victorbychance | OOC: Luceti Appointments

A wonderful, excited, heated flush fills her body at that comment. She hopes so. Hopes so very much.

"There aren't any doors to open inside," she counters, walking the remaining few steps to their house. "Which pocket?"

"Front right."

She nods quickly, filing the information away for their arrival home. With such a fast and determined pace as their own, they get there mere minutes later. She stops on the doorstep and carefully moves the plate around. Then, she glances up at him in warning before reaching in to the pocket.

It wouldn't do to startle him, after all. Not with all the lovely sweets he carries.

He remains patient and does not upset the sweets, but this is making him even more anxious to get through that door. He refrains from teasing her.

She tries her best to be quick with key retrieval. There's the food to be concerned about and her own impatience to get inside. The night air is a little chilly now for bare shoulders, even in such close proximity to Peeta. And she wants him. Oh, how she still wants him.

As soon as she pulls the key from his pocket, she slips it into the keyhole and unlocks the door. It swings open and she only smiles briefly before stepping inside.

He follows her quickly, heading straight for the bedroom. He's there in seconds, putting the trays down on the night stand and nabbing one of the chocolates before whipping off his jacket.

The plate is placed on top of the dresser and her heeled shoes are kicked off. She breathes a happy sigh of relief at being able to stand flat on the ground again. She removes the mask next. But the moment passes all too quickly.

That bravado she felt in the Battle Dome isn't quite there anymore. She still wants him, wants to lose herself in the touch and feel of him, but that same old nervousness has come back. Glancing at the mask on the dresser, she picks it up and slides it back on.

Just a few more moments of pretend, a few more moments of being that fire girl, that radiant creature that can do anything. Including dipping her finger into the whipped frosting of the cake and, once certain Peeta's looking in her direction, sucking it off as seductively as she can.

Watch his pupils grow, Katniss.

He's actually so taken aback that he simply stands there, staring, for about ten second. Then, he closes the distance and kisses her. Her mouth is sweet from the frosting.

That reaction is incredible. Better than anything she's seen all night. And just for licking frosting! She's almost tempted to do it again, just to see what he'll do next.

But she doesn't have that chance. She becomes frozen in place when he crosses the room the kiss her, unable to take her eyes off the way he moves. And then his mouth is on hers again and it's even sweeter than the frosting had been. Now that they're alone, she lets herself give in to her urges, the mask still making her bold. Her tongue teases his lower lip as she tries to deepen the kiss, her hands roaming his back and wings as she wanted to earlier.

His hands bury in her hair, then he breaks away with a gasp as her hands caress his wings. "Katniss."

Just a whispered name, not a plea or a request. Yet.

She can never get enough of this. Of touching him, kissing him, being this close. She never wants to, either.

Her lips curve into a devilish grin when he pulls away, but her hand doesn't stop stroking the soft feathers of his left wing. "Yes, Peeta?"

"Just...keep doing that." This is different. This is wonderful, seeing her so confident. "Keep doing that."

His hands move to undo her dress, which is heavy enough to fall around her waist on its own.

This girl, the girl behind the mask, can do anything. She can admit to being in love, admit it not just to herself but in public. She can tease and tempt the boy, even steal cake from a party without a second thought. It's thrilling, absolutely thrilling, and she doesn't want to stop.

And this girl isn't bashful when the dress falls to her waist, jewels sparkling and clinking, all giving way to exposing her naked chest. She just smiles, fingers now running across the bones of both his wings.

"Like that?"

"Oh, yes." And he keeps his promise of keeping his hands full of both of her breasts, applying a gentle massage he has had some chances to practice now.

He's always been good at keeping promises, but he's gotten so, so good at this, too. At finding the right pressure and places to touch her, to cause her nipples to tighten, to make her groan and arch her chest further into his hands.

"Peeta," she whispers before leaning in to find his lips for a slow, lingering kiss. "Perfect. Tonight's perfect."

He massages a little more firmly, then leans in to start planting kisses along her neck. "It is. Perfect." One hand ventures down over her belly before returning to her breast.

Even with the fireworks to come, she can't think of a better way to end the night. Because he's kissing her and touching her and she knows where all this will lead. And even though by now, they've done this so many times, it's still new. Every touch and every taste and every whisper. He was right about that.

Her head tilts to give him better access to her neck. Having her hair in the messy up-do means that there are only stray strands to get in the way and oh, her skin feels so sensitive and heated against his mouth. She shivers and slips a hand between their bodies, finding buttons to undo. The shirt has to go. Has to.

His hands join hers to help, and somehow in the resulting madness his shirt gets unbuttoned, his skin open to the air. He wraps his arms around her waist and spins her toward the bed.

She doesn't exactly have a lot of time to admire their handiwork before she's being twirled around towards the bed. She giggles and wraps her arms around his neck for balance as she walks backwards. The dress drags behind her and she kicks at the yards of fabric until it falls off, leaving her clad in nothing but panties and mask.

And not at all embarrassed for once. Not even a little.

And it is a magnificent change. Peeta wastes no time in slipping her panties off and admiring her naked-except-for-mask, rocking back on his heels to take in the view.

It's the mask. It's entirely the mask. But maybe more than that, it's the fun she's having right now. Fun she never thought she'd have, fun that he's taught her. By now, Katniss knows that she'll never stop owing Peeta Mellak. But rather than feel uncomfortable at the fact, she's grateful for it. Grateful for every little thing he's ever done for her.

She props herself up on her forearms, watching him study her body. The look on his face excites her, makes her smile all over again. "Do you see something you like?"

He grins. "Something I like a lot." He leans over her again, one hand trailing down her stomach. As it gets lower, he switches to a single finger, running down the length of her before sliding into her body.

She beams at him, a swell of delight building inside at the compliment. It is better this way. Enjoying him, enjoying his words, enjoying the way his bigger and broader body seems to envelope her own.

Her eyes flutter close when he resumes his explorations from early, a trail of heat following in the wake of his fingers. She sighs and squirms against the pillows on the bed, happy and content and-

"Oh!" She hadn't expected that. Not this soon. Grey eyes now wide, she bends a leg and tries to move a little against that finger and hand. "Oh, Peeta."

He loves, loves hearing her say his name like that. That he's the one doing this to her and no one else, that she loves what he is doing.

In the course of their experimentation, they have learned that mouths can go anywhere hands can go. Peeta slides the finger deeper in, slowly, then out. As he keeps it up, he bends low over her, breath ghosting between her legs, warm and damp. Maybe he can make her come twice tonight.

His lips seal over her, and he touches his tongue between...

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."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject