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The last few days have been warmer than the temperatures we typically experience in Twelve in early October. Tonight we waived the usual hot chocolate or tea we'd have visiting with Katniss's mother, Annie, and Finnick Jr. They are staying with us, and since we don't spend all our time together when they visit, the evening is the time we like to use for catching up.
Katniss runs her finger around the edge of her iced-tea glass, making swirls in the layer of condensation there. The beads of moisture she stirs up with her restless motion slip down the slick surface. Holding my breath, I watch, mesmerized, as she laughs at something funny the little boy says before pausing to suck the condensation off her finger. When she lifts the glass to her lips to take a sip, I find myself swallowing right along with her. My glass is still on the table, however.
Nothing my wife is doing is intentional. She's not trying to drive me crazy. I don't think she realizes how much attention I'm paying because she's engaged in an animated conversation with seven-year-old Finn, a life-long resident of District Four, on the best methods to catch fish. My groin feels tight. I'm sweating despite the comfortable temperature of the house. The evening, let alone the last few weeks, have been torture.
I haven't wandered around, constantly aroused like this, since we were sixteen and sharing a bed on the train. At least back then, I didn't have the lived experience I do now. I only had fantasies of Katniss to drive me crazy.
I didn't know what being with her was actually like back then. I wasn't aware of how every inch of her skin felt, the heat and softness and contrasting texture between her healthy skin and her scar tissue, the way she pants or arches into my hand or hips when we're together.
Rolling my eyes at my train of thought, I pick up my glass of cold tea and take a long drink to cool off.
Indulging myself in detailed images of our sex life isn't doing anything to quell my horniness. It's not even about getting off- not much anyway because I can do that by myself in the shower alone if need be. It's the connection with Katniss I miss. I don't feel as close to her when we're not together.
Don't get me wrong- I love having her mother, Annie, and Finn here visiting from Four. It's good to be surrounded by loved ones we don't get to spend nearly enough time with. Katniss and her mother seem much less guarded than they have been in years, and I'm finally at a point where I can look at seven-year-old Finn and not feel guilt thinking of his father. I'm glad they consider Katniss and I's place home enough to stay with us for an extended period this time.
It's just that since we relinquished the big house in Victor's Village and moved into this smaller place we built on the edge of the woods, privacy is hard to come by. The cabin is small, and the spare rooms are close. Katniss is nervous that someone will hear, and I miss having anything more than innocent kisses in bed at night with my wife. We're at week three of a planned month-long visit today.
Everyone seems tired, and it's dark outside after Finn and Katniss's conversation ends. Katniss goes around the table and collects our used drinkware, placing them in the sink to wash in the morning. After that, we separate and head to bed. Annie and Finn go to one room while Lily, Katniss's mother, takes the other spare room.
Once Katniss and I close our bedroom door behind us, I'm on her like my life depends on it. I know I'm pushing my luck. She's eventually going to argue and say she just can't with our guests here. But I know she wants me and welcomes my touch, based on how she arches into me, moaning when I cup her behind. Bolstered by her response, I lift her, holding her against my body, so she has no doubt how much I want her. She begins to wrap her legs around my waist, giving in. She's ready to let me carry her to the bed where we can have our way with each other—until the sound of her mother's cough carries into our room from the other side of the bedroom wall.
Katniss doesn't even have to say it. The stiffness in her body and the alarm in her eyes tell me everything I need to know. "I'm sorry," she says, heart in her eyes before glancing away guiltily.
I let her slip out of my arms, down to stand on her own two again. "It's alright," I reassure her, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head. I would never willingly make her feel guilty for that. "I'll live. It's only what, another week?" I add. "I'll try to be a good boy and keep my hands to myself till then."
"You know that's not what I want," she whispers. I can't stand to look at her this way—cheeks flushed, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted like she's still trying to catch her breath. I can't think about all the ways I want her to lose it.
"I know," I say, kissing her gently on the lips, ignoring the hot look in her eyes and my protesting body. "Come on, let's go to bed where I can hold you."
"Peeta," Katniss's voice draws me out of deep sleep later that night.
"What's wrong," I mumble, wrapping my arms around her waist, snuggling closer to her. She doesn't seem upset or frightened, so I'm not immediately concerned it's something terrible that woke her up. "Bad dream?" I ask, ready to comfort her.
"No," she says next to my ear. I wait for her to tell me, but my breath catches in the back of my throat when she presses her lips there and lets them linger. I'm already breathing hard as she arches her into me, pressing her soft breasts against my chest.
What's she doing, tormenting me? "Katniss, you're being mean," I whine, letting my eyes fall closed again. I can't look at my wife, or she's going to find herself pinned beneath me on the bed.
"You're wrong. I plan to be very nice for your information," Katniss purrs, nipping at my earlobe.
"Unless you're prepared for me to be nice myself, you need to stop," I warn. I'm rapidly becoming a worked-up, confused mess.
Katniss rolls away from me abruptly. "I had an idea," she says, standing up. She pulls our heavy quilt, folded at the foot of the bed, off with a quick tug. "Follow me." I like the sound of that, so together, we sneak out of the bedroom. Questions race through my mind as we pause next to the back door and slip on some shoes. Then, Katniss leads me outside.
The night air is cool, not what I would call cold. It ruffles my hair and the loose strands of her braid as she leads me away from the house. She takes me to the open field at the edge of the woods, and we stop far enough away, behind a cluster of bushes, where I can't see the house. Smiling coyly, Katniss unfurls the quilt on a flat piece of ground. I watch, mesmerized, forgetting how to breathe, as she sits down and pulls the hem of her nightgown over her head, revealing her glorious, naked body.
She wasn't wearing any underwear.
Cripes, Katniss knows how I get when she doesn't wear panties.
"Are you coming or what?" she asks, voice soft and husky, laced with the same desire threatening to undo me. She holds out her hands in supplication, and as quickly as I can, I strip off everything I'm wearing and sit on my knees next to her on the quilt.
Katniss leans into me. I drag her to my chest, pulling her against me, our bodies ready to fuse from the heat. Our lips meet hotly, pent-up desire causing us to consume each other. My body roars to life, like oxygen being laid to a low-burning ember.
Our lips never separate as my hands wander the curves and planes of her body. Through her hair, down the length of her back to cup the smooth skin of her backside. I move to her front, greedy to have all of her at once. I spread my fingers wide across her thigh, then drag my hand up, skimming her sensitive inner thighs so close to the source of all the pleasure we give and get. I bypass that place for now, but the heat radiating from her core fuels me as I move up her abdomen to her breasts. All the while, her hands are in my hair, tugging and sifting through the waves.
We both moan out when I pinch her nipples; she tugs the roots of my hair and gyrates her pelvis against the top of my thigh. I lift her so her head is poised above mine, then lean forward to capture the peaks between my lips and nuzzle against her breasts.
Katniss lowers herself, urging me to sit. She climbs into my lap, straddling me.
"Peeta, I want you," she murmurs, reaching between us and grasping hold of my cock. Usually, I'd insist on making her come at least once before going inside of her, but tonight she's like an over-strung cord ready to snap from the tension. Katniss knows what she wants.
"Have me then, any way you want me. Take it," I groan when she squeezes the base of my cock and drags her hand up to the head. I nearly come off the ground when she rubs her thumb around the crown. I'm ready to explode already.
We're both panting as she takes me in, her heat encompassing me as she slides down my length. She's wet and hot, but it's always a tight fit for her if I haven't made her come first the way I usually do. My eyes roll back at the sensation throbbing inside of her. How is it we are allowed this sort of pleasure?
Katniss groans and goes slack at the fullness. I have to suck in my breath and hold it to keep from going off inside her too soon. My self-control is usually good, but it's been too long since we were together, and she's so beautiful out here in the autumn moonlight. Every already beautiful thing about her glows. Her dark hair, silvery eyes, the sheen of her skin, the gentle curves of her hips and shoulders and breasts.
She takes me in and out, chest pressed against mine, arms around my neck as her hips pivot back and forth slowly, shallowly. I know this feels best to her, our bodies close and skin burning hot, concentrating the feeling of my hardness around her opening and clit. It's a bit torturous but makes me anticipate thrusting fast and hard into her soon.
The night air is cool and stimulating against my over-sensitive body—Katniss's skin dots with goosebumps. Something about being out here in the dark makes me feel alive and grateful to be with her, to still have her in my life after all we've been through.
When I feel Katniss's walls tighten and hug me, I grit my teeth. She gasps in pleasure. Her body stiffens against mine and around my cock, threatening to drag me under with her. I don't want that to happen yet. I want to make her come again until she's a soaked wreck.
She's catching her breath when I piston into her. She's so wet now it's an easy glide, making me work harder to find that perfect friction. My hands land on her hips, holding her in place, and I urge her to lean back so I can watch the show that's Katniss riding me.
Her hands slide up her own body like she needs to be touched, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, before landing in her hair and roaming restlessly as she responds to my thrusts. She arches her back and tips her face towards the sky, pleasure causing her body to tighten fast and hard. I move my hand inward between thrusts, rubbing her clit with firm pressure until she's shaking. With a pleasured sob, she comes again, and her tight grip on me is more than I can handle this time. My sac tightens, electricity tingling at the base of my spine before taking off and erupting.
We separate and fall back on the quilt to lie together, trying to catch our breath. We're both a wet mess, so I find my t-shirt and attempt to clean us both off a little. The scent of her arousal is heady, making my groin tighten already. I want to take her all night.
Katniss stares up at me when I hover over her. Her eyes are wide; she looks sated and gorgeous. But I know she's not opposed to more, not with the way she bites her lip. "I don't want to go back yet. Do you?" she whispers, searching my face.
I shake my head. "No."
When my free hand slips between her legs to rub her again, her eyes close, and she lets out a high-pitched " ahh ."
The sound alone gets me halfway to the point of being ready for round two. What can I say—I've been really pent up.
"We've got a few weeks to make up for, wifey," I remind Katniss, groaning when she arches her hips up with my moving hand, urging me to go deeper. I will soon, but not with my fingers.
"Did you think just once would be enough? Was that enough for you?"
Katniss bites her lip, and I take the opportunity to nip at the side of her neck. Her hips are loose, and when her legs fall apart, I lay between them.
"The sun won't be up for a few more hours," I remind her.
"Mmm," she says, opening her eyes again. Our lips meet, and we're kissing. Once I'm inside her again, we stop talking.
"Have a hard time getting to sleep last night?" Lily asks the following day. We're seated at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.
Katniss glances at me, then back to her mother. We're both tired. We managed maybe an hour of sleep once we snuck back inside after our middle-of-the-night outdoor interlude. I happened to notice she's moving slowly, and it makes me smile. Honestly, my back hurts a little this morning, but last night? Totally worth it.
"I'm a little tired," Katniss admits, picking up a mug of tea and hiding her expression behind it. She won't meet my eyes.
Lilly pauses while buttering her toast. "You know, I think I'm ready to go home today. Four weeks is a long time. Especially for a young couple who are used to having lots of privacy."
"I miss home," Annie admits, never looking up from her plate, pushing her scrambled eggs and vegetables around on her plate. Finn glances back and forth between his mother and Lily. When he realizes it's alright to agree, he adds his two cents' worth. "I'm ready to go home too. I miss my pals."
Lily nods. "I'll walk to the train station and exchange our tickets as soon as breakfast is over. There ought to be a train leaving in a few hours. That will give us plenty of time to pack our bags, yes?"
"That's not necessary," I murmur, frowning at the turn of events. The three of them seemed to be enjoying themselves until now.
What changed? Surely they didn't hear Katniss and me last night. "We like having you here. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."
Katniss keeps quiet, staring into her hot tea like she'll find the answer to life's mysteries at the bottom. Namely, whether or not our guests know what we got up to last night.
"We know Peeta," Lily says, taking my hand. She squeezes her thin fingers around mine before letting me go.