Work Text:
"Well look who’s back," Katniss Everdeen remarked with a smirk as she dropped her tote and leaned against the entryway of the chainlink fence. "College looks good on you."
Peeta Mellark sniffed a soft laugh and bent down to scoop up one last tennis ball wedged in the corner of the court. ”Hello to you too, Katniss. I didn’t know you were taking lessons this summer.”
"Of course I am. I’m your four o’clock." She stepped onto the court, twirling the handle of her tennis racquet around in her fist. "Did you forget about me?"
He offered a tight smile and a feigned sweetness seeped into his voice. “I could never forget about you.”
“I know you couldn’t,” she quipped as she approached him. She reached up and smoothed the collar of his white staff polo shirt. “Since you think about me every night when you jerk off.”
"Don’t start this summer, alright?" His brows lifted and his gaze finally met hers, a wolfish grey that dared him to refuse her. "Have you warmed up?"
"Oh, I’m not starting anything." The corner of her mouth quirked and she bent forward at the waist, stretching her arms over her back.
Peeta fought to tear his gaze away from her rear end that she so purposefully displayed for him. Her back arched, languid and proud like a feline while a tease of her tan line peaked out of the hem of her short black tennis skirt.
"I made varsity for the fall," she added, knocking him from his shameful daze.
"Great," he mumbled, irritated with himself already. "Want to work on your serve today, then?"
Katniss stood up straight, flipping her long dark braid behind her shoulder and met him with a coy grin. “All business this summer I see, hm?”
"You’re here to play tennis, right?" He glanced down and released one of the tennis balls in his hand. It bounced off the smooth green asphalt back into his palm.
"Well, I’m here to play." Another step forward and her hand slid into the pocket of the shorts he wore, the color of peach sherbet. She wrapped her fingers around the tennis ball that was stuffed there and slowly lifted it out. "And you know damn well I don’t need lessons."
"Actually you do." His response was clipped as he broke away from her. He retreated to the bench at the sideine and reached for his own racquet. "Come on. We’ll do some practice serves."
"I’ll pass, but you’re cute when you think you can boss me around."
He drew a measured inhale through his nose and walked away, positioning himself across the baseline.
"How’s college life, by the way?" She continued. She flicked the ball into the air and caught it on the strings of her racquet. "At whatever embarrassing university you’re attending."
He tossed up one ball and swung, his racquet propelling it to the other side of the court. “It’s great, thanks for asking.”
"The girls there treating you well?"
"They certainly don’t aggravate me with bullshit games like high school girls do."
A dramatic gasp resounded from her open mouth across the court. “You would speak to a member of the club with that kind of language, Peeta Mellark?”
He slammed his racquet against another airborne ball making a perfect knock sound and then ran a hand through his hair. “Get over here so I can do my job,” he demanded, his voice rising above hers.
Unfazed, she twirled her racquet and listlessly stepped closer to the net. ”You’re hitting those balls awfully hard, I see. Did I do something to upset you?”
"Well, Katniss, your parents pay for tennis lessons," he replied, snatching a loose ball from the court. He tossed it upward, arcing his racquet in another perfect serve. "It’s kind of a waste if you don’t play."
She folded her arms. “It’s not a waste from where I’m standing.”
"I’ll probably get in trouble if Effie finds out we’re not doing anything during your lessons," he warned, stopping to bounce a new ball a few times. "So if you’re not interested in playing, just tell me and I’ll fill the time slot with someone else." He shook the hair off his brow and wiped his sweat-dampened cheek on the shoulder of his polo shirt.
"I would never let you get in trouble, gorgeous," she announced, her fingertips toying with the ends of her hair. "Besides, how would you keep up that godawful Saturn you drive if you got fired?"
"Pick up your racquet. Get behind this baseline."
She sighed and made her way around the net. “So mean.”
"You think I’m mean now? Keep insulting me and we’ll see how mean I can get," he snapped. "It’s barely June, Katniss. It’s gonna be a long summer if you keep this shit up."
A playful smirk surfaced across her lips as she neared him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry.” She took another few steps toward him until she nearly bumped her hip against his. “Must be me.”
A noisy exhale escaped him and he peered down at her. “Imagine that,” he murmured.
"It’s very sexy," she nearly whispered.
"Cut it out."
She scoffed. “Oh please, Peeta.” Severing her heated gaze, she turned slowly and positioned herself behind the line. He edged out of her way as she rocked back on her heel, tossed the ball skyward and swung her racquet in a perfect C-shaped arc landing the ball on the other side of the court, just inside the box.
Peeta placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around so she faced the net. “Extend your arm all the way when you serve.” Taking a step back, he watched as she made another shot. He approached her again. “No. Straighter.” He took her wrist in his hand and raised her right arm above her head.
Katniss peered up at her own racquet. “That’s a stiff as I can make it,” she noted with a smirk.
He took his other hand and braced her around her right elbow, holding it tight. “Feel the difference?”
She tilted back on her shoes until her rear end pushed against the front of Peeta’s shorts. “Hm. I feel something,” she mused. She leaned into him until her head dropped back and her lips were at his ear. “Doesn’t feel all that stiff to me, though. Shame.”
He looked down at her, inhaling a deep breath, willing the blood not to rush to his dick while Katniss so blatantly rubbed against him with the curve of her ass.
"If you extend your arm, you’ll get a better top spin," he advised before he let go of her arm and took a purposeful step away.
Katniss grabbed a new ball and rocked back on her heel before launching the ball up and striking it with her racquet. A powerful grunt escaped her chest and echoed across the court when she hit it and it bounced perfectly inside the opposite corner.
"Better?" She asked.
Peeta nodded and began to jog to the other side of the court. “Better. Let’s play.”
After last summer, a part of Peeta wished he would never see Katniss Everdeen again, while the other part of him held out hope — so badly it ached — that she’d be back.
But there was one day in particular that he wished had never happened. Last summer. Fourth of July weekend.
Peeta was a couple months away from his first year of college and was spending another summer as a tennis instructor at the Bridgeharbor Country Club in East Hampton. The club was throwing its annual barbeque for the members, complete with a brass band and face painting and a pool volleyball tournament. Back then, Peeta knew Katniss as simply a talented tennis player, the girl from the city with a smart mouth and a cute ass. He’d only see her during the summer since she lived across the river, attending one of the most elite prep schools on the east coast while he grew up in the club’s oceanfront resort town, bustling with jerks from city in the summers, quiet and empty after Labor Day.
He’d known her for years, since they were both smaller than their racquets, attending the club’s summer tennis camp together. When they got a little older, Peeta got a job there and helped out with the younger kids, teaching them the basics. Every now and then, Katniss would wander onto the court reserved for junior lessons to check on her younger sister and while she was there, she’d razz Peeta about his backhand but then wind up giving a few pointers to some of the other kids. But she would never actually work there; she didn’t have to.
By the time he was sixteen, Peeta had won countless tennis matches, championships, grand slams, took his school to nationals, and had already been scouted by a dozen colleges before he even took his ACTs. He didn’t pursue a professional career, though. He could never compete with the overachieving city kids whose parents had them in private lessons since birth. He just liked to play and he liked to win. So he spent his down time teaching others and was hired by the club to give one-on-one lessons to kids who would probably grow up to play better than he could. And Katniss Everdeen was one of them.
"I hope you come back next summer," Katniss had said that July fourth afternoon, sitting on the trunk of Peeta’s car. The beach towel underneath her legs absorbed some of the oppressive heat while her bare feet dangled above the hot pavement where the car sat in the staff parking lot. "I really want to make varsity next year."
Beside her, Peeta raised his can of Coors Light to his lips and took a cool swallow while he peered down at her skinny legs. Her skin was nearly brown, toasted a delicious almond color from her daily visits to the pool. He had had the opportunity to run his hands across them just a couple of times, during the somewhat innocent make-out sessions they shared when they’d wind up in some secret corner of the property together.
"You will," he assured her. "You just need to play as often as you can." He leaned back, letting the slant of the back windshield prop him up.
Her fingertips squeezed the can in her hand until the aluminum popped and she played with the tab, loosening it forward and back. “Well I can’t wait for college. You’re so lucky.”
"You should enjoy high school while you can," he advised, sliding his Wayfarers up to his head as the fiery orange sun began to slip beneath the horizon. "It’s cake in comparison."
"Oh yeah?” Katniss scoffed and tipped her beer to her lips. “You don’t know my school. Sinclair Walden is no piece of cake."
He slid one hand beneath his head and rested his beer can atop his flat stomach. “True. Your school sounds like my nightmare,” he decided. “Do you have to wear uniforms?”
"Of course."
He was kind of disappointed he had never gotten to see her in it. “Yeah?” The edge of his smile flicked upward. “What do they look like?”
"Use your imagination," she offered wryly.
"Believe me, I do."
She giggled softly and joined him on the back of the windshield, mimicking his position.
Peeta added, “I should come into the city some time and find out for myself.”
"Oh, are those your plans?" She smiled, turning her head to look at him.
"I’ll steal you away and get you in immense amounts of trouble," he teased.
"Immense amounts, huh?"
"Mm-hm," he hummed.
"See, you learn some fancy words out here on the island."
"I’ll give you a couple of fancy words."
She chuckled, reached out to swat his leg. “When you come steal me, could you pull up on a motorcycle? That’ll really make a scene on Park Avenue.”
"Ooh, good one," he approved around the rim of his can. "I’ll see what I can do."
Her giggles grew quiet, a hush wafting through the air around them. An unexpected pang stung him in his gut. He didn’t know what they were doing and it didn’t exactly feel right. They had never talked about the fact that over the course of the summer, she had gone from a tennis student to sort of a friend to someone he wanted to kiss to someone he found himself looking for every single day when he got to work.
They weren’t technically friends. They didn’t call each other or see each other outside of the club. They didn’t have any mutual friends. Actually, the friends of hers he did know from seeing her at the pool were pretty much assholes. He wasn’t quite sure what she wanted with him.
"So why aren’t you over at the pool with the other members?" He spoke up, his voice slicing the silence.
She shrugged. “Because you have the beer.”
He exhaled a soft laugh. “I shouldn’t be corrupting you.”
"I’m already pretty corrupt," she murmured, lifting her lashes to peer up at him.
He turned his head once again, taking a moment to draw in a deep inhale while he attempted to decode the meaning of that admission. He studied the silver rims in her eyes, glittering back at him in the dusky light. “Are you?” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “You seem like a good girl to me.”
He noticed her gaze flick down to his mouth as her lips parted. “I put on a pretty good act.”
She was a tease, that’s what she was. He should have known better. “What are we doing?” He asked, his blunt question making her gaze jerk back up to meet his.
She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?
He huffed another deep breath. He wasn’t in the mood for these games of hers and if she was going to work the innocent act while unknowingly making his cock twitch, he needed to put a stop to it. ”Katniss, you should probably go.” He reached between her legs and wrapped his hand around the beer can situated there. He took it from her and sat up, turning to place it, along with his, on the roof of his car. “You’re supposed to be at the barbeque.”
Scoffing, she sat upright. “I don’t care about the barbeque.”
Peeta ruffled his hair and slid off the trunk. “Okay, well then I should get out of here.”
She reached down and grasped his forearm in both of her hands. She started to slide forward to the edge of the trunk, but she playfully tugged him, shifting her weight backward. “Stop trying to get rid of me.” A childish lilt bent her voice.
He spun around, the rubber of his tennis shoes scraping the gravel beneath them as he was yanked back toward her. “Katniss,” he tried, laughing off her advances. But before the laugh could pass between his lips, hers were there, warm and enveloping as she slipped him into a kiss.
She slid to the edge of his car and grasped his face in her hands. She pinned a bare thigh on either side of his waist as he stood in between her open legs. His frustration seemed to wind through his kisses and he could feel himself slipping, forgetting where they were and who she was and getting lost in the velvety heat of her mouth.
His hands went to her thighs where he bunched up her skirt, shoving it toward her hips. One palm crept underneath and made its way up the inside of her leg and he squeezed. He tried to reel himself back in, but then she would open her legs wider, stroke his tongue with hers rougher, sigh against him and all it would do is unwind him all over again.
He dragged his lips away and a shaky breath rattled out of him. “We can’t do this here,” he muttered.
She met his gaze, sliding her bottom lip beneath her teeth. “Can we do it in your car?” She asked.
He was stumbling into dangerous territory here. He didn’t know how much longer he could take their over-the-clothes groping and breathless kisses only to have Katniss scramble away with a giggle like she did every other time. He wanted her too damn bad and found himself thinking about her every night while he drove home from work. Those thoughts always spiraled until he got home and needed to take care of himself in the shower, imagining her eager mouth around his cock. She was doing some serious damage to his willpower.
“Come on, Peeta,” she breathed, her lips grazing the ridge of his cheek.
He hated himself as his hand dropped in his pocket and he fished out his car keys. With eyes closed tightly, he willed himself away and mindlessly, his feet carried him around to one of the back doors. He pulled it open and as soon as he climbed in, swore at the stifling heat, and reached through the seats to crank the engine and blast the air.
He turned and fell across the backseat and before he knew it, Katniss was crawling in on top of him, pulling the door closed behind her. Her mouth found his again and she sank into him, rocking against his crotch.
Their bodies were damp through their clothes — his from playing all day and hers from wearing her wet bathing suit underneath them. It felt like five hundred degrees in his car and the obnoxious clamor of the Beastie Boys screaming NO! SLEEP! TILL BROOKLYN! boomed way too loud out of his car speakers. It was all wrong, it was terrible. And yet the way her tongue promised him so many things, he never wanted to leave.
She was urgent, determined, in a way that made his head spin. She groped for his belt buckle, she pushed his hand against her bikini bottoms. It was sloppy and too fast and Peeta felt like he was some sort of obstacle she was just trying to get past.
“Peeta,” she sighed in his ear. “I want to. I wanna have sex. Don’t you?”
He tilted his head back for a gulp of air as that sense that never seemed to leave him alone crept into his voice. “Katniss, no,” he groaned. “We can’t.”
“Sure we can.”
“Katniss,” he repeated, this time grasping her by the arms and stopping her cruel rocking. “This was a mistake.”
She paused, resting her forehead against his chest. He could feel her breathing deep against the fabric of his shirt.
He opened his mouth to speak some more, to fill the horrible space around them. He just stared up at the ceiling of his car and waited for himself to evaporate. Oh god, why did he say that? It’s all he’d been thinking about all summer. Here it was - an open invitation to the heaven between her legs and he couldn’t say no fast enough. What the fuck?
“Are you serious?” Her wavering voice finally floated upward.
“It’s just…” He breathed, bringing his hands to his face to rub against his eyes. “Come on, Ka—.”
“Shit, Peeta, you’re serious.” Dismayed, she scrambled up to a sitting position, crouching on top of him. She scoffed a laugh in disbelief and glanced all around the car as if to ask an invisible audience, Can you believe this guy?
“I want to, but—”
“Oh god,” she groaned, self-consciously adjusting her tank top. She swiped the back of her hand along her mouth and swallowed hard.
“Katniss, you don’t even know,” he panicked, wishing he’d never stopped.
“Shut up.” She smoothed a hand over her braid and went for the door, ducking outside and slamming it shut before he could even finish a complete sentence.
She avoided him for the remainder of the summer, dropping her lessons with him and training with somebody else. When they did cross paths, she was initially just brusque, flippant which irritated him. He tried to talk to her. Of course he felt like a jackass. But she wasn’t interested and soon their interactions became bitter and hostile and he could trace it all back to that one Fourth of July, the day he said no to the girl who always won.
Peeta’s thoughts about last summer left him preoccupied and less than stellar on the court. He had to blink away his daze and remember he was on the clock and in the middle of a match. Katniss returned an easy shot, landing just outside his reach and he missed it.
She moaned an exhausted sigh. “Pathetic, Peeta!” She called out across the court. “What happened?”
“Sorry,” he panted, breathlessly and bent to swipe his arm across his forehead. “Good backhand, though.”
“You need to stop going easy on me,” she warned. “I’m better than you now.”
“Right,” he laughed. “I’ll remember that. Lucky for me our hour is about up.”
She walked over to the bench and tossed her racquet on top of her tote. “I think you’ve lost your edge, kid. Just admit it,” she teased.
“I think you’re just my four o’clock lesson which means I’ve been doing this all day and I’m tired as hell by the time you come around.”
“I do enjoy wearing you out,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
“You mean you enjoy getting me worked up,” he replied.
Katniss reached for the band at the end of her braid and pulled it off before she began threading her fingers through her hair. “Do I get you worked up?”
He didn’t answer and simply responded by pouring a stream of water from his water bottle down his throat. “Just let me mope about my loss in private, alright? I’ll see you next week.”
After Katniss packed up her belongings and walked off the court, Peeta leaned over and scooped up a tennis ball. He positioned himself behind the baseline and bounced the ball once. With one arm, he swung his racquet across his body and smacked the ball so hard that it flew across the court and wedged itself in one of the links in the chain fence. He exhaled heavily and walked off in the direction of the staff break room.
***
Hours later, the sun had set and the Bridgeharbor Country Club closed to its members. A few of the summer employees were helping themselves to burgers on the grill situated on the staff parking lot, manned by the kids who worked the concessions stand.
After his shift, Peeta had changed out of his staff attire in favor of regular khaki shorts and an old Pixies concert t-shirt. He reached his hand into the watered-down ice in the cooler and pulled out another can of beer. Finding the get-together less than thrilling, he picked up his tennis racquet that was lying on the trunk of his car and began to make his way across the property to the tennis courts. He popped the tab and went for a sip of the cold beer as his Nikes stomped through the grass.
He stepped onto the court, meticulously cleared of stray tennis balls and debris, one of his job duties aside from giving lessons. Resting the racquet under his arm for a moment, he reached down and pulled a ball from the pocket of his shorts. While he held his beer can in one hand, he bounced the ball on his racquet with his other. Every now and then, he’d let it hit the concrete and then bounce it back up.
“You know, you probably need a partner if you want to make that interesting,” Peeta heard over his shoulder. He peered sideways and noticed Katniss watching him from the other side of the chainlink fence, her tennis racquet dangling from her fist.
“What are you doing here?” Peeta asked.
She looked achingly sexy in a little white sundress that showed off the delicious slope of her bare shoulders. The summer had only just begun and her skin was already glowing and bronzed, kissed by the sun.
“Watching you,” she answered, hooking her fingers in one of the fence links.
His let his concentration linger on his bouncing tennis ball for a moment before he lifted his gaze up to her. “Wanna play?”
She backed off the fence and approached the court. “Thought you’d never ask.” She slipped off her flat sandals and padded barefoot over to the opposite side of the court.
“Go easy on me. I’m tired,” he warned.
She coughed a laugh. “Poor baby. And quit acting so hostile toward me. I thought you knew how to have a good time.”
“You hardly know anything about me, Katniss.” Bouncing his tennis ball once, he swung his racquet across his body, lazy about his serve since he only had one free hand.
“That’s a shame.” She easily returned the serve with a crack of her racquet.
“Well, aside from my many loser qualities which you feel the need to point out quite frequently.” He jogged back a few steps in an attempt to backhand the ball and wound up hitting it out of bounds. “Those things you’re pretty familiar with.” He waited for her to hand him the ball again before he readied another lazy serve. “And if I act hostile towards you, you know damn well why,” he said.
“What?” She cried before letting out a little grunt when she returned the ball. “Don’t give me that. I’ve never done anything to piss you off. It’s all in your head.”
“Oh yeah?” When he trotted a few steps back, he missed the ball. “Fine. It’s all in my head. Forget I said anything.” He exhaled and walked to the back corner of the court to retrieve the runaway ball.
“Put your beer down and fucking play,” she demanded.
He was slightly out of breath from playing one-handed and trying to endure physical activity on four beers. He set down the can and reached for the back of his t-shirt before tugging it off his body and tossing it aside. He bent down to scoop up the ball. “Make it interesting, then,” he spoke up, bouncing the ball on the court a few times as he approached the net in the center of the court.
Peeta could feel Katniss’s eyes on him as she made no attempts to be discreet in the way she surveyed his chest. “How so?” She asked, resting her hands on her hips. “What, like, strip tennis?”
“No.” He answered with a shake of his head. “If I win, you switch instructors and sign up with somebody else,” he decided.
“Why would you want that?”
“I just think it’d be best.” He dropped the ball across the net. “You serve.”
She let out an incredulous laugh and shook her head before she caught the ball. She readied herself at the baseline and smacked a serve his way. “You know, I don’t understand you, Peeta. What happened?”
“Last summer happened,” he answered, cracking the ball back to her.
Katniss let the ball fly right past her shoulder. “What about it?”
Peeta swallowed and raked the hair back off his forehead. “The barbeque. My car,” he attempted to explain while he anticipated her next serve, “was a mistake and you obviously resent me for it. It’d just be easier if I wasn’t reminded of it every time I saw you.”
“Yeah, I don’t understand how you’re claiming to be the one hurt one here,” she began, tossing the ball up and slicing her racquet through the air. “You weren’t the one who was rejected, were you? Let me think for a moment.”
He ran to the back of the box and slammed the ball across the court. “Katniss, I never rejected you—”
“Ha!” She yelped.
“I wanted to talk about it but you bolted out of my car.” He darted across the line to whack her return over the net. “And then you were pretty much horrible to me ever since. So excuse me for not —” He grunted as her backhand drove the ball back to his side and he just barely edged it back over to her. “Running into your arms every time I see you now. Felt like rejection to me.”
She jogged up to the net to volley the ball over it. “I’m sorry. We must be talking about two different versions of last summer. Shit!” She hissed when Peeta’s racquet met the ball with a backhand so strong, it flew to the opposite corner of the court and she had to sprint for it.
“Well,” he panted, “doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”
“I wish I’d never gotten into your car!” She shouted.
“That makes two of us.” Peeta knocked the ball just inside the line on her side and she missed it.
“You’re such a fucking jerk!” She snatched the runaway ball and positioned herself for another serve. As she launched the ball into the air, she slammed the racquet over her head and smacked it so hard, it rushed across the court, nearly striking Peeta in the chest before he quickly dodged it and the ball bounced away and hit the chain fence behind him.
His chest heaving with exhaustion, he dragged his gaze from the rolling ball slowly across the court until it landed on Katniss, glaring back at him, her hands resting on her hips.
“Look, I’m sorry about last summer, alright?” He flung his tennis racquet to the ground and it clattered against the asphalt while he marched up to the net.
“I’m sorry I liked you,” he continued. “I’m sorry I put my job on the line to spend as much time here with you as I did. And I’m sorry that when you, on a fucking whim, made the decision that you wanted to have sex with me, that I didn’t want to do it like that. I’m sorry I didn’t want to fuck you in my shitty car with that Beastie Boys song playing and you were half drunk and we were in a goddamn parking lot. Okay? That’s not how I wanted it to happen. And I can’t imagine that’s the way you wanted it to happen either.”
“I wanted it to be with you!” She screamed. Tears had welled up in her eyes and they spilled down her flushed face. “I didn’t care, Peeta! I didn’t care about your car or where we were or whatever. I wanted it to be you. I wanted—” She paused to choke on a bundle of fresh tears and she dropped her racquet in frustration. “I wanted my first time to be with you, alright?” She swiped at her tears and averted her gaze to the court’s flood lights. “Fuck,” she muttered.
He swallowed hard, her words pummeling him, forcing all of the air out of his chest. “Katniss,” he breathed.
She coughed a humorless laugh and nudged the lingering tears from the corner of her eye. “Forget it. That’s impossible now anyway, Peeta. Like you said, what’s done is done.”
His heart sank with her confession and he swore he felt a pang of jealousy tug at the back of his throat. He crossed over to her side of the court.
As he made his way closer to her, Katniss folded her arms across herself and refused to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t,” she whispered.
His footsteps carried him until he was right in front of her, both of them still wound up, their breathing ragged. Peeta studied the hurt that had surfaced on her face, replacing her earlier bravado and spite. “I didn’t know,” he explained. “I mean…”
Katniss nodded, sliding her hand up her cheek in frustration at the new tears that wouldn’t quit.
"I’m an idiot," he finished.
A soft laugh escaped her, clouded with a hint of sadness. ”Yeah, well, I was a bitch. Or I guess I still am.”
He felt a gradual smile curve the corners of his mouth. “It’s okay, I’m kind of into it.”
She exhaled a louder laugh in a rush of air and playfully shoved her hands against his chest.
He smiled at her and let her nudge him a step backward. ”Come here,” he murmured, reaching for her arm. He pulled her into a hug and failed to ignore the flare that coursed through him at the feeling of her pressed against his bare chest. He rested his chin on her head, then dipped his face, dragging the tip of his nose through her hair.
He probably smelled awful and he could feel the sheen of sweat that dampened his skin. But by now, they were used to each other this way. More often than not, this was how Katniss always saw him, although generally with a shirt on. So she didn’t flinch or pull away in disgust like most girls would.
She turned her face and he could hear her inhale along the curve of his throat. “You remembered what song was playing,” she sighed against his skin.
He chuckled. “Yeah, it was pretty terrible.”
A giggle bubbled out of her and she began to pull away, tilting her amused gaze up toward him. ”So what’s the score, Ace?”
He hardly had to think about it. Even though they spent their game in an argument, his brain still tallied the points as if on autopilot. “Deuce. Advantage Everdeen,” he answered.
Katniss’s eyes glowed with excitement and one eyebrow jumped upward. ”Game point, then?”
He heaved a deep, exhausted breath and shook his head at her. ”I’ll forfeit. Don’t make me finish.”
"I’ll forfeit?" She echoed, dismayed. "You’ve never uttered those words in your life, Peeta! At least lose with dignity."
A throaty laugh rustled through him. “Come on,” he groaned. “Let’s just go get a beer. Or sneak into the pool.”
She chided him with a steely glare, teasing him with her pursed lips as she slowly shook her head in disbelief. “What happened to the champion I used to know?” She taunted. “Finish the game, Mellark.”
A whimper edged into his throat. “I’m so tired, Katniss,” he playfully whined.
"Finish the game," she repeated, her eyebrow raised to affirm her seriousness.
He drew in a deep breath and couldn’t deny the competitive tug that he felt in his gut when she challenged him like that. His hand dipped into his pocket and he retrieved one more tennis ball. “Your serve, then.”
Her gaze flicked down to the ball, then back up to meet his. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then he noticed her shift and her hands went to the hem of her dress. He watched them disappear beneath the fabric there before she inched side to side and then dragged a tiny scrap of material down her legs.
She stepped out of her panties and dropped them on the court at his feet. ”Let’s play,” she said. She took the ball from his hand, turned slowly and baited him with a smoky glance over her shoulder before she sauntered to the baseline.
Peeta’s mouth dropped open and his empty, outstretched hand remained frozen in midair. He managed to cough some sort of squeaky exhale and his feet refused to move.
"Come on, champ," Katniss called, bending for her racquet a second too quickly.
Everything inside of him came tumbling down. Everything except his increasingly prominent hard-on that shifted the material of his shorts and was about to make winning this game point impossible.
"Shit" he breathed, dragging a hand through his hair.
"You ready?"
A weary laugh rolled out of him and he ambled to the other side of the court, snatching his racquet on the way. “Let’s go,” he barked, tortured beyond belief.
When Katniss reared back to serve, he couldn’t help it, he genuinely shifted into game mode and focused on returning the ball. But the court was a blur to him, there was no way he could concentrate. He had discovered the one thing that could break his game and that’s the knowledge that his opponent, Katniss Everdeen was playing with no underwear.
Her serve zipped past him, he could hardly bring himself to react. He blinked and eventually turned his head in the direction of the winning ball, watching it bounce inside the box, then bounce again, and then bounce away.
"Really, Peeta?"
"Sorry," he called.
"That’s game, then."
He chucked his racquet to the ground and heaved a deep sigh as he walked to the edge of the court, retrieved his abandoned t-shirt and flung it over his shoulder. Out of habit, he approached the net for the conciliatory, end-of-game handshake.
She met him in the middle and grasped his outstretched hand. ”Not your best, Mellark,” she teased, her lips twisting in a coy smile.
He tightened his grip and tugged her forward until she collided with him from the other side of the net and his mouth dove onto hers. Katniss ditched her racquet and reached up to bury her fingertips into his hair, squeezing the locks there. The sensation blazed a trail of desire through his spine and he yanked her closer by the waist.
He nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth, kissed it better, and then bruised it again. Her groan tickled his throat and the vibration of it rumbled inside of him. He squeezed her hips in his hands, sliding his touch around her rear end.
Her lips fell from his and a dreamy sigh floated between her lips up to the sky as she tilted her face upward. ”Damn, you’re such a good kisser. I almost forgot.”
"I think about you all the time, Katniss," he murmured, dragging his kisses down the edge of her jaw. "I hated myself for it."
"Don’t say that."
"Because I thought you never wanted to see me again," he told her, ducking his head, tasting the sweet shaft of her throat. "I fucked it up."
"No. I never stopped wanting you."
“Your skin is really soft and it’s driving me crazy.” He palmed the back of her thigh and slid his hand upward, under the material of her dress, squeezing the bare flesh there.
She moaned, one hand slipping down the length of his torso and landing at his belt buckle. She tugged impatiently. “I swear to god, Peeta, if you turn me down this time—”
"Never," he cut her off abruptly. "Never again, are you kidding?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere," he sighed between her lips.
"Not that piece of shit you call a car."
He pulled away with an airy chuckle, playfully smacking the palm of his hand on her bare ass. A playful yelp escaped her and she giggled against his kiss. The pool, the clubhouse, he mentally listed. But nothing was immediate enough. If he had to wait another minute for her, he would combust.
“You afraid of heights?” He murmured. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. He slid one around the front of her dress and scooped it up, dragging his hand underneath and groping her in between her thighs.
“What?” She breathed, dipping into his wandering hand, seeking friction against his palm.
He pressed his hand against her and let one finger dive along slick crevice there before burying it inside of her. He forgot what he was going to say. Her heated walls allowed the penetration and he damn near came just from feeling how tight she was.
“Ah, god,” she whispered, her hands clutching his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of anything — Ohh! What the hell are you talking about?”
“Then get climbing,” he instructed, flicking his head to the sideline. He withdrew his finger to a disappointed gasp from her, reached for her hand, and turned toward the scorekeeper’s umpire chair that sat high above the court.
“Oh my god, are you fucking crazy?” She panted, amusement edging out of her heavy breaths.
“Yes. Come on.” He stepped onto the first rung of the ladder leading up the frame of the chair and took them two at a time until he reached the platform.
He turned and reached for her as she followed quickly behind him, her bare feet noiseless on the steps to the top. He guided her to him and attempted to hold her steady as she toppled into him on the cramped landing.
Quickly, she worked his belt out of its loop, then the button and fly at his shorts. Her breath tickled the hollow of his throat. “This could end very badly.”
“Fuck no it won’t,” he promised, grasping her by the hips as he sat back in the seat, padded by a green cushion.
She straddled his lap, carefully sliding a knee on either side of him as he held her steady. Her mouth dropped onto his and she lifted up on her knees. His tongue looked for hers, craving and impatient and as soon as she’d reciprocate, he’d evade her with playful flick.
She moaned breathlessly, antsy for more of him. Her hands fell, fumbling for his open fly, for the waistband of his boxer briefs.
"Not yet," he told her, nudging her hands away. He dropped his hand to the inside of her thigh once more, kneading the taut flesh there in his palm. Her legs were trembling just the slightest bit and the needy whimper that escaped her melted into a steamy sigh as his hand caressed the valley between her legs.
She lifted her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks and immersing him in another kiss. His finger remembered where it left off and sank between her slick walls to her heated core. He played there a few times, engrossed in the fluttering noises that echoed in her chest before he dragged his fingertip to her clit and worked it in tight circles.
Katniss’s cries were muffled in his mouth. Her hips started to swivel, tilting into him. He slipped his finger back inside of her, groaning at the sensation as he felt the moisture there begin to well up at his touch. Urging another finger there caused her to break off of his mouth and whimper again. Her mouth dropped open with a string of moans that were about to make him lose his mind.
His thumb pulsed on her clit while he worked his two fingers inside of her, stroking deeper as her wetness enveloped him.
"Ohmygod, ohmygod, Peeta," she mumbled. She dropped her head, landing her forehead against his and rode his hand more urgently, mumbling his name over and over. He needed to get her off, or at least get her close because he knew the moment she finally sank down on his cock, he would hardly last at all and everything would be over.
"You’re so wet, you feel so fucking good, oh my god." He coaxed another cry out of her with the curve of his fingers.
She tossed her head back, her lips parted to the sky and she bobbed on his hand. “So how bad do you want to fuck me now?” She breathed, then tilted her face down to meet his.
He buried his fingers deeper and couldn’t help rock his crotch against hers. A rush of air collapsed his chest. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Fuck.”
"Then don’t make me wait," she panted. Her hands trailed from his shoulders, down the front of his body and found the edge of the clothes he had started to shed earlier. She reached inside and grasped his shaft, pulsing with need, and the feeling of her hand wrapped around him prompted a desperate sigh from his chest.
He paused a moment, forgetting what his hand was doing as she adjusted over him. They focused together on positioning him at her entrance, holding their breath atop the wobbly post. Katniss licked her lips, her brows furrowed in concentration as she peered down between their bodies. Neither one of them was all that adept at this and it took a couple of misplaced nudges and attempts before the head of his cock pricked her entrance.
She held him in place and lowered herself slowly, her breath hitching in her throat. Her mouth fell open and not a sound escaped it as she eventually shrouded him completely. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let a measured exhale pass between her lips.
"You okay?" He breathed. He held her hips steady with one hand.
He watched as a hard swallow sank in her throat. ”Mm-hm,” she nodded. ”Keep touching me like you were.”
He angled forward and slipped his hand between them once more, his palm grasping the very top of her thigh while his thumb parted her and rubbed the sensitive pulse that made those breathy cries float out of her. They were the sexiest noises he’d ever heard.
She grasped the back of his head with one hand while the other gripped the back edge of the chair they shared. She pressed against him, tilting her body and pinning herself to the friction of his finger. Anchored to him, her hips bucked back and forth in tight swivels.
His face fell against her chest and his teeth scraped the bare, dewy skin there. He buried his nose in the low scooped neckline of her dress and closed his lips around a mouthful of soft flesh, groaning against the curve of her breast.
A heady grunt edged out of Peeta’s chest and he squeezed his eyes shut tight and willed his orgasm to remain at bay, if only for another minute. The way her airy yelps were coming faster and more rhythmic, the way her eyes shut in concentration, had him achingly hopeful that he had brought her there.
She clutched the back of his neck and held herself to him, riding out the pulsing rhythm. He felt her muscles contract all around him, felt the heat of her sex throbbing. She squealed in her throat and stilled against him before a few tiny tremors jerked her body on top of him.
He felt her go slack on top of him, her grip loosened on his neck as her ragged pants reminded him of her exhaustion after a match. He swallowed thickly, almost afraid to move because her slight quakes that tugged his cock were about to make him explode.
He held her hips and quickly lifted her off of him, more suddenly than he realized. “Katniss—” he choked, grasping his own dick.
In a hurry, she snatched the t-shirt that was draped over his shoulder and dropped it in his lap. She wrapped her fist around his and and coaxed him to the edge. Almost immediately, he released into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, spasming a few times on what seemed like an endless wave until he finished.
They both hung their heads looking for even breaths between them. Eventually, he lifted his gaze to her, the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen against the inky blue night sky. Her black hair draped over one shoulder in loose waves. His lips captured hers, soft and like a dream. He lingered there, drinking her lazy kisses until she eased away.
Hesitantly, he swiped a couple times at his softening cock and made a face at the t-shirt. Better than nothing, he figured as he managed to situate himself back into his shorts. He swallowed and breathed a relieved laugh as he glanced back up at her.
She giggled softly and began to rise onto her knees over him. “I think my legs are too shaky to climb down this thing.”
"Come here." He wrapped his arms around her waist and she maneuvered herself with Peeta’s help so that she sat across his lap.
She curled her knees against his side and rested one arm along the back of the chair. “Sorry about your shirt.” She traced the slope of his clavicle with her fingertips.
He slid the tip of his nose across her cheek and rested his forehead there. “I loved that shirt,” he lamented.
A soft giggle shook her shoulders. “You literally loved that shirt.”
Peeta coughed a remorseful groan. ”You’re sick, Everdeen.”
"I know," she said. "You’ll grow to appreciate it."
He felt a smile tug the corners of his mouth. “Will I? Tell me about the sick things we’re about to get into.”
Katniss playfully jabbed an elbow in his ribcage and they shared a content, quiet moment together. Her voice eventually hummed through the stillness. “So do you still want me to switch instructors?”
He nodded, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. “Definitely.”
Katniss scoffed, the insult drawing her brows together. “Peeta!”
"My ass will get fired so fast if I have to get through an hour with you out here, twice a week, and be expected to behave myself," he reasoned.
"But you’re the best!"
He breathed a soft laugh. “Well.” He reached over slid his finger across her temple, tucking the loose strands of her hair away.
"Actually, you lost tonight, so maybe that’s no longer accurate."
"Oh, I didn’t lose." His knuckle traced the outline of her face and he stopped to nip her bottom lip with his thumb. “And anyway, I’m not allowed to date any students, so…”
She narrowed her eyes. “Who said anything about dating?”
“I’m saying something right now.”
Her chest rose with a deep inhale and she fixed her glittery gaze on him, flashing with possibilities.
He continued. “I mean, I know when summer’s over, you’ll go back to the city. And I’ll be at school. But…”
“But in the mean time,” she offered, drawing her fingertips up the back of his neck. For a moment, it made his eyes flutter shut it felt so perfect.
“In the mean time,” he murmured and then her pillowy bottom lip floated over his.
She teased him with a kiss and then pulled away to savor it. “We’ve got all summer.”
He sighed a content hum and tugged her closer on his lap. “And I’d better get a rematch.”