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The humidity tonight is oppressive. The heat is making it hard to do anything. It’s not enough to quell the ache between my legs, however. I’m feeling a great sense of need, particularly for my husband’s touches. The other ache in my legs, albeit a less needy one, tells me there’s weather on the way. It's both a gift and a curse.
Despite the heaviness of the air, we got in bed and took up our usual positions — my head resting on its designated place on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. I’ll be damned if I fall asleep anywhere that isn’t in the strong arms of my husband, even on nights like this. “God, it’s hot,” Peeta gasps. Of course he would say that. The man is a walking furnace. I don’t know how he can tolerate being around those hot ovens all day this time of year. I’m less affected by hot weather and even I have to agree with him. It’s way too hot tonight. After some passionate kisses, he proclaims it's too hot to do anything further. I whine and insist it was fine, it’s summer, you’re always hot, please Peeta, I try to charm him with, but no dice. Peeta holds firm and eventually, I manage to doze off for a bit. Whether intentional or not, I awake to the sensation of Peeta pressed behind me, softly rubbing my nipple with his thumb. It’s unclear how conscious Peeta is right now. The spark between my legs further ignites with his touches. “Peeta,” I whisper into the dark. He responds by ever so slightly pinching my nipple. Oh, so he is awake.
I fling my leg over Peeta’s hip and start to subtly rock against it. Peeta knows my cues almost as instinctively as he knows how to make cheese buns. He grabs me by the waist, wraps my legs around him, slides out of bed with me in tow, and sets me down at the edge before kneeling on the floor. My heart skips a beat. For someone who turned down my advances earlier, he sure has no issue heating things up.
“What happened to it being too hot to do anything?” I ask, looking down at my husband. I love this view. “What was it you said earlier? Katniss, not tonight? I’m overheating?” I tease, recalling Peeta’s shit excuse at rejecting me earlier. It’s all in good fun. “I watched a popsicle drip down your chest and I couldn’t even lick it off!”
“Katniss,” laughs Peeta. “Oh, Katniss dear. We’ve been together long enough, you should know neither of us are capable of being wrapped around each other naked in bed without fucking at least once.” I roll my eyes, that’s not what he tried to say earlier, but my fake annoyance lasts a millisecond.
Peeta’s fingers start to trace a path through my curls. A slew of noises escape my mouth, ranging from anticipatory giggles to lusty moans. “Told you,” he mutters. His electric touch has me writhing as much as I can while his strength holds me in place. I glance over at the clock on his bedside table. It’s not even midnight yet, but it’s one of those nights where it just feels so much later than it is.
Over the sounds coming out of my mouth, I hear heavy rain starting to fall. Good. It’s been a dry start to the summer and the garden desperately needs a drink. I hope the nighttime downpour will clear the air for a bit, too. My moment of temporary distraction fades when Peeta grabs hold of my thighs and pins them open. A wide grin is plastered all over his face. I want him as much as he wants me right now. He rubs his fingers up and down my core one last time, his elbow keeping me pried for him. Even in the dark, I can see just how drenched they are.
“You’re so wet, Katniss,” Peeta drawls. “I don’t know what’s wetter right now. You, or the sky.” Something like a hum escapes my mouth in agreement, or as best as I can coherently do for him right now. “I love seeing my wife like this. So wet. I barely even touched you and you’re soaked. You’re so sexy, Katniss,” he babbles directly to my core. “Show me how much you want this, Katniss.” Peeta, the tease he is, has his finger hovered directly above my clit. Close enough to feel his presence, but not close enough. “Enough of the commentary Peeta, I need you to do something,” I beg him. “Touch me, kiss me, anything,” I whine. This is torturous. He has my legs obscenely spread open and he’s not even touching me right now. Peeta continues to smirk as he stares intently at my center. It’s not like he needs help looking for something, he knows the area very well.
And then he, finally, buries his face in between my thighs.
All at once, my hands do as they usually do when we’re in this situation: I grab hold of his curls and grip him close. We’ve had a couple of years of practice at this game and I’ll never get tired of playing. The downpour outside increases, but all I can focus on is the sensation of Peeta Mellark’s face buried into the most sensitive region of my body. The way he fits so perfectly between my thighs in more ways than one. I have no doubts I’m as soaked as he says I am. Most of the times we do this, I have my legs situated over his shoulders. Peeta likes having his head held in place by my thighs. My legs pinned wide open has made him absolutely feral. I feel about the same, and I find my body trying to fight his strong arms. I feel so exposed in this position but in a good way.
The sky flashes, or so I think it does. It’s hard to tell when I’m on the precipice of seeing stars. Peeta must notice too, because he looks up from between my legs to look at the open window. I thought he was looking at me for a second. If he had, I think I would’ve exploded right then and there. Truly one of my favourite sights in the world is just how entranced my body makes Peeta. I’m so, so close, but I manage to hang on just a bit longer. Peeta’s attention returns to what’s important and within a minute, I have completely unraveled. I am spent. He remains in place until the last bit of energy has escaped my body, all thanks to his mouth. I am all but certain I quenched Peeta’s “thirst” on this hot night.
I’m in such a state of bliss, I don’t even feel Peeta settle back in beside me at first. My arms and legs are sprawled out, and surely I am taking up half the bed. Another flash of lightning illuminates up the sky, followed by a distant rumble. This time, I know for sure it wasn’t just me seeing it. It's thundering. Peeta shifts on the bed and gathers me into his arms. Living in a place like District 12, we’re used to hot, humid summers and wicked thunderstorms, day and night. I never minded them much as a kid, although there were a few times I got caught out in the woods during a storm. Nothing bad ever happened during these times, other than my mother scolding my father for not paying attention to the sky. But losing the love of your life at a midnight lightning strike will change one’s perspective. Both Peeta and I don’t mind thunder as much during the daytime, but a nighttime thunderstorm has the right ingredients to send both of us into an anxiety spiral. Ironically, this is the time we’re guaranteed to be together when it happens. Not at the bakery. Not in the woods. Not out and about. And certainly not in an arena. In bed, together. I catch Peeta’s eyes glancing over at the clock.
“Peeta,” I whisper softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll stay with you. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” I stroke his hair and kiss his cheek. My touch seems to soothe him instantly.
“I know, love,” he whispers back to me. “Katniss, I’m here.” We stay this way for another moment until I can feel his hardness poking at me. I reach a hand down and start to stroke him. A soft whine escapes his lips, the stress of the storm all but forgotten until we hear another rumble, much louder than the last ones. The storm is getting a lot closer. Peeta’s eyes fly open. I scoot down his body until I’ve arrived at my target destination. I haven’t even touched Peeta yet and he’s already cursing.
I continue to pump Peeta and spread the moisture that’s pooled at his tip all over him before taking him in my mouth. I don’t do this nearly as often as he does for me, but I want Peeta’s night to be as relaxing as possible given the circumstances. A quick glance up at Peeta tells me he’s loving this and that makes me feel powerful. “Katniss!” he moans. “I want to be inside of you.” I could tease him the way he did to me earlier, but instead, I happily oblige to my husband’s request and sink down onto his cock, both of us sigh with relief when we’re joined. Such a delicious feeling. I take a moment to accommodate him. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the initial feeling of Peeta Mellark stretching me in the best way. I know I’ll never grow tired of it, that’s for damn sure. A flash of lightning lights up the room and I can see just how ravishing he looks as he’s pinned under me, though he’s certainly got the strength to change positions at any given moment. The sight invigorates me more than I already was, and I begin to lift myself up and down. Peeta sits up a bit. We’re not quite chest-to-chest, but he’s perfectly aligned with my breasts. He takes advantage of this as he wraps his lips around my nipple and works the other one in his hands. “Ohhh, Peeta!” I cry. I’m going to finish again soon. I feel him grinning against my chest. “Feel good, my love?”
The loudest crash of thunder yet interrupts us. His hands fly to my hips as his grip on me tightens. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hold on to me in an attempt at keeping me during this midnight thunderstorm, except he’s helping me thrust faster on his shaft. I recognize the anxiety on Peeta’s beautiful face and cease my movements for a moment to check on my husband. “It’s okay, Peeta, I’m here,” I remind him. “I’m here! Always.” I’m here — I think those are the exact words I shouted to him when we tried to find each other right before I blew out the force field. It’s not part of our usual sex vocabulary — not that it’s expansive by any means — but it’s fitting for the moment. We lost each other in a lightning storm, but not this time. We’re taking it back. Making it ours. Making love in the safety and security of our home, one we’ve curated with so much love in the last couple of years. We are safe. We are two beings fused into one right now and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“I know you are,” he says, then kisses me softly. “Keep going, Katniss. You feel so good.” I do just that and resume, our hips slamming together. Peeta grunts and then makes busy work of his hands as his thumb rubs circles on my clit; his other hand is now planted firmly on my lower back as he holds me. My head falls back and a rather loud and drawn out moan escapes me. “Peetaaaaaaa, fuck”. I’m so close. So there. Peeta calls for me too, his own release impending. “Come on, love. Come for me, Katniss!”
Somewhere not so far away, a lightning strike hits. Our room lights up in a dazzling shade of blue. The clock flips, it’s midnight. A new day. With one last thrust from Peeta, I scream, but in this storm, it’s for a different reason. The only explosion this time is the one coursing through my body. Just as electrifying as when I shot the arrow, but this time, my body is not met with pain and injury — instead it’s the most euphoric feeling one could experience. Pleasure races through my veins and the same goes for Peeta. Outside, the lightning continues to flash one after another, rain pouring heavier than ever, but my vision is locked on my husband. There’s nothing left for my body to do other than slump into Peeta’s arms. Both of us have melted into one puddle and not just from the heat. Peeta has made me come countless times, but I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything like tonight. My ears might be ringing. The sounds of us trying to catch our breaths might be as loud as the thunderclaps.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Peeta gasps into the stormy night air. I don’t even have the capacity to laugh at how silly he sounds, or remind him that it’ll be me who’s going to be feeling the effects of our extraordinary lovemaking. If you could call it such a gentle term — tonight was very primal. And to think, Peeta initially told me it was too hot to have sex earlier. We continue to lay on the bed, barely moving. I’m not sure I can even roll over at this point. At some point, I notice the storm starting to move out. The claps of thunder and flashes of lightning start to space out. The rain begins to lighten. The air has even cleared a bit as I had been hoping, although it’s hard to tell how long it will last. A few hours? A few days? A trip to the lake would be nice. I’ll have to suggest it to Peeta when we can walk again.
Somehow, driven by the stickiness lingering on my body, I muster up enough stamina to climb out of bed and take a quick shower.
“Can I join you?” Peeta calls to me. I have no idea how he can bounce back so quickly sometimes. I know Peeta better than I think I know myself and he’s still an enigma sometimes.
I snort. “I thought you couldn’t walk.”
“No, that’s tomorrow. I can still walk right now. Well, once I put my leg back on.”
Two can play this game. Peeta already turned me down earlier. Yes, that clearly didn’t last given what we just got up to, but I do not have it anywhere in me to have a repeat round. Even just a quick round. I know very well what we’re like and there’s no guarantee us being naked in a confined space won’t lead to more. “Well, Peeta, you know I like my showers hot. I think it might be a little too steamy for two, don’t you think?” I blow a kiss and shut the door. I will be taking a shower, but certainly not a hot one. Surely, Peeta Mellark’s face is stunned back out in the bedroom. It’s nice taking the words away from him for once.