Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.

For Aquarpisc. I hope you love it!

Thank you to my beta: fnur and to misshoneywell for all their help.


Part One


"Lick my stick?"

My head whips around to meet the bright green eyes of Finnick Odair, who smiles seductively toward me with a cocked eyebrow.

"What?"

"Sorry" he grins impossibly wider, flashing a peppermint stick in-between his fingers. "Oral fixation."

"Oh..." I take the stick from his hand and hold it up a little in a silent thank you before swiping it past my lips nervously. It's only been a few weeks since I started working here regularly and although I hadn't been so stupid as to expect to grow used to it overnight, I have a feeling I will never get used to porn stars approaching me. Especially ones as famous as Finnick Odair who are scarcely dressed and telling me to lick their sticks.

Dear lord.

There's a strange feeling I've only experienced a couple times before... it's kinda like everything around me looks shiny and off balance and I can't quite remember why I'm there or what I'm doing...

Standing here, clutching the table set off to the side of me and staring into the sea-green eyes of Finnick Odair has me wondering what the hell I'm doing here.

Two weeks ago, I was working at a low-grade coffee shop located ten minutes from my apartment and directly across the street from a Starbucks. Our target audience was the inner-city hipsters who felt Starbucks was "too mainstream" and chose to choke on our watered-down blends instead.

Business was slow, tips were nothing to write home about and the hours were too long for the wages I was making...

Basically, I hated it. But, it was a job and in a bad economy, a job at a shitty coffee house is better than nothing at all. It paid the bills on my shitty apartment and bought me shitty food and left room for little to nothing else in between.

So after a particularly decent tip day, I decided to wash a load of clothing down at the laundromat - because honestly, soap and water in the kitchen sink only goes so far. The place was pretty empty, with just two other people sitting silently in front of their machines. As I fed the washer my quarters, I noticed from the corner of my eye someone looking up at me over their magazine every so often. From the few glances I chanced, she looked familiar... but I couldn't pinpoint where I'd seen her before exactly, and wasn't about to go ask.

Probably school, I'd figured, taking the open seat one down from hers.

Having the balls I lacked, she introduced herself as Annie and made some sort of joke about the prices being too damn high here. As it turns out, she actually lives in the same apartment building as me and had recognized me from awkward elevator trips and the few times she found herself desperate for a cup of coffee and the Starbucks line too long.

"That shit sucks, just so you know," she chuckled with a raised eyebrow and I actually allowed myself to smirk, nodding in agreement.

We got to talking, bumped into each other in a couple random places over the next couple of weeks and Annie came to learn that I had been desperately searching for a job.

Turns out she had one for me.

She had warned me it was less than ideal, to be the on-set bitch but it paid significantly more than the coffee shop and had better hours. Plus, all I had to do was keep a steady supply of food available for the stars, run a few errands here and there and then basically... just... stand around.

"I don't think we've officially met since you've started on set," Finnick says, bringing my focus back to the present and extending a hand in my direction. The gesture seems oddly formal given the circumstances, but I accept it anyway, taking hold of his warm hand in my own and giving it a firm shake.

"Katniss Everdeen," I offer when he doesn't loosen his grip. His mouth hangs half open mid-reply when his name is shouted across the set loudly. Our heads snap in the direction of the voice to meet the gaze of the stage director who curls a finger in Finnick's direction.

"I uh... think you're needed."

"I think you're right," Finnick says with the nod of his head before he throws it back dramatically and places the back of his palm over his forehead. "Oh, the perils of being a celebrity."

I smirk and he rolls his eyes playfully before giving my shoulder a pat.

"Catch ya later, Katniss," he calls out, mid-step. As he walks, he begins to unfasten the belt of his thin robe, allowing it to fall into a lump on the floor. I catch the faintest glimpse of his ass before averting my eyes to the table as a deep heat stings the back of my neck.

"You know... for being on a porn set you sure do blush a lot."

I look up from the bowl of apples I've been eyeing for the past minute to meet Annie's smirking gaze. Her arms are folded across her middle and her left eyebrow is raised in a perfect arch. My hand grabs hold of one of the apples, tossing it back and forth between my palms with a shrug. Because, what could I really say? Nudity makes me uncomfortable. It's actually hard for me to not close my eyes right now... I don't understand how someone can just walk around with everything... hanging... out.

"You're a tomato!" she accuses with a snort. "What? Do you think he's cute?"

"Wha? Ugh, no! I-"

"Oh just stare, would you?" she nudges playfully before her eyes glaze over slightly and her arms turn to jelly. "He's got an ass carved by the gods..."

"Or a stair master..."

"Annie!" Finnick turns around to call and she laughs when I let out a small and uncomfortable groan at his... front view. Her top teeth stick out to clamp down on her lower lip and she swipes her tongue over it slowly before stepping past me to catch up with him.

Annie isn't an "errand girl" like me. Though, when I had made the mistake of asking her, she kindly informed me (after laughing in my face) that there was nothing wrong with being the "errand girl", it's just that she was not one.

"So... if you're not a... you know-"

"A porn star?"

"Yeah," I spoke quickly, my cheeks stinging. "If you're not one of those, and you don't help out around set... what do you do?"

"Oh I help out around set, I just handle more delicate matters than food."

When I raised an eyebrow at her Annie cheekily informed me that she was Finnick's "personal assistant" which was basically the more acceptable way of admitting to being his "fluffer."

Hand-picked by Finnick Odair himself, Annie has been "assisting" Mr. Odair for over two years now, helping to get him (and keep him) aroused in between his takes.

"My mom thinks I work in an office," she'd snorted, wiping tears from her eyes from what I could only imagine my expression looked like.

God only knows what my mother would say if she learned about my current employment. Not that it's any of her business what I choose to do with my life, but she always seems to pry her nose where it doesn't belong anyway. We haven't talked much since I left home for school and each of our brief conversations and visits have been marked as unpleasant at best. But, I still keep in touch with my little sister, Primrose. She's seventeen now, a senior in high school and has aspirations to move on to med school to become a nurse, possibly even a doctor.

She's smarter than I was back in high school, and has worked hard to earn different scholarships and acceptances into schools across the country. I'm proud of her, and quite honestly relieved for her, that she won't go through the same financial stress to pay off loans and bills that I am currently.

"Quiet on the set!" A stage manager calls out as the lights dim in the background. I hadn't been aware people outside of old Hollywood movies actually said: quiet on the set.

Plutarch Heavensbee appears a moment later, walking past me briskly, creating a small wind that trails behind him. It took me a while to understand that he was the director, because in comparison to his "help" he's much quieter and mild. But he's perceptive, and when he notices something is off he quickly adjusts it before moving on. Mostly when they're filming, I watch him - partly because it still feels weird to watch two (who am I kidding, sometimes even three or four) people going at it, but also because he gets this strange look on his face as he observes. His eyes kind of squint, and he rubs the side of cheek while his pen taps against the notebook he holds. If something goes wrong, he only holds a hand part way up, and wordlessly production stops. If it's right, he simply allows the actors to follow through.

It's odd, but I find his presence to be an odd mix of comfort and intimidation.

"Where is Finnick?" he wonders, glancing around the open room with furrowed eyebrows.

Johanna Mason, another well-known star in the industry, climbs up on top of the large bed in the center of the "room" and pulls the covers over her legs. The thin piece of lingerie she sports outlines her nipples completely and does little to hide what the bottom half of her looks like. I turn my head in embarrassment, feeling my cheeks and neck sting and go back to counting damn apples.

Five, six, seven...

"I don't know, but he better hurry the fuck up!" Johanna shouts the last part, intending for Finnick to hear, and plays with a styled spike of her short hair. "Things are getting a little dry on this end."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Finnick huffs, filing out of a room off to the left, Annie follows a minute later. I only let my eyes skim far enough to see his exposed calves and turn back to the fruit, listening as I hear him jump onto the bed, adjusting the covers over him with a loud and dramatic sigh.

"Ready, princess?" Johanna teases and Finnick snaps his teeth at her playfully.

I made the mistake of asking Annie one time if they were a couple, and she laughed at me, barely able to get the words out for several minutes but just shaking her head from left to right.

"No!" she bellowed, like I was really fucking dense for not knowing. "Just good friends. You should have seen them the first time they had a scene together - like deer in the headlights!"

"You mean they knew each other before..."

"Yup," she snickered. "Old roommates. Both tried out and signed for extra cash, never thought they'd end up working with one another."

Johanna lets out a loud and passion-filled gasp which causes my head to snap up in her direction. Her head cranes back as Finnick laps at her neck, his hands busily roaming over her body as hers stay firmly planted in his hair.

"Ohhh Keith."

"Keith? Really?"

I turn in the direction of the quiet voice curiously and come face-to-face with a man I've never seen around here before. He has one hand shoved in his jeans pocket and the other reaches out for a donut bite, shoving it past his lips as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"I mean, are they even trying anymore? Finnick doesn't even look like a-"

"Keith! Oh fuck, Keith!"

"God," he breathes, his lips pressed together in a hard line. "Whadda shame."

I glance around, expecting someone else to be standing in my proximity but the man only laughs, tugging at his button down shirt before taking a step closer. He stands on the opposite side of the table than me, but now is directly across the way.

"Sorry," he smirks, before his eyes glance down at my hand on top of the apple bowl. "You gonna take that?"

"Erm... no, no, you can have it."

"Probably should. These donuts are trouble."

"Addictive," I agree and he lets out a soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

"Right?"

"Shhh!" someone from sound crew hisses, frowning deeply in our direction before moving on to the other side of the set. His smile increases as he takes a bite of the apple, chomping so loudly it has to be on purpose.

He has deep blue eyes that sort of glisten when he tips his head and they catch on the dim lights, and I see faint signs of freckles that paint his fair cheeks. His hair is a deep shade of blonde and sits in an unruly mess of waves on top of his head.

He's pretty handsome. And completely out of my league.

And yet, he continues to stand in front of me, biting into his apple and occasionally locking eyes to which he smiles briefly before I pull away embarrassed. I feel like it's my turn to say something, but nothing in particular comes to mind, so instead I switch my weight from foot to foot and stare down at my fingers tapping against the wood of the table.

"I'm Katniss," I finally breathe and think about adding what I do around here, but judging by the fact that I have not left this damn table's side all day, I'm sure it's pretty obvious.

"Keith," he grins, tossing his core into the garbage can. I look up at him incredulously and he actually lets out a laugh before extending a hand out to me. "Kidding, I'm Peeta. But, you have to admit, I had you fooled for like... point five of a second."

"Nice to meet you, Peeta," I smirk. "And I was a little fooled."

"Knew it."

He doesn't offer up his position to me either, but judging on his attire - a plain white shirt, jeans and heavy boots - I'd be willing to guess he's involved in some of the more heavy-duty work around set.

Plutarch raises his hand, signaling to cut rolling and the lights around us brighten. He nods gently, talking lowly to Finnick and Johanna before turning back in our direction and exiting the doors behind us.

Two set-workers walk briskly up on set and greet Johanna and Finnick with thin, white robes similar to the kind Finnick had on before the scene. Johanna says something that causes Finnick to burst out in laughter before they exit off to the side and head in our direction.

"Hey, Peetaaaa," Johanna greets, elongating the 'a' on the end of his name. "What brings you here, thought you had the day off?"

"Can't keep me away, Jo," he shrugs playfully.

"Oh admit it, Mellark. You only came because you were dying to see me lose my virginity."

Peeta and Finnick both let out a cackling laugh which goes on for a minute as I continue to stand by awkwardly. I feel weird for staying, but I also feel weird walking away at this point. I mean, Peeta and I were in the middle of a conversation (if you could even call it that, honestly), but either way it'd be rude to just leave... right?

"So, Katniss, what'd ya think?" Finnick asks me suddenly, and when I turn to him I note that his robe has come undone in the front and he stands with it tucked behind his hands (which rest on his hips) flashing his body to me fully.

"Shit!" I curse, turning away and instinctively cupping a hand over my eyes.

"Damnit, you scared her," Johanna snickers. "Cover up! For the love of God!"

"All right, all right," Finnick says, chuckling. "It's safe now Katniss, the anaconda has gone to sleep."

I groan deeply.

"Wait, I'm sorry," Peeta interrupts, throwing his hands into the air. "But are we going to ignore the fact that you just cover your eyes... on a porn set?"

"Yeah, what are you, the Virgin Mary?"

"No," I roll my eyes, "I just sort of thought I'd only be handling the food. Not... dick."

"What's the difference?" Johanna shrugs. "Both go in your mouth."

Finnick snorts, spitting half his sip of water back into the cup before bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. Peeta laughs too, but in a tamer way and shakes his head at their "stupidity."

"Thanks... thanks for that Jo."

"Anytime," she salutes. "The sooner Braids here learns that, the better. We've got to break her in."

"I don't need breaking in... I just.. nudity... makes me a little uncomfortable is all," I breathe out, quietly and quickly, hoping that most of it gets lost in my jumbled translation.

"On a porn set?" Johanna snorts, taking an apple from the bowl and shoving a large chunk into her mouth. She chomps loudly - portraying the exact opposite of her shy and timid "virginal" character in the movie - and spits with her words. "I'm sorry, but isn't that like... a requirement?"

"Aw, she's our precious little dew drop," Finnick smiles, cupping his hands under his chin and tilting his head to the rest on top of them. "You're like a little baby... all pure and innocent."

I feel heat rising to my face and along the back of my neck as I run a hand over it awkwardly.

"It's all right honey, that'll change real quick," Johanna says, patting my back roughly with sympathy.

"Aw, I like it," Peeta says. I turn up to him, slightly confused and he gives me a slight wink, but not even in a creepy sort of way, almost in a "I've got your back" sort of way.

It's comforting.

He offers me a smile, which I allow myself to return to him easily, ignoring the way my heart has picked up in beats.


"So, I'll see you at 'The Hob' then?" I hear Finnick's booming voice out in the parking lot as I make my way to the car. It's past nine and pitch black outside, and the air would be completely silent if it weren't for the rowdy group of people who emerged from the building two minutes prior.

"Hey, Katniss! You comin' out?"

I still my steps at the sound of his voice and turn slowly with deeply furrowed eyebrows. Annie runs up to where Finnick stands and nods her head furiously, her loose curls bobbing gently with the movement.

"Katniss has to come! Definitely!" she exclaims with enthusiasm.

I honestly hadn't expected to be invited. Most of the people going out were the stars, and besides them their close friends: like Peeta and Annie. Although I'd been working here a few weeks now, this was my first official day meeting any of them besides Annie. But, since moving away from home, I don't get invited out much and if I'm going to be working with these people for the next few months (or maybe years if I end up moving on with them) I should at least get to know them better, and like them.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah, uh sure, I can come," I smile, playing with the ends of my hair. "I have class in the morning though, so I just can't make it a late night."

"So pure," Finnick teases, slapping a hand over his heart in mock affection. I roll my eyes and he smiles playfully, shooting a finger in my direction. "You know where "The Hob" is, right?"

I nod and he grins widely, nodding his head too.

"All right! See ya there."

Before I turn back towards my car, I catch Peeta's gaze as he eyes me over with a slight smile painted to his lips.

"What?" I ask, a little sharper than I intend to.

"Nothing," he shrugs, digging through his pocket for his keys. "Just glad you're coming out."

"Me too."


As it turns out, keeping a steady flow of conversation with Peeta is remarkably easy. He's funny, with a quick wit and smart too, always coming up with something that fills any awkward silences that falls between us.

When I first got to "The Hob," it was evident everyone else had already arrived. Almost immediately I spotted Finnick leaning against a wall in the corner, surrounded by two redheads who he readily offers peppermint sticks to. Even through the low lighting I can see the desperation and hunger that laced the redheads' eyes as they sucked and swirled their tongues around the candy suggestively.

Annie and Johanna were both on the smoky dance floor; their hips swaying and gyrating to the thumping music that pulsed from the speakers above us, making even the floor shake with their energy.

I noticed a couple crew members whose names I didn't know sitting at a booth laughing, and some other minor cast members who I faintly recall pushing past me to the bathroom. It took several minutes before I finally found Peeta, surrounding the bar as the tender filled up his glass once more. Peeta's eyes flashed to my own before his lips turned up into a gentle smile and he patted the bar stool that laid directly next to him.

"Another drink?" The bartender interrupts us to ask, pointing his finger between the two of us.

"Yeah, I'll take another beer," Peeta says casually, before turning to me with a raised eyebrow. "You?"

"I'll take a blue blazer," I say, avoiding Peeta's questioning gaze and pulling some money out of my pocket.

"So, you're a whiskey girl?" Peeta snorts once the bartender is out of hearing range. "And on a school night? I'm shocked."

When I roll my eyes, his smile only deepens. He has dimples I hadn't noticed before, though I'm not sure how. They stick out so acutely with his turned-up lips and I don't think I've seen him frown since meeting him earlier today.

"What're you in school for?" he asks a moment later, casualty to his tone.

"Urban Forestry," I say cautiously, carefully eyeing him when the last syllable slips from my lips.

"Oh shit," he teases, though his eye brighten with my admission. "So you're like... a tree hugger?"

"No," I snort, glancing off to the side as the bartender approaches us with our drinks. I push my bills in his direction, but Peeta's hand lands on top of it, handing the man a twenty.

"I've got you," he speaks before pressing the bottle to his lips. "With a job like that I'm sure you're down on cash."

"Jerk," I hiss, willing myself not to smirk.

"No, but in all honesty, I think it's pretty cool."

"You better. It's because of people like me you can breathe," I snort, before shrugging him off with the flick of my wrist. "I know it sounds stupid. My mother thought it was dumb too, but I didn't want to get into something that I hated for the rest of my life just because it pays more."

"No, I totally get it," Peeta agrees with the shake of his head. I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically and he holds a hand up in surrender. "Seriously. It makes complete sense. My parents hate what I'm in school for too."

"...Seriously?"

"Yes!" he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Though, I'm sure most art majors parents aren't too keen on the idea."

"Art..." I repeat, my tone rising a little in surprise.

"Yup," he continues. "It was damn cute in elementary school, something to be moderately proud of in middle school, slightly worrisome in high school - because should I really be wasting two periods on art class, when there's important classes to take? And by the time college rolled around? Well... it was downright disappointing."

I'm silent through his explanation. He turns his head down slightly and runs a hand over the back of his neck, almost embarrassedly before chancing a look back up at me. His eyes are dull and he sort of shrugs his shoulders in dismissal.

"So, that's why I work... where I work part-time. It pays well, helps support my schooling, along with selling some paintings at local craft fairs and things."

"That's why I took the job too," I say, somewhat softly, and our eyes lock for a long moment before his lips turn up slightly.

"Well, I think it's aweso-"

"-Man, you'll never guess what I just got us!" Finnick darts in-between Peeta and I with wild eyes and a large smile. He notices the way Peeta's stare reaches past him and turns to look over his shoulder at me.

"Oh, hey Katniss. I was wondering if you had ditched, haven't seen you all night," Finnick smirks, leaning more comfortably against the bar tabletop.

"Yes, well you've been a little... preoccupied."

He follows my eyes to where they rest on the redhead girls who smile and wave in his direction. His ears turn up and he grins widely, waving in near-lunatic fashion back at them.

"Yeah, that's the whole reason I came over here," he speaks, still slightly dazed. Peeta bangs his hand against the bar roughly, snapping him back into reality. "Dude, I scored us twins. Hot, curvy, sexy twins!"

I note the way Peeta's cheeks darken and his lips turn down into a slight frown as he looks up at his friend. Finnick's excitement dwindles when it's not reciprocated by his friend.

"To do what with?" Peeta finally asks, and even I can't tell if he's being serious or joking. Finnick runs a hand through his hair frustratedly before resting his arm on Peeta's shoulder roughly.

"To have a tea party, Peeta," he says with heavy sarcasm. "It's to fuck them! What do you think I'm talking about?"

"I'm good," Peeta snickers, patting Finnick on the back. "You have fun though."

Finnick's mouth drops open in pure shock before he regains composure and shakes his head back and forth, nudging me in the side.

"You try to do something nice for someone, right Kat? And how do they repay ya?"

"I don't know why you're complaining," I sigh dramatically. "Peeta just gave you two girls for the price of one."

"Yes, you should be thanking me," Peeta plays along, casting me another one of those winks like he had earlier. I swallow another sip of my drink heavily.

Finnick takes in our words for a long moment before the wide grin he approached us with returns, and he pats both our shoulders with vigor, announcing that he has to get going.

"Have fun, buddy!"

"You must have high standards," I claim once Peeta's eyes focus back on me. I'm not sure if it's the drink or the atmosphere in general that causes me to open up more, but when the words pour from my mouth in almost a sultry manner, I don't feel awkward or embarrassed about it.

"Turning down a twin," I expand. "A sexy one at that."

Peeta snorts, rolling his eyes. "I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Sometimes, but then there are girls who are just universally attractive. I'd consider that," I emphasize by pointing over to where the two girls stand. "As universal beauty."

"I wouldn't," Peeta insists, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, they all look the same."

"Well, they're twins."

"No, no," he snickers, shaking his head. "I mean in general. That kind of girl. The too-much-makeup wearers, skimpy clothing buyers, changes their hair color once a week..."

"You seem familiar with the kind."

"You see a lot of bimbos come and go in this business," Peeta snickers, rolling his eyes.

"See, this is why we're crew members and he's a cast member," I tell him while nodding over in Finnick's direction. Already he has his mouth wrapped around one and an arm around the other who runs her fingers over his chest.

I turn back to Peeta who wears a puzzled expression, but at the same moment I'm about to ask him about it, a self-confident looking blonde comes up behind him and runs a hand over his back suggestively. He stiffens at the contact and his head whirls around to meet her smirking face.

I look between the two and watch as she slinks an arm around his shoulder and sort of half-sits on his leg. Her skirt is so short I can see her underwear peeking out in her drunken state.

"Hey Peeta," she slurs, pressing a manicured finger under his chin to raise it up toward her lips. The hand which rests around my near empty glass tightens, and I feel sort of stupid for the anger and jealousy which rises inside of me.

"What do you want, Ashley?"

"You look good in jeans," she continues flirtatiously. "I'm not used to seeing you in so much... clothing."

Peeta pushes her up from on top of him and when she sort of stumbles reaches out for her arm to steady her. She adjusts her skirt and smiles back at him, wobbling a little as she tries to balance in her heels.

His face is boiling red, though I can't tell if it's out of embarrassment or frustration for his "friend's" current condition. I tap my nails against the bar top impatiently as he points her in the direction of the bathroom after she asks.

"Girlfriend?" I ask with a raised eyebrow when he turns back to me and mumbles an apology.

"No," Peeta emphasizes, shaking his head. "Did you not listen to a word I said a moment ago?"

"An ex then?"

"No," he says with a wrinkled nose, shaking his head. "I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole. She's just... around on set, sometimes."

"In, or on the side lines?"

"Er... side lines," he says, his cheeks turning brighter. "But she wishes she wasn't. She wants to be a star but... she's... not very professional. At all."

"So what does she do?" I ask and it takes a moment for Peeta to answer. When I chance a glance back up at him, he's shifting in his chair almost awkwardly.

"Erm... do you know what a "fluffer" is, Katniss?"

"Yeah," I say, picking up my glass and swishing it around in my hand for a minute. "Annie's one. So, she's one too?"

Peeta nods.

"For who?" I ask, pressing the glass to my lips.

"Um well... for me," Peeta deadpans, and the liquid seeps down the wrong side of my throat, causing me to spit and cough in order to force it back up. His eyes widen as he presses a hand to my back, applying force until I can breathe again and motion with my hand for him to stop.

"You're a porn star?" I ask in shock, the hand which holds my glass is still shaking. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Peeta places a hand over his heart and frowns dramatically. "Ouch. It's not that unrealistic, is it?"

"Of course you're a porn star!" I continue obliviously, and Peeta sort of glances around as people cast us stray looks. "Of course. I mean it makes perfect sense, you're really attractive, I just... I didn't think-"

"You thought I was on the crew," Peeta says matter-of-factly. "And I'm sorry to change the subject, but did you just say I'm really attractive?"

The warmness I feel on my cheeks from the alcohol intensifies.

"Not just attractive, but really fucking attractive," Peeta chuckles, taking another swig of his drink. "You're too kind."

"Shut up," I snicker, though it sort of fades on my lips when he extends his arms and flexes his biceps teasingly. "You're... impossible."

Throughout the night, his eyes sort of search my own - most likely looking for signs of discomfort or disgust, but I keep up my typical facade, smiling at his tense jokes, contributing to the conversation when necessary, until finally he relaxes his posture a little in his seat and takes another long swig of his beer.

I wondered for a while why he never mentioned anything about it beforehand. I mean, Finnick and Johanna both seemed pretty pleased with themselves for the roles they played in the industry, so why not Peeta? You would think you one wouldn't even bother getting into the business if they were going to be embarrassed by it... I mean right now if I wanted to, I could google Peeta Mellark and find one of his... videos.

The idea brings a blush to my cheek, and as Peeta continues on with some story I tuned out minutes ago, all I can picture is what he looks like underneath his clothes, what sounds he makes when he's on the verge of coming...

"Katniss?"

"What?" I snap.

"You've been nodding your head for a minute now," he sort of chuckles, though his expression shows concern. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I say a little too quickly, and reach out for my glass which is now empty. Peeta raises an eyebrow in my direction as I set it back on the countertop and smile a little. "I'm fine."


I shouldn't do this. It's stupid and childish and I promised myself I wouldn't do it.

I pace back and forth along my kitchen/ living room area, casting sideways glances at the laptop which sits open in front of me, tauntingly. My hand finds its way past my lips and I begin to nervously chew away at my fingernails.

It's been half a week since I first met Peeta Mellark and he told me about his current... position... at "The District." I told myself that night that I wasn't the least bit curious... that his being a porn star didn't bother me and that I definitely wasn't going to look him up like some deranged horn-dog.

I groan, my head falling back to look up at the ceiling as I glide my hands across my cheeks tiredly. This is ridiculous, but as much as I try, I can't seem to get him off of my mind. Images of him randomly pop into the forefront of my mind, and refuse to let go. I picture the toned muscles of his back (the ones I've been able to make out through the thin material of his white t-shirts) clenching as he rotates in a rhythmic motion, his firm butt tightening in effort to keep his hips from bucking too hard, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as sweat trickles down the base of this thickly veined neck...

"This is bullshit," I mutter to myself, as I fall down into the creaking dining room chair in front of my computer. Technically, the laptop is for school work, and I swear to god if I pick up a virus looking this stuff up and have to walk twenty blocks to the library...

I sigh deeply, my fingers moving faster than my brain as I pull up Google to type in his name. I only get to "Peet" before: Peeta Mellark porn-star, Peeta Mellark in 'Our Night In,' Peeta Mellark in 'Summer of Dreams' and a few other cheesy sounding titles popped up in a "most searched" option. I click the first - Peeta Mellark porn-star - and close my eyes for a moment before peaking through my squinted lashes.

Fuck.

A string of images comes up at the top with the option: Google images? but there's also several links to shorter clips available online for free.

You shouldn't be doing this, my mind chides as I bite my lip, running the mouse over one of the links. You guys are friends now. This is so weird.

It's true, Peeta and I have become fairly fast "buddies" as he likes to put it. We just sort of clicked after that night in the bar and for the past several days whenever he's hanging around on set or meets up afterwards at "The Hob" for drinks, he makes it a point to come over, give my elbow a little nudge and fall into an easy flow of conversation.

We also exchanged numbers and are guilty for having spent some very late nights chatting with one another.

But are friends automatically prohibited from watching other friends sex tapes?

He's a porn-star for crying out loud! another section of my brain screams. He gets paid for people to watch these videos.

I click the mouse before I can overthink it any longer and am led to a ten-minute clip from what appears to be a higher-end quality "adult film" called The Cold Storm.

It starts out fairly mild. Peeta's hair is styled back - so different from the carelessly tossed curls he's sported since I've known him - and he wears a cable knit sweater and some nice looking pants. There's music playing in the background and he leans over the fireplace to adjust a log before a figure in the background clears their throat.

The camera zooms closer into Peeta's face and his lips lift up into that same easy smile I've seen him flash in my direction plenty of times before. His eyes roam up and down and then the camera cuts to a girl who stands in the doorway. Her brown hair falls over her one shoulder in long natural-looking curls and she wears a bright red (and see through) thong with white fuzz lacing the top. The top portion of her outfit - a bra probably two sizes too small and a thin piece of fabric that hangs off of it, opening in the middle to peak a glance at her toned stomach - matches the bottom and some more white fuzz lines the top of her breasts. She also dawns a Santa hat and bright red lipstick.

"Merry Christmas," she whispers.

As the camera pans from Peeta's face, to the girl's face, and back to Peeta's I find my hand gliding across the mouse, pressing it against the fast-forward button, skipping up until the girl is on top of him, straddling his waist and biting at his lip teasingly.

I feel a little guilty for skipping through to the sex, but honestly who the fuck am I kidding? I'm sitting here watching porn for crying out loud, and I'm embarrassed to skip through the dialogue?

She pushes him back with force so that his back falls against the plush-like carpet and then rakes her fingernails over his exposed chest. Their breathing is heavy in the quiet room, matched with the crackles of the fire and fake snow falling through the one window in view.

His hands are on her breasts, squeezing and pinching at the covered nipples before she reaches behind herself and pulls the fabric away. He lets out a little breath with her exposed skin and the camera pans to his eyes, wide in what appears to be shock before his lips settle around her firm peaks.

The girl is small, a good several inches shorter than him, but with her face out of the frame, and just her long hair swaying against her back, it's almost easy to picture myself in her position and I can't seem to find a comfortable spot in my chair.

His tongue darts out to lap at swirl around her nipple before he flashes the tiniest hint of teeth and bites down teasingly. I can feel my own heartbeat picking up, my own breath turning shallow as I imagined the kinds of feelings that would cause to course through me.

Images of his tongue, gliding along his bottom lip as we engage in conversation pulses through my mind and I wonder what it might feel like tugging at my lips.

Peeta sort of flips her over, so that they're both resting on their sides and although he keeps one hand firmly planted on her tit, the other is used to prop him up halfway. The girls nimble fingers trace down his exposed side, over the outline of his ribs and down to where a soft patch of hair trails down into his slacks.

She pulls at the button slowly, building suspense and tugs them down, giggling as he lifts his hips to help her. They smile at each other for a moment before their lips draw in and her busy fingers disappear below the cut.

I don't like watching them kiss because her face is in the shot and it sort of ruins the whole experience I've built up in my mind, but it only lasts a second before it's trailing down their heaving bodies to where her fingers glide over his hard flesh.

"Ugh," I moan without realizing and shift a little against the chair, looking for any sort of friction.

He looks to be fairly average, but damnit, is he thick. His erection twitches under her feathery touches and I can make out the smooth contours of his veins pulsing lively throughout him. She keeps a steady pumping motion, squealing softly to herself as his fingers ghost over the thinly-clad apex of her legs. His pointer finger focuses on one spot, flicking softly back and forth over her clit, sending her into a sort of frenzy.

Her hips are bucking wildly, and from the close up shot I can see Peeta's tight stomach muscles clenching and unclenching with each passing stroke she makes against him. Her fingers linger toward his tip, swirling around and he lets out an almost primal growl, his free arm lacing around her body, pulling her tighter into him.

He pushes her gently onto her back and falls down on top of her, his hips resting in between her spread legs. He glides his fingers over his dick a couple of times, capturing my attention in a whole new way, mesmerizing my face to the screen, and then slowly presses into her.

"Ohhh," they coo at the same time as the tip of him slips inside. He repositions himself and is just about to press in further when the clip stops abruptly.

It's only then that I realize just how silent my apartment is. My breathing is shallow and my hand holds a slight shake to it as I stare at the computer screen in shock.

What? No. That can't be all, it can't be over. I look frantically to where a sidebar broadcasts: Related Videos for some sort of "part two" but see nothing that matches up exactly. My elbows rest up against the tabletop and my head falls into my palms frustratedly.

"Fuck!"


"Adios, bitches!"

When I walk onto set, it has seemingly fallen into chaos. The girl I recognize from the bar that one night (and a couple more since then - Ashley, was it?) throws up a huge stack of papers someone hands to her and rips one of them as they float down around her.

She throws her purse over her shoulder dramatically and struts across the set, slamming anything that dares to get in her way to the ground. The surrounding crew members watch in complete awe, none of them quite knowing what else to do.

"What happened? What's going on?" I whisper as I make my way over to where Finnick, Annie and Johanna stand off a secluded side.

"It seems the ice queen has snapped," Finnick sniffs. "She walked in and quit on the spot."

"On the first day of Peeta's filming," Johanna adds, a touch of humor to her tone. We watch as Ashley tips over a platter of pastries and Johanna lets out a small snort, shaking her head. "Can't go out without a bang, that one."

I remember Peeta mentioning in the past that Ashley wasn't the most professional person around, but... I hadn't known that meant this.

In the opposite corner, where his dressing room is located, Peeta sticks his head out, wearing the same thin robe that Finnick and Johanna had worn during their shoots. The grin he sports is broad, opposite of what I'd been anticipating and he rushes forward in her direction.

"Ashley, Ashley, here let me help you carry your things out the door!" Peeta exclaims and Ashley pushes her palms against his chest roughly before sticking her middle finger up in his direction.

"Fuck you, Peeta. You know, you all are going to be sorry that you let me go one day. I knew I had potential to be more than someone's damn fluffer!" she eyes Peeta menacingly with the words before tossing back a curled lock of her hair. "But, obviously Capitol Corporation has a better eye for this sort of thing... recognizing talent, that is."

"Oh my fuck," Finnick grumbles under his breath.

"You know what, we're going to miss you terribly, really we will," Peeta says, a touch of sincerity etched in his expression. "But, we wouldn't want to hold back your career, so go on little butterfly: fly! Be free!"

"Peeta, shut the fuck up and go to your dressing room," Plutarch speaks calmly, pointing in the direction of it. It's the first time I've heard him swear and his face is drained from color with stress. Peeta holds his hands up in surrender, though he can't force the smile away from his face and retreats to the other side of the room.

It's obvious Ashley and Peeta have never connected, even that night at the bar he was thoroughly disgusted with her. But, I guess "connection" isn't the point between a star and their fluffer. It's porn.

"Ashley-"

"-It's Glimmer now," she emphasizes, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. I hear someone let out a snort behind me.

Plutarch runs a hand over his head and sighs deeply.

"You're under contract," he grumbles, as if he already realizes all efforts are pointless. And they are. Ash- er... Glimmer (what a ridiculous name, even for porn) informs Plutarch that he can go ahead and sue her for breaking her "shitty" contract, she didn't give a fuck, she was leaving.

"So, what'll happen now since she was Peeta's fluffer?" I whisper when I lean back against the wall next to Annie, and she sort of snorts like something is funny.

"What?"

"Of course you're concerned about that job," she mumbles back, elbowing me in the ribs. My cheeks heat up with the implication.

"Shut up," I hiss, nudging her back with force. "You're one to talk... I've seen the way you stare at Finnick's dick."

"That's not the point," Annie frowns, stopping mid-sentence as "Glimmer" slams the door behind her, completing her rather over-the-top, dramatic entrance. There's an eerie silence that fills the set for a long moment before a set manager breaks the ice, asking aloud what'll happen for the scene today.

"What do you mean, 'what'll happen with the scene'? It will continue as scheduled. We'll have to hire someone new," Plutarch sighs deeply, pacing back and forth and ordering different people to clean up the trail of messes "Glimmer" has left behind. It's a whole new side of him, this stressed out, loud man and although I know the timing couldn't be worse, I start to awkwardly laugh at the situation ahead of me.

"I suppose I'll just have to fluff myself for today then..." Peeta trails off with a hint of sarcasm to his tone, folding his arms across his chest.

Plutarch rolls his eyes at him, ordering him to be an adult about the situation, that this is serious.

"What about Katniss?" Annie asks, taking a step forward before I can reach out to stop her. I don't think my legs could move if I wanted them to right now though and I feel as though I'm shrinking as every pair of eyes in the room lands on me in question.

"...What about her?" Plutarch asks, the dots not quite connecting in his mind.

"Well, why couldn't she be Peeta's fluffer?" she asks steadily. "I mean, at least until we can find a replacement."

My eyes press past Annie's mischief ones and land on Peeta's where he stands silently next to Plutarch. His look as wide as mine feel and I swear I see a light hint of color stain his cheeks.

He doesn't want this. He doesn't know how to say no but he doesn't want it.

"Um, uhm..." I try counteracting Annie, but what can I say? Somehow I feel like yeahhh, no thanks... won't cut it. But, there is no seemingly polite way around this.

"Katniss, come here," Plutarch says, his normally soft voice back as he curls a finger at me. "Everyone else, I'm sure there's something you could be doing right now."

Everyone scrambles simultaneously for something efficient to do as I slowly make deliberate steps in Plutarch and Peeta's direction. By the time I'm standing in front of them, Peeta's eyes are downcast, unable to reach mine and he shifts on his feet awkwardly.

"Is this something you're interested in, Katniss?" Plutarch asks, folding his arms. "I've seen you and Peeta around on set... seems like you get along well enough."

I search his face for further implication than friendship but find none behind his guarded eyes then turn toward Peeta, whose eyes are slightly narrowed up at the director.

"I uh..." What kind of question is "is this something you're interested in?" anyway? Am I interested in sucking Peeta Mellark's dick multiple times a day and getting paid for it?

Pretty sure I'm interested.

But how am I supposed to do it if I can't even say it in front of him?

"The raise is pretty steep from what you're making now," Plutarch adds. "And, as mentioned earlier, you could consider it to be a... trial run of sorts. You'll be the fill-in until we can find someone new or we decide you're working out."

There's an awkwardly long pause.

"Sound good?"

I glance up at Peeta - whose eyebrows are slightly furrowed - and wait for him to say something first. Because without his approval, what's the point? If I can't "do the trick" for him then there's really no reason to put both of us through the embarrassment of trying and failing.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders after a moment, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

"Well, it's better than fluffing myself," he mumbles and I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult.


Upon Plutarch's demand, Peeta takes me to his dressing room and holds the door open until after I slip inside. I stay facing away from him until I hear the door lock shut and Peeta let out another heavy sigh.

"Peet-"

"Kat-"

We both pause and let out a somewhat nervous chuckle before I throw an arm out in his direction, my eyes focusing on the locked door behind him.

"You first."

"This is weird," he groans, leaning against the wall and running his face through his open palms. "Do you feel uncomfortable? Because if this is a money thing, we can just hide out in here for a few minutes and he'll never know the difference."

"He might, if you don't come out hard," I shrug and Peeta's tense expression begins to melt. He lets out a smile and steps closer until he's standing directly in front of me.

It's been three weeks since I watched that first porn video featuring Peeta. I swore to myself it'd be the last, but of course it wasn't, because every morning I'd go into work with a fresh outlook on the entire situation... and every evening after work I'd come home horny and frustrated from daydreaming about him taking me against the wall... against the table... on the floor... in the set... anywhere...

And there I'd be, sitting in front of my computer screen, pulling up my favorite clips from his videos.

"We're friends," I nearly cringe at the word. If only he knew I've paused the screen when they close-up on his dick and just stare at it for five minutes... "Right?"

He nods, his eyes falling closed for a long moment.

"But... we're also co-workers. So, if we just thought about this as business... it might be..." I trail off under Peeta's hot stare, my breath coming out shakily and my hands picking up a nervous twitch to them.

"Okay, you're right it's a little weird," I admit and Peeta lets out a barking laugh.

"Listen, Katniss... I don't want to put you in a weird position. If you're not one hundred percent okay with this-"

"-Well, are you?" I retort, pulling his words up short. His mouth opens and closes and his freckles seem to pop out more on his face under the red glow of his cheeks.

"Yeah," he shrugs, playing off casualty and the word sticks in the forefront of my mind for a minute. He wants this. Isn't that all the answer I needed in the first place? Confirmation?

"But, I'm not talking about me, I'm talking about y-"

His words cut off with a short grunt as I reach a hand in between us and grab hold of him in my palm. His definitive answer was all I needed to restore a little bit of confidence, and I am sick of beating around the bush. He wants it (or at least doesn't mind it) and I want it... so who the fuck cares about anything else?

"K-Katniss," Peeta stammers, his words coming out short. His chest sort of heaves with my hand resting between his legs and slowly, I can feel him beginning to harden underneath my touch.

"Sit down," I command, rather than suggest and Peeta moans a little before moving quickly over to the long couch set up. He spreads his legs a little, watching intently as I kneel down in-between them, removing the robe which covers his bare skin.

His dick lays flush against his left leg, hardening slightly upon the cool contact of the air. I waste no time in wrapping my hand around him and begin pumping him back and forth. I'm not quite sure what else a "fluffer" is supposed to do... so I stay silent, never taking my eyes away from my hand gliding along him.

He is thick. Similar to how I imagined and my small hand hardly wraps around him fully. I give him a slight squeeze, feeling the rise of his veins and hear him let out a small noise above me. When I chance a glance up, his eyes are focused down on me, hands clenched tightly around the sofa. My lips turn up into what I hope is a reassuring smile which he returns a second later, shakily.

"You're... really good at... this," he groans, his breath hitching as I run my palm over his tip, like I remember the girl from the video I watched doing. I reach down and cup his balls with my other hand, smirking to myself as his head tilts back into the couch.

"Ohhh fuck," he breathes, and then his head snaps forward with wide eyes. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean-"

"Shhh," I say, trying to hide my laughter as I turn my head into my shoulder. "What? Does that surprise you?"

His eyes light up with recognition and he shakes his head a little, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I know a thing or two," I say, continuing. "I uh... had a pretty serious boyfriend back in high school, so..."

I trail off, shaking my head a little to myself, because I can't understand why the hell I'm bringing up Gale Hawthorne in this moment of them all. If Peeta notices, he doesn't say anything or even acknowledge it.

I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to go on, but I know part of my job is to relax him so he doesn't seem tense on set... but looking at him now it's as if all his muscles are clenched up in knots. I focus on his stomach, where I can easily make out the contours of each defined muscle and smoothly run my fingernails over them. I settle on the spot below his belly, where a thin line of hair trails downward. I twist my fingers in it, scratching gently and smiling to myself as his upper body bucks forward and he lets out a deep sigh, his hips wiggling unintentionally on the couch.

"Shit."

"Hey," I whisper, my own breath catching as his eyes bore into my own. His pupils are so wide that the blue in his iris's are hardly visible. "Relax."

"Kay," he mumbles.

"Am I doing all right?" I ask, and before the words are out he's shaking his head vigorously up and down, eyes still clenched shut.

"Fantastic... just uh... a little quicker."

"Okay," I whisper, gliding my hand along him with more speed. His breathing turns shallow, and although his muscles seemed to relax for a moment, they're screwed tight again, all the way down to his calves. I watch his toes curl and uncurl into the carpet before he lets out a low growl, his hips rocking irregularly into my palm.

"Oh fuck... ahhh... Katniss!"

I watch in shock as Peeta begins to cum without warning all over his tight stomach and my palm. My hand continues to milk him through his orgasm, as if I'm in a trance, and my eyes cannot look away from his thrashing face.

Slowly though, his moans of pleasure turn into those of agony as he looks down at his stomach in horror, his face redder than I've ever seen it before.

When his breathing stills, the air is silent.

"What... what the fuck just happened?" he finally asked, his voice shaking. "Shit."

"Peeta..."

"I swear to God this doesn't happen!" he says, as if needing to assure me. "I... I don't know why..."

"Okay, okay, calm down... everything is going to be fine," I tell him, raising my hands up in surrender as he runs his through his hair.

"What the fuck are we going to do? They're going to come in to get me any minute."

"Well, that's okay, we just need to get you hard again," I say impulsively, taking hold of him and gliding my hand up and down him quickly. He gasps loudly, his thighs instinctively pressing together as his hand jumps to close over mine.

"No, I... it's sensitive, you can't do that," he hisses. "I need to recover. Damn, Everdeen."

"I... I'm sorry," I say in-between inappropriate fits of giggles. Peeta looks down at me with wide unbelieving eyes before his mouth drops open slightly.

"Did... are you laughing at me?" he tries sounding serious, but the rising smile on his lips does little to help his case. "This is very serious business, you had one job!"

"Yeah, and apparently I did it a little too well."

His dark tinted cheeks brighten as he rolls his eyes playfully, pushing himself further back into the couch and running his hands over his head as if he were tired.

"You have no idea," he groans into his hands. "No idea the effect you can have on someone."


So, this was a drabble request on tumblr from aquapisc that sort of got out of control and is now a mini-story. It'll be three chapters long. Thank you for reading! :) Find me on tumblr: finnickshardtrident.