He's the only one she ever wants to do this with, the only boy she ever wants touching her, the only body she ever wants to touch like this. She can't ever imagine being this close to anyone else, not even Gale. She doesn't want to.
She still rests partially on her forearms, back propped up a bit by pillows. The adventurous girl in the mask wants to watch and memorize every little thing Peeta does to her body tonight. Her toes curl when he starts up a lazy rhythm with his finger, eliciting more happy gasps from her lips. Then he's doing that thing again, that thing they've tried only a couple of times before.
If his breath is like an electric shock to her system, that's nothing compared to when his tongue touches her. She moans loudly, unabashedly. "Perfect."
He holds back just so he has somewhere to go, but the strokes of his tongue are still firm. Her moans raise the hair on his arms...and something else, he can feel in his slacks. With his free hand, he unbuttons himself to relieve a little of the pressure, then removes the hand to stroke up and down one of her thighs.
It's a brief and smug smile that crosses her face when he has to unbutton his pants. While there's no doubt in her mind that he's enjoying this, it's nice to see proof of it. Always nice to be reminded just how she affects him.
She spreads her legs wider for him, one knee pointing straight up while the other remains only slightly bent. She feels greedy, so utterly desperate for more and more of those tongue strokes, of those fingers on her heated skin. It's not enough. Can it ever be enough?
"More, Peeta," she mumbles between gasping breaths. The ache builds between her legs, aided by the anticipation building all night. "Harder. Please? More?"
He applies more pressure with his tongue and slips a second finger inside her, in and out in a firm, steady rhythm. His free hand lands on the inside of her thigh and presses outward, spreading her further before sliding back to curve around one buttock. Not caressing, merely warming. She is so, so soft and warm on the inside that he squirms a little, growing impatient.
Watching is such a different experience from merely participating. There's something so very, very arousing in all of this, in actually seeing Peeta bring her to climax rather than just closing her eyes and letting it happen.
Never looking away, she adjusts her balance on forearms and moves one hand down to cover a breast. That she can massage her own breasts like he does is still a new idea to her. And that he seems to like it when she does it. She brushes her thumb over the peak and gasps, gasping again when he pushes another finger inside of her.
Between his tongue and hands and, yes, even her own touch, it doesn't take much more. Her eyes finally shut and her head lolls back on her shoulder as she moans loudly, shaking around his fingers. "Peeta, oh, Peeta. I love you, love you so much."
He does like it when she touches herself, and it's the only thing that can make him break his head away from her body and look up, fingers still working in her. A little moan escapes him as he watches her arch, trembling, still wet and hot around his fingers. He pushes a third in while she is still climaxing, hoping to prolong it.
When he moans, she forces her eyes open to look. She smiles at him, pleased with his reaction. He looks so handsome and it's still amazes her so very much that someone like Peeta could love her this much. How he can put aside his own needs and desires to make this moment last practically forever.
She laughs when her body starts to settle and sits up to lean forward, reaching to remove the mask so that she could shower a rain of kisses on his face.
He twists so that he's sitting on the bed, pulling her into his lap. When the mask comes off his face at last, his blue eyes are looking up at hers, wide and intense.
Those blue eyes are beautiful, always a wonder when they direct that intensity at her. She pauses the rain of kisses to smile back, stroking his bare cheek with her thumb. Unable to resist, she wriggles on his lap.
She beams at him, giggling again when he begins to squirm. The giggle quickly becomes a groan when his erection brushes against her. Oh, that's nice. Maybe even nicer than his fingers or mouth.
"Yes," she answers, breathing the word against lips before capturing them in a kiss.
Her hand slips down his chest, fingers slow and teasing as they brush by his belly button and even further down. She pulls at the zipper of his pants and then reaches inside. For all the times they've had sex, she hasn't touched him nearly as much as he's touched her. She's always felt too awkward and too afraid, afraid he'll not like it or she'll somehow break him. But tonight's a good night. A perfect night. Without breaking the kiss, she pulls out his erection and strokes it firmly.
She keeps kissing his slacked mouth, sucking on his lower lip or coaxing his mouth into responding or trying to tangle his tongue with her own. She swallows his moans and pleads, not wanting to stop kissing him, not wanting to pull away.
She keeps stroking him, up and down, up and down, utterly enraptured by his reaction. Her other arm wraps around his shoulders for support, fingers playing with the feathers at the juncture of his wings. But there's only so much, so much she can stand to tease him. She adjusts herself in his lap, straddling him on either side. Another kiss and she lowers herself on top of him, groaning at how hot and hard and velvety soft he feels inside of her.
Inside of her. Her eyes go wide and she stops mid-thrust. The birth control she found at the clinic might be effective, but she won't take any chances. Not a one. "Condom. We need a condom."
She nods quickly. They'd be safe, wouldn't they? To keep going, not to stop. Because she doesn't want to move, doesn't want to separate from his side at all.
It's stupid, maybe, but they've both done stupider. And she takes the medicine religiously. Every day at the same hour. Every day.
Don't stop. She nods and then kisses him, sinking back down on top of him. The fabric of his pants is rough on her thighs, a contrast to the way he feels inside. But she doesn't stop, doesn't want to at all.
"Ah." His hips move, pressing upwards as she sinks down, his hands gripping her hips, his lips against her neck, breath hot and heavy. She is so magnificent, does she know? She ought to know. "Katniss, you're so hot and tight and soft. I wish you could feel..."
"I can," she murmurs in response, concentrating on keeping the pace. She might not feel what he's feeling, but the sensations he elicits in her are incredible. Just as, she imagines. Maybe even more so. He fills her completely and every movement, every undulation makes her hunger for more. Another stroke, another touch, another kiss. More and more and more. Whether they see the fireworks tonight or not doesn't matter. She's convinced that she's feeling them now. Here. "I can feel you, Peeta. It's amazing. You're amazing."
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victorbychance) wrote2020-05-09 06:38 pm
no subject
She still rests partially on her forearms, back propped up a bit by pillows. The adventurous girl in the mask wants to watch and memorize every little thing Peeta does to her body tonight. Her toes curl when he starts up a lazy rhythm with his finger, eliciting more happy gasps from her lips. Then he's doing that thing again, that thing they've tried only a couple of times before.
If his breath is like an electric shock to her system, that's nothing compared to when his tongue touches her. She moans loudly, unabashedly. "Perfect."
no subject
no subject
She spreads her legs wider for him, one knee pointing straight up while the other remains only slightly bent. She feels greedy, so utterly desperate for more and more of those tongue strokes, of those fingers on her heated skin. It's not enough. Can it ever be enough?
"More, Peeta," she mumbles between gasping breaths. The ache builds between her legs, aided by the anticipation building all night. "Harder. Please? More?"
no subject
no subject
Never looking away, she adjusts her balance on forearms and moves one hand down to cover a breast. That she can massage her own breasts like he does is still a new idea to her. And that he seems to like it when she does it. She brushes her thumb over the peak and gasps, gasping again when he pushes another finger inside of her.
Between his tongue and hands and, yes, even her own touch, it doesn't take much more. Her eyes finally shut and her head lolls back on her shoulder as she moans loudly, shaking around his fingers. "Peeta, oh, Peeta. I love you, love you so much."
no subject
no subject
She laughs when her body starts to settle and sits up to lean forward, reaching to remove the mask so that she could shower a rain of kisses on his face.
no subject
"Katniss..."
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"Yeah, Peeta?"
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"Please?"
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"Yes," she answers, breathing the word against lips before capturing them in a kiss.
Her hand slips down his chest, fingers slow and teasing as they brush by his belly button and even further down. She pulls at the zipper of his pants and then reaches inside. For all the times they've had sex, she hasn't touched him nearly as much as he's touched her. She's always felt too awkward and too afraid, afraid he'll not like it or she'll somehow break him. But tonight's a good night. A perfect night. Without breaking the kiss, she pulls out his erection and strokes it firmly.
no subject
"Katniss. Oh, Katniss, please, Katniss..."
He doesn't even know what he's begging her for. No idea. She's doing this really, really well, although being inside her would be even better.
no subject
She keeps stroking him, up and down, up and down, utterly enraptured by his reaction. Her other arm wraps around his shoulders for support, fingers playing with the feathers at the juncture of his wings. But there's only so much, so much she can stand to tease him. She adjusts herself in his lap, straddling him on either side. Another kiss and she lowers herself on top of him, groaning at how hot and hard and velvety soft he feels inside of her.
Inside of her. Her eyes go wide and she stops mid-thrust. The birth control she found at the clinic might be effective, but she won't take any chances. Not a one. "Condom. We need a condom."
no subject
no subject
"Every day."
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no subject
It's stupid, maybe, but they've both done stupider. And she takes the medicine religiously. Every day at the same hour. Every day.
Don't stop. She nods and then kisses him, sinking back down on top of him. The fabric of his pants is rough on her thighs, a contrast to the way he feels inside. But she doesn't stop, doesn't want to at all.
no subject
no subject