
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3675702.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Hunger_Games_Trilogy_-_Suzanne_Collins, Hunger_Games_Series_-_All_Media
      Types
  Relationship:
      Katniss_Everdeen/Peeta_Mellark
  Character:
      Peeta_Mellark, Katniss_Everdeen
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-03 Words: 1965
****** The Space Between ******
by OfPearlsAndShoelaces
Summary
     On the train. In the dark. Hands wander. Emotions run high. In the
     dubious world between sleeping and waking Katniss and Peeta find a
     new source of comfort in each other and blur lines between fantasy
     and reality.
     Written for the Dream!Everlark Prompts in Panem challenge on tumblr.
     Day 5: tongues.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
The train slips silently through the night like a great silver serpent
slithering along on its belly, making no more noise than the dry rustling of
dead leaves it disturbs in its wake. Inside, only the shadows whipping through
the open window give any indication of movement. Peeta Mellark tries to count
the shadows passing by on the wall, but they are highly elusive, lingering for
only the shortest of milliseconds before they are long gone. Katniss stirs in
her sleep next to him and he knows what’s coming. It happens every night. Often
more than once.
A choked sob escapes her mouth. Then another. Her hand searches blindly,
unconsciously, for him. His heart leaps when her fingers twist into the front
of his undershirt. Even in the throes of a nightmare, some part of her
subconscious knows that he’s there, ready to pull her out of it.
On instinct, Peeta pulls her into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around
her quaking body. “No. No please…” she begins to murmur.
“Katniss, wake up. It’s okay, it’s just a dream,” Peeta whispers into her ear.
But it is fruitless, and he knows it. She’s in too deep. By this point the
nightmare will have her firmly in its clutches, and experience tells him there
is little to do but wait it out. Sure enough, her whimpers escalate into
screams as he clings to her trembling form, begging her to wake. “Katniss,
please!” He shakes her shoulders, pushes the stray hairs from her sweaty
forehead creased in terror.
It is several, agonizing moments before her eyes blink open, wide and searching
in the darkness, her frantic gaze settling on him at last. “Peeta,” Katniss
breathes. Her hand is still clinging to the front of his shirt in a vice grip,
but he doesn’t care. Her nightmare is over. She’s back with him. He can feel
the residual tremors in her shoulders; runs a comforting hand up and down her
arm to chase away the goose bumps. Peeta doesn’t ask what the nightmare was
about; he never does, but as she holds him trapped in her mesmerizing gaze he
can tell that something is different this time.
He is still trying to decipher the blazing look on her face when the
unthinkable happens. Katniss pulls him forward by his shirt and crushes her
lips to his. It is a hard, unforgiving kiss, unlike any they’ve shared so far.
Her lips are unyielding; his frozen in shock. A beat passes, and Peeta opens
his eyes to find that hers, too, are open. She releases him, chest heaving with
shallow breaths. The moon shining through the train window gives Peeta just
enough light to see the lingering traces of fear in the depths of her pearly
grays, and something else as well. Something like… desire? Perhaps the same
pang of longing he feels in his stomach every time she says his name, or allows
him into her bed, or in those rare unguarded moments when she lets out a real
snort of laughter at something he says.
Her lips move then, but almost no sound comes out. He leans in closer and she
breathes it again.
“Kiss me.”
The words make no sense to his foggy brain. It is so unlike Katniss, so much
bolder and confident that she usually is with him, but her intentions could not
be clearer. Her defiant chin is tilted up toward him and the pure desire is
evident in her eyes. Whatever her confusion about him may be, it is obvious in
this moment he is what she wants.
He traces her cheekbone delicately with his thumb, giving her time to
reconsider, time to pull away from him. She doesn’t. So, heart pounding
furiously against his ribcage, Peeta presses his lips to hers for the second
time. It is the opposite of their last kiss; soft and gentle as the brush of a
butterfly wing against the skin, but it still floods his entire body with
warmth. Katniss seems to melt against him, releasing her grip on his t-shirt at
last to favor the back of his neck. Her fingers twist into the fine hairs at
his nape, securing his face to hers. Peeta’s tongue darts out to taste the
flesh of her full lips and she obliges eagerly, opening her mouth to him. Her
own tongue slides against his in a languid dance. It coaxes a groan to rumble
up from the back of his throat, and she clings to him more tightly still.
When at last their lips part for air, she whispers into the space between them
again.
“Touch me.”
Peeta doesn’t hesitate this time. He brings a shaking hand to her breast,
clothed only by her thin nightgown. He can feel her erect nipple under his
fingers as he palms her gently, in awe of how perfectly she fits into his hand.
Almost like it was meant to be.
Then her fingers close over his and she guides his hand down her body to the
hem of her nightgown. Together, they slide it up to expose her silken olive
skin inch- by- inch to the palm of his hand. His hand finds her breast once
more, this time entirely bare to him. She is as soft and smooth as velvet under
his fingertips and he longs for the same sensation beneath his lips. When he
brings his mouth to her chest, she lets out a low, searching moan. He pulls her
nipple between his lips to lave it with his tongue, delicately pinching the
other with his free hand.
When he has had his fill, Peeta releases her with the slightest pop and kisses
a wet trail to her other side to lavish it the same way. Katniss’s body is
precious, a revelation to him, and he intends to treat it with all of the
reverence she deserves. Her fingers find purchase in his curls as his mouth
explores her newly exposed skin before trailing down his back. She teases the
hem of his t-shirt, sliding it up the plane of his back. The smooth tips of her
fingers brushing against his spine and the gentle scratch of her perfectly
manicured nails make him shiver, raising goose bumps on his pale skin. And then
his shirt is gone, her hands snaking around to the front of his body to
continue their exploration. He’s growing hard now. He tries to disguise it by
shifting his bottom half away from Katniss, but she’s too quick for him.
She hooks a leg around his waist before he can move, drawing him impossibly
closer. Her breasts sit flush against his naked chest, and it is enough to make
Peeta forget about everything else as he revels in the feeling of her lustrous
skin against his. Katniss grinds her hips deliberately into him, sending a jolt
of pleasure through his body, already thrumming with anticipation. Only the
thin layers of her panties and his boxers separate them now. She grinds into
him again, capturing his lips between hers in a fevered kiss.
Finally, he gives into his desire and thrusts into her hips in turn. Her legs
open wider to accommodate him and even through her underwear, he can feel the
heat pulsing from her core. Then Katniss abandons his lips to whisper a third
and final command.
“Take me.”
It happens in a hazy blur of lust and pure desire. Before he can fully
comprehend what is happening, Peeta’s cock is pressing into her folds, slick
with her arousal and begging for his entrance. She’s wet enough that he slides
into her in a swift, sure motion. It’s all he can do not to cry out loud at the
sensation. The velvety warmth encompassing him so securely that it feels like
home. It feels right. He pulls out and pushes back in again, desperate for
friction. Katniss arches into him, her breasts heaving into his chest and the
long column of her beautiful neck exposed just for him. His lips latch onto the
skin under the line of her jaw. He can feel the rapid bounding of her pulse
beneath his tongue. He kisses a trail down her neck to her clavicle,
punctuating each kiss with a thrust of his hips.
Though he’s not in the position to see their joining, he wants to feel it.
Peeta slides a hand down to the apex of her thighs and her eyes jolt open as he
hits a sensitive spot with his calloused thumb. “Peeta.” The word curls up from
the back of her throat, intoxicating him like a flute of the finest Capitol
champagne. Her legs wrap firmly around his back to hold him in place: he thinks
it is unlikely she will ever let go. He keeps his hand between her legs,
following the nonverbal cues she gives him- the pleasurable wince on her face
and the dig of her nails into his biceps- to bring her pleasure.
Her hips grind into him with each of his subsequent thrusts and he is all too
aware that he won’t be able hold off much longer. But Katniss has to come
first. She deserves that, and he is determined to make it happen. Peeta brings
his mouth back to hers, wasting no time before drawing her tongue into the heat
of his mouth. The vibrations of her moans reverberate through him and he
shudders in pleasure. His thumb is moving furiously in small, tight circles,
and just when he thinks he can’t hold onto his sanity any longer, her walls
begin to flutter around him, signaling her release. It is Katniss’s
unintelligible cry of ecstasy into the black of the train compartment that is
Peeta’s final undoing. He pulls out of her just in time to spill his seed onto
her stomach.
She has never looked more beautiful to him than she does now, sprawled beneath
him with her hair in a messy braid and still moaning with the aftershocks of
her orgasm.
The pair lock gazes as their bliss fades to be replaced by a sated relaxation.
He’s quick to wipe the sticky mess off her stomach as her eyes begin to drift
closed. He can’t blame her for falling sleep. It is very late, and tomorrow
will be yet another long day. Peeta tucks her into his chest with waning
strength, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. Right now,
it seems almost possible. His leaden eyelids slide closed, and he sleeps.
But morning dawns swift and sure, the sun streaming in brilliantly through the
open window. They are moving more slowly now, he can tell. They’ll be in a new
district within the hour.
As he stares out the window of the speeding train at the unfamiliar foliage of
this new place, Katniss stirs next to him. A dewy smile crosses her lips when
she sees that he, too, is awake. A familiar pang of longing shoots through his
stomach and he knows that for whatever reason, it is most assuredly connected
to her. “No nightmares,” she says.
At her words, the events of last night come flooding back to him in a hazy rush
of sweat and skin and pleasure. But there are only bits and pieces; a flash of
Katniss’s dusky nipples, her tongue clenched between her teeth, a misplaced
moan or whimper. But it all seems so far away, like he’s trying to see
something clearly through a mass of fog or catch an elusive wisp of smoke in
his fingers. As it is, the memories seem to be fading the longer he’s awake
even as he tries desperately to cling to them. But despite his confusion, one
fact remains irrevocably true.
“No nightmares,” he confirms.
End Notes
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