Warning: Indecorous language and sexual situations to follow, so avert your eyes, if that's not your thing. I own nothing but my own mistakes.


The Victors' Guide to Love and Marriage

Part 1- I Knead You, Baby

"Come on, Brainless," my pseudo-best-friend, slash former self-declared bridesmaid smacked me on the arm, "I so...don't believe you. There is no way that you and bread boy haven't gotten nasty in this kitchen of his. I'm sure he's kneaded your buns all over this commercial grade counter-top he had put in..." The way she said nasty was just so, well... nasty- pornographic really.

"Johanna, I am not discussing this with you," I gritted my teeth. Actually, I took a rather large sip of the amazingly fabulous wine she'd brought for me in honor of our girl's night during her visit from 7, and then I gritted my teeth.

Johanna stood up rather wobbily, and put her hand on her hip and shot me a look that only Johanna freaking Mason-Turnbridge could pull off while sporting a 6 month pregnant belly bump, "Crap, Catshit," she spit indignantly, "Not only can't I share that f-ing expensive bottle of wine with you, you're not even going to give me the down and dirty about you and Peeta? Really? You suck as a friend. Why do I even bother with you? I should just get a cat."

Crap, indeed. Why did I have to have a friend who would rival the most jaded porn star in the Capitol in her attitudes about sex? Six years we had been frien-emies, and she meets the love of her life, marries him, and gets knocked up within the span of the last 11 months. Typical Johanna. I, however, still anxiously awaited my period every month even with two forms of birth control, and I had been married to Peeta for what? Three years. Four, if you counted the year I was living with him but in denial about the whole thing.

Speak of the devil- "Sorry, ladies. Just came to get a glass of milk and a cinnamon bun before bed," Peeta sheepishly ambled into our kitchen in a t-shirt and sleep pants that, well... yeah,baby, made me a little damp in my lady regions.

How could he still do this to me without even trying? In truth, it was probably at least partially Johanna's fault with all her talk of Peeta and me getting "nasty" on the counter-top in our kitchen. I tried to tell myself that had to be the reason I wanted to push him onto said counter-top and have my way with him just then. I snatched a gooey bun from the plate he had just laid on the counter near me instead. I squirmed in discomfort and snuck a glance at Johanna to see if she noticed me lusting after my husband. Oh. My. God. Johanna was totally checking out Peeta's ass as he leaned to get the milk out of our fridge. Bitch.

After pouring his milk, said hot husband held out the plate of cinnamon buns to Johanna and grinned at her cluelessly, "Johanna, cinnamon bun? I made 'em fresh this afternoon for Katniss. You know the little guy or girl in there wants one," he waved the plate teasingly.

Johanna grinned evilly, not that Peeta noticed, "Oh, Peeta. You are so sweet. You always know just what a girl needs."

I glared at Johannna over Peeta's muscular shoulder, as she took a cinnamon bun from the plate Peeta offered and bit into it with relish, moaning with way too much enthusiasm.

"Uhh... Always glad to help, Johanna," Peeta shot me a questioningly look before planting a chaste goodnight kiss on my lips and quickly exiting the kitchen. The boy looked positively alarmed.

"Dammit, Johanna!" I exclaimed when I knew Peeta was safely upstairs in our bedroom, innocently eating a cinnamon bun and drinking his milk in our bed. In our bed...mmmm...

She cackled maniacally in response, "Speaking of delicious, hot buns..." her lips twisted suggestively as she glanced in the direction of Peeta's hasty retreat, "...fresh from the bakery. Am I right?"

So, it really was Johanna's fault when a couple of days later, upon returning home from the woods, I fought with my rather prudish sensibilities when I found Peeta of the delicious, hot buns, all damp and distracted, vigorously kneading a particularly large clump of dough on our granite counter-top, his golden locks glinting in the slanting rays of a late spring evening. I literally froze in the archway of the breakfast nook adjoining our kitchen, my game bag still swinging from my shoulder. I actually had to take a couple of deep breaths as I took in the way his muscular buttocks contracted under his pants as he attacked the dough in front of him with such conviction and such... passion. Groan. Johanna was getting the tackiest, ugliest diaper pail I could find as a baby shower gift. Curse her.

My stealthy hunter's feet stalked up behind Peeta. I was able to nip at his earlobe with my teeth and run my nails playfully up his sides to make him jump before he even knew I was in the room.

"Katniss," he laughed huskily as he pushed his body back into mine reflexively, thus putting my pelvis in a great position in relation to his backside, "You're home. I didn't hear you come in."

He turned his head to the left to gaze back at me with a cheeky smile. Oh, Peeta. You don't even know when you are the hunted, do you, my dear?

I pressed my body against the back of his suggestively. His spine stiffened a little, but after a moment he seemed to relax, "Well, I guess you had a good visit to the woods then..."

I nuzzled his neck, my lips making trail down his neck to the juncture of his shoulder, and I tugged at his t-shirt neck with my teeth, nibbling playfully. He froze, stopped kneading dough altogether, and after a long pause, slowly turned his body to face mine, his strong hands finding my hips. Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I could see that his eyes were staring down at me intently, glazed. His teeth caught at his full lower lip as he studied me. Those blue eyes of his really didn't hide much. He wanted me. I felt a corresponding and welcome pull between my thighs as he lowered his lips to mine in a melting kiss. He sighed into my mouth, the smell of cinnamon and Peeta wafting over me. Gah. How could I resist?

"Oh. Peeta." I murmured helplessly as I sank into his warm, firm body wedged against the counter.

His floury fingers reached up to clasp my neck, "Katniss..." he rumbled from deep in his chest.

We were moving, undulating against each other. I felt his hardness against my belly, and I whimpered as his strong hands moved down my hips to cup my buttocks and turn me about to lift me onto the cool stone surface of the counter-top. My legs wrapped around his hips automatically while my ankles locked behind his back.

He arched his neck back away from me, his lips moving against mine as he muttered, "I need you... like... now." His lips punctuating each word. My sex pulsed. God. He wasn't even in me yet, and I felt myself clenching like before an orgasm. How could that be?

"Okay." I whispered against his mouth. My shaky fingers tugged clumsily at the fastenings of his pants, which finally fell to his feet. I could feel his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs beneath.

My pants were a little harder to dispose of, but with a little wriggling and shifting from me, he had them down and over my thighs in no time. I was suddenly very grateful for our no hunting boots in the house rule, as he pushed my pants past my sock feet until they dropped with a soft plop onto the tile floor.

His busy, busy hands then pushed up my shirt until it was over my head, as he bent his head to place warm, open-lip kisses on the tops of my breasts. Shrugging my shoulders, the straps of my bra fell over my upper arms, and his nimble fingers reached to slide them down and off of me. I leaned backwards, and lightly bumped my head on the cabinet behind me, as his mouth slowly trailed downward, pushing aside the cup of my bra until he laved my nipple. Ohhh... My...

"Peeta. Please."

He chuckled softly, his breath huffing against my sensitive skin, "Since you asked so nicely."

His warm lips trailed to my other breast as he hooked his fingers around the edges of my panties and tugged them over my hips to make them follow my pants to the floor. I felt the thumbs of both his hands rubbing little circles at the folds where my hips met my thighs before moving slowly inward towards my center. I arched my back, my head resting against the glass front of the upper cabinet completely now.

"Yesss..." I hissed, as I felt his strong fingers move to the moist heat between my legs. His middle finger brushed over just the spot where I wanted his touch most. I jolted spastically, reaching my hands behind me, fingers splaying on the cold counter, and, I think, burying my fingers in dough. Oh, well.

"You feel so... umm... wet. I mean... ready," Peeta babbled adorably as he raised his head again to kiss me deeply, while his magical fingers played over my wet folds.

"I am," I replied in my usual terse fashion. I prided myself in calling it how it was. Man, was I ready. I was past ready. I wanted to scream at him to just fuck me already. Ehh... I'd give him another minute or two before I did that.

Lucky for me, Peeta was a master at reading people, seeing what they wanted and giving it to them in ways they never expected, which made it even better. He grasped my bare legs just behind my knees and tugged me to the edge of the counter-top, so the very tip of his straining member was pushing into that little bundle of nerves he had been toying with earlier. He slowly rocked his hips, just grazing me. My eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy.

"Katniss, open your eyes and look at me when I fuck you," he whispered in a gentle but firm command.

My naughty, naughty baker boy. I opened my eyes with what I knew was a challenging expression which quickly shifted into one of startled amazement as he drove himself partially into my warm depths, teasing me. So like him to not go all the way in right off. Drawing out our desire. Several shallow thrusts later, I was ready to beg him push in further. Exactly what we both wanted, but he knew... He knew it would be better if he teased us both. He was panting lightly at this point, which made me feel a little better about my own wantonness. There were only thin rings of his beautiful blue irises visible around his dilated pupils now. He wanted me, too. I thrust my hips off the counter pushing him deeper but still not quite all the way. It was sweet torture.

Like a light switch, he shifted abruptly completing his thrust and filling me so I cried out, wrapping my arms around his back, while he moaned into my hair, "Oh, Katniss, how is it like this? Always."

My sex-addled brain barely processed his question, but I stuttered an answer as he drew back and thrust again deeply, "Because it's...us."

After that the only noises were those of our love-making: skin brushing skin, soft moans, and then not so soft moans. Peeta had a secret. Noisy sex really turned him on. I always thought it was because he liked it when his quiet, serene Katniss wanted to shout for joy when he loved her thoroughly. Lucky for him, I did. When my orgasm finally overtook me, I shuddered and shouted to the ceiling. Our final cries of release had just died on our lips when we both heard the front door open and slam shut again followed by Haymitch's rather slurred, "Dammit, when's dinner? I'm hungry."

In my position straddling Peeta while perched on the counter, he and I were eye to eye, staring at each other in abject horror. After a split second Peeta spun around while simultaneously reaching to tug up his pants and clasp them unfastened at his waist, also stepping to shield me protectively behind him.

"Peeta? Where are you, boy? Is Katniss home yet?" Haymitch grumbled as he trod unsteadily toward the kitchen. Fuck.

If it weren't so mortifyingly embarrassing, the shocked expression of our former mentor and long-time friend would have been comical when he finally stepped into our kitchen and blinked at Peeta standing in front of me while clutching his pants around his hips, as I cowered naked behind him. When had I become such a chicken?

Haymitch recovered first, "Damn, kids. Haven't you been together long enough to get over the kinky shit?"

He stood there studying us with mock disgust for a moment more before adding, "Well, this has just killed my appetite completely."

He turned and tromped out of the house indignantly. We didn't see him for two days. We used that time very wisely, and I also never, EVER forgot to lock the front door when I came home from the woods all hot and bothered and ready to have my way with Peeta/for a tumble after that.


So- more chapters of married bliss or no? Please let me know...