Author's Note— I couldn't resist revisiting this story. The first little part was posted as part of my submission to streetlightlove's charity project, S2SL. I wrote the second little part for Everlart's birthday, when she asked for something involving Daddy!Peeta, and I got the idea for the last part during this year's Super Bowl (because this Katniss put her $$ on Russell Wilson first, folks) but had no time to write it. It's inspired by a very famous picture of Drew Brees after the Saints won. Just google 'Brees and baby Super Bowl' and you'll see it.

Part II takes place after the end of Part I.

M for sexual situations and graphic language

Thank you to iLoVeRynMar, streetlightlove and sohypothetically for reading and reassuring, and for Famousfremus for inspiring the original story. Banner by Ro Nordmann.

The tinny shrill of her FaceTime catches Katniss off guard just as she's starting to untangle her damp tresses. She slams the comb down on the bathroom counter and sprints to the small desk where her phone and iPad are both charging.

"You're early!" she exclaims after the call connects and Peeta's handsome face looms on the iPad's screen.

He laughs, and she can see that his blond hair is also wet—the messy waves that she loves to run her fingers through are flat against his head.

"Is that a problem? I couldn't wait to see my sexy wife."

She bites down on her lip and glances at the bed behind her, where the lingerie she had intended to be wearing when he called is spread out on the hotel's gaudy geometric-printed comforter. "No, no, I'm happy to see you too," she gushes. "But I was planning a little surprise for you."

He arches an eyebrow at her and chuckles again, his blue eyes sparkling, and he leans back on his couch. "Oh?"

"Yes, but your impatience has interrupted it."

"Well, forgive me," he drawls. "Like I said, I was anxious to see you. How was your day?"

"Pretty uneventful. Not much action on my end." She gives him a quick rundown of the Giants-Falcons road game she had covered. It had been a boring contest from a reporter's perspective: Eli Manning threw for four touchdowns, and the Giants had won handily. Nor were there any substantial injuries to speak of. Her sideline reports had been mundane as a result, and after her post-game interview with the players and the head coach, she had gone straight to her Atlanta hotel room to catch Peeta's game. The Bengals had played the Patriots at four, and between the game and his postgame commitments, she hadn't expected his call until nine at the earliest.

"I did see that you, Mr. Mellark, had quite the afternoon. Did you enjoy making Tom Brady your bitch for three hours?" she teases, but there's pride in her voice.

"We played well, yeah," he replies, his usual modest self. "But I have to say, the highlight was shaking his hand after the game, when I let him know how much hotter my wife is than his."

"Peeta! You did not!"

He smirks and her eyes flit to his lips, a little jolt of current surging through her. God she misses his mouth when they're apart like this. It's been three weeks since they'd last been together, and even that was only possible because Katniss scheduled a layover in Cincinnati on her way home from covering the Giants-Cowboys game in Dallas. She's been counting the minutes til the Bengals' bye week, when she'll have Peeta all to herself for four glorious days.

"You're right, I didn't. But I sure thought it. And it's true."

She snorts disdainfully. "Peeta, I love you, but I'm no supermodel."

"You're right. You're better than a supermodel. You don't need all that makeup and hairspray and airbrushing. I love seeing you just like you are right now, with your hair all wet and your face all clean." He lowers his voice. "How was your shower?"

The suggestive lilt to his tone heats her blood, and she angles the iPad up, resting it on its stand so she can slink into the desk chair and face the screen fully.

"It would have been better with you in there with me," she purrs, running a finger along the edge of the towel tucked between her breasts.

"Mmm, tell me about it. I thought about you the whole time I was cleaning up after the game." He shifts on the couch and aims a grin at her. "So what was this surprise that you had planned for me?"

She smiles coyly and lifts the iPad from the stand, keeping the camera trained on her face as she saunters towards the hotel bed. "Oh, I had every intention of greeting you wearing this—" She swivels the screen to pan over the comforter, showing him the orange and black lace corset, the tiny black thong and the garter belt and stockings. "Team colors and everything."

"Fuuuuuck," he breathes out. "Goddamn, Katniss."

"You like?"

"Hell, yeah," he exclaims. "Fuck, I can't wait to see you in that."

She purses her lips at him and toys with her towel teasingly. "Well if you give me a few minutes…"

He leans closer to his screen and it gives her better view of his darkened irises. "I'd rather save that. I want to savor you in it before I rip it off of you. You better be wearing that when I see you in a week."

"It's a promise," she says thickly, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder. She returns to the desk chair, and once the iPad is propped up again, she leans back and licks her lips. "So Mr. MVP, I think you're a little overdressed for this rendezvous."

Peeta laughs. "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself with that MVP talk, love. There's still half the season to go." But he peels his t-shirt up and over his head. "Better?" he teases, and she shakes her head.

"That's a start."

His eyes gleam as he looms on the screen, leaning in close again, and the camera angle shifts. Katniss gasps when he settles back against the couch's cushions, and the sight of his thick cock lying against his stomach sends a pulse of heat to her core. He's already completely naked.

"Now who's overdressed?" he smirks, resting one hand on his stomach.

"You only put on that shirt to fake me out!" she protests with a mock pout.

"And it worked. Now lose the towel. C'mon, let me see you."

In response, she grips the towel and pulls the edge loose, letting it fall down behind her on the chair, baring herself to him. Her breasts tingle and her nipples stiffen reflexively, and she locks eyes with him on the screen, watching his pupils dilate to engulf the clear blue of his irises.

"Katniss, I miss you so much," he whispers. "I hate being away from you."

"Me too," she murmurs. She sucks one finger into her mouth and trails it down the column of her throat, swirling it over one taut peak, and she's rewarded with both another flicker of heat between her legs and a lusty groan from Peeta.

"Fuck yes, keep doing that."

She bats her eyelashes at him innocently. "What, this?" She circles her nipple again then pinches it between her finger and thumb.

"Just like that, yeah," he croons. "I love your tits, Katniss. They're fucking perfect. Keep touching them for me."

She licks her lips deliberately then sinks her teeth into the right side of her lower lip as she flattens her palms over her breasts, kneading the small mounds eagerly.

"God…you are so fucking sexy."

"It feels so much better when it's your hands on them." She keens softly as she tugs her nipples back to hardened buds.

"Well, close your eyes and imagine it's my hands then," he commands roughly. "Imagine it's my thumbs brushing over those tight little nipples, getting them nice and hard."

She sighs and closes her eyes, continuing to massage her breasts.

"Good girl. Can you feel my tongue running back and forth between them, Katniss? If I were there with you, my mouth would be all over those perfect tits."

She whimpers and plucks at her nipples. "Mmm…use your teeth…I love it when you use your teeth."

"Oh, I will," he promises. "Do me a favor, baby. Take your right hand and reach down and tell me how wet you are."

She releases her right breast and snakes her hand down her rib cage, slowing its movement to a crawl as she nears her pussy. Then she shoots him a lascivious grin and traces a circle around her navel.

"I see how it is," he laughs lowly. "Your husband spends most of his days in a locker room surrounded by cocks and he can't properly fuck his wife for weeks at a time, and you think it's nice to tease him?"

"Patience," she clucks her tongue. "You're having a real problem with that today, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well it took all my willpower not to beat one off in the shower after the game because I was so turned on thinking about seeing you tonight."

"You poor baby," she coos, sliding her hand between her legs, pinning him with her eyes. She flinches when her fingers part her wet folds and come in direct contact with her clit.

"How wet are you, Katniss? Tell me."

"Wouldn't you rather I show you?" She releases her other hand from her breast and grabs the iPad, dropping it past her waist and tilting it towards her crotch. He lets out a low growl as she holds it so he can see the arousal glistening there. "I'm so wet, Peeta. Can you see?"

"Oh, I can see. You're dripping already."

She begins to move her fingers, and Peeta shakes his head at her.

"Not yet, baby."

She pouts and props the iPad on the stand once more before leaning back on the chair, spreading her legs wider on either side of the seat, and she defiantly lets her hand linger directly over her pussy. "Why not?"

He gives her a smile, a carnal gleam in his usually calm blue eyes, and she sees him wrap his hand around his cock, his fingers gliding up over the head, where she imagines he's already accumulated some pre-cum.

"Okay," he whispers. "Now you can touch yourself."

She feels her heartbeat accelerate as she focuses on him stroking himself, his own gaze drifting between her eyes and her hand.

"But while you touch yourself, Katniss, I want you to picture me between your legs. It's been too long since I tasted you, and the first thing I'm going to do when I have you naked next weekend is bury my tongue in your pussy."

"Oh my god, Peeta," she gasps, a shudder ratcheting down her spine. "Do your fans know what a filthy mouth America's golden boy has?"

"No, because my filthy mouth is all yours, baby," he replies hoarsely. "And I'm going to make sure you know it. I'm going to relish you. I'm going to kiss every inch of those amazing legs of yours, working my way up to your thighs…"

"Yes…yes…"

"And then I'm going to hook your knees over my shoulders and get you right up against my mouth so I can part you with my tongue. I'm going to flick it back and forth across your clit, back and forth, back and forth…"

"Ohhhhhh." Her stomach swoops, and more damp heat rushes to her core.

"…And you're going to be dripping wet for me, just like you are right now, by the time I finally suck your clit into my mouth…"

"Oh fuck," she whispers, dragging her fingers through the slick arousal, using the added lubrication to slide two of the digits inside herself.

"…I'm going to work you into a frenzy until you can't take it anymore and your clit throbs against my tongue when I make you come."

She thrusts her fingers in and out, murmuring his name.

"Close your eyes, Katniss," his gravelly voice orders. "Can you feel me? Can you imagine that it's my cock inside you right now?"

"No," she whines, pumping her fingers more furiously while her other hand roughly squeezes one breast. "It…doesn't feel nearly as good as you do."

"Oh really? Why is that?"

She struggles to raise her eyelids; they feel like lead, but she can hear the shift in his breathing, and she needs to be able to watch him touching himself too.

Pleasure spikes in her belly when she sees the expression on Peeta's face—his blue eyes glassy, his cheeks flushed, his lips rounded in a slack oval. His hand moves up and down his thick shaft sluggishly, occasionally letting his thumb brush the swollen head, but he's clearly trying to keep his movements slow and measured. He must be strung as tightly as she is; she craves her release so badly.

"Katniss," he hisses, "you didn't answer my question…"

She moans, solely from the timber of his voice, another frisson of current shooting out from where her fingers continue to plunge in and out of her pussy. She'd like to think she's getting progressively better at matching his dirty talk, but that's just a sad testament to how much time they are separated in their respective careers. She can't wait for late February when the season ends and he'll be home with her for five straight months.

"Your cock," she says breathlessly, "…it's so big, and it fills me so much better than my fingers do."

He groans and starts stroking his cock faster. "Fuck me, you're so incredibly sexy."

"Peeta…I wish…oh!…I wish you were inside me right now…"

"I know, baby, I know. Soon," he whispers. "But I love watching you fuck yourself. I love that you let me watch you when we're apart like this. It's the next best thing to having you for real."

A strangled whimper dies in her throat as her other hand slithers back to join the first between her legs. She presses her index finger firmly against the screaming bundle of nerves, tightening the coil in her abdomen. She bites down on her lip to stifle another cry, but Peeta groans.

"Don't hold back, Katniss. I want to hear you. I want you to scream my name when you come. Do you remember how loud you got the last time we were together?"

She nods and throws her head back. The memory of that Sunday night a few weeks ago floods her senses. When she had landed in Cincinnati, Peeta had met her at the airport, whisked her outside into his car, and even though her layover was only two hours, they had gone right to his apartment and spent ninety blissful minutes making each other fall apart. She had made her flight with only four minutes to spare, but it would have been worth it had she missed it entirely—then they could have made love all night long.

"I remember how cold that window was on my ass when you fucked me up against it," she laughs.

"Mmm…downtown Cincinnati would have gotten quite the show if anyone had been looking in the right place."

"I'll tell you what I else remember," she says coyly. "I remember getting into your car, and as soon as we were out of the airport parking lot, I remember leaning over the console and undoing your belt…" She lifts her finger away from her clit, holding it inches from her parted lips, making sure his eyes are fixed on her. "And then I slid your zipper down and took that glorious cock of yours in my hand."

He inhales sharply, his eyes slipping closed briefly. "Oh yeah, I remember too."

She grins when she sees his muscled chest starting to heave more rapidly.

"And then I licked you all over to get you nice and wet for me before I took you in my mouth…tell me, Peeta, do you wish my mouth was on your cock right now, all warm and wet, going up and down…?" She slides her finger past her lips and sucks on it provocatively, tasting her own arousal.

"Shit, Katniss…god I need to be inside you again…it's…too long…"

She swirls her tongue around her finger again, releasing it from her mouth with a deliberate, pronounced 'pop.' "Mmm, it's never too long for me, Peeta." She flutters her eyelashes at him and feigns confusion. "Oh, were we not still talking about that cock of yours?"

"You are going to be the death of me, woman," he growls. "I'm going to fuck you so hard when we're back in our apartment. Where should I take you first? Should I bend you over the dining room table and fuck you from behind?"

She tugs on her nipple again, resuming her fingers' rhythmic thrusts. She sees his hand twist and grip his cock harder, and he slumps down on the couch a little, his stomach and abdominal muscles contracting and releasing with his efforts.

"Or should I get you on all fours on the floor so I can play with your tits while I pound into you?"

"Oh god, Peeta," she cries. "I don't care where you take me as long…ahhhh…as long as it's you fucking me."

"I don't know how much longer I can hold off," he warns. "I keep thinking it's my cock driving into you…and I can feel how tight you are…and fuck, I wish you were riding me for real right now…"

"Mmm…pretend, Peeta. Pretend I'm right there with you, and I'm holding onto the back of the couch so you can suck on my br—tits—while I ride that perfect cock of yours."

"Fuck, I miss you. Why can't this be real?"

"It will be. It will be real soon," she whispers. "Are you ready to come with me? Because I'm ready to come. I want to come for you so bad."

His head bobs up and down in response, the motion of his hand becoming erratic, and she starts to rub her clit more frantically and keeps pumping her fingers in and out, curling them just so against her front wall. Heat sparks in her belly, the coil nearly ready to snap. Her quick, breathy moans fill the air, coupled with his deeper grunts emanating from the iPad's speaker.

She forces her eyes to stay open, watching her husband's beautiful face contort with ecstasy as he calls her name, his body jerking upward off the couch, and his cock pulses while he spills himself across the planes of his toned chest.

"Peeta!" she cries as her own orgasm rockets through her. The rapid spasms of her walls seize her fingers, and every muscle in her body seems to tense in unison. She watches Peeta's trembling cease and he collapses back against the cushions, spent.

"You can't possibly know how utterly sexy you look right now," he says, his voice like sandpaper, and the last tremors ebb away as that delicious sated feeling claims her, and she can only manage a lazy smile at the screen. "God I love watching you come."

"I love how you make me come," she purrs back.

"I love you," he whispers

"I love you," she returns.

"So," he starts, once they've both cleaned up, and he's tugged on his shorts—though she makes no effort to redress yet. "For real, other than the earth-shattering sex we're going to have when I get home next Sunday night, how else should we spend our four days?"

"Honestly, Peeta, I'm just really looking forward to sleeping in your arms in our bed for a couple of nights. I miss that so much when we're not together. It's big and lonely without you."

"Well that's good to hear, because we're not leaving that bed for at least a good twenty-four hours."

They chat for a little while longer, and when he prepares to end the call, telling her he needs to fix something to eat, she finally decides to throw on something. He watches her as she slips a silky little nightgown over her still-damp hair. The cool material pebble her nipples again as it shifts into place over her body.

"Are you not going to put your panties on under that negligee?" he asks, raising his brows at her.

She shakes her head. "Why bother? It will be much easier access when I get myself off again later thinking about you." She blows a kiss at the screen. "Enjoy your dinner. Oh, and I might have another surprise for you to go along with that lingerie. Sweet dreams, Peeta. I love you."

"Night, Katniss. I love you, too."

She presses the button to disconnect, and as she pads into the bathroom to dry her hair, she glances down at the slender white stick resting on the counter and smiles.

It's the longest week of her life. And it's torture keeping such a big secret from Peeta—there's nothing they usually keep from each other. This is for a good reason, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Texting and talking on the phone both become an ordeal. She has to fight with every ounce of strength she has not to burst out with the news that he's going to be a father.

FaceTime is an even bigger tightrope walk. She's positive every time his handsome face looms on the screen that he'll take one look at her and notice something is different. Peeta is always perceptive, but he seems to have an even more intense sixth sense when it comes to her.

By the time Sunday night finally arrives, she's completely on edge while waiting for him. She orders his favorite Japanese food and pulls up some sensual music on her iPad. Once the takeout arrives, she slips into the bathroom to change into the lingerie she promised him she'd be wearing. As she strips off her sweats and bra and panties, she stands naked in front of the mirror, turning sideways to study her flat stomach. Unable to contain a grin, she splays her fingers across the still firm skin and wonders how often Peeta will clamor to touch her as she starts to show. She has the feeling his hands will be a constant presence on her belly. The thought makes her shiver with pleasure.

Still smiling, she fastens the corset and tugs on the thong before shimmying into the garter belt and hooking the stockings to it. Then she bends at the waist and flips her hair over, working her fingers through it to give it that tousled, just-out-of-bed look that Peeta loves so much. Satisfied with her appearance, she heads back into the living room and settles on the couch to idly flip through the pages of an old People magazine.

The clock on the mantel seems to be crawling at a snail's pace. With a frustrated sigh, she throws down the magazine and grabs her phone from the coffee table again. Still no message. His flight should have landed eight minutes ago. He should be at the gate by now. Everything was on time the last she checked the airline's web page. Why hasn't he called yet, or at the very least, sent a text?

She stands up and starts to pace. She can't sit still. Her body is like a pinball machine, every cell bouncing erratically, her veins lighting up in staccato flashes of neon. She's so awash in expectancy that she never hears the key in the lock.

His hands snake around her waist and hold her in place. She feels his breath on her neck a half-second before his teeth tug on her ear and he whispers, "Surprise."

She whirls around and her stomach clenches in anticipation. She's not sure who started the whole athletes-must-travel-in-suits edict, but she'd like to write that person a thank-you note. Her eyes rake up and down her husband's form, admiring the way he fills out the charcoal gray suit. God, he's so incredibly sexy.

One of Peeta's hands stays on her hip and the other cups her jaw. "Hi, baby…I missed you." He kisses her softly. She wants nothing more than to thrust her tongue into his mouth, throw him down to the couch, and ravage him, but she doesn't think she can wait another minute to tell him the news.

He steps back and clasps her hands as his eyes roam over her body. He lets out a low whistle. "I am the luckiest man on earth. Katniss, you look…" he trails off as his palms slide up her torso, climbing her rib cage. He ghosts them over her breasts and rubs his thumbs over the lace.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She tugs on his tie and pulls him to her for another kiss. "How did you get here so quickly? Did you land early?"

He nods. "And I figured you wouldn't be too mad if I didn't text you and just had the driver bring me right here…"

"I'm glad I changed when I did then." She tilts her chin up when he nudges it with his nose. He begins to plant kisses up the slope of her neck.

"Mmm, me too," he mumbles. "You look good enough to eat." She feels his fingers start to toy with the scalloped edging of the bustier and she backs away, shaking her head.

"Wait—"

His blue eyes gleam hungrily as he advances on her again. "I've been waiting. I don't want to wait any longer. Don't you remember what I said I was going to do to you first?"

She does. She has to clench her legs together to quell some of the tingling in her pussy at the mere thought of his tongue buried inside her.

"Don't you remember I said I had a surprise for you too? I mean, other than this get-up." She motions to the lingerie. He shakes his head and reaches for one tendril of her hair, coiling the lock around his finger.

"This is enough of a surprise for me." He drops his mouth to her neck and begins marking a sensual path towards her chin.

"I have something better, I promise. Wait here." She turns her head to catch his lips in a brief kiss, winking at him playfully. Her heart rate accelerates and her stomach swirls with excitement as she scampers into their bedroom and grabs the box.

There were about twenty different ideas that flitted through her mind as to how she could reveal the big news to him, but this one seemed the most fitting.

When she returns, he's taken off his suit jacket and his tie is in his hand. He tosses it over the chair where his jacket rests, cocks his head, and arches a brow at her. She smiles and places the wrapped gift in his hand. The right corner of his mouth twists up, and he turns the box over and over thoughtfully.

"It's not my birthday. Not our anniversary. Too early for Christmas…"

She rises on her toes and grazes her lips across his cheek. "I don't need an occasion to give my husband a present." Curiosity sparkles in his wide blue eyes. She gestures towards the box again. "Go on, open it!"

She bounces on the balls of her feet as he slides a finger under a piece of Scotch tape. He keeps his gaze steady on her while he peels away the wrapping paper, and laughs.

"Baby, you're making me anxious," he scolds softly. He reaches over to place a hand on her shoulder to stop her fidgeting. She draws her bottom lip between her teeth. Her heart thumps. She's sure he can feel her trembling. He chuckles again quietly and lifts the lid off the box. The tissue paper rustles; the quiet sound is abnormally thunderous in her ears. She doesn't dare take a breath or let her eyes leave his.

There is a long, agonizing beat of silence as she sees his fingers find purchase with the soft cotton inside. He raises the Bengals infant onesie out of the box. His eyes grow even wider, suddenly glassy with tears.

"Is this… what I think it is?" he whispers, awe choking each syllable. She feels her own tears prickling when she blinks and exhales.

She nods towards the box again. "There's more." He doesn't budge for another long moment, and then, almost reluctantly, he passes her the tiny outfit and reaches back into the box. His breath hitches and the box falls to the floor. The tissue paper comes free, drifting down like a parachute. He holds up the miniature Bengals jersey. It takes him a moment of gaping at the front before he rotates it and sees the 'Mellark' and his number '12' stitched on the back.

"Katniss…" He implores her with his eyes, and she can see the desperate hope in them. She swallows, heat scorching her throat, and her vision blurs with her unshed tears.

"Well, he or she needs appropriate team gear to wear on Sundays, when we watch Daddy play," she says.

She can mark the exact second when his face breaks into the biggest smile she's ever seen—bigger than when she finally gave in to his advances in that apartment laundry room; bigger than the night he slipped the engagement ring on her finger in front of the entire Monday Night Football viewing audience; bigger than the day he held her hand in his and made her his wife. When the word 'Daddy' leaves her lips, he tosses the little jersey to the couch and crushes her against him. His palm wends between their torsos, gently massaging her abdomen while his other hand tangles into her hair.

"We're having a baby," he utters. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?" His fingers dance over the slice of bare skin between where the corset ends and her panties begin. She flattens her own palm over his, holding it firmly against her belly. Before she can answer, Peeta lets out a cry of joy and then seals his mouth over hers, kissing her greedily. He pours all his elation into the embrace, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he finally releases her, another ebullient shout leaps from his throat, and he whirls her around and around. She laughs giddily, her hair whipping across her face. Her toes scrape the floor and he cradles her possessively as he sets her down.

"Katniss." He says her name with such reverence it warms every part of her. "How? When? When did this…When did you—?"

She reaches up and drags her palm along his jaw. She's never seen Peeta at a loss for words. His stuttering is adorable. His mouth is open, his lips constantly moving, but no more than some incoherent babbles slip out.

"It's really early. I'm only four or five weeks along. But I kind of had a feeling…that layover…"

He gapes at her, a dumbfounded grin paralyzing his handsome face. She knows that he, like her, is remembering how many times they fucked in the short time they had together that night. She'd lost count after five orgasms, her mind and body succumbing to blissful delirium. The odds that they conceived then are certainly in their favor.

"We…you…only went off the pill like a month ago." He finally manages to string together a lucid thought.

She nods and traces his lips with her index finger. "What can I say, champ? You know how to complete a pass."

He chuckles and seizes her hand. "That was a bad one, baby." He kisses her knuckles one by one, his head shaking back and forth, incredulity filling those big blue eyes. "We're going to be parents. We're going to be parents. Parents! Oh, God, I can't even think straight right now!"

She laughs, her own giddiness supplanted by the joy she feels at seeing the man she loves awash in shock and awe. But then she gasps as she finds herself swept up into Peeta's arms, her legs dangling over the crook of his elbow. He moves swiftly towards their bedroom, his face buried in her neck, lavishing it with heated brushes of his lips.

He lays her down gently in the center of their bed and stares down at her. She shivers under the weight of his gaze, her nipples pebbling against the bodice of the corset, goose bumps erupting all over her skin. Leaning down, he splays his hand over her stomach, caressing the flat plane adoringly. He shakes his head at her, and she can't help but laugh again.

"I'm still…wow, Katniss, I…" He lowers his head and kisses the same spot his hand was just stroking. "I can't believe this is real."

"Four pregnancy tests say it's real," she whispers, closing her eyes to bask in the warmth of his mouth worshipping her skin. "I have to see my OB/GYN, but I thought you'd want to do that with me this week while you're on your bye."

"Hell yes! I'm going to be by your side every step of this journey." He glances up and meets her eyes, and she sees that once again there are tears shining in the bright cerulean pools. "There's a baby in here," he mumbles, as he flutters more open-mouthed kisses around her belly. "You're having my baby. God, I love you. I love you so much."

She squirms and juts her hips up. "Show me."

"With pleasure." He nuzzles the juncture of her thighs through the delicate panties before looping his thumbs under the thin waistband. "Mmm, I can tell you're wet for me already." He starts to pull the scrap of fabric down her thighs, but then he stills. "Wait, we can still…"

She laughs. "Peeta, yes, oh my God, we're fine. The baby's like the size of a sesame seed right now. You won't hurt it. In fact, we can have sex right up until she's born."

He reaches for her hand and clasps it gently. "You said 'she' at the end there."

"I did?"

"You did," he affirms, smiling at her. "Instinct?" he teases. "Wishful thinking?"

She bites her lip as he resumes his efforts to rid her of her thong. "I don't care if it's a boy or a girl. I just want a healthy baby."

Peeta tosses the panties to the side of the bed. "I hope it's a girl," he whispers, his fingers tickling the skin of her inner thighs. "Are you going to want to find out, you know, when we can?"

"I think I want to be surprised," she confesses. "Unless you…"

He shakes his head and brushes his lips closer and closer to her aching core. "I definitely want to be surprised."

And then his mouth is on her, his tongue parting her folds with familiar ease, and she forgets all about the baby. She arches her back and screws her eyes shut as Peeta licks her teasingly with just the tip of his tongue, then laves her more thoroughly, alternating the amount of pressure he applies. With each pass of his tongue, his expert strokes have her entire lower body tingling and that blissful knot tightening in her belly. She gasps when she feels two of his fingers push inside her and he begins pumping them in and out as he sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth. Katniss cries out, groping for his hands. She skims both their palms up her ribs and moans her appreciation when he starts fondling her breasts. She slides her hands out from under his and scrapes her nails over his scalp, encouraging his ministrations.

"You taste even better when it's been awhile." His hot breath skitters across her wetness. The sensation, coupled with a deep press of his tongue on her clit, is too much. She whimpers as she succumbs to her orgasm, her teeth trapping her lower lip, her fingers clutching his broad shoulders.

"Oh, god, Peeta…" Her body feels deliciously weightless as she comes down from her climax. Her heart continues to race while she struggles to recover her breath. He sits back on his heels and gazes down at her, lust shining in his eyes.

"Fuck me, Katniss, you are so beautiful. Our baby is going to be stunning."

"It's not like you're not hideous to look at," she jokes. She lifts up on her elbows and licks her lips coyly. "In fact, I need to see more of you—now. C'mere." He grins and plants his hands on either side of her hips, letting her fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Together, they ease it off of him, and Katniss splays her palms over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle tense under her fingers.

"Sit up," he orders, reaching around to unhook her corset. She obediently shifts and rises up on her knees. They lock eyes, and Katniss feels her breath hitch under the intensity of his smoldering stare. He smiles and lowers his mouth to her neck, suckling the skin gently as he releases the last of the hooks. He eases back so the corset can fall down between them, and he swats it off the bed. His lips trace the curve of her jawbone, and one of his hands covers her left breast. She arcs into his touch and skims her hands to his waist, fumbling with his belt.

His mouth reaches the swell of her breast and it becomes infinitely more difficult to concentrate on ridding him of his pants once his lips fuse around one nipple. Impatiently, she grips his cock through the fabric, grinning when he grunts and bucks into her palm. Fresh waves of heat unfurl in her belly, and she lets out a contented sigh as he slowly and tenderly explores her breasts. She can feel him smile against her skin.

"What?" she asks.

He scoots back a bit and hops off the bed, taking it upon himself to strip off his pants and his boxer briefs. His erection juts out, and she clenches her thighs together as she ogles his groin. She's missed that glorious cock; her fingers and her vibrator are poor substitutes. Nothing satisfies her like Peeta does.

He fixes his eyes back on her and a smirk slowly spreads across his lips.

"What?" she asks again, a slight edge of petulance in her voice.

"I should have known sooner. You know I've always loved your tits, but they look fucking incredible right now…they don't hurt, do they?" he adds, concern lacing his tone.

She shakes her head. "No, not yet."

He climbs back onto the bed, easing her back up onto the pillows, palming her breasts again.

"I love you," he groans. She closes her eyes as she feels him push into her. She sighs, feeling every inch of him stretch her, filling her completely. She reaches above her head and grips the headboard with one hand, while the other clutches at his bicep. He closes the distance between them and claims her mouth, his tongue begging entrance. She parts her lips and sucks his tongue inside, massaging it with her own, loving the deep moans that he pants into her mouth. He hitches her leg higher on his hip, angling her up to meet his steady thrusts.

"Are you feeling tired?" he asks, his voice husky. She blinks her confusion, and he presses a soft kiss to her lips. "I mean in general..."

"Not too bad," she replies. "Definitely not right now."

"Good. Because we have some lost time to make up for, and I plan on keeping you up all night, if you'll allow it."

She smiles as he shifts and sits up fully, tugging her onto his lap, resuming his deep thrusts into her. "Well that's something that we'll both have to get used to, once he or she arrives. Never too soon to start…"

He laughs. "Fair enough." He pulls her closer until their lips are barely touching. "I can't wait." His hands wedge under her, gripping her ass to guide her movements up and down on his cock.

She throws her head back and feels his lips nuzzle up the column of her throat. "Me either," she whispers.

Fifteen months later…

"God, why do the last two minutes always feel like they take an eternity?" Prim grouses.

"Because they do," Peeta's father replies. "Especially when the other team is only down by a touchdown and driving up the field and still have two timeouts." Katniss can hear the tension in her father-in-law's voice. He's gripping the luxury box's window ledge so fiercely that his knuckles are white.

"How are you so calm?" Prim asks, coming to crouch beside Katniss. "This is the Super Bowl, Katniss!"

Katniss shrugs and motions down to the drowsy baby attached to her breast. "She keeps me calm. And I have complete faith in Peeta."

"Peeta's not on the field, Katniss," his brother Rye counters. His face is almost a mirror image of Mr. Mellark's, drawn tight with nerves. "Our faith needs to be in the defense right now."

"And I know that Peeta's is," she replies, squinting to where she can see her husband standing on the sideline, his head tilted towards one of his teammates in conversation. Some of the other offensive linemen are pacing; several sit on the bench, heads lowered between knees or raised to the sky in apparent prayer. She looks back to Peeta. He seems calm and collected.

She turns her attention back to her daughter. The baby's little mouth has ceased its suckling, but her lips still twitch sporadically in her slumber. Katniss feels her own lips reflexively lift into a smile staring down at the beautiful little girl in her arms. As carefully as she can with one arm, so as not to disrupt the sleeping baby, she adjusts her nursing bra and refastens her blouse.

"Katniss, give her to me. You should be watching the end of this," Peeta's mother says, holding her arms out insistently. "Come to Gramma, sweet pea."

As Katniss stands to transfer the baby to Mrs. Mellark, Rye erupts in a string of obscenities, and a raucous cheer shakes the box, inevitably from the Seahawks fans in the stadium.

"Why is it so fucking hard to make a tackle?" Rye roars, smacking the glass. "They're gonna tie it. Fucking Russell Wilson."

"Rye, language!" Mrs. Mellark barks, as if Peeta's brother was a child and not a nearly 30-year-old man.

"She can't understand him, Emma. It's okay," Katniss reassures her mother-in-law.

But the outburst startles the baby awake, and Katniss finds herself looking right into two wide pools of blue that are an exact match to Peeta's beautiful eyes. Her daughter blinks several times and stares up at Katniss. "Hi, angel," she sings. "Let's go see if Daddy's team can hold on."

Unfortunately, within forty seconds, the score is tied. Just over a minute remains. Cincinnati has all its timeouts, but the kickoff after the touchdown puts the ball at their 8-yard line. The tension in the luxury box swells, but Katniss continues to rock the baby, her eyes focused on the field below. She has absolute confidence in her husband. He's got this.

Forty seconds and two timeouts later it's third down, and Peeta needs about twenty more yards to safely insure a field goal and claim victory. Katniss rubs her thumb over the baby's cheek and holds her breath as she watches the offensive line get into position.

It happens fast. She sees the play take shape before Peeta even launches the ball down field. His favorite wide receiver, Trent Boggs, is somehow left wide open, and the pass Peeta throws is nearly perfect. With a stretch of his arms, Boggs hauls it in. Forget the field goal—he's got a clear path to the end zone. He's not even across the goal line before the Mellarks and Everdeens start shouting and celebrating. Katniss tucks the baby closer to her, shielding her ears from the joyous screams. There are just four seconds left on the clock when Boggs saunters into the end zone. It's over, for all intents and purposes.

Cannons boom and fireworks burst over the stadium when the clock expires and the Bengals are proclaimed Super Bowl Champions. Security comes for her a few moments later, and she asks them to wait while she slips the little Mellark jersey over the baby's head and fastens the oversized, cushioned headphones in place over her tiny ears. It's going to be loud out there.

As she follows the burly men onto the field, she gapes at all the spectacle. It's funny, in her years as a reporter, she had dreamed about being on the sidelines, covering the most important sporting event of the year. She could have never imagined she'd be on the field as the wife of the winning quarterback. As she passes by the media, she hears murmuring and cooing. She flashes polite smiles at everyone fawning all over Peeta Mellark's "precious little girl."

"Those eyes! She looks just like her father!" one female reporter gushes.

"Oh, god, look at those cheeks!" another squeals.

Katniss keeps the measured smile plastered on her face until she finally reaches the massive platform that's been stationed at the center of the stadium, where the commissioner is presenting the owner of the team and the head coach with the Lombardi trophy. Peeta and several other players are off to the left. Katniss sees him searching the crowd, no doubt for her. She drinks in the visual of him: sweat-soaked hair, flushed cheeks, a brand-new Super Bowl Champs t-shirt hugging his toned chest. God, is there ever a time when he's not the sexiest thing she's ever seen?

When their eyes meet, the wide grin on Peeta's face seems to grow exponentially. Then his gaze cuts to their daughter, and Katniss can see by the expression on his face that his pride for his baby girl exceeds his excitement for winning the biggest game of his life.

"I love you!" he mouths to her.

"I love you," she returns.

After the owner speaks, the commissioner takes back the microphone, announcing the MVP. Peeta looks sheepish and almost embarrassed when Roger Goodell calls his name and brandishes another trophy in Peeta's direction. Peeta catches Katniss's eye again and motions for her to come around to the side of the platform. Stepping around his teammates, he comes to the edge of the stage and leans down. They share a private smile as Katniss reaches up to carefully hand him their daughter. He presses a kiss to Katniss's forehead and moves back to make his speech, cradling both his baby and his trophy in his arms.

As she listens to him speak, thanking his team, his coaches, his family, and her, his charm buoying every word he says, she thinks back to the first time she met him, in that bar in New Jersey, back when she swore to herself that she'd never date an athlete.

It's a good thing Peeta Mellark turned out to be so much more than that.