Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe. They are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Title: There Comes You
Rating: M for sexual situations and some brief language
Characters: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark
Summary: "He's looking at me with so much desire it hurts, like staring at the sun. But that is what he is: the sunlight for the frail little dandelion inside of me, the banisher of all of the dark and shadowy things in my mind. He makes me radiant and new. And I will absorb as much of that light as I can."In the dark of the night, Katniss finds her salvation in the arms of the Boy with the Bread.

Author's Note: Hi everyone. I've done it again. Jumped into a new sandbox. But Peeta and Katniss called to me. This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and my first shot at publishing a piece written in 1st person. So please leave kind and constructive reviews after reading. They are much appreciated and I use them to better my work. Thank you and please enjoy part one of this short duet.


Some nights are better than others.

I wake up with a silent scream in my throat. With the charred corpses of children reaching for me, my name rasping from the skulls of skeletons with no faces, burned into my eyes. With hot tears streaming down my face. With my heart pounding, my lungs struggling to breathe.

But he is there next to me.

His arms are around me before I am fully aware that it was only a nightmare. He shushes me before the cries have died in my throat. He whispers my name, smoothing the hair from my sweaty brow, running his hands up and down my arms, my back. "Shh, Katniss. It's alright. Just a dream, it's okay."

He looks into my eyes, knowing very well I don't see blue, but red. Fire, smoke, ash. These things consume my vision, weigh down on my chest until I feel like I'll suffocate. But he holds me still, bears his gaze down on me until the fire dies and is replaced by sky. Blue eyes like the sky, wide and full of concern. He calls my name, urging me back to the waking world.

"Katniss, come on. Wake up, it was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. Not real..."

And then I am back, throwing my arms around him and clinging to his strong form. I'm still crying but I no longer hide it from him. We are past the point of hiding tears.

His hand finds my hair, twirling the end of my braid around his fingers, caressing my neck with the other. I feel his lips on my brow between his soothing murmurs, warm and soft against my skin, and the weight on my chest begins to lessen. These kisses are nothing new. The wall I put up to keep a distance between us always falls to rubble at these times.

It is his kisses that remind me that I am still alive.

"Peeta," I whisper, and he pulls away enough to look into my eyes, cupping my cheek in his calloused palm. He brushes a tear away with his thumb and peers cautiously into my face to see if I have fully returned from the darkness. I meet his gaze, so unbearably blue in the half light, and I realize that he's afraid. My heart begins to crumble.

"I'm okay," I croak. "I'm alright, it's okay."

He nods but his hands do not leave me. I don't want them to. I know he wants to kiss me, but I'm not sure if I want to kiss him, too.

In the end he makes up my mind for me. The first one is short, chaste - a simple press of his lips against mine, as if to test the waters. There have been many kisses like this in that last few months since I returned from the dark place my own mind had trapped me in, and they have all ended in the same way: I shy away, unwilling to go further, afraid to move on from any stable ground I had managed to find into uncertainty. But tonight, after dreaming of death, I don't want to shy away. I want his kisses. I want Peeta to make me feel alive again.

So when I press my lips back against his with an enthusiasm I haven't shown outside of an arena, I swear I can feel his heart rate double inside his chest. He gathers me to him, pulling my chest flush against his, but he kisses me with restraint, like I'll break. Or worse, pull away.

When we come up for air, he doesn't take his eyes off of me. He's uncertain, like this might be a dream. His voice trembles when he says my name. I can't tell if it's a plea or a prayer or both, so I take his hand in mine.

"Peeta, please," I whisper, and then bite my lip, realizing how stupid I sound, how awful I'm being, taking advantage of his concern to ease my own guilt. But he squeezes my hand and licks his lips like he wants to speak but can't find the words. It's so un-Peeta-like that I almost change my mind about all of it and roll over and go back to sleep. Instability. The firm ground beneath my feet begins to shift. I begin to panic.

"Peeta," I say again, and my voice is shaking as well as my body. I meet his eyes, and he must see something in them that answers his questions, because suddenly he's kissing me again, and the shaking stops. There is a twinge in my stomach that I recognize as the hunger I felt on the beach and in the cave, and I know that this is what I have been missing. This is what I have needed.

Peeta kisses me hard, like he'll never kiss me again because maybe all of this is a dream he'll wake up from before it's over. It's desperation I feel on his lips, and it is that that makes me speak up.

"Peeta," I say between his kisses. "Peeta, wait." When he freezes and looks at me, I press my hand to his chest and feel his heart pounding and his muscles tremble over it. I lick my lips and meet his blue, blue eyes and say the bravest thing I have ever said in my life.

"Please don't stop."

His mouth hangs open, unbelieving. "Katniss, are you sure-?"

I kiss him to shut him up. Peeta is eloquent, but sometimes his penchant for words gets in the way of more important things. My kiss is open-mouthed and we share a warm breath. I even clench the material of his shirt in my hands to get my point across. When we separate, something is different about his eyes. They are darker, his pupils dilated. For a moment I'm afraid he's having a hijacking attack, but then I realize he's not holding himself back from killing me. He's holding himself back from ravishing me. This knowledge frightens me and excites me at the same time. I decide to be brave again.

"Peeta, I -" I swallow and try again. "I want this." I take a deep breath and my voice sounds so small and pathetic when I speak again I want to bolt.

"I need you."

He's shaking now, I can feel it beneath my hands before he pulls away and sits up. He doesn't look at me when he starts to speak.

"Katniss, if we do this... if we go any further, I don't-" He sounds so lost, and I sit up and place a hand on his arm to make him continue, and he turns his head and looks me dead in the eyes and whispers, "I don't think I'll be able to stop."

I cup his face in my hands and press my forehead to his. He sighs deeply, and I kiss his lips. "I don't want you to stop," I whisper. He opens his eyes and for a moment all he does is breathe and stare me down. And then his mouth crashes against mine, and he does not stop.

My whole body is alight. Peeta's mouth is hot on mine, his large, rough hands in my hair that he has pulled and untangled from its braid, on my face and neck and shoulders and down my torso to my waist, my hips. He is everywhere at once, making up for so much wasted and lost time. Now, for the first time, these kisses are real for the both of us.

His tongue darts against my lips and I open to him, shyly touching mine to his and finding that he tastes of the rabbit stew from last night's dinner and chocolate. It's easily my favorite flavor and our tongues dance slowly with each other as our bodies move closer. I am lowered back to the bed, and his lips leave mine to trail across my jaw and down my neck to the hollow of my throat, where he sucks lightly. I gasp and grip his arms. His breath is hot on my skin as he nuzzles my neck, kissing and biting until I am panting. The hunger in my stomach has moved lower, and I discover that this is exactly what I want: to be with Peeta.

As he kisses me my hands run up and down his strong arms, across his broad shoulders, down his back until my fingers find the hem of his shirt and slide beneath the material to feel the smooth warmth of his lower back. My nails graze his skin and Peeta practically shudders above me, his lips parting from my skin to sigh. My fingers creep higher, pushing his shirt up as I go, until he suddenly sits up and yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor. I have seen him shirtless before, of course, but in the semi-darkness of the room, with him hovering over me, NOT covered in blood or dirt or whatever else, it's a different experience. I reach out and press my hands against his chest, feeling his heart pound behind the warm flesh and bone. My fingers spread through the light smattering of hair I can barely see, and it springs back against my touch. I trail lower, thumbs just barely brushing his nipples, and he jumps with a sound that is part sigh, part groan. Suddenly, I want to kiss his chest, to feel his pulse against my lips, so I move against him and press his shoulder and hip until he rolls over.

I end up straddling him. He seems to like this change of scenery, because his hands find my hips in an instant and he's pulling me down to him for another heated kiss. I pull away and copy his early ministrations, nibbling on his jaw and his earlobe, eliciting more sighs and whispers of my name. I kiss down his neck and across his collarbone as his hands grip my hips and then my waist, pulling my shirt up inch by inch, caressing the small of my back and the curve of my spine. He holds me as close as he can, his fingers creeping up my back until my top joins his on the floor.

I freeze, covering myself. Having been asleep, I hadn't been wearing a bra, and being topless in on top of Peeta is admittedly a little daunting. All I can think about are my scars, some still raw and red, others a new baby pink. The only light in the room is that from the moon outside, and I know there is no way he can really make them out, but I'm mortified. I am ugly and I do not want him to see. But Peeta sits up, keeping me on his lap, and without moving his eyes from mine, he takes my wrists and gently puts my arms back at my sides. My heart is racing and I want to cover my face when his gaze moves down, but I don't. Instead, I watch as his expression melts into something like awe. His hands find my waist and he lowers his mouth to my breasts, softly placing a kiss on each one, breathing the word "perfect" onto my skin.

I sigh. How could I have been so afraid and self-conscious with him? I finally understand his words to Haymitch before we went into the arena the first time. If I didn't know the effect I could have then, I certainly do now.

I bring my hands up to cradle Peeta's head as his lips close around my nipple, warm and wet, and it strikes my core like a jolt of electricity. I feel wetness pool between my legs as he continues to bestow kisses on my breasts. I can also feel the growing hardness between his legs pressing against me, but I have no more room in me to be embarrassed. He can't stop now, and neither can I. Still, all of this is so new, and I'm tentative with my actions, afraid I'll somehow mess up or do something wrong. Peeta doesn't seem to care. Every time his eyes open they are the darkest of blue and he looks at me with so much passion and desire that it's almost too much to take. It's like staring at the sun. But that is what he is: the sunlight for the frail little dandelion inside of me, the banisher of all of the dark and shadowy things in my mind. He makes me radiant and new. And I will absorb as much of that light as I can to become human again.

Our lips meet again, swollen and wet. We kiss, slowly, deeply, but desperate for more. His hands are at my hips, pressing me to him, and the feel of our bare chests against each others makes my skin break out in goosebumps. I sigh his name, and his hands dip lower, to the small of my back and then beneath the waistband of my sleeping pants. And then, so slowly it's like he's trying to be sneaky in case I catch him, his hands slip beneath the fabric of my underwear. Peeta's hands are on my ass, cupping each cheek and lifting me to him. I can't help but move my hips forward, pressing against the bulge in his pants. It's like electricity between us.

Peeta sucks in his breath through clenched teeth and releases it with a low "fuck." If I weren't thinking the same thing, I might have laughed. My pulse is racing and all I want is for Peeta to touch me there again. And like he can read my mind (or more likely see it on my face), he reaches down between us and presses his thumb against my most sensitive spot through my clothes, and my forehead falls against his with a gasp. Our lips come together and our tongues fight for dominance and the next thing I know I am on my back with Peeta above me. His knee is between my legs and he presses it against me, and I can't help but moan.

Peeta smirks at me and I want to scowl back but I can't. At most, I manage an angry whimper as he sits back on his heels and watches me with bright, almost fevered eyes.

"Beautiful," he mutters, and thankfully he ducks his head back down to my breasts in time to miss my blush. He plants kisses down my body, nuzzling at my belly and continuing on until I am anxiously lifting my hips so that he can slide my bottoms off. He tosses them to the floor with the rest of our clothes and then sits back again. I lie naked and open to him. I do not tremble. I simply give him his moment of victory.

But he sits over me for a long time, and I get nervous. I reach for something to cover myself as I ask, "Is something wrong?"

He snaps out of his daze and his eyes lock onto mine. "No," he says. "I just..." He reaches out and traces a fingertip over my hipbone, stopping just short of the junction of my thighs and the epicenter of the raging desire within me. I catch my breath, and Peeta leans down to meet me in an open-mouthed kiss.

"Better than any dream," he murmurs against my mouth, and I wrap my arms around him to pull him closer. His hand strokes my side and then stops at my thigh.

"Peeta..." I plead, and he fumbles for my entrance, sliding one thick finger slowly into me and making me gasp. I think he does, too.

"So wet," I hear him mutter against my neck. It's only a little uncomfortable, but my hips jerk up and he pumps his finger in and out of me, and I grip at his shoulders and back. He adds a second finger and I moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. I don't think I can take anymore.

I run my hands down his back until I reach the waistband of his pants. I hook my thumbs under the elastic and yank down, coming into contact with the firmness of his buttocks for the first time. It distracts me from my original plan, and I cup each cheek in my hands like he had done to me, enjoying the solid feel of them in my palms. I wriggle beneath him as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of my body. I'm almost dizzy with want, and without thinking I reach around and take his erection in my hand. Peeta freezes and a strangled groan falls from his mouth.

I'm unsure of what to do. He's hard as steel but silky smooth in my hand. I run my fingers along his length, watching his face carefully, and when he doesn't tell me to stop, I wrap my fingers around his shaft and stroke up and down. I swear Peeta might break into pieces. Jumbled words and moans spill from his lips, and the fingers he had stilled inside of me move again, until we are both straining toward each other, sweat beading on our skin. But it isn't enough.

"Peeta, I want you."

He freezes and stares at me, unsure of if I really said it, so I say it again, reinforcing my words by wrapping one leg around his.

"Katniss, I -"

"I've already told you I don't want you to stop."

He hesitates, but only for another moment, and then I am helping him push his pants further down and he is stirring himself at my entrance, making me buck up against him. He pushes against me but slides away, rubbing against my nub and making me cry out. He tries again and slips away again, and I giggle at his frustration as he mumbles something about "too wet" and "slippery" and I finally take him in my hand and guide him to the right spot. It take a bit of adjusting, and he presses the tip against me and pushes forward. This time he slips inside of me a little, and I wince. He apologizes and kisses me and in one thrust sheaths himself inside of me.

I can't help but cry out from the immediate discomfort, but his lips stay on mine and with a few tentative thrusts the hunger from before starts to return. My head falls back with a moan, and he kisses my neck as he moves inside me.

"Love you," he murmurs into my skin. "I've always loved you."

I pull him as close to me as I can, hooking my knees on his hips and rocking against him. "I'm yours," I murmur back, clutching his body, holding on for dear life. "I have always been yours."

His mouth devours mine, and a hand slips between us and a thumb presses circles against my clit and I am sent toward the edge, crying out at we find a rhythm and Peeta pounds into me.

"Peeta, please!" I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders. We are desperate, still not close enough, and from somewhere deep inside of me a growl emerges and I say into his ear, "Don't stop. Make me yours. Show me I'm yours."

Something shifts in him, something primal and possessive, and his hips jerk, meeting mine with the harsh slap of skin on skin. He is so deep and I am stretched so tightly; every plunge into me sends lightning radiating out from my core. I hear a keening noise, rising high above heavy breaths and I think it might be me. I open my eyes and see blue and so much love and desperation that there's no way I could force myself to look away. But he catches on a spot inside of me and that's it - I am shattered. Every muscle in my body tenses and I throw my head back, crying out with the sheer force of my orgasm as he continues to move within me. I am mumbling his name over and over and gripping every part of him I can reach, urging him to come to me, to make me his, and then with a jerk of his hips and strangled moan, he spills himself deep inside of me and collapses on top of me.

His weight is surprisingly comfortable, and we shake in each others arms, slowly coming to with exhausted kisses and lethargic movements. After a while, we separate, and he gathers me to him, curling around me, and his lips find my shoulder.

"You're mine," he breathes, his arms encircling me and holding me tight. "Real or not real?"

Exhaustion and bliss threaten to drown me, but I snuggle back into his chest and kiss the hand that is intertwined with mine and whisper, "Real." I feel him sigh and kiss my shoulder again.

No dreams plague me for the rest of the night.