a/n: Just a one-shot here, and it's basically just porn with a little bit of plot. This features what we have dubbed pussy champ Peeta (term courtesy of londonrainings on tumblr, thanks, girl); this story was born kind of as a joke, but since I take oral sex way too seriously, it evolved into something way longer than just the drabble I'd originally meant to write. So I hope you enjoy it for what it is!

Katniss was three drinks in and already talking more than she had all week; gin really had a way of loosening her tongue. But she'd spent all week wallowing silently in her misery over her breakup with Darius, and now she was ready to talk.

Shit, specifically.

"And I swear to God, he always pissed on the floor!" she whined, fiddling with her straw. Her best friend, Madge, guffawed, nearly choking on a mouthful of Long Island Iced Tea.

"What, like a dog? What does that even mean?" she demanded, her blue eyes glinting with amusement.

Katniss gestured excitedly with her hands—another sure sign she was drunk. "No, like—you know how when guys take a piss, sometimes they dribble urine around the toilet? That! He always did that, and he never wiped it up, and I fucking stepped in it every morning!"

Madge wrinkled her nose. "Eugh, that's the worst. At least, Gale will clean up after himself. Us ladies shouldn't have to put down newspaper like we're potty training a puppy!" she practically yelled before taking another long sip of her drink. Katniss didn't even care that her friend was talking loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of bar sounds—music and conversations and laughter and sticks smacking pool balls on the tables.

Yeah, Katniss was definitely drunk.

Whatever. She deserved at least one night of ranting to her girlfriend about her shitty ex who dumped her because she wasn't adventurous enough in bed—whatever the fuck that meant. She was pretty sure it meant she refused to give him a blowjob every night, and he got tired of trying to persuade her. Not that she was against oral entirely, but if he wasn't going to return the favor, she didn't see why she should suffer jaw aches just for his sake.

They hadn't even been together that long, just a few months. Still, the breakup had stung. She hadn't really seen it coming, as oblivious as she always was, but now she was mad she hadn't dumped him first.

"So, how was the sex?" Madge inquired, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Katniss flushed in embarrassment and drank from her gin and tonic to stall. She didn't normally like to detail her sex life to her friends, even her best friend, but...

Fuck it.

"Not that great," she replied, slamming her glass down a little too hard. "I mean, I guess it was fine."

Her friend snorted. "Hardly high praise."

Katniss fidgeted with her braid, her eyes darting around the bar. "Well, he said I wasn't adventurous enough. But I mean...we only really did missionary and, you know...doggy style occasionally." She couldn't fight the blush, and she hurried to continue, "And he pretty much always came before I did, and sometimes he wasn't really concerned about me finishing, so a lot of times, I had to take care of myself."

"He's a jerk," Madge said sympathetically. "I don't know how you put up with him so long."

Because he made her laugh, mainly. But she didn't want to think about his good qualities right then, so she blurted something else out, "He wouldn't go down on me, either."

Madge's eyes widened, and she leaned closer. "What?"

Katniss was sure her face was going to be permanently red at this point. The warmth generated by the alcohol wasn't helping, either. "I mean, he did a couple times. But it sucked, and he couldn't get me to come, so...Maybe he just felt bad that he couldn't do it well. But he didn't do it anymore after that," she trailed off into a grumble, downing some more of her gin and tonic. And Katniss really wasn't the type to ask. It was hard enough just telling Madge all this, let alone trying to voice her deepest desires and sexual frustrations to her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself.

Madge was shaking her head, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked up some of her sugary alcoholic concoction through her straw. "Man, that's unfortunate. It really doesn't get much better than cunnilingus, too," she sighed. Katniss shrugged uncomfortably; it had always felt weird to her.

"I don't know. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just not built to enjoy it," she said mournfully, but her friend shook her head again, more staunchly this time.

"No way, I don't believe it." She blinked then, her eyes narrowing suddenly. "Wait. Are you telling me...you've never enjoyed oral? Like...a guy has never made you come before by going down on you?"

Something in her tone made Katniss want to curl up in shame. She shouldn't have started this conversation. "Well...Darius was the only guy who, um, who's gone down on me, so..." She'd been too shy and reticent in her previous relationships, as limited as they were, to ask for it.

"Shut up!" Madge interjected, her eyes wide, then she slumped back in her seat. "God, I feel for you, I really do. I mean, maybe you don't know what you're missing, but that sucks. The next guy you date better eat you out all the time. In fact—don't date anyone unless he eats you out all the time. Okay? You deserve it."

Katniss rolled her eyes dismissively, her face still hot. Dating again was the last thing on her mind.


They both glanced up at the new voice. Katniss had barely registered the tall, broad-shouldered blonde man standing before them before Madge jumped out of her seat. "Peeta, hey!"

Oh. That guy. Katniss remembered him from a few years ago, when he and Madge had dated their second year of college. She and Madge weren't in the same dorm at the time, so Katniss had never really interacted with Peeta much, aside from drunken social gatherings.

"Hey, how are you?" he greeted, wrapping her in a tight hug. Katniss averted her eyes elsewhere, uncomfortable with being privy to this meeting between ex-lovers.

"I'm great! How are you doing?" Madge bubbled enthusiastically, plopping back down once he'd released her. Katniss was sure her friend was just as drunk as her. Maybe more so.

"Good, doing good," he replied, his eyes flitting over to Katniss a couple times, but he didn't say anything. She didn't know if she was supposed to speak first—did he even remember who she was? Probably not.

"Oh, do you remember Katniss?" Madge offered, waving a hand at her. He finally acknowledged her with an expression of recognition.

"Ahh, yeah, yeah, I remember. Hello," he directed at her, pleasantly enough, but his tone sounded indifferent. She fought against her scowl and smiled tightly instead.

"Hello," she echoed then downed the last of her drink.

Peeta gestured with his beer bottle to the bar. "Well, I just wanted to pop over and say hey. It's been a while, but I'm glad to hear you're doing well. I gotta get back to my friends, though."

Madge smiled brightly. "Okay, well, it was good to see you again, Peeta! Don't be a stranger."

"Yeah, you too," he returned with a warm smile. "I'll see you around, Madge. Katniss," he nodded his head at her in parting before slipping away. She was confused by his coldness to her; she thought she remembered him being a more gregarious person who was friendly toward everyone, even strangers. But he'd acted like she was less than a stranger.

"What's his deal?" she griped, shaking the ice in her empty glass to see if there was anything left to drink.

"Hm?" Madge hummed distractedly as she sipped her LIT, then shook her head as Katniss' question registered. "Oh, ummm...you know, I don't think he liked you much when we were dating."

Katniss' eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "What?! Why not?"

Pink blossomed in her cheeks, and Madge looked mildly chagrined. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but...you weren't that nice. I mean, you are to me and people you know well, but to others? Not so much. He thought you were kind of stuck up."

Katniss' mouth fell open. "Are you joking? Stuck up—me? What a prick! I'm nice!" Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. She wasn't a bitch; she just wasn't that friendly to outsiders. It wasn't intentional! She just wasn't comfortable around people, and she hated making small talk.

Madge just shrugged. "I know. Hey, it was years ago—it doesn't matter. I'm sure he doesn't still harbor some kind of grudge against you or anything."

Katniss scowled. It certainly seemed like he still did. Which was stupid because she hadn't even known she'd done anything to him! "Whatever," she huffed. Now she was annoyed, even more so than when she was ranting about Darius. Maybe she didn't really like people overall, but it kind of bothered her when others disliked her and she didn't really understand why.

Madge sighed wistfully, like she was reminiscing about something. "Man...you know who gave good head?" she asked rhetorically, and Katniss frowned at her.



Katniss made a face. "What?!" Her friend flushed, but she giggled.

"I'm serious! Look, you can't tell Gale this, okay? Oh, God, Gale would kill me, so you have to swear you won't tell him," Madge insisted, but at Katniss' dumb look, she rattled on. "Gale's great at it, of course, and he gets me off every time. But Peeta...Peeta ate the best pussy."

For the second time that night, Katniss' eyes nearly popped out of her head. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard her friend utter that word out loud before. How drunk was she? "Jesus Christ, TMI, Madge," she muttered. Madge just laughed again, shielding her face with her hand.

"I know, but he did! He really did! Still does, I imagine. He's probably only gotten better at it."

"And how exactly did you determine this?" Katniss asked drily, though she couldn't deny her curiosity.

Madge pursed her lips together shyly, fighting a large grin. "I don't know, he just—I've never been with a guy who seemed to enjoy doing it as much as he did. I mean, he was really into it. One time, he went down on me for nearly an hour—I swear to God! I came like five times. Seriously, I've never come so much in my life. Oh, my God, you cannot tell Gale this, Katniss! Swear to me!"

"Jeez, okay! I won't tell Gale that you liked getting eaten out better by another man," she stressed, and Madge's eyes widened.

"Fuck, don't say it like that!" she wailed, then she laughed, covering her face again. When she emerged, still red-faced, she eyed her cup. "Ugh, I need another drink."

Katniss looked pathetically at her empty glass. The ice was starting to melt. "Me, too."

"I don't think the server's gonna come back around for a while," Madge mused, glancing around the bar, then she hopped up from their table. "I'll just go up to the bar. You want another G&T?" Katniss nodded, reaching for her purse, but Madge waved her off. "It's on me. Be right back!"

Shrugging, Katniss sank down in the booth seat and sucked up the watery remnants of her drink for something to occupy herself with. When the last of her drink was gone, she pulled out her phone to pretend to have something to do. She was always wary of being approached in bars, not that it happened often. She guessed she gave off that "stuck-up" vibe to everyone else, too. She sneered at her phone. Fucking Peeta.

"Hey, I got our drinks—and I brought a friend!"

Glancing up suspiciously, Katniss did a double take when she saw Madge sliding into the booth seat opposite her with Peeta. He smiled benignly at her; she tried not to outwardly glower at him, though she wasn't positive she succeeded. She directed her questioning stare to her friend, who was smiling at her hopefully, a mild apology in her eyes.

"Um, I thought you had friends at the bar," Katniss found herself saying to Peeta, which totally surprised her; that gin really did open her up. Peeta shrugged.

"They were ready to leave, and I'm still working on my drink, so I stayed. Madge wanted to catch up."

Made pushed her gin and tonic toward her. "You don't mind, do you, Katniss?" she asked. Katniss just shrugged, trying to keep the sour expression off her face as she sipped her fresh drink. Yes, she minded. This guy wanted to judge her for being shy years ago, and now she couldn't even rant about her ex anymore. What a dick.

"So, tell me what you've been up to, Peeta," Madge prodded, twisting toward him in her seat.

The two proceeded to chat and fill each other in on their lives; Katniss mainly tuned them out, swigging her drink, swirling the ice with the straw, glancing around the bar to people watch. She caught snippets of their conversation and eventually found herself watching them more closely than she would have liked. Especially Peeta.

Jerk or not, he was definitely attractive. His blonde curls shone under the bar lights; some were so perfectly coiled, she almost wanted to wrap her finger around one and tug on it just to see if it would spring back into place. His eyes were even bluer than Madge's, and even more clear and open. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled or laughed, and a small dimple creased his left cheek every time.

She was most mesmerized by his mouth, though. His lips were pink and inviting, the dip in his top lip curved in the perfect Cupid's bow. Every now and then his tongue would dart out to wet his lips, and he would purse them expertly around the mouth of his beer bottle, his throat bobbing as he pulled on the amber liquid.

It was distracting. Not that she had anything to be distracted from, other than her resolution that he was a dickhead. But suddenly even that seemed unimportant in the new light she was seeing his mouth. She thought about what Madge had said about him, how she had deigned him the best in cunnilingus, and she flushed with heat, finally looking away.

Maybe Madge was biased, since she'd dated him. But she did rate him above Gale, and Katniss knew her friend was head over heels for the dark-haired man. She wouldn't disparage him in favor of Peeta...unless it was absolutely true.

Katniss was curious. Very curious. She wondered...if she could find out for herself.

Her face was hot with embarrassment and arousal, and she took a large gulp of her drink. She'd never felt so uncomfortable, largely because she was excluded from a conversation that was taking place around her and with a guy who apparently hated her but whom she was finding herself increasingly attracted to. It seemed so unfair.

Madge finally seemed to notice her again. "Well, Kat broke up with her boyfriend recently, so we just came out for a girl's night out," she blabbed, gesturing toward her. Katniss' eyes widened, briefly darting to Peeta, who was now looking at her.

"Um, I'm sure he didn't need to know that," she mumbled, her fingers nervously seeking out her braid.

Peeta cleared his throat, his face tightening in the first sign of sympathy or emotion he'd shown her all night. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

Madge snorted. "Don't be! He was an asshole. He wasn't very, how do I say...giving, if you catch my drift," she hinted, arching an eyebrow at Peeta.

Katniss' entire face flamed, and she wanted to hurl herself across the table and stuff her fist down her friend's mouth just to shut her up. "Madge," she hissed, mortified, but Madge just giggled. Peeta regarded both of them curiously, his eyes narrowing as he deciphered Madge's words. Katniss thought she saw understanding flash in his eyes, but he didn't say anything, taking a drink of his beer instead.

She wanted to die.

Luckily, Madge's phone started ringing right that moment, and she scooped it out of her purse. Her face lit up when she looked at the screen. "Oh, it's Gale. I gotta take this," she said apologetically. Peeta slid out of the booth to let her out, then he sat back down as she dipped outside to answer the call.

Great, now she was alone with him. Could this night get any worse?

Peeta cleared his throat uncomfortably, taking a sip of his beer. Katniss did the same, chewing on the straw of her drink nervously. She hoped Madge wouldn't be long, but she knew it was a lost cause. After a moment of silence, when it didn't seem like Peeta was going to attempt any sort of small talk with her, she huffed in mild irritation. "You know, she's probably going to be a while, so you don't have to stay here if you'd rather go back to the bar."

He lifted his eyebrows at her words, glancing between her, the bar and the door Madge had walked through. Then he shrugged. "It's kind of rude to leave without saying bye, so I think I'll wait. Unless that was your hint for me to beat it," he said wryly, and she blushed, looking away.

"No, you're welcome to stay," she muttered, distracting herself with her drink. He just hummed in response and picked at the label on his bottle. Silence descended upon them once again, and she stifled a sigh, swirling the ice cubes in her glass.

"So," he finally spoke, catching her eye. "What have you been up to since college?"

She rolled her eyes, averting her gaze again. "Look, I know you don't like me, so you don't have to bother pretending you care about anything in my life," she replied, an edge to her voice. He frowned, sitting back in his seat.

"Well, that attitude certainly isn't doing you any favors," he grumbled, slinging his arm over the back of the booth.

So he admitted it. Her face burned with humiliation, and she glared at him. "Just so you know, I don't like you very much either. You're not as nice as you think."

Surprisingly enough, he smiled at that, his rosy pink lips stretching across his white teeth. "I don't care. I'm not trying to impress you."

She bristled at his insinuation. "I'm not trying to impress you, either," she snapped.

"We're on the same page then. So, what's the problem?" he asked good-naturedly as he sipped his beer.

"There's no problem," she said indifferently, determined to not let him bother her.

His grin widened. "Good." Why was he so amused by this? She sucked down the rest of her gin and tonic to stop herself from snarling at him. He tipped his bottle toward her empty glass. "Would you like another drink?" he asked.

"I can get it myself," she returned evenly, but he'd already caught the eye of a passing server. The smiley brunette practically bounced over to their booth and leaned over the table, giving Peeta a clear shot of her cleavage.

"Hey, Peet. What can I get for you?" she greeted rather flirtatiously. Peeta smiled pleasantly at her.

"A Yuengling, Fiona, if you will," he answered, then he looked to Katniss in questioning. "What would you like?"

"Um, a dry martini," she told the server, who'd turned her gaze on her.

"Put 'em both on my tab, Fiona," Peeta interjected. Fiona flashed him a smile and another shot of her boobs.

"Sure thing, Peet! I'll get those right away." As she turned away, she shot Katniss a puzzling look. Was that jealousy? Wistfulness?

Did everybody know about his pussy-eating ways?

"I don't need you to get my drink," she insisted indignantly. He shrugged it off.

"Didn't think you did. I'm just a nice guy like that," he quipped, and she scoffed.

"Thought you weren't trying to impress me."

"I'm not. That's just what nice guys do."

She scowled at him. How did any girl ever get past his infuriating smugness to even allow him to go down on her? Then again, if his mouth was otherwise preoccupied, he couldn't very well talk, could he? Katniss realized she was staring at his lips again, a pulse of desire throbbing between her legs, and she forced her eyes up to his. He was watching her suspiciously. Shit. He'd caught her staring.

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but luckily the server swooped in again with their drinks, dropping them off on their table. "Here you are! Just let me know if you need anything else," she chirped, winking at Peeta.

"Thanks, Fiona," Peeta returned warmly. With one last suggestive smile, Fiona swiped their empty drinks off the table and retreated. While Katniss eagerly sipped her martini, he fixed her with a pointed look. "So, you wanna try this again? Where you answer my question about what you've been up to like any polite human being would do?"

She bit back her nasty retort and set her drink down. She guessed she at least owed him that, for the drink. "I'm an animal keeper at the zoo," she admitted begrudgingly. He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? That's really cool," he replied, nodding his head in approval. "Any animal in particular?"

"All the mammals." He nodded again, and she forced herself to follow up with her own question. "What about you?" Aside from pleasuring women with your masterful tongue? she tacked on mentally.

"I'm an English teacher at a high school, as well as the wrestling coach," he answered readily.

"Oh. Neat."

Peeta smiled. "I like to think so, yes." He swigged his drink, and when he pulled the bottle away, he licked his lips to catch the beads of beer that clung to the delicate flesh. She was so mesmerized by the gesture, her next question tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it.


Surprise arched his eyebrows, and she instantly flushed with horror. Shit. Where had that come from? Setting his bottle down, he folded his arms in front of him and braced his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. "No," he answered carefully. "Why do you ask?"

Her eyes widened. "Huh? I mean, no reason, it just—it seemed like a polite thing to ask. You already know I got dumped, so." She brought her glass to her lips and swallowed the beverage desperately, hoping her blush wasn't so obvious in the bar lighting.

He was still watching her closely, and she had to look away. "Hm, I see. No, my last serious relationship was over a year ago," he said flippantly.

That surprised her. "Why?"

He furrowed his brow at her question and laughed a little. "What do you mean why?"

Katniss shrugged, fiddling with the olive garnish in her martini. Why was she talking so much? Oh, right. Gin. "Madge made you out to be quite a, um, desirable partner," she mumbled, twisting the toothpick between her fingers. She spared him a glance before dropping her gaze back to her glass again.

Peeta made a curious noise in the back of his throat. Then he chuckled. "That was four years ago. And she dumped me. I find that hard to believe."

Because she'd wanted to date Gale, Katniss remembered. She shrugged again. "I guess your reputation precedes you."

Again, he stared at her intently, perplexed by her vague statements. She really needed to shut up. Taking another large gulp of her martini, she glanced anxiously at the door. Where the hell was Madge? Her friend needed to come back and stop her from further embarrassing herself.

Peeta was quiet for a moment, and his silence drew her gaze back to him. The barest hint of a smirk teased the corners of his mouth, and her stomach flipped. "So, why did you and your boyfriend break up?" he asked. The question felt leading.

She rubbed the frayed end of her braids between her fingers, unsure how to answer. "Umm, we just...had different ideas...about things."

He squinted at her. "That really tells me nothing. What was that Madge was saying earlier, about him not being very giving...?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she coughed to clear her throat. "Uh, Madge doesn't know what she's talking about," she demurred, rimming the edge of her glass with her fingertip.

"Oh, so you'd say he was pretty giving?"

She stared at him dumbly. He feigned an expression of mock concern, and she suddenly felt flushed and hot, and she knew it wasn't from the alcohol. Fuck. He'd caught on to her. Well, fine. She pursed her lips, lifting her chin higher. "No, actually. He wasn't at all," she said, her tone firm and challenging. He smiled slightly.

"Well, that's rather unfortunate, then," he replied, echoing Madge's words from earlier. Katniss frowned, looking away.

"So I've heard," she muttered.

Peeta scoffed and sipped his beer. "Heard? I hope you know."

Her cheeks burned, and she kept her eyes riveted to her drink. "Why? You wanna show me?"

A beat of silence followed her words, and she panicked internally. Shit shit shit. What did she just do?

He finally exhaled loudly. "Did you just ask me to go down on you?" he asked incredulously, and she turned her eyes on him, horrified.

"What?! No, I—" Her voice caught in her throat; she didn't know what to say because, really, that's exactly what she'd asked.

Peeta eyed her strangely and tilted his head to the side. "You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, Katniss," he admonished, and she shot him a dubious look.

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head, a smirk on his lips again. "Trying to seduce me. I don't just go down on anybody."

Her lip curled in disgust, her blood starting to roil. "I think you think a little too highly of yourself," she all but sneered, but his face broke into a grin.

"Nah. I've got it on good authority that I'm pretty damn good at it," he said haughtily. Katniss scoffed and looked away, taking a sip of her martini.


He didn't speak for a moment, but she felt his eyes on her. She tried to keep her expression trained as one of disinterest as she scanned the bar. Seriously, how fucking long did Madge need to talk to Gale for? They lived together, for fuck's sake.

When Peeta spoke again, his voice almost startled her. It was quieter, more intense this time. "Seriously, Katniss, no guy's ever made you scream with just his tongue before?" he asked. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, a squeak sticking in her throat. Her mouth opened and closed comically as she struggled through the haze of alcohol and embarrassment for a response.

"I—I'm not going to answer that," she stammered, going for defiant, but her voice cracked. He quirked an eyebrow.

"That's a no, then."

Her fingers twitched around the stem of her glass; she wanted to throw her drink in his face and storm out, but even drunk she realized the reaction was a bit extreme. After all, she was the one who had steered the conversation in this direction, wasn't she? She debated grabbing her phone and texting Madge to demand that she come back.

"Okay, I'll do it."

Her head snapped in his direction at his words, her eyes round. "Huh?"

He nodded his head resolutely, almost to himself, pursing his lips. "I'll go down on you. Your seduction technique needs a little work, but I feel that it's my duty as a good Samaritan to help you with this."

She blinked rapidly, too stunned to be offended. Her head was too foggy to formulate a snappy response. She probably should throw her drink in his face, definitely, but she couldn't deny she was interested. And so incredibly turned on. She didn't even like him, but, damn, she wanted his mouth on her. "Okay," she wheezed, then shook the cloud from her mind. "When?"

He chuckled quietly, folding his arms on the table again. "Well, definitely not now. You're drunk."

This time she was able to work up the appropriate amount of offense. "So? I'm not blitzed, I know what I'm doing," she snapped, but he continued to smirk infuriatingly at her. He reached across the table, and her breath stalled as his hand neared her. But he just snatched the olives from her drink, the toothpick pinched between his fingers.

"No, that's not why. I just want you fully sober so you can feel everything," he said slowly, pronouncing every syllable of the last word purposefully. His voice had dropped even lower, practically dripping with sex and promise. His eyes locked with hers as he carefully wrapped his tongue around the olives, his teeth tugging them off the toothpick. Even drunk, she felt the arousal seeping between her thighs, and she took a shaky breath, her head spinning.

What had she gotten herself into?

Katniss was immensely glad she lived alone; trying to explain to a roommate why a strange man was coming to her apartment would have been awkward, especially once they disappeared into her bedroom for the night. She hadn't even mentioned to Madge that Peeta had agreed to come over to her place for the sole purpose of performing oral sex on her.

At the thought, she simultaneously thrilled and dry-heaved from anxiety. It was nerve-racking enough to let a man she'd already been intimate with go down on her, but a man she hardly knew (and who'd also eaten her best friend out)? Fuck, this was a bad idea.

Still, it was Wednesday night, and here she sat on the couch, watching TV without really watching it as she anxiously awaited his arrival. In the four days since she'd last seen him, since they'd set up this appointment of sorts, she could have sent him a text at any point calling the whole thing off. She almost had, numerous times. But then she'd envision his mouth again, and the way his tongue curled around those olives, and she'd talk herself right back into thinking this was an acceptable plan.

She really hoped Madge knew what she was talking about.

An abrupt knock on the front door startled her, and she jumped off the couch. She made herself take a deep breath and smoothed her hair down before calmly approaching the door. Her hand froze on the door knob, but she choked down her nerves and forced her hand to turn, throwing the door open. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him on the other side. How did he get even more attractive in four days?

His shoulder was braced against the door frame, the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing stretched tight across his chest and his backwards baseball cap shielding his blonde curls. He was smirking at her.


Her face settled into her familiar scowl. He laughed at the sudden change in her expression. "Is that any way to greet somebody who's about to do you a huge favor?"

She pursed her lips, willing her scowl away. "I wouldn't say huge..." she grumbled, stepping aside to let him in. He pushed off the frame and shrugged.

"We'll see." He breezed past her but stopped in the hallway, waiting for her to shut the door. When she approached him, she realized he was watching her expectantly. Shit. Her nerves came rushing back, but she tried to play it cool.

"Well, we can, uh, go to my room, I guess..."

He made a face. "Whoa, slow down, Everdeen. You gotta wine and dine me a little first. I want to feel special, too, you know."

She gawked at him, her face filling with heat, and he laughed again. Huffing, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't have any food," she said stubbornly.

"Just beer is fine, if you've got it."

Katniss stomped into the kitchen and yanked the refrigerator door open. Grabbing a bottle of hard cider, she held it out to him. He scrunched his nose in distaste at the offering but took it from her hand. "Woodchuck, really?"

"It's all I've got," she defended petulantly. He sighed but twisted the cap off, tossing it in the nearby trashcan. She circled around him and headed into the living room, Peeta on her heel.

"So, you'll drink gin but not beer?" he asked as he followed behind her.

"They're completely different," she replied.

"Yeah, in that gin tastes like shit," he replied. She shot him another scowl as she plopped down on the couch; she was not prepared for him to sit down beside her, and she pulled her head back to eye him suspiciously. He was so close, their thighs touched.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. He looked at her like she was stupid, and he sipped his cider.

"In a little while I'm gonna have my face buried in your crotch, and you're worried about a little bodily proximity?" he deadpanned. Again, her face flushed, and she looked away, choosing not to respond. They watched the TV in silence for a few minutes, Katniss fidgeting while Peeta swigged his drink. Finally, he sighed. "Maybe you should have a drink, too? You're clearly on edge."

She frowned and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Thought you didn't want me drunk for this."

"Are you gonna get drunk off of one Woodchuck?" he asked wryly. "I don't know, have a glass of water or something, whatever. Your fidgeting is making me uncomfortable."

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and wandered back into the kitchen. She was filling a glass with water from the sink when she spotted her bottle of vodka. She quickly grabbed a shot glass from the cabinet and filled it to the brim with vodka, sucking the shot down greedily. It burned all the way down. Coughing, she slammed the glass down and swallowed a few gulps of water. Back in the living room, she sat down next to Peeta and snatched the Woodchuck from him to cleanse her palette of the lingering taste of cheap vodka. He shot her a look but didn't say anything as she handed the bottle back to him.

Again, they fell into silence, save for the background noise of the TV. She gripped her cup tightly, sipping the water periodically. Clearing her throat, she tried to rack her brain for something to say but came up short. She really hated small talk.

"Your apartment is really bare," Peeta threw out, catching her off guard. At her baffled look, he gestured to her living room. "I mean, you have no decorations or art or anything. It's strange."

She bristled as his insult. "And what, you're like a regular Martha Stewart over here or something?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I mean, my place actually looks like somebody lives there," he said indifferently, taking a deep pull of his cider.

"Is this your normal flirting style?" she asked drily. "Insult a girl and then eat her out?"

He chuckled at that. "No, I normally take her out to eat and then eat her out," he replied smugly.

"And how did I get so lucky?" she muttered. He shrugged.

"You're the one who invited me over. And I didn't even get a meal out of the arrangement."

"You didn't have to agree to this, you know," she snipped. "I would have survived."

He reached over and tugged on her braid. "I dunno, maybe you should wait to make that assessment until after you experience it."

She had to resist the urge to shrug his hand off; it was a natural reflex for her, but if she was being honest, it was more of a reaction to how the simple gesture made her heart beat double in speed than any revulsion at his touch. She just stared stonily at the television, wondering how she could move things along to the bedroom already. At least then maybe he'd stop talking.

"You live alone?" he asked after a moment. She nodded her head and turned to say something else, but her mouth clamped shut when she realized his face was inches from hers. Her eyes went wide when his free hand came up to cup her jaw; his palm was slightly damp from the condensation on the bottle. His mouth was so tantalizingly close, she closed her eyes, expecting the touch of his lips to hers next, but it didn't come. She peered at him again a moment later; he was still watching her, his blue eyes a darker shade than just moments before. He shifted his thumb to drag it back and forth across her bottom lip; it slipped between the seam of her mouth, skimming over her teeth. Blinking rapidly, she found her lips parting of their own accord, her tongue thrusting forward ever so slightly to touch the tip of his thumb. He smiled and pulled down on her chin to open her mouth farther; he moved closer so his mouth was aligned with hers, but, frustratingly enough, he still didn't press his lips to hers.

She couldn't wait any longer; she tipped her chin just enough to close the distance, their lips locking together. She felt his flicker into a wider smile for the briefest of seconds before he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to hers. He tasted like apples. She parted her lips even more, allowing him to sweep his tongue into her mouth. His hand slid behind her ear to curl around her hair, and he tilted his face to the side to fit their lips together more seamlessly as their tongues twined together. She inhaled shakily, deeply, through her nose, unwilling to retract her mouth from his in order to breathe; she heard him do the same, his breath hot on her cheek.

She had the sudden urge to wrap herself around him completely. Her hands were moving before she was aware of it, and she felt the cup of water slip from her hands and tumble to the floor. She broke away with a gasp. "Shit!" she cursed, already propelling her body off the couch to clean it up, but Peeta held her down, turning her face back to his.

"It's just water, forget it," he breathed, his lips grazing hers as he spoke, and then his tongue was licking its way back into her mouth, and the water was completely forgotten.

She slid her hands over his shoulders and the back of his neck, her fingers curling in the hair at his nape as they continued to explore each other's mouths. His hair was soft, and she slipped her fingers farther along his scalp, under his hat, lifting it off his head. His curls were slightly damp from sweat, stifled by his hat. She tugged on his hair gently; Peeta moaned around her tongue and retracted his hand from her head to yank his hat off completely, dropping it to the floor and setting his bottle down. Then he tugged on her hips to shift her underneath his broad body, reclining them both backwards until he was resting half on top of her.

She didn't know how long they remained in that position, making out. It felt like hours and yet no time at all. She was acutely aware of his hand trailing up and down her side, stopping just below her breast before skimming back down to her hip. She just wanted him to grab her tits already. No amount of subtle thrusting of her chest upward seemed to clue him in, though. What the hell was he waiting for?

When his lips finally released hers, she took a deep, gasping breath. His mouth trailed along her jaw, her neck, her collar bone, his tongue flicking teasingly over her pulse point. She could feel his erection digging into her hip, and she realized how uncomfortable she was in their current position on the couch.

"Where do you wanna do this?" he murmured hotly in her ear, nipping at her lobe. "Here? Your bedroom?"

She had to force her words out, struggling through the haze of lust, choking on a moan. "Umm, the—my bedroom."

He moved away then, and the absence of his warmth and weight was so startling, she was too disoriented to move until he pulled her to her feet alongside him. She stared up at him; his cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen. He quirked an eyebrow at her expectantly. "Lead the way."

"Right," she said stupidly, turning away to head to her room. She pushed the door open and felt her way to her bed to flip on the bedside table lamp. When she looked back at Peeta, she saw that he had shut the door and was already pulling his shirt off. "Oh," she breathed, gawking at the expanse of taut muscles in his abdomen and chest, then she shook her head to spur herself into action. She weakly struggled to remove her own shirt while Peeta toed off his shoes, then he crossed to her in two strides, fisting her shirt in his hands to swiftly tug it over her head. He dipped his head to hers to capture her mouth again, his tongue plying hers insistently as his fingers worked the closure of her jeans, parting her fly. She helped him shimmy them down her hips and thighs, then kicked them off the rest of the way. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on her toes to gain better access to his mouth.

After a moment, he pulled back, his hands tangled in her braid and gripping her neck. "Are you okay with me seeing you completely naked?" he asked quietly, his eyes holding her gaze. She blinked, and her brow creased slightly.

"No...I mean, yeah, that's fine," she replied hesitantly. He was going to be face-first with her crotch—what did him seeing her breasts matter, really? He leaned down to kiss her again as his fingers grappled with the clasp of her bra, and then she felt the tension of the contraption release. She dropped her arms from his shoulders so he could slide the bra off, licking her lips self-consciously once her breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze. Okay, maybe she should have left the light off...

But he still didn't touch her breasts, instead maneuvering her to her bed and laying her down. They moved together until her head was on the pillow, and he was positioned between her legs, his body stretched out on top of hers. He slanted his mouth over hers again, and she welcomed his tongue readily, her hands pawing at his back. Finally, finally, he covered one of her breasts with his hand, and she sighed into his mouth; she felt him smile as he began to knead her breast, rolling her nipple under his palm. He spent an inordinate amount of time just massaging her breasts, pulling and tweaking her nipples with his fingers; she was desperate for him to use his mouth already.

Withdrawing her tongue from his mouth, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, gently but urgently. He grunted, and she released his lip to let him slide down her body. He fluttered kisses along her neck and chest until his lips wrapped around her nipple; he pulled the hardened bud into the wet suction of his mouth, and she dipped her head back with a soft, satisfied moan. Oh, that was good—and when he nipped it between his teeth, even better.

Wet heat pooled between her thighs at an increasing rate, and her clit throbbed, demanding relief. Katniss dug her fingers into his back muscles and unconsciously began thrusting up into him, angling her pelvis to rub against his erection.

His ministrations to her breasts stopped abruptly, the fading warmth of his hand and mouth leaving her feeling cold as he pinned her hips to the bed to stop her thrusts. "Don't," he ordered huskily, laughing when she shot him a confused scowl. "Just let yourself get wet. I want you dripping."

His words shocked her, an electric pulse of desire shooting down her spine to swell at her core. She dropped her head back to the pillow with a strangled sound. He sat up then, his fingers skimming her hips as he hooked them in the sides of her underwear. "Actually, I'm gonna go ahead and take these off," he said. Her stomach tensed, but she didn't resist, lifting her ass some to help him slide her panties off. She was very glad she'd done a lot of maintenance before he'd come over. She was still uncomfortable with her legs spread before him, however, so she began to twist over to turn off the light, but he stopped her. "I like to be able to see what I'm doing," he explained, arching an eyebrow.

"Okay," she agreed nervously, lying her head back down on her pillow. She kept her gaze trained on the ceiling, worrying her lip between her teeth, trying to ignore the heat of his stare between her thighs. When he pressed a kiss to her knee, trailing his lips slowly down the inside of her thigh, her eyelids fluttered closed. She felt the bed shift under her as he settled on the mattress, his hands pushing her thighs open some more. She wasn't sure if she was more anxious than aroused at this point, and she didn't know if her expectations on how this was going to go were too high or too low. What if there was something wrong with her, and he couldn't get her off? What if he did get her off, and it was the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life? She actually had no idea which would be more problematic.

She felt his warm breath on her incredibly wet folds, making her shiver. Goosebumps erupted along her skin, and she fisted the sheets at her sides. How was she about to let a man she hardly knew go down on her? And why hadn't she taken two shots of vodka?

Suddenly, the tip of his tongue was there, trailing the line of her slit teasingly, and a startled gasp hitched in her throat, her fingers curling into the sheets tighter. He did it again, and again, and her teeth were digging so hard into her bottom lip, she was sure she was going to puncture the flesh. Already it felt better than anything Darius had ever done, and Peeta was merely teasing her—maybe that was why. His index and middle finger tugged down on her labia then to spread her open; when she felt his tongue dip between her folds, she whimpered in the back of her throat, trying to cease the quivering of her thighs and abdomen through sheer will power but failing miserably.

With his free hand braced against her thigh, Peeta kept her spread open with his fingers as he dragged his tongue through her folds repeatedly, licking up her arousal. Katniss' chest began to ache with the breath she was holding, and she released it in a long, shuddering moan. At the sound, he thrust his tongue inside her; she squeaked, reflexively clamping her thighs shut, but he pushed them open again, applying a little more force as he dipped his tongue inside her, over and over, drawing her wetness into his mouth. She could just make out the sounds of his lips and tongue moving through her arousal over the sounds of her own embarrassing pants and whimpers, and it made her ache that much more. "Oh," she breathed, her hips gyrating slightly against his face. "I...oh, oh."

She felt a vibration in her folds—was he laughing? She was too delirious too care what he found so amusing, just as long as he kept doing what he was doing.

She couldn't believe how good it felt—how had Darius done it so wrong before? Or maybe Peeta was in fact a wunderkind of exceptional cunnilingus proportions. Madge had been right about him; how did she ever dump him?

Katniss whined when he unsealed his mouth from her folds, already lifting her head up to admonish him until she felt his tongue circle her clit. She grunted in surprise, gasping when he proceeded to flick and prod the hooded cleft, alternating the pressure of these simple gestures. Suddenly, her grip on the sheets wasn't enough to anchor her to the moment—she needed to hold onto him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair; she tried to pull him closer, tried to convey her approval. Her breaths were short and fast, her breasts heaving slightly as she pushed air in and out of her lungs.

His lips encircled her clit then, and he sucked it into his mouth. "Ah!" she yelped; if she was capable of any self-awareness in that moment, she might have been mortified at the sounds she was making. Her moans, the motions of her hips on the bed, grew more desperate as he sucked harder, and when he pushed two fingers inside her, she groaned loudly, tugging on his curls.

"Peeta," she mewled unnecessarily, and he moaned in response, the sound reverberating around her clit. Holy shit. She felt the pleasure budding fast between her thighs, and her moans filled the otherwise silent room. His fingers pumped in and out of her, faster still as he worried her clit between his lips, under his tongue; she was beyond reason or care—she slammed one hand against the headboard above her head, her back bowing off the bed as she came. An incoherent shout tumbled from her lips, and her body quaked. He continued to suckle her clit while tremors of her orgasm washed over her; she was reduced to wordless sounds and pants, her hands clenching and unclenching his hair in time with the spasms of her walls around his fingers.

After a moment, Peeta finally released her clit and dipped his tongue into her again to lap up her slickness. When he sat up, his lips and chin glistening, he sucked his fingers into his mouth to clean them off, then he grinned at her, raising his eyebrows in questioning. "Well, did I change your mind?" he asked smugly.

She was too dazed to respond, so she just covered her face with her hand, inhaling tremulously. Jesus Christ. The bed shifted, and she opened her eyes again, confused to see him moving off the bed. Her brow furrowed, and she sat up on her elbows. "Wait, what are you doing?" she asked hoarsely. He glanced at her, mildly amused.

"What do you mean? You want something more from me?"

She blinked. "You're not—we're not gonna have sex?" she asked incredulously.

His eyebrows shot up. "You wanna have sex with me?"

Her mouth opened and closed, and her eyes dropped to his very obvious erection. He noticed the line of her stare and adjusted his hard-on beneath his pants. "You don't?"

He laughed and stood up, unzipping his pants. "I mean, yeah, but that wasn't originally part of the deal, so I didn't want to just assume. I thought this was just a ruse to get me to go down on you, after all."

He was mostly right. She didn't want to tell him she'd only made up her mind about having sex with him the moment she came, so she just twisted toward her nightstand to find a condom while he took off his pants and boxer-briefs. Her eyes flickered back to him and his cock, and she nearly dropped the condom in shock.

Well, shit.

Peeta took the condom from her, watching her face intently, and she tried to play it cool as he sheathed himself with the prophylactic, digging up some lube in her nightstand. After he'd rolled the condom onto his cock, he crawled onto the bed between her legs, pausing to let her coat him with the lube and issuing a soft sigh at her touch. Then he hunched down over her and captured her mouth in a slower kiss, cupping her breast in his hand. She arched into his palm, sliding her lube-slick hands over his shoulders and back. The movements of their mouths grew more heated and frenzied, and she found her head lifting off the pillow as she sought his tongue out. When she felt the head of his cock grazing through her folds, she broke the kiss and forced him onto his back, climbing over him to straddle his waist; if she was on top, this might not hurt as much. He was definitely bigger than Darius.

Peeta's eyes went wide, and he exhaled loudly. "Well, shit, Katniss," he breathed in awe, grabbing her thighs as she reached between her legs to position his cock.

Shifting her hips back, she pushed his head through her folds then sunk down on him until her pelvis was flush with his. She inhaled sharply as her walls stretched to accommodate him; she was so full, it was almost painful. Peeta groaned softly, his chin tipped upward. His jaw flexed with the sound, and she saw his throat ripple with the hard swallow he took.

Katniss began rolling her hips, bracing her hands against his stomach. His hands were firmly wrapped around her waist to aid her movements; he lifted his own hips off the bed just slightly to thrust into her every time she rocked forward. Everything felt so good still; despite the fatigue pressing at her peripheral, her body still felt like it was on fire, aching to be quenched again. She felt too good to be self-conscious anymore. Prying his hands from her waist, she brought them up to her chest, molding them to cup her breasts.

"Damn," he hissed, bucking his hips against hers as he kneaded the flesh in his palms. He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around her to pull her closer, to bring her breasts to his face. He sucked the tip of one into his mouth to tug it with his teeth, and she moaned. His free hand snaked between their bodies to secure her clit between his fingers, drawing a pleased gasp from her throat; she moved faster as he stroked her, his mouth never leaving her breast.

There—she could feel the pleasure surging again, faster, sharper, and she cried out abruptly, rocking erratically on top of him. He tilted his head back to look up at her.

"Fuck, again already?" he growled, circling her clit faster with his fingers while she rode out her orgasm; she was unable to respond and just held onto his shoulders, gasping and shuddering, her walls clenching his cock inside her. The euphoria was short-lived, however, and her head lolled forward to rest against his. Peeta grabbed her hips and rolled her underneath him, but he pulled out of her. She felt strangely hollow.

"Can I fuck you from behind?" he asked, his voice low and throaty, and she nodded eagerly.

"Yes," she gasped, twisting onto her stomach. Peeta pulled her hips up so she was kneeling before him, and she collapsed forward on her elbows, pulling her pillow down to hug to her chest. When he pushed into her, she groaned at the fullness, muffling the rest of her inhuman sounds in the pillow.

He moved fast, his grunts punctuating the sound of his hips connecting with her ass. She jerked forward every time he thrust into her, but he held her steady with one arm looped around her hips. She felt his sac hitting the back of her thigh; if she wasn't so useless right then, she might have reached between their legs to grab it, but it was all she could do to hold on, her face buried in the pillow. She already felt sore, but she didn't care, arching her back to push her hips backward to meet his, squeezing his cock inside her.

He issued a low, gravelly moan then. "I'm gonna come, Katniss," he warned, his hips whipping into hers faster; she just moaned in response. He pumped into her a few more times before stilling completely, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself into the condom. He sighed when he pulled out, releasing his hold on her, and she slid down to the mattress bonelessly. Peeta got up, to dispose of the condom she assumed, and she rolled onto her back as he disappeared into her adjoining bathroom. She knew she should clean up, too, but the exhaustion she'd felt creeping in earlier was back now, stronger than before; keeping her eyes open was a chore.

She was vaguely aware when he returned, the bed dipping under his weight. "I should go," he whispered near her ear. Her eyes fluttered open, and she made a protesting noise, barely aware of her own movements.

"No, stay," she mumbled, yawning as she rolled away to nuzzle down in the pillow. He didn't respond for a moment, and she was almost asleep when he finally whispered back, "Okay," the word just barely reaching her through the fog of sleep as he lay down beside her, cocooning her against his side.

Katniss was confused when she woke up. A fully dressed Peeta was standing over her next to the bed, smiling slightly at her, but it was still dark out, and the bedside lamp was on. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she felt well-rested, like she'd slept for hours. She blinked up at him blearily, trying to process the situation. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but I definitely gotta get going now," he said, his voice hushed. She looked around her room for a clock she couldn't locate.

"What time is it?" she croaked, tugging the sheet up to shield her naked body.

"Almost 5. I've got to get into work before 7, though, and I need to go home and shower," he explained. She just nodded dumbly and sat up on her elbow, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. A throbbing soreness between her legs became apparent then, and she flashed back through their night together. She was immediately filled with heat and embarrassment, now that the haze of lust had been lifted.

"Ummm, okay. Yeah. Well, um...thank you, I guess," she said quietly, dropping his gaze. Shit, this was awkward. She should have let him leave last night when he originally wanted to—what had she been thinking, asking him to stay? In the blissful aftermath of her orgasms, she'd just felt so good and carefree, and he'd felt so warm and steady next to her, she hadn't wanted that feeling to end just yet.

But now she just felt stupid.

Chuckling gruffly, he knelt down beside the bed so he was eye level with her. She looked at him strangely. "If you whip out your checkbook, things might get a little awkward," he joked, and she finally cracked a smile, blushing slightly. He squinted at her as he considered her for a moment. "Are you free this weekend?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "I—yeah, I think so. Why?"

He grinned. "You're taking me on a date; your treat. I feel like you owe me for putting out."

She laughed incredulously then, only mildly mortified, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Um, okay. I guess that's fair." Did she actually just agree to go out with him? Amazing how a good tongue fucking could completely change your opinion on somebody.

Peeta pushed off the floor to stand up again. "Just call me or text me a day and time later," he said, and she nodded shyly. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I had fun," he murmured in her ear. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Me, too."

He chuckled again as he straightened. "I know," he replied cockily, and her smile dipped into a scowl. She rolled her eyes.

"Get out of my apartment," she ordered, though there was no real threat in her tone.

He was already walking toward the door when he threw over his shoulder, "I'm partial to Mexican food, by the way." Opening the door, he turned to face her fully and grinned at her. "I'll see you later."

And then he was gone. She flopped back down to the bed when her bedroom door shut and huffed thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling as she thought back over their night together. A shiver ran through her as she recalled the way his tongue felt between her thighs, and she sighed wistfully.

Now, exactly how weird was it to date your best friend's ex, she wondered?