a/n: well today was a shitty day for me. I wanted to write, but knew I was in a pissy mood and would try and take it out (unreasonably) on the characters. So instead I bought myself some beers, m&ms and saltines, smoked a couple cigarettes while blasting fleetwood mac, and wrote this.
It's straight up smut. When I write smut I usually do it quickly and within the story, but this is all just smut. nothing else. porn without plot while pretending to have plot, but literally, truly, just smut. I wrote it in canon of my Skin and Bones post-Mockingjay story, but you don't need to read that in order to read this. All you really need to know from that fic is that it ends with Katniss telling Peeta she loves him (aw). Sprinkle in some depression, flashback, nightmares, and painting and that's the fic? So this picks up literally right after she says so.
my tumblr username is hotpielookedlikehotpie as well, so if you need to contact me or anything you can find me there!

you're my desert, the line between the sky
and where the world gets solid and willing to divide
I corner you in the bedroom, I find you at the sink
I picture you in the morning, I reach for you in my sleep
I was in love, with the sky it's like a drug
I was in love, with my window at twilight
walts of the dearly beloved | emily wells

His lips attach to mine the moment I finish speaking. There's a fervor behind his actions that I never anticipated, never knew could exist. I thrive in it, get pulled under, and match it. Or I try to. I don't know if I'm actually able to, if I have it in me to be able to match how much I could feel in this kiss.

The moan that escapes his mouth may prove otherwise though.

In his kiss I lose myself, or I try to. I told him I loved him. I loved him. It's weird, to love someone this way. Growing up I never wanted this or expected it. I loved him. I was in love with him. And somehow, he found his love for me again. Or maybe it's new for him as well. We're different people now, ravaged by war and cruel pasts. We're new people. And this... this is new.

My back hitting against the wall made my mind focus only on Peeta and what was happening between us, and nothing of our pasts. It's amazing, and all I want to do is lose myself in him. Every place he touches me seems to light up and blaze through my being, his arms cradling my head, then my neck, and then trailing down my back to settle on my hips. My arms are on his own, moving to feel his muscles that he regained and then I bring them to his chest to clutch tightly onto his shirt. I want him closer, I pull him closer.

He's not close enough.

Peeta presses against me and licks, slightly, the bottom of my lip. The unasked question doesn't need to be asked even, and I open my mouth automatically. Our tongues meet, their movements mirroring our frantic need to touch, hold, caress anywhere and everywhere. My hands move on their own, needing. I follow the muscles of his stomach over his shirt, follow the scars he has that I also have. I feel his hands draw slightly up, follow a sort of path that I created on his own body that follows my scars. But only the ones on my stomach. He doesn't let it go further, but within me a storm rages, a hunger turns to insatiable, and it's not enough.

He's not close enough. He's not touching enough.

I take his hands and he stops kissing me for a second. I know what he's about to say, a sorry or something, thinking he overstepped a boundary. But I place his hands on my breasts and instantly arch into them further just with the contact. I've never had this feeling and it's an intoxicating rush that seems to clear my mind. He looks at me shocked but then smiles as he gently squeezes my breasts and I move again and try to hold back a gasp.

It feels good. It feels too good –– but no, not too much. Not enough. I try to pull him closer. His lips leave mine and I feel myself about to protest when his mouth finds its way to my neck. I choke back another embarrassing sound that seems to want to come out. My hands snake behind his back and I press him closer as he presses me into the wall more.

"Say it again," he whispers quickly against my tshirted breasts.

My mind is blank. What is he asking me? All I know is what I feel, all I know is him, and the idea of talking seems ludicrous. I did enough talking before, I know that. I told him I loved him.

Oh.

He rubs his one thumb against where my nipple is, where I can feel it hardening and I say the words he wants to hear again in a sigh. "I love you."

I bring my hands to his shoulders and push on him, push him so he keeps holding me but he steps away from where he is pinning me against the wall. I want to take in some control, at least for a bit. I don't know what I'm doing, but I know what I'm feeling, and I want to chase after it with this man. This man with me. This man that's in love with me. This man I'm in love with.

The back of his legs hit the bed and I push him again until he tumbles down. I want to keep my balance but end up falling with him, on top of him, and the two of us catch a laugh in our mouths. I fix my legs to settle against his hips and our laughs stop soon enough. Our chests are against each other, and I unconsciously clench my thighs into his hips and feel him jerk ever so slightly into me. A strike of pleasure runs through me, through both of us, and both of us hiss.

He goes to kiss me again but I sit up and he stays laying down, looking at me confused and a bit disappointed. I smirk at him, feeling this power course through me. I hook my hands at the bottom of my shirt and drag it up quick and throw it who knows where. My bra comes off soon enough as well. When I look back at Peeta he's still and silent. It's a look I've seen before, upon prey as they look upon my arrowhead. The power shoots through me again and I tighten my thighs against his hips again as well. I watch as his eyes close briefly and then open again, staring at me. Yes, it's the same kind of power that you get being a hunter versus the hunted, but it's also better. It's better on both sides.

I almost want to laugh at him and remind him that he's seen this part of me before. That I posed for him recently topless, exposed myself and my scars so he could help me look past them. But it's different now, and even I know that. I'm straddling him, I took my shirt off out of necessity to feel closer and not because I'm disconnectedly posing for some painting. I'm shirtless because I want to feel his skin on mine. I'm shirtless because I want him.

So I don't say anything. I know it's different, it feels different. And hell, I love it.

I settle my chest against his and the feeling of his naked chest upon mine is one that makes me whimper into his mouth. "I'm in love with you," I tell him, because there is a difference, love and in love, and I want him to know, need him to know, that he's the only one that the latter even exists within me for. His lips go after mine but I settle mine against his neck and he falls back against the pillow and lets out a throaty low groan. My body is stirring, it seems as if I can feel my blood as it pumps through my body. The effect I have on him is effecting me, he's effecting me, and all that is in my mind is him and his body and mine.

I try to imitate his lips upon my neck from before and place open mouthed kisses surrounding the area. "I'm in love with you Peeta Mellark," I tell him again, because I held it away from him for too long and the way he reacts is intoxicating. His hands are settled on my hips, pressing, but they make their way slowly up my chest until they're right under my breasts. I nod against him as I place a slow kiss upon his collerbone and his hands reach instantaneously for each of my breasts, his thumbs again against my nipples but now there's no cloth stopping the contact. My hips buck involuntarily at the feeling without me even realizing. He moans at the feeling, at my breasts in his hands and at my hips, and he continues to press hard into my flesh. I let out a sound of my own, something I've been trying to hold back, and at the sound he opens his eyes wide and stares at me with a slight smile.

I find myself suddenly against the pillows with Peeta hovering atop of me. He kneels in between my thighs but holds himself up on his forearms. I let out a shaky breath as he places his forehead against mine and finds my lips with his own in a slow burning kiss. My hands are on the bottom of his shirt, feeling a bit foolish without a shirt on when he's still dressed. He understands and stops the kiss so that I can take off the offending garment.

His one hand cradles my face between both of his hands and presses his forehead against mine. We still and catch our breaths for a moment. I don't know what's happening, truly, but all I know is that I don't want it to stop. I don't know what I'd do if he said he wants to. I need, need ––

I don't know what I need, truly, but I know that Peeta is that one that can give me it.

"I'm more in love with you with each second. I didn't even know it was possible."

My breath catches at his words. I want him to touch me again, to go for my breasts but before I can even consider a way to ask him to his mouth starts moving down my chest until it lands lightly upon the rising of my left breast. I let out a shuddering breath as his lips draw closer to the center, my hands in his hair and I'm sure that my hips buck up into his a time or three more without me even meaning to or realizing it. His lips graze my raised nipple and a low moan comes out, until he swipes his tongue across it. I don't hold back the sound this time and it's louder. I feel his smile as he draws his lips fully down upon me and I can't help but toss my head to the side at it all.

"Peeta." His name comes out of my mouth in a voice I've never heard from me and he presses his groin down in response. He mumbles my name upon my skin as his one hand makes its way to my other breast and the other draws slow circles upon my hip.

His other hand leaves my breast soon enough and makes its way down to my hip like the other, and then flutters on the waistband of my jeans. His lips start to kiss back up to me and he pauses after a short kiss to my chin, his eyes questioning.

"Can I––?" He starts to ask, not knowing how to ask the question. But his hands ask it in how they move, how they hesitate on the button of my jeans and then move again. I don't know exactly what he's asking but I know a bit, and I know what whatever me and Peeta are building towards has this as a step towards that direction.

"Yeah," I tell him nodding, my voice a bit breathless and I think somewhere, I should be a bit embarrassed at how I sound. But I don't because the smile that comes upon Peeta's face is brilliant and beautiful, and he swoops down to kiss me again as his hands go to work on my button and zipper. He stops the kiss briefly to work my pants down and I take the opportunity to take his down, leaving myself only in a pair of underwear and him in boxers. He settles above me again, the heat of him and the heat of me from our lower bodies seem to be over intoxicating and my senses feel like they kick into full gear. I'm aware of his every move, his every part of himself and how close or far (too far, everything is too far) he is from me.

His one hand starts to dip into my underwear but I stop him suddenly, my breath coming on too hard. I'm nervous and scared, and it breaks through all the bliss I was feeling before. He looks at me nervous, as if he stepped over a line and I try to get my bearings together so I can tell him. "I–I" I –start start off, trying to get my mind into being able to talk again. It goes back to before, about how I looked at him and saw the prey. But it's different because I'm the one underneath, staring with wide eyes. I'm the prey, trying to explain. "I've never done this before," I whisper, letting him know. I think he knows, or he knew at some point. Or hoped even, maybe. We know the name of the only person that I would've experienced this with if I had before, and I'm grateful he doesn't bring it up.

He smiles with a hint of embarrassment as well and nods. "I haven't either." I'm a bit surprised, but I can't help but feel more powerful and happy at that. That he's not done any of this with anyone but me. I'm sure he's kissed other girls, he's had to, but this...whatever this is, or will be, exists to us and only us. "My brothers used to talk and –– you know, they'd say things –– make sure I heard, uhm, slag heap endeavors and––"

He's rambling, and I cut him off with a kiss as I try to regain my confidence by moving my hips up more into his hand that twitches slightly at their positions. I say to words, tell him, demand him. "Touch me."

His lips are on mine again and I'm grateful because it pushes away all the nerves I've been trying to fight. He brings both his hands instead to the edges of my underwear and brings the fabric down, slowly, and I help him get it off of me. He pauses to look at me, to take me in slowly with his eyes, and I close my own at it. I'm embarrassed, nervous that I'm not enough for him and that my scars really are as bad as I think they are and disgust him. But then he pushes his clothed groin a bit closer to my own and cups me as his lips leave another kiss upon my collarbone. And I know that it's alright. In this moment I feel beautiful.

His hand starts to rub up and down me and I feel my spine stretch at the contact and feeling. It's foreign and overwhelmingly welcoming. He watches as he presses in slightly more little by little, and I lose my breath at one point. He notices, and quickly picks that spot on me to work on in slow looping circles. "Peeta," I sigh out and force his head to stop watching what he's doing and instead bring his mouth to my own.

I'm moving without meaning to again, my hips finding a rhythm with his hand. We pause our kissing and just have our foreheads against one another with our breath living in between the two of us. I try and concentrate on it when I feel when I suddenly can't because Peeta has dipped one of his fingers into me. I'm caught by surprise and pleasure and end up biting onto his lower lip as a moan whispers between the two of us. He closes his eyes at my reaction and pushes his lips to lay upon mine so he can kiss me as I continue to work on his lower lip. It's all the most amazing thing I felt, but I need more. I need to give more. My hands make their way to Peeta's boxers and I drag them down quick.

We pause again in the middle of it, and take in the situation. We're both already sweaty and the setting sun has almost completely retired for the evening. I'm completely naked. He's completely naked. He loves me. And I, I love him.

His hand is just near me but not in me anymore, and I want him to feel the same way because of me. I reach out for him and grasp him in my own hand as I feel him buck into me. "Katniss–" He breaks out and I kiss him. I don't know what to do. I have a feeling I understand what to do at this point, I guess, but I'm not sure how to make it feel good. I try though, and I start to move my hand slowly up him. I feel him react beneath my hand as it travels up and the movement of him laying his head on my chest after it all brings a pleasure to the power I feel over him. He's above me, but I'm in charge of him. I move my hand, up and down, not knowing the rhythm or speed that is good but hoping he likes it. He breathes hard against my skin and I feel goosebumps emerge on me everywhere his exhale touches.

"If I'm not–" I start, because I want him to feel the best he can but am not sure I'm doing it right.

"Just– harder. Grip harder," He tells me and I listen. I get another strangled "Katniss" from his lips when I do so. I pick up the rhythm, and soon he realizes that he neglected me and starts to move his finger to be in me again. We're both working each other off in a similar rhythm, and if I stopped to think I'd realize how utterly perfect the moment and feeling is. But I can't think, and instead I just feel it all.

We're gasping into the hot air that's been created between us and grabbing onto each other with the hands that aren't upon each other. He twitches underneath me and it makes me writhe. It's a wonderful feeling that just builds upon getting better as it goes on and I don't want it to stop.

But Peeta suddenly stops me and in doing so takes his fingers out of me. I look up at him questioningly as we both regain our breath again, wondering what I did wrong. Did it suddenly not feel good anymore? Did I touch too hard? Was it not enough?

"I just didn't want to finish. Yet." He explains.

Oh. Oh.

"I'm not saying that I expect us t–" He starts explaining himself again but I cut him off with my lips. It's effective, and he kisses me back almost immediately, both of us reaching hard desires within it. I'm aware suddenly of it all, both of our naked bodies, my legs open with him in between them, us kissing, us wanting, us needing. I'm nervous but everything feels good, I know that I can't deny this all just as much as I know that Peeta can't. "I don't have any protection or–" Peeta tells me, trying to probably clear his mind of any stopping points before we go too far.

"Part of my pills, my medicine," I tell him, trying to concentrate on getting my words out. I remember Dr. Aurelius taking the time to explain every pill I was supposed to take in one of our conversations. When he said birth control I snorted. He told me that it wasn't just to stop pregnancy, and that he was prescribing it to me for the other reasons. I wonder if maybe my mother set him up for it, as a way to look out for me without trying to be so direct in her mothering advice knowing I wouldn't listen. As if she somehow suspected, knew, that this moment between me and Peeta would come up and we wouldn't be prepared.

He takes a deep breath and frames my face in his hands. I do the same, bringing my hands up to his and work on calming my breath down before I bring it back up again. "You're sure?" He asks me.

As if I could deny it at this point. I don't know if either of us would be able to get out of this one without searching for a final result. "I'm sure."

"Okay."

I reply with, "Okay," and he takes a hold of himself as he brings himself near me. The contact alone makes a noise come out of me and he pauses to look up at me to make sure I'm fine. I nod and place my hand on top of his, and the two of us watch in some sort of fascination as he slowly starts to disappear within me.

There's a pinching within me that travels along with him and it grows a bit worse the deeper it goes. I wince and he pauses, but I shake my head and tell him to keep going. Between the hallways in school and my mother and her patients, I know it's going to hurt the first time. I feel him break through finally, and I try and relax. That's what they always told me; relax and it's better. There's pain, and I know that Peeta's holding back from the movements he wants to set forth between the two of us to help me adjust and I'm grateful.

The pain becomes a dull pain and then a dull ache, and soon I tell him, "okay" again and move my hips up into him. He sucks in a breath and begins to move slowly, farther into me and then pulling out. He keeps his eyes on me and I keep my eyes on him as he holds hard onto my hips as if he expects for me to float off and away, as if it's some dream. My hands are on his shoulders, clenching and unclenching in rhythm as I try to follow my hips with his own. It's an awkward jumbled sort of movement, and I feel a bit embarrassed because I just want to be good at this.

"It's alright, we have time to practice," he tells me when he sees that I'm trying to concentrate hard on doing this well. I smile at him and take a low burning kiss of his into my mouth. I could cry at his statement and its truthfulness. We do have time, and it's a beautiful idea. We've never had time before, the idea of such a thing existing before completely impossible. But somehow we came out on the other side of hell, found each other, and are finding each other more within this moment.

I bring my hands to his back and pull him closer to me because it seems even with him inside of me he's not close enough. He groans, a sound living in his chest, and I thrive off of it and push harder back into him. I let out his name in a bite of his shoulder and everything I'm feeling is overwhelming. He pushes into me farther, harder, and the thing we've been chasing for the past however long, the thing we've been chasing unknowingly since the beach, since the cave, comes by even closer. We're right on its heels, and I'm frantic with the idea of catching it.

He's close, and speaks into my hair. "Katniss, I'm going to––"

I take his head in my hands and urge him to stare at me as he moves in me, as we move together. "I'm in love with you, Peeta Mellark." He lets out a whimpering sort of groan that sets me alive. "Let go."

He does, with my name tasting his lips and I feel whole and full. He collapses on top of me and breathes hard and I do as well. After a bit he moves to look up at me from my chest. "You didn't finish."

I didn't? I've never done this, I've never even tried to touch myself before, ideas of intimacy and pleasure never in my mind. But I guess I didn't. I was close, I know I was. "That's okay, I'm glad you did."

"No," He says, and he pulls out slowly as his hand makes its way finding the places that he's just discovered that makes my heart race. He starts those circles again that he was doing earlier, and it isn't long until my hips are trying to move up and off of the mattress. He still lays upon me, most of his weight off but still enough to feel every part of him upon every part of me. "I wanted you to finish with me inside you."

I almost feel myself ready to blush, and I feel foolish. We're both naked, touching in the aftermath of a sex-smelling room, and I feel myself blushing over the fact that he put into words the fact that we did. He works his hand harder and faster and I have to remind myself to answer. I can't think of what to say, so I just repeat his words. "It's alright, we have time to practice."

His smile at me brings my climb even high and I know I'll be there soon. He drops his mouth to my breast once more as he plants lingering kisses upon them. His lips travel up my collarbone, my neck, and then to my earlobe which he takes lightly into his mouth. I shudder, and he then repeats my words that I said earlier to me. "Let go, Katniss."

I do, and I'm falling over with his name on my lips. He captures my lips with his own, takes it all, and I can't seem to direct any of the movement that is happening to me for a bit. He wraps his arms around me and I hold onto him tightly as the feels wash over me, him acting as my anchor. I bury my face in his chest as I finally start to regain ability of my body, but make no movement to not hold him so tightly. He doesn't either, and instead rolls us onto our side. Our feet tangle, our hands finding one another's heartbeat and cheeks, and we sit in silence for a moment just staring at one another.

He looks at me thoughtfully, wonderfully, and I give him a small smile and think maybe to duck away. He looks like he's going to say something, so I wait. "Katniss," and I nod to let him know I'm listening. He seems almost confused and then he chuckles lowly and asks. "You love me, real or not real?"

I feel a bit disappointed that he has to ask this, but quickly understand. This moment has been building within us for a while, but within him for longer. I'm sure anyone in his position would need a reminder that this was all real.

I smile and push him back onto the pillows as my legs find a placement that I'm already starting to get used to. My head is on his heartbeat when I tell him, "Real." Our hands find one another, our lips, and we lose ourselves amongst each other again for the night. Dinner and chores stay forgotten, because they don't exist in this world we created that exists only within me and him.

But it's fine, because we have the time.