stillplaying | 7th Game [action/voice]

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7th Game [action/voice]

[Action]

[The bakery is a mess. She never meant for it to end up that way. It just sort of happened. Flour covering hair and body, the smell of something burning from the kitchen, flecks of pink frosting teasing her cheeks. Peeta's normally presentable window displays are less than ideal; a poor attempt at recreating the alluring cakes that always caught her attention back in District Twelve. The frosting's melted from the summer heat on one that's sat out since Friday. Another is poorly covered with a grey color -- an attempt at mixing food dyes gone horribly wrong.

Ingredients for various baked goods have somehow escaped the kitchen, piled up on the counters, half covering the note cards Peeta had left for her. Cookbooks borrowed from the library lie open elsewhere, pages now far from pristine. Half baked pretzels stock the shelves along with burnt chocolate chip cookies. Deformed cheese breads and crumbled brownie bites still in their trays sit nearby. Even Buttercup, easily pleased by any free food, ignores the easy pickings.

She tried. She had tried so hard. Peeta had left her recipes. Had tried to teach her how to bake on lazy days when she was more content to spend time with him in the bakery than go about her own thing. It seems that every lesson has been forgotten. Any skill she might have had in the kitchen, utterly gone.

The rain pours outside as she plucks at the rock hard shortbread cookies she's recently retrieved from the oven, trying her best to peel them from the tray. It's a halfhearted effort as she leans her head against her hand and stares out the window. She'd rather be hunting. But it's been raining ever since Peeta left for his mission, raining so hard, all she's been able to do is check a couple of the traps in the river behind their house. And she had promised, hadn't she? Promised she'd look after the bakery?

Look how miserably she failed, the worry making it hard to breathe, harder to concentrate. Shouldn't he be back by now? Shouldn't he?

Every few minutes, she checks the journal for signs of life. Ignores Buttercup begging for real food. Glances at the door to see if Peeta's finally return. No luck. No luck at all. He's supposed to be back today. Why isn't he back yet?]

[Voice]

Why do you bother? [The words aren't meant to be recorded in the journal, but they are, anyway. It barely processes to Katniss that she's left it laying open, close enough to pick up any mutterings.] Going on these missions? Being a piece in their games?

It's stupid. This is all stupid.

[ooc: timed to after mission is over, when people start arriving home. but if you want to tag during -- feel free to have katniss in the bakery making a mess from friday on!

also, edit for warning of sexual content in the Peeta thread.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She shakes her head quickly and for a second there, can't help but wonder if Gale ever has. She knows he kissed other lips, knows how other girls fawned. But if there's any thought of anything that doesn't belong here in this bed, it's of her old friend.]

I think I like it better this way.

[His eyes turn back to her, a smile on his lips.] Me too.

[He kisses her again, one hand moving to her waist, his thumb gently stroking the skin between her shirt and her pants.]

[It tickles a little, the feel of his thumb on her skin. Tickles and tingles, making her feel overheated even as she shivers. The sensations make it difficult to concentrated on the kiss and she pauses, resting her forehead against his own.

Just for a moment, just while she works up the courage to look down at his hand on her stomach and ever so much tug up her shirt a little higher. But she's brave enough to face his reaction to her daring. So quickly, she resumes the kiss as if the last couple of seconds never happened.]

[His fingers take the opportunity to ghost over her stomach, then. Gentle, just sensation, not grasping. The passion, he pours into the kisses, all the hunger he won't let his hands express.

Any moment, she could panic. But more and more, that fear is going away. He has the jitters, sure, but he's starting to have some confidence as well.]

[How many kisses have they shared over the past two years? More than she ever imagined herself capable of. And yet, she hasn't tired of them. She's starting to wonder if she ever will.

As his kisses become more passionate, she finds herself responding in kind. Her own strokes of lips and tongue become more demanding, safe in the familiar gesture, saying everything her hands are still afraid to express. They stay relatively still against his back, clutching and bunching the fabric of his shirt.]

[His lips pull away from her mouth and immediately latch on to her throat when he suddenly wants to feel that soft skin with his lips. His hand over her belly begins to push up her shirt, exposing pale skin.

Not dreaming. Not dreaming.]

Oh.

[The gasp is as unexpected as the feel of his lips on her neck and as unexpected as how much she likes it. She arches his neck, relying on instinct, on how much she wants him to keep teasing her neck like that.

It doesn't even bother her that he's pushed up her shirt further. If anything, it gives her another burst of courage: this time to reach down to the hem of his own shirt.

Real. So very, very real.]

[He smiles against her neck when she begins to lift his shirt. It gives him the confidence to move both hands to her belly and lift her shirt up, up, and hopefully, over her head.]

[She senses what he's doing. The shirt rises further up, past her stomach and towards her breasts and she nearly does panic. Grips on to his shirt so tightly that her nails nearly pierce the fabric.

But she lets go. And she moves her arms so that her own t-shirt slips off to reveal a basic black bra underneath. But she doesn't move much more. Just looks up at him with fright and embarrassment in her eyes, terrified that he won't like what he sees.]

[His eyes flicker from her face to her body and back again. Seeing the anxiety in her face, he leans down to kiss her collarbone lightly. His hands remain stationary on her waist until she relaxes.]

I can't believe how beautiful you are.

[She can almost believe the words, hearing Peeta say them. And he's kissing her, somewhere new, and that's also a good sign, isn't it?

She lets herself smile, albeit it doesn't entirely defeat the worries in her eyes. But she tries. Even tries to look a little coy despite the way her cheeks flame.]

I think... we're both supposed to do this, right? Remove our shirts?

You want to do mine?

[She nods shyly. She's seen him naked before. She's even undressed him before. But that was all in the arena, during the Games, when she was doing everything in her power to keep him alive.

This... this is completely different.]

Yeah.

[It still takes her a moment or two after whispering the word to move her hands back to the bottom of his shirt. And another couple of moments before she's finally able to lift it up and off.]

[The slight chill of the air around him isn't the only thing that makes goosebumps stand up along his arms. His hands, raised to help her in her task, come back down and land on her shoulders. One cradles the back of her neck as he kisses her again, while the other traces the gentle curve of one soft shoulder.]

[Katniss is grateful for the distraction of his lips when he kisses her again. Nakedness still embarrasses her, as silly as it seems. And while she knows it's a necessity for what they want to do, it's not easy to completely put herself at ease.

He's warm though and his skin is smooth. No burn scars yet, not like her own body. It's not so bad now, not like they were when she first arrived. But she knows they're there, all over, up to her neck.

She's a fire mutt. And he still found her beautiful.

A sudden enthusiasm fills her and she lets herself place her hands back on his back. Touching the warm skin, actually truly exploring every exposed bit of his back, even the base of his dandelion wings.]

Edited 2012-08-21 04:13 (UTC)

[He's seen more of her scars than she might realize, sleeping by her every night. A shirt creeping up her back as she lies on her stomach, pajama pants riding up or down, a sleeve rolled up. It's really not that much of a shock to see the rest of her body, and the little shock there was, he hid well. He really does think she's beautiful.

To make his point, he kisses a scar just above one breast, drawing the hand on her neck down to her waist. The sensation of her hands exploring his back makes the goosebumps go crazy, but when he hands reach his wings, he sucks in a sharp gasp.]

[She's been good up to now. Any time she's been afraid, she's found ways to overcome. Deep breaths, frightened gulps, even just losing herself in his kiss.

But when he gasps, she startles. Her hands move from his wings as quickly as they possibly could and she bolts upright in the bed. In the end, it's not the worry over her own insecurities that gets a reaction. It's fear for Peeta's well being.]

Are you okay? Peeta? Did I hurt you?

No! [He pulls away enough to look her straight in the eye.] No. It felt good, actually. Do you...?

[He tries to show her by ghosting his fingertips over the top of one of her wings, very gently.]

[He wouldn't lie to her. At least, he wouldn't lie to her about something like this. She can trust him. It's a thought that's only confirmed when their eyes meet.

He wouldn't lie.]

It did? It-- [The sentence breaks off when he touches the tip of her wing and she finds herself shivering. Hugging herself and looking away in an attempt not to drown in the way that felt.

She looks up, bashful.] Can you do that again?

[This time, he uses both hands, one for each wing, and goes a little slower and firmer, admiring the mockingjay pattern as he goes. He has so much of her body left to explore and map, and he can't help his eyes doing so.]

[It takes a moment for her brain to catch up with the rest of her body. By the time she notices the exploration of his eyes, she's too caught up in the way his hands are touching her wings to care. It's... liberating.

And it does feel good. He was right. It feels even better than the way his lips had felt on her neck.

Huskily,] You're good at this.

[The sound of her voice. Gosh, does she even know what that does to him?]

So are you. [It's just hard to explain why. With his hands thus occupied, he lowers himself down to kiss another scar, this one on the top of her breast. How long should he keep up the wing-stroking, though, before it gets old?]

I don't -- [She stops herself. She doesn't agree with his opinion. But then, Katniss doesn't agree with most of Peeta's opinions about her.

And what he's currently doing with his lips is a lot more interesting than being self-depreciating. She looks down at the way his head hovers over her chest and comes to a quick decision.] You can remove the bra, too. If you want.

Are you sure? [He looks up at her, not surprised, only checking. Still, one hand moves to hover beside her, poised to follow her suggestion.]

[She nods quickly. If he gives her too much time to think on it, she'll back out. But for now, for now she's feeling almost confident, almost comfortable being naked in front of him.]

Yeah.

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