Getting Freaky

Cato met Peeta at a Graduation Party. Everyone had been wasted. The usual, 'we've finished compulsory education, we're free!' sort of party that comes before the realization that everyone is now responsible for their futures hits. Cato didn't even know the host, he had been invited by a friend of a friend, all he knew was that everyone in the gigantic house had had one too many to drink and were either chugging from a beer geg-oblivious to the fact that they were probably going to pay later in hospital when their stomachs were getting pumped-or dry humping while sharing saliva. Amidst the madness had been Peeta. Gorgeous, beautiful Peeta. Sitting on a sofa, leaning against the chair arm, trying to stay as far as possible from the couple who were one layer of clothes away from having sex. He was reading a book, silently mouthing the words he was reading.

Peeta was amazing. Amongst a group of hormonal, drunk teenagers, and he was reading City of Heavenly Fire instead of indulging in any of it. Cato approached him, determined to get his number before the end of the night. It worked, of course, because he was the king of charm. He swept-or so he likes to think-Peeta away from the party, explaining that he knew this amazing pancake house that no one ever went to especially not at this time of night. It would be quieter, a perfect place for him to read. Peeta easily went with him, the idea of a perfect reading spot too perfect to miss out on. He sat in that pancake house with Cato till' all hours in the morning, reading his book but occasionally pulling away with a smile on his face to talk to the man who'd been his saviour from the horrible party.

That night Cato knew that he had to make Peeta his.

Two years later, they were still together. Their relationship was healthy. Peeta went on to study law and became a police officer and Cato studied ICT and was now a consultant. With both of them having good jobs, money wasn't an issue and they had now been sharing a house for half a year. They fought, like all couples do, over simple stuff like who didn't buy fresh milk or who left their socks on the floor, never anything serious or life changing. It was clear that it was becoming more than just a boyfriend-boyfriend relationship. It was getting pretty serious. There was only one problem:

Their sex life.

It is said that a relationship's sex life is a key factor in keeping it healthy. Whether it's true or not, nobody can know for sure, but everyone who has used it as medicine for a broken relationship has said it works. Not on its own, of course. Sex isn't the ultimate fix all together. But it is a contributing factor. And it wasn't that Cato and Peeta didn't have regular sex, they did. But in the two years that they had been together, their physical relationship had been lacking a certain . . . as Cato would put it, flare.

Now, Cato didn't mind the sex he had with Peeta. Actually, it was the best fucking sex he'd had his entire life. There had been nights when they were first together where that was all they did, spent the hours away snuggling and then fucking and snuggling and fucking. They weren't as active as that now, but still did have sex on a regular basis. There were just things Cato felt like-now that they had been together so long-that they should try to explore. Somethings new, fresh, exciting because it seemed like they were just being safe. Safe is fine, safe is good but it can get bland and boring.

He just didn't know how to purpose it to Peeta.

November 15th, near the end of their second year together, Cato sat at home while Peeta was out working the night shift. Nights like these were the most annoying because Cato loved having Peeta around. It was like he lit up the entire house just by being in it. But when he wasn't there, it was like the whole house shut down, refusing to look cheerful in any way. Another irritating thing was that when Peeta wasn't around Cato was always the most horny. Like his body knew his lover mightn't even be in a ten mile radius and was whining about it.

Cato relied mostly on his imagination then. He had a good imagination, a reliable one. He almost believed his memory was photographic, with how much he could remember of Peeta even when he wasn't around. He could conjure up any image he wanted and it helped him get through the night. It kind of made him feel like a sad sack. Sitting at home, masturbating while his partner's out working just to get through the night without bursting a blood vessel.

On this particular night, however, Peeta was late home. Cato didn't worry about it as Peeta's job caused the hours he worked to be very irregular. He only hoped that he wasn't having to sort out a riot or getting into a situation where he might get hurt. Cato did know that Peeta knew how to look after himself though, but the worry was always there whether he wanted it to be or not.

At around ten forty five, Peeta rang Cato's mobile. As he answered, Cato felt a little spike of concern, worry that something bad had happened. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey Cato." Thank God, he sounded fine. "Sorry I'm late home. I went to visit my mother after my shift ended and you know what she's like. She had to make a cup of tea and crack open a tin of biscuits before even thinking about me leaving."

Cato chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right. So, are you coming home now?"

"Not yet," Peeta answered. "I'm going to have a quick shower at Mum's because I was running around all night and I stink and I can't bear another second of it."

Even as he spoke, Cato could hear water running at close range on Peeta's side of the line. "Are you in the bathroom right now?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm just about to get in."

Cato's heart skipped a beat and his blood heated up. Peeta was talking to him on the phone, in the bathroom, about to get into the shower, probably wearing nothing else but one of his mum's cream towels around his waist. "You're naked right now?" he stupidly asked.

"Well, not exactly," Peeta said.

"Towels don't count as clothing."

A pause.

"Okay then, I'm naked."

Oh Lord Jesus in heaven. Cato swallowed hard and pressed the phone harder against his ear. The opportunity was right there to spice up the relationship, do something crazy and uncontrollable. "Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what would be fun?"

"When you start things with questions like that, things never go well but go on then," Peeta answered. Damn, he knew him too well. Oh well, he'd just have to do as he said and go on.

"I've been missing you all night," Cato continued, trying to lay on the pity thick before getting to the point. "I've been missing your voice, your laugh, your touch . . . your body"-

"Is this your way of telling me you're incredibly horny right now?" Peeta asked.

"Painfully so."

"Man, Cato, your stamina amazes me."

Cato supposed he was saying this because before he went out on his shift, they'd had sex twice on their bed. But cleaning sheets can be exhausting and when Cato was tired enough he'd always get horny. It was like his body's rule or something. "You should know it's wild by now," Cato pointed it.

Peeta laughed. "I do," he said. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm across town!"

"Give me an aid," Cato explained. "To help me . . . you know."

"You want a photo, is that what you're saying?"

"If it is, will you be mad?"

Peeta didn't answer for a moment, obviously thinking it over. "You have to delete it immediately," he said. "I don't mean later on, I don't mean tomorrow, I mean as soon as you're finished you get rid of it, okay?"

Cato sat up straighter. "Of course." He hadn't actually thought Peeta would do it. A second later, Peeta hung up. It didn't take him long, in fact his mobile buzzed less than three minutes after. At least he wasn't leaving him hanging by a thread. Cato opened up the photo file that had been sent to his inbox and almost died at what he saw.

Peeta knew him all too well, knew the sort of thing that would help get him going. Most people would just snap a quick pic of themselves in the mirror but Peeta was more committed than that. Peeta's mobile has this waterproof covering, something he had gotten after many clumsy drops into glasses of water and even once down the toilet. This enabled him to take it into the shower with him. He must have propped the phone up on the taps and put it on flash after five seconds. He stood with his back turned, so Cato had a perfect view of his strong back and plump ass, and was looking over his shoulder with a lustful expression that oozed, 'Come take me.' Cato was almost positive that Peeta had been a model in another life. Impressive for under three minutes.

He could visualize getting into the shower with Peeta and pushing him flush against the cold tiled wall. Biting the shell of his ear gently, feathering his hands down his wet sides until they met at his inner thighs, which he would gently part and stroke with his thumbs. Teasing Peeta was very easy, the poor boy got worked up over anything, and soon he'd be trembling in Cato's arms, anticipating what was to come. But Cato wouldn't give it to him yet.

Instead he'd turn him back around and kiss his chest, gentle caresses of his lips that he'd only be able to feel gently swiping his skin. Cato would hold his wrists against the wall as he took a soft pink nipple into his mouth, sucking on it until his lover moaned loudly for him. He'd rub the other soft peak with his fingers, making sure it got just as much attention, before descending lower until his mouth was level with the younger boy's cock.

"You want this?" he'd purr, making sure to blow his hot breath against Peeta's hardened length.

Unable to find words, Peeta would nod mutely.

Cato still wouldn't not give it to him and would inside turn him back around. Now his face would be level with what had to be the world's most perfect rear. He would bite down on one of Peeta's soft cheeks, smirking on when he yelped, and stand up again. Once again he would push him against the wall, this time sliding his pointer finger along the cleft of his ass in a teasing manner. Peeta would squirm and whine, begging for Cato to just give it to him.

Finally, Cato decided he would.

Cato had just taken his painfully aching cock out of the prison of his jeans when the mobile rang again. Was it Peeta asking if the photo sent alright?

"Hello?"

"Cato?" Peeta groaned.

"Peeta? What is it?"

"I need you to get to mum's."

"Why?"

"I slipped in the shower and she can't hear me calling her."

Shit. Cato took a forlorn look at manhood, which was begging to be relieved, but Peeta was in trouble and needed him. It would just have to wait.

At Mrs Mellark's house, Cato found Peeta lying in the bath with a sheepish smile on his face. He'd managed to grab a towel and had it draped decently over himself. "Hello!" Peeta said, welding his eyes shut immediately with a groan of agony. "What brings you here?" he joked.

"Peeta," Cato said, kneeling by the bath. "What hurts?"

"My pride?"

"No time for jokes. Seriously, I need to know how to help you out."

Peeta rolled his eyes. He hated making a fuss. "I think I broke my collarbone," he answered.

Cato took Peeta's hands and gently pulled him out. Peeta bit his lip hard and fought not to make a sound. Cato examined his collarbone and concluded that it was probably broken. He'd have to take him to the emergency room. Grabbing a nightgown, he helped Peeta into it before taking him to his mother-who was hovering nearby's-room and eased him into his clothes.

Mrs Mellark made a big fuss, claiming it was her fault which Peeta had to keep telling her it wasn't. He couldn't walk, because the slightest movements killed, so Cato carried him out to the car like a bride and groom crossing the threshold of their new home. Peeta rested his head comfortably against Cato's chest and Cato hoped to God he couldn't hear his panicked heart. The idea of Peeta being hurt always unseated him and he hated having to see him in pain.

"Did the photo help?" Peeta mumbled.

Cato smiled and nodded. "It sure did," he lied.

Okay, not the best first start. But there were plenty of other chances to get wild.

A/N: Due to the recent situation with the leaked photos on icloud, I was weary about posting this as my first one-shot for this collection. But I have never seen anything wrong with taking pictures like these for loved ones as long as they're kept private. If someone is comfortable enough with their own body, I think it's a wonderful thing for them to appreciate it with their partners, especially since it was done in the privacy of their own homes, some of the photos even having been deleted. I hate what has happened to those poor girls because of that lifeless hacker, especially since one of them is my role model Jennifer Lawrence, and I hope the sick pervert gets a long time in prison once he's caught.

#wesupportjlaw

Please put this hash tag with any comments you leave. It's to show your support for Jennifer and the other celebrities, saying that we don't blame them, we blame the hacker. Thank you.