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"Come to my room; there’s this thing I wanna try.”
Peeta jerks when the door eases open behind him, the anxiety he's been carting around rising to the surface.
Yes, he is sitting in his recliner, facing away from the bathroom, but the reaction is visceral. No matter how much he wants to turn around and look at Katniss, he keeps his eyes firmly focused on his laptop screen. His jaw clenches in determination. He isn't going to give, and he's not going to bring up what happened last night, even if her eyes are boring a hole in the back of his head.
Katniss has been his roommate for two weeks now. Peeta had immediately agreed to let her move in the day she showed up because she was the first seemingly normal candidate to answer his ad, not some jerk.
Things have been great since she moved in. Katniss was quick to take her share of the chores and helped out regularly with things like cleaning and cooking. She’s already paid half of the first month’s rent. She's quiet but funny once she lets her guard down a little.
The only downside Peeta found to living with Katniss was his immediate, intense attraction to her. As wrong as it is, he thinks about her constantly. It's nearly impossible to stop gawking at her shapely legs in those pajama shorts she wears to bed or focus on the outline of her braless upper body through the tank she wears, joining him on the couch at night to watch Netflix together.
Katniss is the sexiest, and living with her is driving him crazy. Messing around with a roommate you barely knew? That has to be the worst idea ever. It’s not worth the risk. Peeta doesn’t want to look for another roommate so soon.
He is weak, though. He fantasizes about Katniss constantly .
That’s precisely what he was doing in the shower last night when Katniss walked in on him, jerking off. Bad enough that she got an eyeful of his junk. The mortifying bit was when Peeta loudly moaned her name as he came, which happened to be the moment she pushed the shower curtain back.
Of course, Peeta wanted to disappear. She mumbled something about thinking he was calling for her help, then beat a hasty retreat from the bathroom. He must’ve freaked her out since she ran, her skin flushed beneath its olive hue in obvious embarrassment.
To Peeta’s credit, Katniss wasn’t supposed to be home until much later, so he thought he had complete privacy.
Still, he feels like a creep. Of course, things have been fucking awkward between them since. Peeta has spent the last twenty-four hours wracking his brain for a solution to the mess. He has no idea how to make it up or move past it. Until he figures something out, his plan is avoidance.
It isn’t proving easy.
Tension fills the room when neither of them moves or speaks, soaking into every fiber of his being. Peeta wishes she’d say something, make a joke or get mad or something. Either that or leave him alone, wallowing in his embarrassment.
“Peeta?” Katniss finally speaks up. She doesn’t sound angry, and she isn’t laughing. He has no idea what she’s thinking.
“Yeah,” Peeta replies, eyes forward.
“Look at me?” She asks.
He smells the heady scent of her shampoo and soap and damp skin as she approaches him from behind. His heart is in his throat, beating a frantic rhythm as he turns the swivel recliner around to face her. He needs to get a hold of himself.
Katniss stands there in her bath towel. Her cleavage peeks out the top, the bottom of her thigh visible at the bottom.
Peeta swallows hard. He never knew every drop of blood in his brain could rush to his cock that fast. He’s not sure of anything as Katniss steps closer to him, then stands between his legs that magically fell apart during her approach. She catches his eye and pulls her towel off in one quick motion.
Peeta goes rigid, frozen, as she straddles his lap and lowers her ass to sit on his thighs, her perfect breasts directly in his line of sight. Katniss runs her fingers through his hair as she scoots closer after propping her knees up on either side of his thighs. He doesn't know where to look first.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day I moved in,” Katniss’s voice is low as she takes his hands and places each on her outer thighs. She sighs as his fingers sink into her skin, his reflexes finally snapping out of the shock they’d received.
“I touch myself thinking about you too. Please, Peeta,” she begs, wriggling in his lap. The heat between her legs bleeds through his flannel pants.
“Please, what?” Peeta finds his voice again but nearly chokes on it. His hands ease back, her skin like silk, closer to her ass. Heat flows from her to him like a blazing fire; his cock twitches in his pants. He can’t help himself. Closing his eyes, Peeta swirls his tongue around her pebbled nipple, moaning at the tight bud in his mouth as he rubs her other breast, using one hand to keep her secure in his lap. She grinds against his thigh. What they’re doing now is far and away better than any fantasy of her.
Katniss tugs on the roots of his hair, pressing herself closer, sighing at the contact of his wet mouth on her. She shifts in his lap, hovering above his covered erection, close enough to rock her hips forward with each suckle. Her breathing is shallow, uneven.
Eventually, her hands move from Peeta’s hair to his jaw, tilting his face up so he can kiss her. She runs her tongue across his lip, a quiet gasp escaping as she lifts her hips enough for him to reach between her thighs and slide his fingers through her wet heat.
His head spins at what he finds; copious arousal coats his fingers, his palm. His cock aches. Peeta uses his thumb to stroke her, then moves two fingers into her opening, rubbing the sensitive area right above it. She moans softly as her body starts to respond. She rides his hand, urging him deeper until her walls convulse around his fingers as his thumb strokes her clit.
Katniss’s chin drops to her chest. When she moves off his lap to give him room, Peeta leans back far enough in the chair to shove his pants down and off, sighing as his cock springs free. “Katniss, get on me,” he pleads, wrapping his hands around her hips, a wildness he doesn't recognize overtaking him as he kisses her.
Peeta knows she's on the pill- he's seen the pack in the medicine cabinet. He doesn’t do this- unprotected sex is not something he indulges in, but this moment is like some filthy dream. Who has time to look for a condom when that wet pussy is waiting for him? “I need you.”
“I want you so bad,” she breathes against his mouth, climbing into his lap, rubbing herself against him. She coats him in her wetness, gasping when the head brushes against her clit.
Katniss lifts on her knees again, and Peeta grasps his cock by the base, squeezing himself because he needs some relief from the pressure. She wraps her fingers higher up his shaft; he drops his hand when she grasps him and eagerly sinks on it, enveloping him. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she shudders once their hips are flush. They’re sitting face to face, shoulder to shoulder, and she grinds on him, his cock buried to the hilt. If Peeta doesn’t move soon, he’s going to lose his mind. But then Katniss does it for him, lifting up and down, bouncing on him.
“Fuck,” he moans. Her walls encase him, creating hot, delicious friction around his cock. Bare-skinned like they are, he feels every flutter of her muscles. Their chests pressed together, his hands digging into her ass to hold her steady as he thrusts up.
“You’re so big and hard,” Katniss pants in his ear, voice unsteady as she bounces. He thrusts into her, meeting her. Unbelievable friction builds, and Peeta feels like an animal, pushing up and grinding against her, plunging inside. She's so wet and soft. Her walls clench around his cock, and quite unexpectedly, he feels her come around him again. Her climax almost brings on his own, but he grits his teeth and holds on for dear life.
When Peeta presses on his hips, urging her off, Katniss shifts her hips to let him slide out. He’s panting, cock aching for release as she climbs off his lap.
“What are we doing now?” she asks, leaning over to meet his lips in a hot, drugging kiss.
He grins, and she takes his hand as he stands. “Come to my room. There’s this thing I wanna try.”
“I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”
Katniss is laughing as Peeta backs her against his bedroom window and her backside connects with the chilled glass. It’s dark in the room, and their street is usually dead at this hour, so it’s not likely anyone will see them, but still. There’s a chance.
Peeta wraps his hands around her thighs and lifts her until her ass is half resting on the sill. He wastes no time pushing inside her again. “I missed you already,” he manages, rolling his hips against her.
Maybe it’s due to the short separation from him carrying her to his bedroom, but she whines in pleasure as he fills her. “Me too- god, you feel amazing,” she says, steepling her knees around his hips as he moves inside her. She’s sensitive from coming before, and every movement makes her shudder. There’s not much she can do at this angle but hold on and take it. She’s not sure if she’ll come again, but everything feels so good she’d happily let him fuck her however long it took to find out.
Peeta thrusts harder, rapidly approaching his climax. He doesn’t notice how far against the glass he’s pressed her until a horn blows outside on the street, and he realizes her ass is completely exposed, pressed against the pane. He wonders if someone saw them- if they did, they’re getting an eyeful. Peeta knows he should stop- he’s never thought of himself as an exhibitionist, but Katniss isn’t saying anything about it, either. He’s so close to coming now he doesn’t know if he can stop.
Katniss whines high in the back of her throat, surprised as she comes again, and that does it. Peeta digs his fingers into her shoulders, holding her body close against hers as he buries his cock in her. He keeps her pinned, chests and hips flush, skin against skin, to experience every part of the wonder she is as he pumps into her, tensing until his orgasm overtakes him.
When he can, Peeta opens his eyes when his muscles start working again, looking over Katniss’s shoulder out on the street below. There’s no car outside, just Haymitch, the old drunk that lives somewhere in the building, staring up at them. When he notices Peeta peering out, he lifts his bottle in the air and tips it towards him in a silent atta - boy .
Shit. Peeta hastily pulls Katniss off the windowsill, both of them stumbling together once their feet are on solid ground again. He hopes Katniss doesn’t see Haymitch standing outside. At least her back was to the window. He probably didn’t know it was her.
Katniss kisses him, a contented noise slipping from her, then leaves to use the restroom before returning and flopping on his bed next to him. “That was fun,” she breathes as he wraps his arm around her.
“We should do it again.”
“Of course.”
“I think I need a nap, though,” Peeta mumbles as Katniss settles at his side, unable to keep his eyes open. That was the best sex he had in a long time. “Just a tiny one,” he adds, running his hand down her hip before pulling her closer. He can’t move, but the feel of her soft body pressing against him is enough to pique his interest. Soon , he tells himself.
“Okay,” she smiles against his shoulder. “I’m glad I walked in on you yesterday,” she adds, laughing.
“Me too. Feel free to do it any time you like.”
“I will,” Katniss says softly, running her fingertips over the inside of his hip in a slow caress, the tips of her nails scraping gently across the thin skin.
Peeta’s eyes fly open. As tired as he felt, his cock now stirs against his leg. He rolls over to kiss her again, fingers moving between her legs, parting her lower lips.
Fuck sleep- they can do that later.