Prompt:
“PSA: Girls who wear Skechers don’t give BJs”
Have some high school Everlark, Anon. They’re seniors in this, so 18 or about to turn 18 years old. RATED M.
***
Peeta smirks slightly at the ridiculous graffiti on the bathroom wall. What, he wonders, does a girl’s choice of footwear have to do with her willingness to go down on a guy?
He digs a sharpie from his book bag and uncaps it before scrawling a response.
Or maybe you’re just an asshole no one would blow anyway.
He finishes and washes his hands, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he makes his way towards his locker.
“What’s so funny?”
He glances up and blinks at Katniss Everdeen. Momentarily speechless at the sight of her, cheeks flushed and braid slightly disheveled.
“What?” he asks and she motions towards his face.
“You were smiling. That cute little smile you get when you’re amused.”
“Cute little smile?” he teases, his mouth stretching wider into a real smile. “You think my smile is cute?”
“Shut up, Peeta. It’s been six months,” Katniss mutters with a roll of her eyes.
“And what? I can’t still be in awe that the Katniss Everdeen not only actually agreed to date me but also thinks my smile is cute?”
“I’m dating you strictly for the cheese buns and the guaranteed prom date,” she retorts as she places a hand on his shoulder for balance. She works off one of her character shoes.
“I’ll take it.” He holds still for her and nods towards her feet. “Show choir practice ran late?”
“Trinket’s got a bur up her butt about the performance this weekend. You know how she gets.”
“Girls. You cannot hold back. Each movement must maximize the fabulousness of the routine!” He mimics and Katniss snorts slightly.
“I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible,” she explains why she didn’t change her shoes before leaving the choir room.
“I’ll rub your feet later,” Peeta promises quietly. Katniss’s expression softens and her eyes dart around the hall before she leans in and presses a quick peck to his lips.
“And there’s another reason why I’m dating you.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he says. “I may ask you to reciprocate tonight. My calves are still burning.”
“Coach still pushing you guys hard over that bullshit second place last week?” He nods and glances down as she tugs on her sneakers. Sketchers.
His lips quirk and she freezes with her left shoe only partially on her foot.
“There it is again. That smile.”
“It’s nothing. Dumb graffiti on the bathroom wall.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifts and Peeta sighs, knowing he won’t get away with distracting her again. He leans in close to whisper in her ear, even though it’s over an hour since school let out and they’re probably the only ones left in the halls.
“It says ‘PSA: Girls who wear Sketchers don’t give BJ’s.’” Katniss makes an indignant noise and Peeta chuckles lightly as he returns to his locker, finishing swapping out what he needs to finish his homework tonight. “Told you it was dumb.”
“And clearly wrong,” she says, sounding almost offended.
He shuts his locker and turns to her, amused now by how pissed off she looks. “Come on, Katniss. It’s probably just some butt hurt Nice Guy whining because no one would blow him anyway, Sketchers or not.”
“Then why were you smiling?” Katniss demands and realization of what she must be thinking about smacks him in the face. He steers her towards the doors, out into the parking lot where his beat up hand me down car is parked.
“Because I wrote something to that effect in response,” he tells her.
“Oh.” She says, but she still can’t quite meet his eyes. “So the other day, when I couldn’t… you know…”
They’ve reached his car and Peeta maneuvers them so that she’s backed up against it. He leans in close, nuzzling beneath her ear and lacing their fingers together at their sides.
“I don’t care, Katniss. How I feel about you isn’t dependent on whether or not you do something like that.”
“But… you want it,” she says softly.
“Of course I want it,” he whispers. “If it happens, I’m gonna love every second of it. But if it never happens, that won’t change the way I feel about you. Okay?”
She’s still biting her lip, but she nods and lets Peeta open the car door for her.
“Come on. Let’s get you home so we can take care of your feet.”
She climbs in and he makes his way around the car to do the same. They’re mostly quiet on the drive to her place, but when he parks in her driveway, he can’t resist leaning over to kiss her once. Just a quick little one because he knows how she feels about people seeing them. Mainly her neighbors, in this case.
“Besides,” he murmurs when they separate, “how am I gonna complain about it when you changed your mind because… what was it you said?”
He knows he’s got a shit eating grin on his face now, and Katniss is blushing and scowling at him.
“You know exactly what I said. And that smile is not cute,” she huffs, motioning towards him. But he still can’t wipe it off his face as she clambers from the car and he follows her.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what happened when they’d gotten a little hot and heavy, tucked away in a dark corner of her backyard while her parents were working late and Prim was sleeping over at a friend’s. The sudden drop of his stomach when she tugged his shorts down and his cock bobbed up only for a dark scowl to take over her face. And Peeta started to panic that there was something off putting about his dick. Maybe he hadn’t washed well enough after practice and smelled a bit funky? He was about to suggest they try something else, about to call it off himself when she’d blurted out one of the biggest ego strokes she’s ever given him.
“How am I supposed to fit all of this in my mouth? Unhinge my jaw?”
Not that she’d never seen him before, but he supposed she’d never given much thought to sucking his dick until that moment. Her perturbation had put a rather abrupt halt to their making out, but Peeta sure as shit wasn’t gonna complain about it.
Her words had spawned an entirely new string of fantasies that had driven his frantic shower time masturbations for almost a week since it happened. Katniss getting him off with her mouth, without putting his cock in her mouth at all. Other than maybe just the tip.
Inside her house, Katniss calls out to make sure Prim’s already made it safely home on the bus, bringing him out of his memories and back to the present.
“I’m here!” Prim shouts back and Katniss double checks the notes in the kitchen so she knows when to get dinner started for her parents.
Peeta stands beside her and helps where he can. When they reach a point where Katniss can take a break, she takes his hand and leads him to her bedroom. Technically, her parents have a rule against Katniss having any boys in her room, especially when they’re not here. His palms sweat a little with nerves, that they might get caught, but this isn’t the first time they’ve broken the rules. And Prim’s already shown she won’t tattle on them.
He’s expecting her to sit on the bed and take her shoes off, but instead she locks the door and shoves Peeta back on the bed. A second time to get him to lay on his back.
“Foot massage?” he asks dumbly as she climbs on top of him, hovering over him on all fours. But then her mouth is on his and he gives up on talking. Resting his hands lightly on her hips, he follows her lead with the kisses. She’s being aggressive today and he shudders when she bites down on his bottom lip. Whimpers into her mouth when her hand slides down his body and starts palming him through his sweatpants.
“Katniss,” he whispers when she lifts her head and slides her hand back out of his pants. “Come here. I wanna taste you.”
He moves to push her hips up his body so she’s sitting on his face, but Katniss shakes her head. And then his throat constricts and dries out completely as she turns herself around, still on all fours, so her knees are on either side of his chest.
“Katniss what are you—?” He tries to ask as she shoves his sweat pants down his thighs. He obediently lifts his hips to help, hissing and gripping her thighs as she wraps one hand around his cock to pull him out of his shorts.
“I’m proving that asshole graffiti wrong,” she murmurs and Peeta’s eyes roll back in his head as her lips slide warm and wet over his tip. When he turns his head to moan into her pillow, his eyes land on her shoes, still on her feet. Her Sketchers. He’s staring at them a few minutes later when he warns her that he’s about to come. And he’s still staring at them when he resurfaces from the haze of his release, a slow smile spreading over his mouth.
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