzipped his ridiculous leather pants and touched his master's arm.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

There was a pause before Cato answered. "I want to give you something."

Peeta blinked, taken aback by the random admission. "Really? What is it?"

Cato crouched down beside the bed, causing Peeta's hand to slip off his arm, and pulled a box out from underneath. Peeta didn't recognize the brand name but accepted the box gratefully when Cato handed him it. Whatever was inside, it certainly was heavy. "Sir, you didn't have to"-He was silenced by a finger to his lips that wasn't his own.

"Just open it and tell me what you think," said Cato.

Peeta cracked open the lid obediently and dropped it on to the bed. He pulled away the tissue paper and marveled at what was inside. "But . . ."

"Do you like it?" Cato asked, sounding unsure.

Inside the box was a heavy black metal collar. It had those classic spikes on them that jutted out all around it. That wasn't what Peeta was surprised by. There was a little metal tag hanging from a loop, the sort that would usually be given to dogs with numbers in case they were lost. Engraved on it was Peeta's full name, followed by 'Property of Cato Hadley'.

"This is for me?" Peeta asked in disbelief.

"Well it does have your name on it," answered Cato.

Peeta lifted the collar out of the box and fingered the tag thoughtfully. "We haven't even discussed if I'm going to be your full time sub yet," he said unsurely. "What with my mother dying we kind of forgot about the temporary contract. Legally, I could walk out right now and I wouldn't be in violation of anything."

Cato eyed him wearily, suddenly afraid. "Are you going to walk out?"

"No!" Peeta blurted out. "Of course not. That is, if you still want me?"

Cato rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'd buy you your own collar if I didn't want you?" he asked.

"Well, no, but"-

"Well there you go." Cato took the collar from Peeta and weighed it in his hand. "I've never given a sub a collar before . . ." He lifted his eyes to Peeta and smiled. "Then again, you were never really just a 'sub' to me where, you?"

"I'd like to think not," Peeta smirked, placing his hand over Cato's. He pushed his body closer to Cato's and purred, "I suppose you want to punish me for my behavior with the Goth tonight?" Peeta pushed up on his tiptoes to reach Cato's eye level and seductively slid his leg up his master's.

"Very perceptive," Cato complimented. He placed his hands on Peeta's slim hips, pulling him even closer and the movement causing the pants to slip down further. "Although first of all I think we should see if your collar fits, don't you?"

"Well, of course." Peeta turned in Cato's arms and leaned back into him, pressing his ass against his boyfriend's crotch in the process. He tilted his head back, baring his gorgeous, pale neck. Cato stroked the line of Peeta's neck with his knuckles, where he could feel the blood beating underneath and the occasional movement of swallowing. He pressed a kiss against the smaller boy's jugular and proceeded to clip the collar around his neck.

Peeta reached up and touched it, his fingertips grazing the metal spikes thoughtfully. Cato steered him back around by his shoulders. The collar was a perfect fit, clinging to Peeta's throat just right so that the tag fell in the hollow between his collarbones. Cato pulled Peeta back for a kiss, the sort that caused fireworks to explode in his gut and his blood to heat in excitement when Peeta's hands gently touched his face.

"Now there's no mistaking I'm yours," Peeta whispered.

The thought made Cato grin in pleasure. He kissed Peeta fiercely and lifted him up in his arms, depositing him softly on the bed. Peeta propped himself up on his elbows and watched in curiosity as his boyfriend went to the wardrobe. "I'll be right back," Cato promised before disappearing into the clothes.

Peeta smiled to himself and shimmied out of the leather pants, kicking them off to the end of the bed and rolling onto his stomach so that the backless underpants did their job of what Cato called 'accenting his ass'. He propped his chin onto his hand and waited for Cato's return. When his master did come back with a huge booklet in his hands, he smirked at the sight of his sub already have gotten started without me.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" he quipped.

"You know what you do to me, sir, you make me so hot that clothes just don't seem necessary," Peeta joked. Cato lightly smacked his ass and jerked his thumb to a sign to move over. Peeta rolled away onto his back, freeing up one side of the bed. It felt odd because they were sitting on each other's side of the bed but neither commented on it. "So, what's that?"

"It's the permanent contract," Cato explained. He leaned against the headboard of the bed and showed Peeta the front of the booklet. Peeta took it gently, like he was handling the holy bible, and opened it up carefully. It was all the standard stuff that had been in the temporary contract except there was no mention of it being temporary. "If you're still unsure, we can wait longer, I don't mind. It's up to you."

"Because we're in a relationship, does it make this any different?" asked Peeta.

"Other than the fact that we can go vanilla, not really."

Peeta snorted. "Vanilla," he repeated. "If making love is vanilla, what's the alternative?"

Cato took Peeta's chin between his thumb and forefinger, drawing his face close so that their lips were almost touching but not quite. "Whatever you want it to be."

"I'm very indecisive, sir, I think I might need a taste first," Peeta murmured, his eyes drawn to Cato's mouth like a moth to a flame. He leaned forward, trying to kiss his master, but was gently pushed back. "Hey, not fair!"

"I decide when we kiss, baby, not you," Cato reminded him, curling his finger under his boyfriend's chin and tapping his nose. Peeta scowled and stuck his tongue out at him. "Ah-ah, do you want to be punished twice tonight?"

Peeta raised his eyebrows. "What if I do?"

Cato pulled the submissive into his arms-the contract momentarily forgotten-and held him in place with two hands on the smaller boy's plump ass cheeks. "What do I propose I do to you, since you're so disobedient tonight?" he challenged.

Peeta traced patterns on Cato's chest, scrunching his eyebrows and pretending to be thoughtful. "Maybe you should just smack me, since that seems to be your go-to," he said.

"My 'go-to'?" Cato replied.

"Well, yeah."

Cato opened the top door of his bedside table and produced an old ping pong paddle. He used to worry about strangers breaking into his home and since he didn't have a baseball bat, the only logical loophole was to use a ping pong paddle instead. Peeta's eyes widened at the sight of it and he swallowed hard. "What about if I use this?" asked Cato.

"That would be different," Peeta whispered, suddenly less chipper. He'd only ever been spanked by hand. Cato had yet to pull out a paddle or device of any description.

Cato grinned at his sub's sudden apprehension and said, "Go on then, get over my knee." Peeta resisted the urge to scowl at Cato's smugness and positioned himself over Cato's knees. "Oh, would you look at that, I don't even have to take off your pants."

Peeta buried his face into the covers and held his breath as he felt Cato's hand smooth over his bared ass. When the paddle smacked him, he yelped in surprise. It stung really badly but the feeling off Cato caressing him after each blow made it worth the pain. Peeta never took long to get into his punishments and was soon moaning after each hit, rutting against Cato's thigh in a desperate search of relief and begging his master to stop.

"Would you like some relief, my pet?" Cato teased, the paddle smacking the younger boy's pink right cheek.

"Oh god, please," Peeta begged, yipping when another smack landed home on his left cheek.

Cato threw the paddle away and spread his lover's ass cheeks, teasing him with a solidary lick to his entrance. Peeta moaned and pushed up into the touch, wishing it wasn't against the rules to touch himself or he'd have grabbed his own aching cock long ago. Cato hooked his thumbs into Peeta's underwear and slid them down his legs. Peeta gasped in relief as his cock was freed. "Turn onto your back," Cato instructed.

Peeta did as he was told and rolled onto his back. He watched Cato as he bound his wrists to the headboard with some silk ties and slithered down his body like a snake so his mouth hovered over his hard cock. Peeta inhaled and silently begged with his eyes for release. Cato smirked and took his sub's length into his mouth, all the way down to the base. Peeta moaned and pushed his hips up, the hot, wet warmth of his master's mouth driving him wild.

Cato sucked on his lover's cock like a child licking chocolate off their fingers. He kept his eyes locked on Peeta as he moaned and writhed beneath him, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving. Peeta squirmed and whimpered, his wrists restlessly rattling the headboard of the bed. His feet pushed against the bedcovers, trying to find purchase on something until his knees eventually locked over Cato's head, giving the impression that he was caging his master in. It was times like these that made it unclear who was really in control: the easy answer of Cato or the more complex one of Peeta?

Peeta released into Cato's mouth with a scream of elevation. Cato parted Peeta's knees to allow himself to lift his head and smirked at his panting better half. "Was that reliving enough for you?" he teased.

"You call that a punishment?" Peeta teased back, smirking in amusement. "As soon as your mouth went down there I thought I was being rewarded! Maybe you're losing your touch."

"Oh really now?" Cato sat up and tickled Peeta's sides. Peeta shrieked in surprise and kicked out at Cato, unable to control his laughter. Peeta's laughter was contagious and Cato was soon laughing too, abusing every sensitive spot on his lover's body that he knew would make him scream with laughter. "Would you rather I did this endlessly?"

"Argh! No! Stop! I can't breathe!" Peeta yelled. His face was pink and tears were leaking out of his eyes he was laughing so hard. Cato decided to cut Peeta a break and ceased his torture, allowing him to catch his breath. While Peeta sucked some suitable oxygen into his lungs, Cato untied his wrists from the bed. "You got a pen on you?" the younger boy asked in curiosity.

"Why?" asked Cato.

"Well, I'm going to sign the contract, aren't I?" Peeta smiled.

Cato stared at Peeta unsurely. "What, really?"

Peeta nodded. Once freed, he knelt up on the bed and grabbed the booklet from where it had fallen to the end of the bed. He waved it under Cato's nose and beamed. "Really, sir. I want to be yours," he said. A little dumbfounded, Cato scrambled to get a pen out from the bottom drawer by his bed. He enclosed the smaller blond in his arms and held the contract in front of them, open at the page where they both had to sign. Peeta turned his head into Cato's neck and murmured, "You first."

Cato realized that his fingers were trembling as he clicked the pen open. Peeta gently wrapped his fingers around Cato's wrist as the tip of the pen touched the paper. His touch was like an anchor steadying him, reminding him of everything they had been through over the past year. There was nothing Cato was more afraid of than the future but he also knew that if Peeta was with him, the fears were not going to pose any difficultly because they would be able to fight them together.

"I love the way you sign your name," Peeta said, tracing his fingers over Cato's signature.

"Your turn," said Cato, slipping the pen into Peeta's left hand. He rested his chin on Peeta's shoulder and pressed a kiss against the bared skin. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been surer about anything else in my entire life," Peeta answered.

As Cato watched Peeta spell his name out on the signature line, he knew that he would never have to ask anyone else to sign that contract again.

Ever.