A/N: In short, a series of drabbles that focus on Katniss and Peeta's sex life. They may differ in length, but most will be short. Also, there won't be specific order but most of the time there will be a reference as to what point in their relationship the scene is set during. Here's the first two, enjoy! Warning: adult situations, strong sexual content.

Closed Doors.

one: first.

She was painfully aware that this would be difficult, but nothing compared to the cold truth of being right there in the moment, unable to switch off – unable not to want it.

In truth, nothing could have prepared her for what it felt like to be with him. There was a chilly sort of nakedness that came from being observed as well as unclothed, and the vulnerability seemed to settle in her knees and make them weak. Peeta seemed too calm; too in control. She wondered if this was the right way to be seeing each other naked for the first time; standing a foot apart, not even attempting to help off with each others' clothes because they were coming off anyway and she didn't trust her fingers enough.

When they were both done undressing, Peeta stepped forward and surprised her by folding his arms around her waist in a firm hug. She let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like hours.

The scars throbbed under, over; everywhere. Her hair was thin, her breasts weren't there. His shoulders were thin; his muscle all but gone. Her collarbone fit in the hollow under his, and their bellies couldn't manage to touch.

I need you, neither of them said, but it was smothered between their bodies, throbbing away, needing air and attention.

When she touched him a few minutes later, he gasped and winced, and he had to loosen her grip. She apologized. He tried to touch her in return, but she kept batting him away until it seemed like time for him to settle between her legs and push inside, but it hurt like a hot blade and she asked him to stop.

In the end, neither found a release and he lay quietly next to her until his need simply went away. She scrambled for refuge under the covers and let him join her, finding his hand under the covers and clutching it tightly, because she needed something to anchor her to the world; she was too vulnerable, too naked, too burnt out, and now she couldn't even do this.

"You were tense," Peeta murmured quietly into her ear. "I did my job wrong."

She didn't know what to say, so she stayed silent, holed up in the quiet in the hopes that it would protect her when she finally had to walk over the shattered remains of her expectations.

But they stayed uncomfortably naked together all night, and she remained uncomfortably fine about it, until it wasn't uncomfortable at all.