#peeta: your wife is named after a country lay off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alliswell21 · 6 years ago

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Unmasked ~ Eighteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @alliswell21 and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the eighteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

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~~ Chapter 18 ~~

The Harvest Festival lasts slightly longer than two weeks and usually provides us with a healthy income to sustain us through winter and well into spring. It is the culmination of three seasons of overlapping plantings, crop maintenance, and harvest. Hours upon hours of work. Everdeen becomes a hive of life with visitors from all across Southeastern Panem and sometimes even further. Booths are set up for the sale of wares and food treats. There are games for the children to play and contests for the adults. Planting the bulbs that will weather the winter in soil and hopefully flourish in spring carries a festive air in the task, as though we are planting the seeds of hope for the bounty of the present year to carry over into the next. In the evenings, the world comes alive with music and dancing, the lively reels and jigs of country tunes rather than the stuffier songs of the city and high society. Other than spring, it is my favourite time of year.

All through the day, I am occupied with sales and bargaining. Talking with tenants and people who need my attention. Normally my father would handle most of this while I stand beside him. This year, Father is busy dancing with nearly every female in Everdeen, from my mother down to Sae, leaving the bulk of the real work to me. It is heartening to see him so happy, waving away Dr. Aurelius’ concerns and insisting that he has never felt better.

When I mention this to Peeta, who has not left my side all day, he smiles. “Katniss, he is handing Everdeen to you. You have kept it running nearly an entire year. This festival is all due to you. It is your harvest.”

I am not certain how to feel about that and loop my arm through Peeta’s as we watch the festivities. My foot taps to the beat, but I know better than to ask Peeta for a dance, despite my longing to join. I do not wish to cause him discomfort, no matter that I could never feel shame or embarrassment when partnered with him.

As the night winds down, I find that I am exhausted. Once I am changed for sleep and laid out on the sofa in our room, my head resting on Peeta’s thighs as he reads through correspondence he left neglected today. His fingers comb through my hair, mine trace absent patterns on his knee, yet I can tell that something bothers him.

“What news, husband?”

“A friend. From the infantry. He has returned home to troubles. His brother passed, leaving the land to him. It took some time for him to return home and in the absence of a landlord, a large number of the tenants left. He’s in need of hands to help harvest or his wheat crop will be left to die in the fields.”

I pause in my aimless drawing on his knee and consider this. The answer is evident, and I know Peeta has already reached the same conclusion, much as we both dislike it. “How far?”

“The southern half of East Panem. With a hard day of riding Cicero, I could be there in a day.”

“You should go,” I say quietly.

“And miss the festival? Katniss, I do not wish to leave you.” I sit up then, to face him, maintaining as much of a stoic expression as I can manage.

“Nor do I wish you to leave. However,” I say before he can argue. “We will be quite fine here. The Harvest Festival is perhaps the easiest part of running Everdeen, and you will regret not going to his aid if you remain.”

Peeta tilts his head as he examines me and I smile, overcome with affection for my husband. I trace the scars on his face and then lean forward to kiss the edge of them, down along his jaw. “You never told me how you came by these marks.”

“Musket fired too close to the ground while I was seeing to a wounded drummer. Had to move us both to safety before I could continue, and you know what burning clothes stuck to skin can cause.”

“Hm,” I kiss down his throat, already plotting how to persuade him to take me to bed. “When will you leave to help your friend?”

“Tomorrow, I should think,” he says, the anguish in his voice a mirror of the pain in my heart. “He sounds in desperate need.”

“You should offer additional work and pay to several of our tenants. Take extra hands with you.”

“If that is alright with you.”

“Ask for volunteers. How long will you be gone?”

“I will not be gone longer than two weeks, I should think.”

“Then I shall see you back here before the end of the festival.”

“Yes,” he gasps as I shift to straddle him and press my body into his to feel how aroused he is already.

“Is that a promise, husband?”

“It is a promise, wife.”

“Promise me you will dance with me when you return? Just once, Peeta. It can be a slow tune.”

“Katniss,” he groans as I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He curses and promises me a dance.

My mind grasps onto the thought that now would be the perfect time to say it. To tell Peeta of my thoughts just this morning. Three such simple words that he uttered in the dark as though they were no more heavy than an exhale. But did he? Or did I dream the soft sigh of his love against my brow? I do not know, I was barely awake. I bite my tongue and kiss him instead, wild and uninhibited.

Peeta gathers me in his arms then, holding me close to his chest as he heaves us off the sofa and carries me across the room to our bed. I whine slightly, perturbed at being moved, but as he lays me on our mattress, I grasp hold of him and make demands.

As always, he readily gives me what I want. What I need. Clothes and wooden leg discarded on the floor. Whispered words and pleas, and a dance in the darkness. For what is intercourse but a series of bodily movements in harmony…a dance. I demand that he give me more and the creaking of our bed gives evidence to the desperate meeting of our bodies, almost violent in our need.

His hand clenches in my hair, twisting it around his fist, pulling tight against my scalp and bending my body. His moans roll over my skin as he plunges into me again and again. The short bursts of pain cause strange ripples of pleasure that overwhelm and steal my breath. He is holding back, waiting for me to succumb first. It is this knowledge combined with the sound of my name on his lips, a desperate breath of utter longing, that tips me over the edge into blissful, rapturous oblivion.

The rest of the world falls away to nothing as I revel in my release, in the feel of Peeta’s triumphant shout against my neck before he begins to thrust madly. I wonder for one second if we might break the bed and then he stops, his back arched and his head thrown back in exquisite relief, his abdomen clenching and his fingers tight in my hair.

The way he holds me after provides such an exquisite contrast. So perfectly gentle and soothing. His whispers are more effective in drawing me down into deep slumber than a lullaby, and yet…and yet…

My dreams that night are wild and reckless. A man cloaked in shadows and moonlight illuminating only part of his face, unending pleasure stemming from his touch. He takes pleasure from me like an animal, on all fours with his fingers digging into soft flesh, mine holding tight to bed linens and my throat dry with screams of pleasure I cannot voice for fear of waking the whole house. Whatever he takes from me, he gives back tenfold. The crazed thrusting of uncontrollable lust reaching deep inside me to places I’d never known a man could touch.

Then he takes me with his mouth, my legs splayed wide, immodest and desperate, pinned to our bed beneath his strong hands. The delicate scrape of his tongue on me, marking me. Branding me as his as I shatter again and again. And again. It is as though he is determined to ensure that I cannot forget him in his absence.

I am certain my legs have become useless until he settles me on top of him and I become the one crazed and desperate in motion. I long to tell him that I could never forget him. He has rooted himself in my heart, seared himself beneath my skin where I could no more remove my love for him than I can my own scars. But speech proves impossible for me.

Yet, in the moments when I am coherent enough to recognise the blue eyes watching me as I dance over his body with abandon, I capture the words he moans to me in his ecstasy and hold them close to my heart.

Yours.

I��m yours, Katniss.

Yours, yours, yours.

Everything I am is yours.

Always.

And…

I love you.

… I love you so…desperately…deeply…

I reach a final, tremendous peak with those words floating in the sultry air around us and then dreams yield their hold to the dark, blissful oblivion of restful, dreamless slumber.

In the morning, I am alone. The window shut against a driving autumn rain, and a single orange flower left for me atop of Peeta’s sketchbook, tied to it with a green ribbon. I haven’t the heart to look at the drawing he left me just yet, knowing that there will be no more for some time.

Then the evidence that my dreams last night were far more real than they were imagined begins to accumulate. My wild hair and the nearly wrecked state of the linens on our bed. The teeth and suction marks on my shoulders and breasts and even the back of my neck, the throbbing ache between my thighs. The ten round bruises on my hips where Peeta would have grasped hold of me as he loved me from behind, savage and wild and beautiful. Another set on my thighs where he would have held my legs secure to the bed while he made love to me with his mouth, again and again. My knees weaken at the very thought of it.

Worst of all, though, is the hollow feeling in my breast as I rise and move to the window and know. Peeta’s gone. He left before I could tell him that I love him too. How stupid of me not to reciprocate the words when he spoke them last night.

I rest my forehead on the cool glass, holding the sheet from our bed wrapped around me, my shoulders and my feet bare, hair a wild tangle down my back until Mary finds me like that.

“Mrs. Mellark?” she says my name like a question and I lift my chin. I am not some sniveling, weak willed, lovesick schoolgirl. And I will not act like one.

Peeta will return within the fortnight. I can tell him then. He promised me he would, and if I know one thing about my husband it is that he can be trusted to keep his promises.

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“This is good,” I say as my eyes skim over the written out history. It is far more thorough than I could have hoped. “Could she have returned to any of these places?”

“It is unlikely. She seems to have stayed for as long as she could,” Haymitch says and taps one line near the bottom. My cheeks burn as I realise what he is trying to tell me without saying it.

“Oh no. The poor thing.” I glance up at my uncle as he fixes me in place with a penetrating gaze.

“You are not appalled?”

“I am only appalled at the lengths women must sometimes go to in order to feed and house both themselves and the ones they love,” I say as I fold the pages of parchment together. “There are three years missing yet in your history for her.”

“I have some leads to fill that hole. I shall keep looking…unless you wish to stop. We may only find worse things than this”

“No,” I say and glance briefly over the crowd that has gathered for the afternoon games. The rain did not last long enough to force a cancellation of the festivities. The muddy fields have in fact drawn more people, it seems. Those eager for the fresh air and the tempting scents of meat pies on the cool autumn breeze. Children play, ignoring parental sighs that they will need another bath if they are not careful.

“No,” I repeat to Haymitch. “I want to find her, if she still lives. And the child.”

Haymitch scoffs at this and I scowl at him. “You think that wise?”

“You think Peeta would want to leave his half sister to suffer in an orphanage somewhere? Or worse?”

“There is no knowing who the child’s father is, nor what she has grown to become. She would be nearly seven by now.”

“I am aware of that.”

“It is also possible that your husband already knows of her existence and chose to do nothing…”

My neck heats as I consider the possibility but then I shake my head. “No. He would not. If he knows, then he has been searching for her as well. Which leads me to believe he does not know.”

“You will not be able to keep your search secret from him much longer if you are determined to save both,” Haymitch says with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Perhaps combining our efforts will produce faster results then. When he returns, can you provide him with your contacts?” Haymitch grunts, but he nods in agreement.

I wonder how on earth I am supposed to explain to Peeta that he has a sister, and that I already plan on adopting her, if possible. She belongs with her family, and if she has none now, then her family is here at Everdeen. And how am I to explain the existence of the child without shattering his heart? How to tell him that his mother was reduced to prostitution for a number of years. My heart aches at the thought of it and it is the only reason that I hope he already found this piece of his mother’s journey, so that I will not be the one breaking his heart.

The child will be easier to locate than the mother, it seems, and so I tell Haymitch to focus on that for now. “But we are not conceding defeat on finding Nancy, do you understand?”

“I understand completely,” Haymitch tells me with a strange look in his eyes. Before I can summon a retort, my sister calls for me.

“Katniss, I need to speak with you.”

“Can it wait?” I ask as I notice the massive hay bales being rolled in for the next contest. I am meant to judge who is able to secure and lift their bale the fastest. It occurs to me that it is a shame Peeta is missing this particular contest. With the strength in his arms, he would excel at a contest such as this.

“No it cannot wait,” Prim insists.

I sigh and motion for her to speak. I am developing a headache. Peeta has been gone four days already with no word from him, Haymitch has brought me both good news and complications in our search, and Maysilee is recovering from a slight fever. While the festival at least is a resounding success, it still leaves me drained. At the end of the day, I toss and turn, unable to find sleep despite my fatigue. The empty space in my bed taunts me with unspoken words and fears I cannot explain. The drawing he left me was of me as I slept, the words along the bottom of the page nearly bringing tears to my eyes.

Leaving you is near impossible, and so I go while you still sleep. Had you opened your eyes before I left, and looked at me as you have done these past days, I might never muster the will to depart. Yours always, ~ P ~

“I’ve had a letter from Rory,” Prim’s words intrude on my musings.

“Are we on a given name basis with him now then?” I ask, a little testy. She frowns at me and then I notice her quivering lip.

“I do not know anymore. I told him of your plans to take me to Capitol for a season and now I fear he is withdrawing his interest!”

“Mother and Father agreed to the season as well. Pester them about this,” I mutter and she huffs angrily.

“They only agreed because you insisted! It’s not my fault you regret how your husband hunt turned out. Do you know what Rory said to me about this whole season and more suitors for me fiasco?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she says and I nod.

“If he cannot handle the competition for your hand then his affections are not strong enough to last.” The competitors for the game have taken their places and I give the signal to begin.

Prim chokes on a sob. “I don’t want to him to have competition! I want to marry him! And you’ve frightened him off!”

“Prim,” I say as I turn to her and her watery eyes slice through me. I cannot stand to see her in pain. Perhaps this season idea was a poor decision, but she agreed to it, seemed eager even until now.

“All because you’re not in love with your husband! That does not mean that I will be miserable with my choice, nor do you need to make me miserable with mine! He was going to propose on his next visit, I am sure of it, and now he won’t!” She spins on her heel then, headed straight for the floor as bales of hay slowly rise.

“Prim!” I shout after her but she does not respond.

There’s a shout of warning and then one of the bales descends, the rope sliding through grasping hands and more yells fill the air. I run for her but I am too far away. Joe reaches her first, shoving Prim out of the way of the hay before it crashes to the ground. It disintegrates in a fragrant cloud. Several hands grasp hold of the rope at the same time and heave. With no weight, the hook swings free and wild.

A warning lodges in my throat as it flies up towards Joe and slices him straight up his spine.

He shouts and falls to the ground beside Prim as pandemonium breaks loose. Prim reaches for Joe, crying out apologies and attempting to see to his wound. Joe begins to screech.

“Hands off, witch! Devil take you and your herbs! I’ll not let you drag me to hell!”

Prim retreats as I glower at the man’s display. Everyone steps back from him as he holds his torn jacket and shirt together and waves a bloody hand at us to keep us distant. He raves about witches and sorcery. We are all too stunned to know what to do.

Madge pushes her way through the crowd and slaps Joe across the face. “Cease, man! I am no witch. Come with me and stop making a fuss!”

She grabs Joe by the arm and drags him away. He goes, surprisingly docile. I hurry to Prim’s side, although Mother and Father are already with her.

“I am fine,” she insists, taking their help to stand. The crowd around us whispers and wavers in shock and uncertainty. “But Joe…”

I squeeze Prim’s hand. “I will assist Madge.”

I scurry to follow them, leaving Prim with Father and Mother seeing to her. I pass by Haymitch as he tries to calm a near hysterical Effie and I leave him to it. Assured of Prim’s well being, I care for nothing but my husband’s injured friend — a friend who just saved my sister’s life, although I am certain he despises me.

I am able to follow their trail, a handprint left here and there that leads me to the house, to the bathing room. I fetch Mother’s healing kit along the way and enter the room, gasping and nearly dropping the basket as I take in the sight before me.

“Oh wonderful. Kitten has decided to join us,” Joe snarls as I stare at him…or rather… her…

Torn, bloody bindings and clothes litter the floor. Joe sits on the bench beside the tub, facing me, stripped bare to the waist. Madge bends over her back, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“Katniss… shut the door,” she says in a wavering voice. I do so, too shocked to do differently. I lock it for good measure and gape, my mind grasping at connections and hints that line up with dizzying speed.

“You… you…”

“I have breasts,” Joe states. “Quite nice ones, too.” She fondles them for a second and smirks at me. “I can understand you gaping at them. I have all of the other baggage that comes with being a woman in this world as well. Would you care to see?”

“I…” I have no idea what to say.

“I could use your help, Katniss.” Madge’s words bring me to my senses. “I’m quite good at sewing but have never sewn human flesh and… I do not know what herbs we will need.”

“Are you certain your patient will accept such witchcraft?” I ask and Joe gasps with pain and shuts her eyes for a moment before leveling me with a fierce look.

“I meant no insult to your sister. She has been nothing but kind to me. And I will… I will apologize to her later. But I could not let them discover me in such a public manner.”

“You had better apologize. You caused a shameful scene,” Madge scolds and Joe turns slightly to glare at her.

“And you slapped me, your highness!”

“I needed to get you out of there before you revealed yourself!”

“You knew?” I ask Madge and she sighs.

“Katniss, please,” she says again instead of responding to my accusation. “I will explain later. Right now I truly need your help. I am quite out of my depth here.”

I move to Madge’s side and help her clean the wound, taking too much pleasure in Joe’s muffled grunts as we warn her of the coming pain before we pour the spirits to kill infections on her opened skin. She releases a string of colourful curses that has both Madge and I sharing a glance.

“For shame, Mr. Mason! Such foul language in front of ladies,” I say in my most scandalized tone. Joe hangs her head and shakes it.

“Ladies,” she sneers and then laughs. It is precisely the reaction I was hoping for, distracting Joe from the pain as Madge carefully stitches her ragged flesh back together. “Neither of you count as ladies by any conventional definition and well you both know it. Your highness with your scandalous affair before your late departed husband was even cold in his grave. And you Kitten, with your insatiable lust, pouncing on your poor husband at every turn, demanding he tussle you in the stables, out in meadows—“

“It was by a lake,” I interject and she scoffs. “If you are going to accuse me, at least ensure that your accusations are correct.”

“As I said… Neither of you are truly ladies, only masquerading as one of them.”

Madge and I share another look, colour rising in both of our cheeks. The way Johanna says the word ladies makes it sound like it would be more of an insult to actually be a lady in her eyes. Madge looks away first when Joe releases another string of curse words.

“Here,” I say, offering my hand to Joe to hold through the pain. She bats it away and I return it to assisting Madge. “So then I assume your given name is not really Joseph…”

“Johanna,” she gasps and then releases more curse words. “My name is Johanna. Jo still works for short. That way, when someone tries to call me Joseph the way her majesty here did, I can tell them no one calls me Joseph. Explains why I don’t readily respond to it, and it’s not a lie.”

Madge’s face reveals nothing. She purses her lips and concentrates on her stitches.

“What is your story then, Jo?” I ask gently. “What leads you to dress as a man and fool everyone around you?”

She laughs sardonically and another stream of expletives makes me blush hot. For a moment, I think perhaps she will not share but then she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Same thing what makes the two of you hide your true natures. Disapproval. My father thought to marry me off to a rector. A man four times my age with two wives already dead in the ground and a belief that there is no ill that cannot be solved by a decent whipping. My dear Mama agreed. She thought the influence of the church was the only —“ More curse words echo off the stone walls and Madge halts her sewing for a moment until Johanna regains some composure. “—The only way to cure me of my evil nature.”

“What makes you so evil? I’ve seen no signs of devil worship about,” I say with a great deal of doubt in my voice. She turns her head to peer at me over one creamy, perfectly shaped shoulder and a sickening feeling fills me as I realise that she is in fact rather beautiful, even with her cropped short hair. A collection of pixie features I took for a boy’s in truth belonging to a lovely young woman perhaps four or five years my senior. She smiles at me and it brings me no comfort.

“My parents discovered that I have as great a thirst for a juicy cunt as I do for a big fat cock.” My face flames with her words but I allow myself no other visible reaction. Her words are meant to shock me. I will not give her the satisfaction. “I never saw the reason why my father and brothers could be so freely promiscuous, could fuck whatever they wanted… women, men, goats… without repercussions, but I was forbidden a single loving affair with a girl I loved.”

“Really, Johanna,” Madge admonishes.

“Allow me some fun, your highness. My back is shredded, I shall have yet another ugly scar, and unless Kitten here takes pity on me, I might be out of a home within the hour.”

“You are not exactly endearing yourself to her with that kind of talk,” Madge says and then an awful thought occurs to me.

“Does Peeta know?”

“Does Peeta know?” Johanna sneers again and my stomach feels as though I had just jumped from a great height.

I think of his words… one night of reckless abandon because he felt sorry for himself… surely he wouldn’t then travel with that person as a companion.

Madge says her name in a warning tone but Johanna fixes me with glittering brown eyes, her gaze unwavering as though she knows the precise direction of my thoughts.

“Of course Peeta knows. He’s been helping me maintain my ruse for years now. In fact, this is about how he found out. I refused my betrothal and when my dearest parents tried to have me sent to an asylum, I ran away.” She hisses and her next words begin strained then even out.

“I ran away, cut my hair, dressed myself as a boy, and enlisted in the infantry. I was a drummer for them. You know, the ones that beat the cadence to send commands across the fields. I was shot in the leg, and that would not have been a problem, but I panicked. Then some crazed loon took a bayonet to my side while I was attempting to drag myself from the field. I cut the lout’s throat but the damage was done.” More curse words and she smacks her hand on the stone bench.

“Nearly done,” Madge soothes and Johanna takes a few more deep breaths.

“Peeta found me. I told him I’d rather die right there on the field, knowing what he’d discover as soon as he started tending to me… God love the man, he tended to me anyways and barely even blinked. Not even with musket fire around us… a brush fire. An enemy soldier attacking him. He just… sliced the man the way you slaughter a pig then went back to sewing me together enough to move me. He even yelled at another medic who tried to help, sent him to assist the others wounded nearby instead. He stitched me up, and then lied to the doctors. Said the leg wound was the only one. He stopped by the field hospital every day after and saw to the wound on my side himself. When I was healed enough to rejoin the field, another drummer had already taken my place. Peeta convinced the commander to make me a part of the medical team instead.”

“Driving the cart to move the wounded and the dead,” I supply.

Johanna nods, lifts her arm then, and points to a long jagged scar over her ribs, curling beneath her breast. Exceptionally close to the orb. “This is the one Peeta stitched back together.”

I drop my eyes and watch as Madge finishes her stitching.

“He never asked me why. Why would a girl hide as a man and join the infantry. When I asked him why he never asked… he said he assumed I must have a damn good reason and it was none of his business. He trusted that I would tell him if and when I was ready to trust him. No one would willingly subject themselves to such a life unless they were desperate, had no choice, or wished death upon themselves, he said. It is quite cute when he is so naive.”

I wipe my hands clean with a rag and set myself to the task of crushing herbs.

“So then when he took that sword to his leg…”

“I couldn’t let him die,” Johanna whispers, turning her head just enough for me to see her profile but not enough to look me in the eyes. “I wanted to because then the only person who could betray my secret and see me returned to my family would take my secret to the grave. I would be safe without having to trust in a man. But… I couldn’t. He saved my life, so I saved his.”

“And did you and he…Were you one of the women he…” I trail off, unable to voice the despicable fear choking my throat closed.

“No, Kitten,” Jo says and finally meets my eyes. “I told you he’s a right gentleman. I offered, several times in fact, but he always refused. Said it wasn’t right to take advantage like that when he knew my secret. He saw that knowledge for what it was, something a lesser person would use to control me and so he refused to give even the impression of such control. The damn righteous bastard said he wouldn’t sleep with someone who felt they owed him a debt like that, and that the only reason I was offering was because I felt I owed him. Not because I loved him.”

My spine grows stiffer and my motions as I grind the herbs more forceful with every word she speaks. It sounds like something Peeta would say, but I don’t know if I can believe Johanna.

“Don’t tell him I said it… but he was right to refuse me. He’s been the only real friend I’ve had in years and I am glad he wouldn’t allow me to ruin that,” Johanna says and then she grins. “But he wasn’t above listening to me every night I got drunk and a little too talkative about all the reasons my father thought I needed divine intervention. All the maids and local girls. The boys I let beneath my skirts. My favorite though was a dairy maid named Portia. Ah she was a sweet treat indeed. And you’ve reaped the benefits of my big mouth, haven’t you, Kitten?”

I mix the herbs with the cream despite the burning on my cheeks. I am at least appeased that I am not healing one of my husband’s former lovers, but the fact that Peeta apparently learned much about pleasing a woman simply by listening to this one aggravates me. I smack the cream onto her back and she startles, once more cursing and glaring at me.

“Is that why you hate me then? Because I have been intimate with him while you were not.”

“That would be too simple, Mrs. Mellark. Give me some credit for having more depth of emotions than a jealous harpy. I despise you because the two of you are free to love one another openly and no one will question or recoil from you for it. No one will accuse you of being unnatural, sinful, or an abomination for having that tussle in the stables or by the lake and wherever else on this green earth the two of you have been when you cannot control yourselves. I despise you because you have a real and extraordinary love right in front of you, and you are too much of a coward to admit it.” I blink at her and she scoffs.

“I am not a coward.” Madge stares at me as I spread the cream along the stitched seam of Johanna’s back. “But I won’t admit it to you before I say it to him.”

Johanna’s eyes widen, astonished and so feminine in that moment that I wonder how I did not see it before. The curtsies, the things she’s said to me, the way Peeta reminded her on the day we met that a rough serving man cannot just grab a lady and pull her from the mud without her permission…

I turn to Madge to keep Johanna from questioning what I just confessed to her. “You have been awful quiet during all of these revelations. How long have you known?”

“Since the day after your father awakened.”

I am taken back to that day. The stables. The tea.

“The tea for the monthlies was for Johanna,” I say and Madge nods.

“I did not like keeping it from you, Katniss, but I thought it best at the time. Even though Johanna insisted she and Peeta had never been intimate, I feared the truth coming to light just then might ruin what was growing betwixt the two of you.”

“Which begs the question, Kitten…what will you do now?”

I look between the two women and consider the options, all of what has been revealed to me tonight.

Pulling long strips from the healing kit at my feet, I meet Johanna’s gaze. “Now I will bandage your back. When I am done, you shall return to your dwelling, drink every drop of the tea I am sending with you. You will sleep on your stomach and not disturb or scratch at the bandages. In the morning, Madge and I will tend to your wound. You will only admit either her or myself to see to your care. While I do not believe that my parents would turn you out should they learn the truth, I will not take that risk without your blessing. And once you are healed, you will stop teaching Maysilee to jump side saddle and teach her how to do the thing right. Safely astride. I’ll not see her break her neck over something so foolish as propriety.”

Johanna squints her eyes at me as I speak and then laughs when I am done. “Now I see it, Kitten. I know why he’s so hopelessly in love with you!”

I ignore this and bandage her back, but I have the strangest sense that I have somehow acquired a new ally.

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To be continued… look for chapter 19 on the blog of @everlarkficexchange.

#efe 2019 #submission #M #everlark #everlark fic exchange #chapter18 #anonymous

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years ago

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By the Book

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 94: Smut. Hot, sweaty, passionate, loving, smut. Everlark has to be married and it can only be the 2 of them. No three-somes or switching partners. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: E

Summary: Peeta’s an author away on a book tour, and his wife Katniss misses him. When he returns, he finds Katniss has been reading a smut book during his absence.

“Oh my God, Peeta! Listen to this.”

“Kat, sweetheart, I’d rather talk to you.”

“Shhhh! This is fantastic. ‘Esmerelda groaned as he parted her and slid inside, splitting her in two with his girth. She didn’t want to beg, but she couldn’t help it. She needed him to quench the burning fire in her loins with his drenching juices.’ What the fuck? That’s not even worth the dollar I paid for it.”

Peeta chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re right. That’s terrible. Don’t ever let me write something that bad, and stop buying books at garage sales thinking you’re going to find decent literature.”

“Deal,” I agree and throw the book onto his side of the bed. I hate that it’s empty, and I cannot wait for him to get home to me. “How’s the tour going?”

“It’s good. Really good,” he says. “I miss you, though. Wish you could have come with me.”

I roll my eyes and grin when he sticks out his tongue. “You know I can’t. I have a job. We have bills. We just bought a house. It would have been irresponsible of me to chuck it all and follow my husband around the country watching him sign books.”

“You’re just afraid you’ll punch one of the women you’re convinced is in love with me,” he laughs. “They’re not, you know. Besides, I only have eyes for you.”

“They’re not,” I scoff. “Bull. Shit. Bullshit, Peeta James Mellark. You are gorgeous, you write gorgeous books, and women fawn over you wherever you go. The last thing I want to do is rile up your fanbase. We need the income from your illustrious career, and having your wife on your arm doesn’t help sell books.”

“No, but it’d help me not have blue balls every night,” he grumbles. I pout at the phone screen for a second, but he’s not amused.

“Well, in that case…”

After carefully propping the phone of the bureau, I cross back to our bed and turn to face him. I pull on the tie of my robe, and it falls open to reveal the lingerie I bought after he left. It’s lace, sheer, and his favorite color—a lovely muted orange that glows against my dark skin. I know I’ve made the right choice when he stills and releases an elongated moan that makes me shiver.

“Oh, yeah,” he breathes, and I wink at him before crawling onto the bed and getting on all fours.

“I know you’ll be home on Friday, but I thought maybe this might tide you over for the next three days.”

He just nods as I arrange myself and pose for him. By the time we hang up for the night, I’m positive he doesn’t have blue balls, and I stay up half the night reading Esmerelda’s story and envying her for being in the same space as her lover.

****

“Yes, Prim, he’ll be home in a couple of hours,” I repeat into the phone for what seems like the fifteenth time. “We have dinner plans with his family, so I don’t have time to see a movie tonight.”

My younger sister chatters into the phone, but I’m not really listening to her anymore. I’m too busy imagining what’ll happen when dinner with the in-laws is finished, and I have my husband to myself back at our place. Despite mocking the smut book on the phone with Peeta, there were a few things near the end of the work that have inspired interest in learning some new techniques. I mean, really, I’m helping my husband with his craft. It’s a service to the world of literature what I’m planning to do to him.

I’m leafing through the final pages of Esmerelda’s sexual awakening when I hear what sounds like a key jiggling in the front door and immediately cut off Prim. “I’ve got to go. Someone’s here!”

With Esmerelda and well-endowed partner raised in my right hand as a weapon, I sneak toward the entry and screech when Peeta jumps around the corner and yells, “Surprise!” Startled, I throw the book at him, and he yowls when it hits him on his neck.

“What the hell, Katniss?!”

“I’m so sorry!”

He bends down and picks up the book. His brow furrows when he sees the cover. Raising it up so I can see, he’s incredulous when he asks, “You threw smut at me?”

We stand staring at each other for several seconds, and I have no idea how to recover from the surreal nature of his return. There’s clearly no other way to handle this, so I throw myself at him as well and kiss the red welt that’s sprung up on his neck. Dragging him to the living room, I disentangle myself long enough to lay down on the couch and bite down on my index finger.

“No, I threw the book at you. You should be punished,” I tease, and he suppresses his laugh. Before he left town, we did a little role playing with me as a policewoman handcuffing him for lewd talk and attempting to bribe an officer of the law.

“What are you waiting for?” I demand and pull down the collar of my t-shirt to expose the tiny amount of cleavage I have. “Get inside me. We’ve got limited time, and I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

He leans down and bites my earlobe causing a groan to fall from my half-open mouth. He shivers when my breath caresses his cheek, and I tug him toward me, anxious to feel his hardened length.

His stamina just pisses me off sometimes, and today is one of those days. He doesn’t give in to my rush. Not even close. Instead, he pulls me to my feet and backs me against the wall where he cages me in his arms. When I’m steady, he flips the button of my jeans open and slowly works his hand against my belly and under the fabric that separates me from him.

My knees weaken as the tip of his middle finger grazes my swollen lips. I choke on his name when he parts me to slide into the wetness there. He dips and strokes, incessantly, sweetly, softly, until I want to scream. When I finally do, he finds my clit and rubs it—feverishly slowly—until I’m trembling against him and promising him so many dirty things, I’ll be stained for life.

I’m dizzy with need and desperate for the feel of him inside me when he drops to his knees and presses his lips to the skin just above my panties. He breathes on me, searing my skin, and tugs the fabric past my hips and down to my knees. I pull my right leg free, and he palms my calf and pulls my foot to his shoulder. When I’m balanced, he pushes my knee against the wall and dips his head between my legs.

“Oh, hell,” I moan and close my eyes.

Peeta’s mouth moves against me, tasting and sucking, licking and nipping, burrowing deeper and deeper until his tongue’s inside me, touching my core. He growls the way an animal does when it eats something that sates its hunger, but mine only grows.

In and out. Mind-numbingly amazing. And then he mimics what he’s doing with his hands. His lips close over my clit, and heat scorches my insides. My hands tear at his hair, grasping his curls, frantic and greedy for all of him.

I’m incoherent when I climax, swearing and begging simultaneously. I can’t tell what’s from me and what’s his own saliva when he pulls away and looks at me. His mouth is slathered with moisture and his eyes hooded with lust. I’m so turned on, I can’t stay upright, so I slide down until I hit the floor.

“I want to fuck you so hard,” he murmurs, and my eyes flutter shut at the thought of it. I hear rustling, and I force them back open to see him naked and sprawled on the floor. His cock is rigid and weeping, thrusting upward from a thatch of dark blonde hair he grooms just the way I like it.

I know what he wants, and I can’t wait to give it to him. In seconds, I scramble over him and hover a few inches above his chest. Lowering my head, I trace his mouth with my tongue and grin at his choked response. I clean his face and savor the taste. He coaxed that from me, and I want to enjoy it again. His hands grip my hips, and I shift until I find his cock. I reach between us and rub his tip through my slit, covering him until he’s lubed enough to slide right in. I want to go slow, but a little voice gnaws at the back of my mind. We don’t have the luxury of time today.

“We have to meet your parents in thirty minutes,” I remind him right before we join. He groans, and I laugh at the way pain mixes with pleasure—sexual gratification combined with the reminder of familial obligations.

“Dirty move,” he grunts, and I agree. “Dirty…”

“You like it when I’m dirty.”

I rear back and ride him, and he can’t talk anymore. I know what he likes, and that’s what I give him. It’s hard, bruising, and definitely not something we can discuss at dinner later. When he’s almost there, I scramble off him and grab his balls. His cock twitches, throbbing and angry at the sudden exposure. Contorting myself, I lower my head to take him in my mouth while fingering him with my free hand.

He yelps and thrashes, but he loosens just enough for me to penetrate him before his hips jerk violently and he blows. I gag and choke as the mixture of his cum and my saliva slithers in rivulets to puddle against his pelvis. When I pull back, he strokes himself, fluid squeezing between his fingers and over his hand.

“If you’re done, you better get in the shower.” I don’t want him to stop. There’s something soothing about watching him rub his dick, but we need to get ready if we’re going to make our reservations on time.

“I’m canceling,” he insists and fumbles for his pants. He pulls his phone free and unlocks the screen. He dials his dad and mouths to me, “Take off your shirt,” as the phone rings.

“We can’t cancel,” I hiss, but he ignores me.

“Hey, Dad. I’m sorry for the late notice, but Katniss caught a bug today at work. She’s not feeling great. Can we raincheck?” A grin slices across his face, and he wipes his soiled hand across his chest. The smear of his ejaculate on his pecs is too much for me.

Peeta ends the phone call before I have my shirt off, and he whistles as I slowly bare my chest. I didn’t bother to put a bra back on after I changed out of my work clothes, and my nipples harden under his gaze. Suddenly, I’m disgustingly glad my husband’s sex drive is so healthy.

“Table?” he suggests, and I nod. He helps me up and kisses my neck as he backs me toward the oak slab that graces our dining nook. He helps me perch on the edge of the wood and moves between my legs. He’s limp now, but I know it won’t take long for him to recover. Until then, he has plans, and I’m happy to let him fulfill them. I bend my knees and lock them over his hips. I can feel his heat against my pussy when I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think I can get three inside you tonight.” His voice is husky, and it does things to me.

“I don’t think you can,” I challenge.

There’s just enough space between our bodies for his hand. Long, tapered fingers stroke me, and I catch my breath when one slides inside. His hips pulse along, mimicking what he’ll do when he recovers.

It doesn’t take long before I beg him to fill me tighter. He adds another finger and then a third. I want him deeper, but he curves inside me until I squeal. Sucking sounds mingle with panting, and I relinquish control and let him drive me past the brink as many times as he can. My eyes roll back in my head, and I slump backward onto the table. I can’t tell when he replaces his hand with his cock, but he must at some point.

I’m beyond reason when his pace quickens. He leans over me and drives upward, lifting me off the table with his thrusts. I know we’re loud, but I don’t care. We answer each other; our conversation in a language we only speak together.

I’m filthy when we finally finish. He pulled out and spilled on my stomach just for variety, and the sticky substance pools in warm puddles in several places on my body. He grins and traces patterns on my ribcage until it dries, crusting against my warm skin as a mark of his hold on me.

“And Finnick said we’d never have sex again once we got married,” he scoffs. He shakes his head and kisses both my nipples before finding my mouth and slipping his tongue inside to meet mine.

“If you tell Finnick you painted me with your cum, I’ll divorce you,” I tease and bite his lower lip. “I know he’s your best friend, but that information is off limits. He’ll never let that one go.”

Peeta heaves a gargantuan sigh. Huffing with faux frustration, he agrees to my condition. “Contrary to what you and your lady friends think, men don’t kiss and tell nearly as much as you think we do. I’m positive you’ve shared more with your BFFs than I ever have with Finnick.”

I snort in disbelief. My husband knows I hardly share anything with anyone but him. He’s posturing, and it’s highly amusing.

“You know what I want to share right now?”

“What’s that?”

“A shower. I am disgusting.”

“Disgusting? Covered in my cum? I am offended.” Peeta’s mock outrage makes me laugh, and I drag myself off the table.

“Get your ass in the bathroom, sir. I can’t take this anymore.”

I’m already under the spray when he joins me, and I laugh when he tickles my sides and kisses me on the neck. I love being married to him, and I really love the feel of his artistic hands washing me clean.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my lips, and I repeat his words.

I’m sated and limp when turns off the water, picks me up, and cradles me against his chest. He kisses my temple and carries me to our bedroom where he places me on the bed. He turns off the lights and lights the candles I keep on our bureau before slipping under the sheets and cuddling me to him. His legs intertwine with mine, and his palm grazes back and forth over my breasts.

“I can’t believe you canceled on your parents,” I yawn and close my eyes. I’m worn out, but I know he has more planned for us. I have more planned for him, too, but it seems he’s on a roll. My ideas might have to wait. Esmerelda will understand.

“We’re newlyweds.”

“Still…”

His hand moves from my chest to my stomach, and he trails kisses along my neck and shoulder. I’m soppy and tingling when he finds my slit again. He doesn’t push or rush, but he’s persistent. There’s just enough contact that I can’t quite forget I’m naked with my husband who can’t get enough of my body.

“They want grandkids, eventually. I bet they’ll forgive us,” he jokes, and I hiss as his thigh rubs against my crack. He’s teased me from behind before, but I rear against him. For some reason, the thought of him working me open makes me hotter.

“What I’m thinking about won’t result in kids.” My voice is deep and throaty, and he groans his approval.

Our mouths fuse together for several minutes. We’re skin against skin; connected only as we can be. When he pushes, I pull. When he asks, I open. When he thrusts, I take. When he backs away, I bring him closer. Sweat covers us. My back slides and sticks against his chest. His pelvis smacks my ass repeatedly. His fingers stroke in time in time with his cock, and I can feel him swell inside me.

“Oh my fu—” he groans, and I hold him as tightly as I can. He used to beg me to help him stay together, and he needs me right now. He clenches around me, and I won’t let him go. I fight my climax, but I’m too close. I warn him, but it rips through me and splinters into a million pieces.

It’s several minutes before I’m cognizant again, and the weight of my husband’s body feels delicious. He shifts and pulls free, and I bite my lip as another groan rips from my throat. Every nerve ending screams in the aftermath of our coupling.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Peeta grumbles and drops a sloppy kiss on my chest.

“Ooooooooor, you could go away all the time and come back to this.”

When he chuckles, it rumbles through my torso. He nuzzles under my chin and holds me as his breathing returns to normal. My eyelids droop, and his fingers glance over my rib cage and raise goosebumps on my skin. I love him more than I know how to say, so I don’t. Instead, I curl into him and fall asleep in his arms. I have only good dreams.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #hutchhitched #prompt 94

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everlark-lover3892 · 7 years ago

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Chapter Four- The Night

“My husband and I got pregnant on the first night that we got reaped” so I was forced to try and go to a family thing at Peeta’s and if I’m completely honest… I’m hating it right now, I’m sourrounded by pregnant women and some that already have children talk about how well they’ve obeyed the law… I could give two craps about what it was like, this just makes me feel beyond uncomfortable

“What about you Katniss? I hear my cousin just adores you” Peeta’s cousin asks

“Um, I’m not pregnant yet, were kind of taking it slow… instead of getting straight into it” I reply

“Really? Well, will we be expecting a new family member anytime soon?” She asks but I just shrug, they all send me weird looks before they continue their conversation about what gender they’re having or names for the ones who aren’t that far along, I stand up and walk around the very fancy home and find Peeta talking with his brothers so I choose not to disturb him and go outside the front porch and watch the rain fall

“Not enjoying the party?” I hear next to me and there Peeta’s dad sits in a wooden porch chair

“Care to join me?” He asks, I decide not to refuse his offer and sit in the chair next to me

“I love this weather. Helping dead grass grow again, grows our farmers crops” he sighs

“Not for hunters. All the animals are hiding which makes it harder for us” I admit

“Indeed but what you need to remember is hunting isn’t something you should be doing everyday, our animals need time to reproduce, give off offspring. In every animal there is a life worth living” he replies

“So you like hunting?” He asks me

“I love it, not the killing aspect of it, the being able to spread your wings, when I’m hunting I feel like I’m someone different. I feel so free when I’m hunting” I smile and he chuckles

“That’s how my Peeta feels about his painting. When he was just a boy he would draw the most… detailed drawings, I mean it wasn’t like Leonardo Da Vinci but it was impressive for a little boy, Peeta is a unique boy, I’m proud that he’s my son” he explains and I give a small smile

“Everyone’s expecting us to have a baby soon…”

“That’s because no one wants the Mellark blood to disappear” he says rolling his eyes and drinking his drink

“Ever since Peeta was born his mother vowed that this child should do no wrong, her sons not having children is a wrong” he adds

“Why aren’t you rushing us then?” I ask

“Because the beauty of life needs to make its own path” he replies

“Thank you. It was getting to me until we had this little talk” I smile and he does too

“No need to thank darling. Your part of the family now, I’ve got you through this whole thing” he smiles at me, I see where Peeta got his personality from.

I watch as Peeta paints, no one was able to go to work due to the storm so Peeta and I have been cooped up in our home, we’ve been too busy to actually have sex but my sexualness towards him is getting too much for me. I stand from where I was sitting and walk up behind Peeta then I start kissing his neck

“Katniss… I can’t concentrate when your doing that” he sighs

“Make love to me” I whisper in his ear, he turns on the stool he was sitting on and pulls me into his lap

“Your sure? We can still wait i—” but I cut him off by kissing him, carefully he lifts me and carries me to our room as we continue to kiss, he lays me on our bed then takes off his shirt and this is actually the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt and I never thought he was that in shape, my hands slide up from his stomach and on his chest, I decide to get rid of my shirt so we can keep kissing, I feel so exposed and shy once it’s off as he looks at me but it’s all forgotten when we start kissing again, I run my hands through his hair as he kisses down my neck and further I let out sounds that I didn’t know I could make, he takes off my sweatpants which leaves me in just my underwear

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers on my lips and I nod

“Well your beautiful, I-I love you” he replies which makes me smile

“I love you too, more than you think” I tell him and pull his head down so we can kiss again, he reaches his hands behind me and unclips my bra then throws that across the room, he’s mouth covers one of my breasts while he massages the other, I moan out in pleasure, struggling to contain myself, so this is what this feels like…. I like it, no, I love it. While he does that I take his pants off and rub his bulge from his boxers causing him to bite down in pleasure, as I keep rubbing him, he continues to kiss down all the way to my panties

“Peeta… I can’t wait any longer” I moan, he then gets rid of them right away, he takes his time as he looks at my naked body before taking his boxers off, I take this chance to look at him naked before he starts kissing me again

“If it hurts too much… just tell me okay?” He says against my lips and I nod, I then feel him enter me, I grip the bed sheets trying to get use to the uncomfortable feeling, I mean yeah it hurts but not as much as I thought

“You okay?” He asks

“Yeah… just give me a minute” I reply, after I give the okay he slowly and softly starts thrusting, by the middle of it he’s picked up the pace and I’m screaming out his name

“Oh Peeta!” I scream and I feel myself shake as I finish but continue to moan in pleasure as Peeta continues his thrusts but soon he lets go inside me, he pulls out and collapses next to me, we both try to regain our breaths as we hear the raindrops hitting the window

“I… wow” he pants

“I never thought it’d feel like that” I say

“Me neither” he replies, I cuddle up to him with a tired but happy sigh, my eyes slowly start to close and the last thing I hear is Peeta telling me that he loves me before I fall completely asleep, having a nice dream for once.

I wake up and notice I’m in bed alone, I look next to me and see that Peeta’s gone but a delicious smell is all I can smell. I get up out of bed but as I stand I can feel the pain between my legs but I actually smile as I just remember what happened between Peeta and I, I put on some new underwear and just put Peeta’s shirt over me, I walk downstairs but as I do I can hear other voices coming from the living room but as I walk in my eyes grow wide… Peeta’s grandparents are here! I thought they weren’t coming till next week!

“Katniss. Your awake” Peeta says giving me a sorry look, he better because both of his grandparents see a girl they’ve never met before wearing their baby grandsons shirt, what else would that give off?!

“So this is Katniss? Why is she wearing your shirt, darling?” His grandmother asks

“Oh! Well I was teaching her to paint earlier and let’s just say she’s a really messy painter” Peeta chuckles but I still give him a death glare from behind his grandparents

“Will you excuse us for a moment” he smiles and we walk upstairs to our bedroom

“What the hell Peeta?!” I whisper/yell at him

“I’m sorry! They just showed up” he replies in defence

“A heads up would’ve been nice. Like maybe waking me up and say ‘oh Katniss my grandparents are here don’t dress like we literally just had sex’ that would’ve definitely be nice” I snap at him

“I know! I’m sorry but it’s not my fault that they came so soon! You looked too peaceful to wake up” he sighs and I immediately feel bad

“I’m sorry… I just panicked because I wanted their first impression of me perfect” I sigh

“Katniss. You don’t need to impress anyone, I love you and that’s all that matters. How about you get dressed and we’ll have dinner, forget this al, happened. Yeah?” He replies rubbing my shoulders and I nod, he kisses my forehead then walks out, I take my time redressing and I redo my braid as I walk down the stairs, I join Peeta and his grandparents in the kitchen so we can start dinner, of course they had to be his moms parents, which makes everything so much harder because they’re both fancy and eats eligantly and dress like it too

“So, I hear that you hunt as a job Katniss?” His grandmother Violet asks

“Um yes, I only hunt once every three weeks, I teach it to ages 12-17, for the ones who enjoy it of course”

“Katniss is one of the most impressive archer there is around here” Peeta proudly states

“Well where we live our hunters are all men, the jobs us women have is baking or a receptionist”

“But you live in the rich part of this country, Nan. Girls are able to hunt here” Peeta defends

“I know that but women are not meant to have men jobs”

“Why not? I mean what law says that we’re not meant to have jobs that only associate with men? You know the world doesn’t work like that. You can’t tell me what I do for a living is only for men because I love your grandson and like most people like you he likes me for who I am not by the job I have” I put her in her place and of course she doesn’t like it so she leaves with her husband, for a moment I feel like I’ve upset Peeta but I just hear him start laughing

“Oh my god that was amazing! This is why I love you, you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself” he smiles and I do too

“So you’re not mad?” I ask

“Oh god no! I’m proud that you’re my wife that’s for sure” he chuckles, I never thought that I’d like to be married this much but I do.

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