Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/981449.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Hunger_Games_Trilogy_-_Suzanne_Collins, Hunger_Games_Series_-_All_Media
      Types, Hunger_Games_(2012)
  Relationship:
      Katniss_Everdeen/Peeta_Mellark
  Character:
      Peeta_Mellark, Katniss_Everdeen, Gale_Hawthorne
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Half-Sibling_Incest, Child_Abuse, Underage_Sex
  Collections:
      Prompts_in_Panem_Collection_-_September_2013
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-26 Words: 8979
****** Symbiotic ******
by annieoakley1
Summary
     The only thing that could make him feel worse in that moment was for
     Gale to be someone that was truly worthy of Katniss, someone that a
     normal brother would approve of. They really could be together, if
     she wanted. No one would question it. No one would stop them. There
     would be nothing to hide.
Notes
     Dedicated to Jessa and Sharon for liking all the same weird,
     wonderful things I do, haha.
“We’re half-siblings.”
It was what Peeta always said when he was told that he and Katniss looked
nothing alike. He heard that a lot, and every person saying it seemed to
believe they were the first to make such a cunning observation, something which
annoyed Peeta endlessly. But he always answered with a sweet smile, never a
hint of anything else.
It was fact that they didn’t resemble each other at all. Peeta was broad-
shouldered and blond, with eyes a deeper blue than their mothers, while Katniss
was slim and slight, with olive-colored skin and straight black hair. Physical
opposites in every way.
Katniss took after her father, the miner. Peeta’s father was the baker. He
didn’t know much else beyond that, and the only photo he had ever seen was
crinkled and yellowed, and that disappeared years ago, not too long after the
baker had. He couldn’t remember anything about the man for himself since he was
gone before Peeta was walking. While Peeta had an impeccable memory, nothing
before his first birthday ever stuck.
He remembered when the miner started coming around, though. Those were strong,
barely-marred-by-time memories. Technicolor ones saturated in the bitterness of
what could have been. They played on loop in one half of his mind, comforting
or mocking, and always haunting.
The miner smoked menthols and smelled like Stetson, but he was perpetually
dirty, a sheen of coal dust coating his naturally dark skin. His smile,
however, was blindingly white, and he happily gave it to everyone he came
across. He was always good to Peeta, even if he shared no blood with the boy.
He’d tousle the toddler’s blond curls, make silly faces, and cook breakfast for
him every morning while his mama was still in bed. “Bunnies in a basket,” he’d
say, cutting up the egg fried in the middle of a slice of bread. The name
didn’t make any sense to Peeta, who was barely two at the time, but it tasted
good and he cleaned his plate.
The baker was a coward, his mama would say. She’d tell him that real men took
care of their own, but the only thing the baker ever gave Peeta was his name.
It didn’t matter what she said about the baker, though, because Peeta didn’t
remember anything about him. He remembered the miner. And he remembered
Katniss.
He remembered everything about Katniss.
~*~
“You were in Mama’s belly and I could feel you swimmin ‘round in there,” he
said as she snuggled up next to him, her eyes heavy with sleep. He told her all
about the first time he felt her kick against him as he sat in his mama’s lap,
and she listened intently, finally settling down for naptime. Peeta was always
the only one she’d behave for.
“You’re full of shit,” Mama would say later, after he wrapped a blanket around
Katniss and quietly slipped off the chair, careful to not disturb her as she
slept. “You don’t remember any of that. You were a damn baby, too.”
But he did remember. He remembered the color of his mama’s shirt that day, and
the way the smoke from her cigarette stung his eyes. He remembered that she was
yelling at the coal miner because he wanted to hunt with his friends. He
remembered that when he felt the push from his mama’s belly, he asked her what
it was, and the miner smiled and said it was his baby sister, Katniss. “We
ain’t naming her Katniss!” Mama yelled at the time. She was wrong about that,
though. Just like she was wrong about this.
“You’re gonna be startin school soon and you can’t keep tellin stories like you
do,” she said now.
Peeta wanted to tell her that he wasn’t telling stories, that it was the truth
and he always told the truth, but he knew that his mama was in one of her
moods, so he kept his mouth shut. Across the room, Katniss stirred in her
sleep, roused by Mama’s booming voice, so Peeta mumbled a quick, “Yes, ma’am,”
and went to tend to her.
~*~
He had only one truly bad memory associated with the miner, but there were few
recollections that he wished to erase more.
Peeta had heard the knock at the door in the middle of the night, and he pulled
back the covers and stumbled to Katniss’s crib, which she was far too big for
at nearly 5-years-old. She was up now, too, and rubbing her eyes as she called
for him. He helped her out just as he had helped her in, and they walked hand-
in-hand to the top of the stairs, Katniss clutching her threadbare blanket that
once belonged to Peeta.
They watched mama at the front door, sobbing uncontrollably as the police
officers stood around her. Peeta didn’t understand. Were they coming for her?
Did they arrest the miner? He needed to hear what they were saying, so he
firmly told Katniss to stay there, and he crept down the steps until he was
within earshot. He listened as the cops tried to console her, apologizing for
her loss as she cried out the miner’s name over and over again. When he
realized that the miner was gone forever, he held back his own tears and
returned to Katniss, taking her little hand in his and leading her back to
their room.
“Come on, you can sleep in the bed with me,” he said, and she stayed with him
every night since.
~*~
The miner’s death changed their mama, and it wasn’t long before Peeta realized
that the worst memories were to come.
She stayed in her room most days, not caring if her children ate, or bathed, or
went to school. But Peeta fed Katniss and always made sure she brushed her
teeth, and he’d sit next to her on the bus even though he had lots of friends
who wanted to sit with him.
They would wait together quietly when they got home until he tried to make a
meal out of any of the meager offerings from the cupboards. They had a fat
settlement check from the mining company, but it set uncashed as their mother
slept all day and night. “We have to be quiet,” Peeta would tell his sister.
“We don’t want to wake her up.”
Because it was so much worse when she got out of bed. Once she was up and out
of her room, she was unhinged, any sound or movement setting her off into a
violent fit. Peeta felt as if he was being forced to tap dance on a minefield,
and he pleaded silently with Katniss to behave, to not do anything to upset the
woman. Every crack of her open palm met his cheek instead of Katniss’s, and he
wouldn’t have it any other way.
Peeta always told the truth before, but now he had to lie to live. He’d lie to
Mama to keep her calm. He’d lie to his teachers about the bruises covering his
face. He’d lie to his friends about why they couldn’t come over to his house
after school.
But he refused to lie to Katniss. She always deserved the truth. Always.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked him one night as she held a cold compress
against his hand, which was blistering from burns from where Mama held it
against the electric stove.
He gritted his teeth, hating how small she sounded in that moment. He didn’t
want her blaming herself, even if the toys littering the living room floor did
belong to her, even if he’d asked her multiple time to just please pick them up
as he tried to make supper from canned goods.
“No,” he breathed, hurt that she could think that. “I could never be mad at
you.”
~*~
Every good moment in his life was linked to Katniss, so she had a starring role
in the most pleasant of memories.
When he was in the 6th grade, Peeta earned top honors for his academic
achievement. And for his science test scores, he received a gold medal hanging
off a purple ribbon. It was just a cheap thing, thin and hollow and likely
bought at the dollar store by his teacher. But it meant more to him than any
inanimate object ever had.
“There,” he said, placing it over Katniss’s bowed head. “Now you have a pretty
necklace.”
Katniss stared down at the medal, tracing her thumb along the curve with a
smile on her face. Their mother sat at the kitchen table and read over the
letter informing her of her son’s accomplishments.
“You actually know this stuff?” she asked, unimpressed. “Or are you just
shitting back the stuff you saw in class?”
Peeta held his tongue. He didn’t want anything else triggering another one of
her outbursts. The lashes on his back were still open from when she took the
belt to him the night before.
“Do. You. Understand. It?” she snapped, slamming the letter down on the formica
countertop. She knew that Peeta could look over something for a few seconds and
it’d be burnt into his brain forever, so every ‘A’ he ever earned meant less
than nothing to her. She didn’t wait for him to reply, just told him that
anyone could do that, and then she pulled another cigarette from her pack.
“But they’re not giving medals to just anyone,” he said, glaring at her.
She stiffened as she turned to look at him, and he knew immediately that he
made a terrible mistake. “Katniss,” he said, still holding their mother’s
stare. “Go upstairs.”
“No, Mama, please,” Katniss cried, rushing to her and throwing her arms around
the woman’s neck. Katniss loathed hugging her mother, would avoid touching her
at all costs, but she knew she had a weakness for her little girl who looked
just like the miner she still cried for.
Mama relaxed, her hand coming up to caress Katniss’s thick braid. Peeta watched
her carefully, worried that she would still snap and Katniss would be the one
to get her hand. But her eyes fell shut as she embraced her daughter, holding
her in a way she would never hold her son.
“Why did you do that?” he asked later as they laid in bed. “You didn’t have to
do that.”
She inched closer to him under the covers, settling her cheek against his
shoulder. When she spoke, her warm breath tickled his ear. “I won’t let her
hurt you again, Peeta. Ever.”
He never felt such love before, and his throat constricted as he held back
tears. “Don’t worry about me so much, okay?” he managed, squeezing her tightly.
It was his job to worry, just as it was his job to protect her. “As long as
I’ve got you, I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll always have me,” she promised, and he fell asleep with a soft smile as
her words echoed in his mind.
~*~
Peeta was popular at school, both impressive to teachers and well-liked by
students. He had no strong feelings for anyone, though. Aside from Katniss, no
one ever made a lasting impression on him; they were utterly forgettable, even
if they weren’t.
Gale Hawthorne was different. Like Peeta, he was a boy with the
responsibilities of a man, and they fell into an easy friendship. Peeta
compartmentalized his lives at home and school, but Gale somehow fit into both.
While Katniss was busy with the after-school activities Peeta encouraged, he
and Gale would pal around until it was time to pick her up, and then Gale would
give them a lift back to their house. Katniss was always quiet during the
rides, always staring out the window angrily, probably still annoyed she was
forced to be social. He still jokingly called her Catnip after having misheard
Peeta when he said her name as he introduced them. Katniss never seemed to
notice or care, and Gale would sneak glimpses of her in his rearview mirror,
then share an amused smile with Peeta as she continued to pout.
One day while waiting for her soccer practice to end, they watched as she
dominated on the field. Katniss was not at all amicable to the idea of team
sports, but Peeta wanted to get her out of the house whenever possible and he
knew she was naturally athletic. She moved with such ease and grace, radiant
with the strength Peeta admired so. After she scored, she walked back to the
bench and greedily gulped from her water bottle.
“Your sister’s getting hot, man,” Gale said to Peeta, his eyes still on
Katniss. Peeta’s fist flexed instinctively as he tried to process what his so-
called friend had just said.
“You better be speaking literally,” Peeta told him as he watched her use a
towel to dab at the sweat on her brow.
“That too,” he joked, but there was nothing funny about it to Peeta. Suddenly
it was very easy to imagine the feeling of Gale’s Roman nose cracking under the
force of his knuckles, and he lost himself for a moment as he allowed that
particular fantasy to play out. He could almost hear the cartilage crunching as
it split, feel the hot blood spilling over his hand.
Katniss was and had always been beautiful, and if Gale didn’t realize that
until just now, he was a fucking moron.
“Watch yourself,” Peeta said lowly, ever the protective older brother. Acting
was second nature to Peeta, though, so he recovered flawlessly with a
convincing smile. “I don’t want to have to hate you.” That much at least was
true.
Gale laughed lightly, brushing it all off as friendly ribbing.
~*~
Mama hated how close he and Katniss were, hated how they needed each other but
not her. Peeta would never repeat the things she said and insinuated when
Katniss wasn’t around, but those words hurt more than any physical blow.
The summer after Katniss turned 14, their mother announced that Katniss would
be spending six weeks at an educational camp across the state. She beamed with
the news, and Katniss sat shell-shocked as Peeta processed the words, too. “My
girl can do anything,” Mama said. “It’s ‘bout time she got out of here and
spread those lil’ wings.”
If she expected a fight out of him for it, she was surely disappointed. He also
wanted Katniss out of this hell hole, after all. It might have stung
unexpectedly, the realization that their mother would never pay for anything
like that for Peeta, but he refused to dwell. He’d pick Katniss, too.
It was his sister who threw a tantrum, screaming and threatening and refusing
as their mother packed her things. Peeta coaxed her out of the bathroom where
she barricaded herself, and he gently kissed her forehead as she cried herself
to sleep in his arms.
“I don’t want to go,” she said stiffly as they waited at the train station on
the evening of her departure. She sat as close to him as possible, her hand
twined with his.
“It might be fun,” he said, but his head now ached at the thought of her not
being home with him. She was his whole world. “Maybe you can make some
friends.”
She gripped onto him tighter. “I don’t want any friends.”
“You could change your mind,” he said absently as he stared straight ahead,
utterly distraught.
They called her to board, and he pressed some folded bills into the palm of her
hand. He had quite a bit of money saved up already from his after-school job
waiting tables and he wanted her to have cash if she ever needed it.
She didn’t try to refuse because she knew he wouldn’t allow it, so she quietly
thanked him, her eyes locked with his. Behind them, their mother cleared her
throat and told her to hurry along. Peeta watched her until she was out of
sight, and then he turned around to find his mother smiling at him, self-
satisfaction written all over her face at the sight of his misery. He knew then
why she paid for Katniss to go away.
To pass the time with her gone, he picked up as many shifts as the law would
allow, compulsively read and reread every book he owned, and counted down the
minutes until she’d return. Then, when there was nothing else left to do but
sit and stare, he called Gale.
His friend immediately invited him to a party he heard about, and Peeta
accepted reluctantly. He was well-liked at school, yes, but he was playing a
part there, just as he played a part at work. The idea of going out and
continuing the act in another social setting was exhausting and unappealing.
But everything was better with the alcohol burning down his throat. He slammed
back a shot, then another, and soon he was surrounded by a group of people who
stood around enraptured as he told them a true story he was making up on the
spot. They laughed at all the right parts, eating out of his hand just like he
knew they would. So he continued to tell them all everything he knew they
wanted to hear, and everyone loved it. Here, everyone loved him.
Gale’s good looks always got the girls to come over, but it was Peeta’s charm
that made them stay. He took another sip from the longneck and met the stare of
a girl with black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. With the help of a few
more shots, it was easy enough to pretend.
He got addicted to the pretending. It was the realest part of him. Even after
Katniss’s return, he still found himself out with others, laughing and playing
as if life was that simple.
“Where were you?” Katniss hissed when he snuck in late at night.
“What do you care?” he asked, suddenly near tears at the sight of her.
She scowled back at him as he unbuttoned his shirt, and then she was at his
side, her fingertips pressing against the marks on his neck and the light
scratches on his shoulders. “Who were you with?” she asked, fire in her eyes.
He twisted away from her touch. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her hurt was immediate, and he fell to the edge of the bed and gripped his
hair, hating himself. He really was as worthless as their mother claimed.
“Are you mad at me?” she whispered, and he wanted to laugh hysterically at her.
She had no idea, the effect she had. No fucking idea.
“No,” he cried pathetically, still pulling at his curls.
She knelt before him, wrapping him in her arms, and he wept against the soft
skin of her neck.
~*~
The front door slammed and then there was the sound of a revving engine zipping
down their street, and Peeta looked out the kitchen window to see his mother
getting in the front seat of an unfamiliar red sports car. He dipped the last
dish in the soapy water and rinsed it clean, then he grabbed a towel off the
countertop. “Where’d she go?” he asked Katniss as he walked into the living
room, drying his hands.
She sat slumped on the couch, staring at the black television screen. “I think
she has a new boyfriend.”
“Really?” he asked hopefully, brows raised. Anything that distracted her from
them was a good thing in his mind.
He took the seat next to her as she turned around to peer out the window.
“She’s such trash,” she said with disgust. She sighed as she settled back next
to Peeta and rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait to get out of
here.”
Katniss had days like this few and far between, times when she felt so trapped
that she actually wanted to indulge in the fantasy of their escape. Peeta knew
it was no daydream. He was going to make it happen one day, as soon as Katniss
graduated high school, in fact, and together they’d run toward a better life.
He was saving up everything he could, and next year when he turned 18, he
planned on staying at home and taking classes at the local college until
Katniss was done with school and legally an adult herself. He figured he’s have
more than enough put away by that time to get them far away from here.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked her softly, earning a rare smile.
“Far away from here,” is all she said.
“We can go anywhere you want,” he vowed.
The smile transformed into a frown and Peeta’s brow furrowed in concern.
“What?”
“You should go away for school,” she said sadly. “You shouldn’t have to wait
around for me.”
“You know I’m not going anywhere without you,” he told her. “That’s not going
to happen.”
He would never leave her, just the thought of another separation was enough to
make him feel sick. Katniss’s love and admiration was well appreciated, but he
couldn’t allow her to feel guilty over anything. She might have thought he was
brilliant and talented and capable of doing anything, but Peeta knew his only
ambition was to keep her safe and close. He viewed any other pursuits as
catalysts for that cause.
“Where do you want to live?” he probed further, pulling her tighter against
him.
She smiled again, and he loved that he was the only one able to make her do
that. “Away from the city.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe somewhere near woods, away from all the lights. So we can see the
stars,” she said. “I’d love to have a skylight in the bedroom so we could fall
asleep with them.”
He sadly looked away, wondering why she thought they would still be sharing a
bed in her dream home. It would be best to tell her now that that couldn’t
happen. That it shouldn’t happen. Instead he boldly declared, “You’ll have it
one day.”
Her eyes shut as she snuggled closer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“You’ve never broken a promise to me,” she said reverently, and he kissed the
top of her head.
“And I never will.”
~*~
He was in an inexplicably good mood after finishing such a long, hectic shift.
The restaurant busy even for a Friday night, but he made a killing in tips and
now he got to go home to Katniss and relax. They planned on a quiet, relaxing
night together, and she’ll read and he’ll paint until they’re both ready to
sleep. It was an unusual weekend for two teenagers, but it was exactly how they
wanted to spend their time.
He placed the takeout bag for her in the front seat of his compact coupe, which
was the first thing he bought when he had enough money put away. She was
usually with him on nights like this, as the family she regularly babysat for
would always drop her off at the restaurant before close, but her services
weren’t needed that night, so he imagined she was already in her pajamas at
home and just about to put on the tea.
He loosened his tie as he turned onto their street, and his good mood
dissipated immediately when he saw all the cars parked around their small
house. Their mother was supposed to be going out with her new boyfriend, not
throwing another party for her worthless friends. Just the idea that Katniss
was in there with the strange men in her crew was enough to send his heart
racing in fear. He remembered the time that his mother’s friend, Cray, had
cornered an 11-year-old Katniss and told her how pretty she was, his crooked
finger trailing down her arm as he stared expectantly at her. Peeta had him
pinned against the wall before he could make another move or implication. “If
you even look at her again, I’ll break your neck,” he growled, and he may have
only been 13 at the time, but he was strong.
When their mother came after him for embarrassing her in front of her friends,
Katniss had snapped at her, darting protectively in front of Peeta to intercept
any blows. He still wasn’t sure if it was Katniss or the alcohol that had her
stunned, but she slunk away like a discouraged snake.
They were always protecting each other like that.
“Katniss!” he howled as he burst into the house. “Katniss!”
There weren’t as many people as he had anticipated, ten tops, but he didn’t
recognize any of them and he would never trust his mother’s judgment anyway.
“Katniss!”
“In here!” she called from behind their closed bedroom door, and he sighed in
relief.
She was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, annoyance painted clearly all
over her face. “She left, but her “friends” needed somewhere to crash,” she
informed him once he was in the room. “They’re supposed to be gone by morning.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen,” he snapped, just as agitated as she was. Now they were
practically held hostage in their own room by strangers, and there went all
their weekend plans.
He unbuttoned his dress shirt, groaning when he realized he’d left her cheese
buns in the car in his panic. “It’s okay,” Katniss told him when he explained.
“Don’t go back out there. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.”
So they sat in their quiet room, listening as the music and laughter from
beyond their door permeated the walls. “Can we just go to bed?” she asked soon,
already fluffing her pillow. He sighed his agreement and pulled on his pajama
bottoms, settling in behind her on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his hand resting on her hipbone.
She scooted back so she was pressed fully against his chest. “It’s not your
fault,” she said. “It’s hers. Let’s just go to sleep.”
They shifted on the mattress until they found a mutually comfortable position,
each on their sides, with Katniss’s head tucked under his chin and his arm
slung around her waist. The sound of strange voices and music blurred into the
background as he focused on her soft breaths. This is what he wanted to
remember of tonight, he decided. Her. Always her.
Hours later, they were both awoken by the loud moans from the other side of the
thin wall. It was a woman’s voice, begging to be fucked harder, and her pleas
were punctuated by the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as her demands
were met.
“Oh my god, who is that?” Katniss whispered, obviously disgusted.
“Who knows?” he replied, but he had a pretty good idea. He thought back to
earlier when he entered the house, his quick survey of the room and inventory
of the faces he saw. Whoever it was sounded a little younger than the usual
crowd their mother ran with, so he imagined it was the petite brunette who had
been sitting in the living room, trifling through their CDs. He had seen her
with his mother twice before, and he was once introduced to her but she never
gave him her name. There had been a tall, blond guy eyeing her in the corner,
and he’d bet his life that it was that man now asking her how much she loved
his cock.
She did, she assured him in breathy moans, and Katniss rolled away from Peeta
in annoyance, her body rigid and unforgiving as she gripped her pillow. “Fuck
yes, make me come.”
They weren’t even trying to be discrete, their cries and moans growing louder
the longer they went. Katniss was facing opposite him now, and he turned back
on his side, too, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noises.
The man told her how tight she was, how good her pussy felt, and she told him
her pussy loved his cock as Peeta rolled his eyes. Katniss was closer to him
now, acting as big spoon this time, and he glanced over his shoulder to see
eyes were closed again. She was a heavy sleeper, so he hoped she was already
unconscious again and missing the show.
The mattress in the other room squeaked as the couple found a rhythm, and Peeta
was surprised when Katniss hooked her leg over his and inched closer, the
softest sigh escaping her as she gently pressed against his ass.
“Make me come, make me come,” the woman cried out loudly, and Katniss rubbed
against him again. Now he knew he wasn’t mistaken, that she was really doing
that. He needed it to stop, though. She had to stop. So he yawned loudly, his
eyes screwed tightly shut, and then rolled over to face her.
He refused to look at her. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass her,
because it wasn’t like it was unheard of, getting turned on while listening to
others having sex. He would be hard right now if he wasn’t fighting it so much.
He never wanted her to feel ashamed, but he couldn’t allow this to continue.
She seemed undeterred, and she slid closer to him, her leg still thrown over
his, spreading her against his cock. He held his breath now, using every ounce
of self-control he had to stay soft as she thrust against him, seemingly
desperate for something she wasn’t quite sure how to attain. Her breathing was
heavy now as she rubbed her body with his, and he couldn’t stand it anymore, so
he opened his eyes, desperate to know if she was awake now, too.
But her eyes were shut, her skin flushed and her mouth slightly open. She never
looked as beautiful to him as she did in that moment. He wanted to tell her to
use him to get off, that it was okay, that he wanted her to feel good, that it
was natural. But it wasn’t, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to summon the
courage to stop it.
In the other room, the woman was still begging to come as they moved faster and
faster together, and Peeta nearly lost it when he looked down to see Katniss’s
hand slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. He was rock hard in an
instant, and he rolled away from her, but her elbow and hip were still in
contact with his body.
The man cried out as he came, and then it was silent. Silent except for
Katniss’s breathy moans as she fingered herself next to him. He felt the
mattress shift as she raised her hips to shimmy her shorts down her body,
freeing her completely, and the mental image of her legs spread out next to him
was nearly enough to make him come in his pants himself.
She was so wet, he realized. He could fucking hear it as she slipped her
fingers through her folds, her breath hitching as she moved. He could feel her
body tensing against him and he closed his eyes tighter, trying so hard to
think of anything else in that moment, but his mind and body betrayed him, and
the crystal clear image of Katniss finding her clit and circling it greedily is
all that played in his brain.
He wanted nothing more than to turn over and finish her off for himself, to
push up her tank top and finally taste the skin always so off-limits before.
Fuck, he wanted to taste other parts of her, too, places he never allowed
himself to imagine because the shame of how much he wanted her nearly killed
him.
“Oh,” she cried out softly, and he knew she was near release. ‘Come, Katniss,’
his mind screamed, and the choked sound deep in her throat that she emitted
next told him that she had.
He continued to pretend he was sleep as she pulled her shorts back up her body,
her breaths escaping in short, hard gasps that he wasn’t supposed to hear. His
cock throbbed against his stomach and he ached to wrap his hand around himself
and finish, too, but he could never do that with her next to him. He didn’t
know where it would stop then.
When she was settled under a blanket and snoring softly moments later, he
quietly slipped out of the bed and the room, padding quietly to the bathroom at
the end of the hall, desperate to make himself come to her image. His cock was
jutting out before him as he reached out to turn the doorknob, and nothing
could deflate him now, not even the surprise of the knob turning before he
touched it, or the door opening, or seeing the face of the petite brunette
whose name he didn’t know.
But she knew his name. She said it with confusion a second later, then her gaze
travelled down his body and to the prominent erection straining against his
flannel sleep pants. “Well aren’t you all grown up?” she said with a smirk, and
he looked away in shame.
She was obviously still high on something, her hooded eyes slightly blood-shot.
She smelled of beer and another man’s cum, and he would never dream of touching
her in a million years, but he was so desperate for release that he didn’t stop
her when her hand reached out to stroke him through his pajamas.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and he looked up to see her looking down in awe as she
licked her plump lips. He could see the hint of white powder still clinging to
her left nostril, and that should have been enough to bring him back, to make
him pull away, but he was too far gone to think of anything other than the feel
of her hand on him. It wasn’t the hand he wanted, and his own was more adept at
pleasuring himself, but in this moment it would do.
“Can you make me come, big boy? I’ll fuck you so good if you’ll make me come.”
He closed his eyes and pictured Katniss, imagined her long, dark hair on the
pillow as he moved on top of her, pictured her small, firm breasts with those
perfect, dusky nipples he’s only seen briefly as she quickly changed in front
of him.
“You’re so big and hard,” the woman said, breaking his fantasy. “Do you want me
to suck-”
“Stop talking,” he snapped.
She slipped her hand into his underwear and gripped him, and his hips bucked
forward in pleasure. The relief was instant, and the need to come so powerful
that he was sure nothing could stop him now. He was just about to push her to
her knees, the image of Katniss in his mind, when his theory was challenged in
the form of a small, confused voice that he would recognize anywhere.
“Peeta?”
He looked up to see Katniss standing in the doorway to their bedroom, anger,
disgust and something else shadowing her face. He softened instantly.
“Go back to bed,” he growled.
She glared at him, hate in her eyes, and then retreated back into the room,
slamming the door behind her. He closed his eyes in frustration before turning
to follow her. The woman called out for him, but he ignored it.
The next morning, she crept out of bed before dawn, and she didn’t say a word
to him all day. Before he left for work, he asked her if the Odairs would be
dropping her off at the restaurant that night, and she shrugged, not sparing
him a single glance.
Guilt and disgust with himself knotted his stomach, but Saturday nights were
the most profitable ones, and he needed to focus on their goal. He smiled and
charmed every party in his section, and an hour before close, he took a break
in the kitchen to organize the bills and toss away the phone numbers.
When the swinging door that led out to the opulent dining room opened, his
breath hitched as he caught a glimpse of Katniss and Gale as they stood with
the hostess. He studied them for a moment, the conclusion already drawn, and
then stormed out to face them.
“Peeta!” the hostess, Cecelia, said. “I didn’t know you had a sister!”
He ignored her, his eyes on Gale, who was smiling broadly. “What are you guys
doing here?” he asked shortly.
“I ran into Katniss outside. I just stopped by to see if you wanted to go to a
party at Thresh’s after work.”
Peeta exhaled in relief, then eyed Katniss suspiciously. She was fucking
grinning back at him, her face nearly contorted by the expression that looked
so unnatural on her.
“Peeta,” she said sweetly as she looked back at Cecelia. “Don’t be rude.”
“Oh,” he said, flustered. “Yeah, Cecelia. This is my sister, Katniss.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Katniss,” the older woman smiled.
“You, too,” she replied.
“I was just telling her that you two look nothing alike,” Cecelia laughed. “Now
your friend here could be her brother for sure.”
Gale and Katniss shared a smile and laughed, then Gale elbowed her playfully.
“Gotta admit, I’m glad I’m not.” She seemed to blush at this, and Peeta
clenched his fist, his short nails biting into the skin of his palm.
“We’re half-siblings,” Peeta replied coldly, his stare still focused on Gale.
He stepped past Cecelia, who surprised by his sudden change in temperament, and
led the other two away from the podium. “I can’t go out tonight,” he told Gale.
“Our mother’s out of town, so I’m staying in with Katniss.”
Gale was about to reply when Katniss intercepted. “Why don’t you come over to
our house, Gale?” Her eyes flickered to Peeta’s as he clenched his jaw. “We’d
love to have some company.”
Back at the house, she announced that she was going to change for bed, and she
slowed purposefully when she slipped past Gale on her way to the bedroom, their
eyes locking for a long moment, which did not go unnoticed by Peeta.
“What’s up with her?” Gale laughed nervously, and Peeta shrugged as he
struggled to keep his composure.
Peeta asked him about work, and they made small talk for a few minutes, though
Peeta was struggling to pay attention to anything that was said, even his own
words. He knew Katniss was angry about last night, and he understood her
disgust (if it had been her in his position, he would have killed the other
man, no doubt) but her behavior toward Gale was baffling. She was so unlike
herself, with the smiling and chatting and, yes, flirting. It unnerved him, the
way she was slipping into another skin as if it were her own. That was his
shtick. He wanted better for her.
When she entered the room again, she was wearing a thin tank and shorts that
she outgrew nearly two years ago, and even Gale, who knew damn well that it was
shitty to hit on a friend’s little sister, could not stop from blatantly
gawking at her.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asked innocently, her hips swaying with purpose as
she sauntered over to the DVD case.
“No,” he said, startling her with his tone.
“Maybe Gale does. Do you, Gale?”
Gale looked back and forth between the two, confused by their odd behavior.
“No, Catnip. That’s okay.”
Peeta rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, pressing against the sockets
in frustration. Her nipples were straining against the cotton of her top, and
her dark areolas were on full display, the sheer, white material doing nothing
to hide them. He didn’t even know where she got a shirt like that, what could
have possibly possessed her to wear it in front of them. She was always so
demure, so pure. This wasn’t like her at all.
Then she bent over in front of the television, her knees stick-straight as she
pressed buttons on the DVD player. The pajama bottoms she wore were so short
that the curve of her ass peeked out from the bottom, and her olive skin looked
so smooth that he had to stop himself from reaching out to feel it for himself.
Gale was staring at her, too, obviously aroused but conflicted. “I should get
going,” he finally said, blinking rapidly.
She turned back to them, tugging at their hem. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, bracing his hands on his knees before standing, and Peeta
knew exactly why. There was no doubt in his mind that Gale was going to go home
tonight and jerkoff to these images, and the thought nearly drove him insane.
“Oh,” Katniss said, disappointed, and Peeta’s gut twisted. “Well, I guess I’ll
go to bed then. Bye, Gale.” She smiled at him, and Peeta didn’t know if it was
returned because he couldn’t take his eyes off of her until she turned around.
Peeta watched with barely disguised contempt as his friend’s eyes raked over
Katniss’s body as she left the room, but then he faced him, his face red.
“Man, I’m sorry. Fuck. I can’t believe I was perving on your little sister.”
He didn’t say anything because in that moment, he wasn’t in control, and he
always had to stay in control. Their entire lives depended on it.
“Look,” Gale continued nervously. “I would never do anything, alright. She’s
what, 15?”
Peeta nodded, and it felt like his entire body was shaking with every emotion
he’s been trying to suppress. Usually on nights like this, when everything got
to be too much, including his own mind, he would seek solace in Katniss’s arms.
“I’m so tired, Katniss,” he would say, and she would beckon him to her and wrap
herself around him.
Never has she been the source of his anger or frustration. Now he didn’t know
what to do with himself.
And fucking Gale Hawthorne, who had to go and be a standup friend right now.
Didn’t he know that Peeta needed to hate him? That the only thing that could
make him feel worse in that moment was for Gale to be someone that was truly
worthy of Katniss, someone that a normal brother would approve of. They really
could be together, if she wanted. No one would question it. No one would stop
them. There would be nothing to hide.
They could have a life together, a family together, a future together and
nobody would bat a fucking eyelash.
“I wouldn’t do anything. I’m sorry,” Gale said, and Peeta shut his eyes, for
once desperate to escape into the recesses of his own mind because, finally,
the present was worse than the past, and he couldn’t bear to think about the
future.
“I know,” he managed. “It’s just been a long day, man. I’ll talk to you later.”
Gale took the cue to see himself out, and Peeta sat and stared straight ahead,
finding a focal point on the wallpaper that he nearly burnt holes into with his
eyes. It was a tiny dandelion, and he stared, stared, stared until everything
else blurred in the background and melted into a shining pool of nothing.
Everything was still shimmering like stardust as he stumbled down the hallway
and to their room, and as he twisted the doorknob to open the door, he realized
his hands were shaking with barely contained rage. He didn’t know what he was
capable of doing in a moment like this, even to Katniss.
Calm down, he told himself, just as another much louder voice reminded him of
her simpering smile as her eyes locked with Gale, that smug satisfaction
painting her face as she left them behind, her hips swaying invitingly for
another man.
“Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” he said, and she turned around,
yanking out her earbuds in annoyance.
“What?”
He crossed the room in three strides and roughly grabbed her wrist. “Are you
trying to make me crazier than I already am?” he hissed.
Anger flashed in her eyes, but not before fear did. If this were about anything
else, he would have released her instantly and ran away, mortified and
terrified over his behavior. But he looked down to see she was still wearing
those shorts, and everything out of focus sparkled as his stare settled on the
thin material.
“Did Gale like them?” she asked tauntingly. She sounded so unlike herself and
so much like their mother in that moment that he was relieved, because now he
really could hate her.
“Oh, he loved them,” he said coldly, his hand tightening around her hard enough
to bruise. “You put on quite a show out there.”
He released her as she jerked back. “Go away, Peeta. Sleep on the couch
tonight. I don’t want to see you.”
The white tank top was riding up her flat stomach, and the contrast with her
skin was hypnotizing. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”
“Maybe you should find that burnout and sleep with her,” she said offhandedly.
“I won’t interrupt you this time.”
He scratched at his head, tugging his hair in frustration as he glanced around
the room, trying so hard to look at anything but her. “I don’t want her,” he
swore, scraping his nails against his scalp. “I’d never want her.”
“It looked like you wanted her,” she said, leveling him with her stare.
“And it looked like you wanted Gale,” he spit back. “So do you?”
‘Do you?’ his mind screamed. ‘Do you want him?’
She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly. “What do you
think?”
“I don’t know.”
She didn’t cross her legs, and traitorous eyes kept darting to her inseam, his
cock twitching at the sight. He forced himself to look away again. “Please,” he
begged. “Change out of those fucking shorts.”
He heard her moving on the bed, and when he looked back, she was watching him
as she tugged down her legs, and when he saw the thatch of hair between her
thighs, he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He bit the inside
of his cheek, his mind screaming to look away, but he couldn’t, not if his life
depended on it, which it very well may have.
She reached down to cover herself with her hands, shielding his view, and he
exhaled in relief. “Do you think Gale wants me?” she asked innocently.
He didn’t know what to say, because either answer was wrong, so he stayed
quiet, and she sighed in frustration. “No one else does,” she said, looking at
him pointedly, tears in her eyes.
And that was it. That was all it took to shatter whatever resolve he had been
clinging to like a lifeline. “Lie back,” he demanded, and she looked up on
surprise.
He kneeled next to the edge of the bed, and his palms slid up the sheet until
he reached her knees. When he hooked his hands behind them and pulled her
forward, she fell back against the mattress with a shocked, “Oh!”
“Spread your legs,” he said, shutting out everything else. Only Katniss had the
power to hit the pause button in his brain, and she was all he thought of when
he dipped his head to taste her.
“Oh my god,” she cried, her legs spreading wider to accommodate him. He refused
to stop, refused to refuse. It was no longer possible to deny her or himself of
the one thing they needed most- each other.
Peeta ran his tongue up and along her folds, her moans his guide. She tasted
phenomenal, better than he ever imagined. And fuck, how he imagined it. He
could admit it to himself now, how much he always wanted her. She was who he
thought about every time he touched himself, she was who he pictured whenever
he lost himself in another girl.
“Peeta,” she cried out, fisting his hair. He stopped to look up at her, and her
nipples were hard beneath the shirt, and he licked his lips for them, too.
He returned to her center, this time focusing primarily on her clit, flicking
it rapidly with the tip of his tongue, then alternating with long, slow strokes
with the flat of it. She screamed in response, and he smiled in satisfaction,
his hands anchoring her hips to the bed. “I’m gonna…ahhh!” she cried out again,
tears in her eyes, but he didn’t allow himself to look away. “Peeta, I’m going
to do it. I think, mmmm, I think I can do it like this.”
Her entire body was tense as she raised her hips closer to his mouth, and they
stared at each other as he brought her to the precipice. She started palming
her breasts over the shirt, and he was so hard it was painful, but all that
mattered was her. All she needed was a little more and she would snap, so he
brought his one hand closer to the inside of her thigh, his fingertips grazing
the mound now rubbing against his chin. Her legs shook around his head as her
back arched, and he moved faster, relentless.
“Yes!” she screamed, arching off the bed as the orgasm hit her. “Peeta!”
His eyes fell shut in bliss as he licked back down to her opening, feasting on
her until she begged him to stop. Finally he pushed off the bed and stood, his
cock still rock hard.
“Mm,” she said, licking her lips as she reached out to touch him. He inhaled
sharply when her small hand covered the bulge straining against his trousers.
“Can I do that for you?” she asked, her eyes bright and pleading.
“Not now,” he said, pushing her away so he could unzip.
She pulled her shirt off and moved up the bed, eager for the next step that
would change everything forever. Right now, he was too.
“It’s going to hurt,” he said regretfully as he positioned himself between her
thighs.
“It’s okay.”
He cupped her breast in one hand as he rocked against her, coating himself in
the wetness. She keened underneath him, begging for more, promising that she
was ready.
“Oh fuck, Katniss,” he cried as he inched forward, too far gone to stop now.
“Do it,” she demanded as she pressed closer to him. “Fuck me.”
He thrust forward, nearly losing it as soon as he was fully inside her. There
were tears in her eyes from the pain, but she urged him on. “Does it feel
good?” she asked sweetly, and he nodded, his eyes closed as he willed himself
to last just a little longer.
“Does it feel better than the other girls?” she asked, her voice dripping with
bitterness now. His eyes popped open as he stared back at her.
“Yeah,” he panted, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. “Of
course.”
She nodded, satisfied, and he moved faster. “Do you like it?” he asked, turning
the tables. “Or do you wish I were Gale?”
Katniss bit her lip, but she refused to answer him, and he realized that she
was still upset about last night. “Do you think Gale could fuck you like this?”
he added, rising to his knees and jerking his hips in sharp, short thrusts that
had her clawing at the pillows, though he didn’t know if it was in pleasure or
pain. “Do you think anyone else could ever fuck you like this?”
She shook her head, unblinking, and his balls tightened. He slipped out of her,
crying out her name as he came on her stomach, his semen spilling onto her
smooth skin and the damp sheets.
After, Katniss sighed happily, and Peeta tried to not hate himself for being so
damn weak.
~*~
“We’re going to have to be careful,” he warned her later as she straddled him.
“Yes,” she agreed, sinking down onto him, grimacing slightly at the pain. But
soon she found a rhythm and the soreness was forgotten. “No one else could fuck
you like this, either,” she declared, bouncing lightly.
“I know,” he told her, grasping her hips and slowing her. “Here, do it this
way.” He showed her how to ride him, and she was so damn gorgeous that he
nearly forgot how to breathe. This moment would be with him forever, and for
that he was grateful.
“You’re perfect,” he muttered over and over in awe. “I love you so much. I’ll
never want anyone else, I promise.”
~*~
“She can never find out,” she added later, her legs splayed open as she circled
her clit.
He stroked himself as he watched, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “I
know,” he sighed.
She was close, he could tell, and that was all he needed. “Were you thinking
about me?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down his cock, the thick precum
coating his shaft.
“Yes,” she cried, and they came together.
~*~
She turned her head to kiss him lazily, her last orgasm thoroughly exhausting
her. Peeta moved from behind her, still hard but too sore and tired to try to
come again, and she settled on his chest, content to listen to his racing
heart.
“We’ll go somewhere far away, where no one knows us,” she said. “Then we won’t
have to pretend anymore.”
“You’ll be living a lie your whole life,” he said sadly. “Are you sure you want
that?”
“I want to be with you,” she said. “Anything else…that’s the lie.”
He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger, and looked up at the ceiling
and smiled. “I like the idea of a skylight.”
She kissed his jaw and smiled. “You promised.”
He did. He’d never forget that.
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