Puppet Strings

Chapter Three

 The younger boy mewled in pleasure, the sound turning into a high pitched squeal. Peeta gasped as a shudder wracked his spine and he bit his lip to ward off any more embarrassing sounds. He hated that he was loud when he was having sex and tried to fight it off as much as he could manage.

Cato laid Peeta down on his back and quickly grabbed his thighs, pulling them apart so he could thrust faster into him. Peeta closed his eyes, a purr bubbling up in his throat as his hips lifted to meet his lover as he plunged deeper and deeper into him. His toes curled into the bed and his body shook as the ecstasy built up in his neither regions. Cato loomed over him, his body caging Peeta against the bed. In Cato's embrace, Peeta felt completely safe. He threw his head back, trying to find the ability to breath, and Cato immediately took advantage of the position and started kissing and sucking on the smaller boy's sweaty neck.

"C-C-Cato," Peeta stuttered, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead from the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling. He could hear the headboard bumping against the wall and was thankful that there weren't neighbours to complain.

"What is it, baby?" Cato dragged his lips down his neck, tasting the sweat that gathered between his collar bones.

"I c-c-can't hol-hold on much l-l-longer." Peeta always felt the need to tell Cato when he was about to finish as he hated doing it spontaneously and without warning Cato first.

Cato's lips latched onto Peeta and he began to suck. Peeta screamed, his hand flying to his mouth to horror at the ugly sound. Cato grabbed the hand and pinned it above his head, sucking just that little bit harder to make him scream again. It was almost instinct to use his free hand to cover his mouth again but the action was cut off when Cato also grabbed that hand.

"Can you stop doing that please?" Cato asked. "You know how much I love hearing you scream."

"Well, you're the o-only o-o-ne," stammered Peeta. Cato released him and captured Peeta's lips in a forceful kiss.

Cato's thrusting grows more erratic and forceful, especially as the ending neared. Peeta finished first and he was absolutely spent afterward. He was able to hold out for Cato however and steeled himself to be able to take the continuing thrusts that aided the older partner towards his end.

Afterwards, they lay in bed, wrapped around each other. It was nice, the first form of intimacy that wasn't anything to do with sex (even though it was after sex). Peeta loved being close to Cato, especially when he could so close that he could hear his heart beating in his chest. But something was still niggling at him, something Cato had said before he had pushed into him.

"Cato? What did you mean by housewife?" Peeta asked.

Cato, who had been drawing patterns on the base of Peeta's back, answered, "I meant that you're like my little housewife. Waiting for me to get home every night. All you need is an apron and a plate of cookies."

Ignoring the stereotype of housewives, Peeta said, "Well, I could get out more if you don't lock me in. Why do you do that, anyway?"

"To make sure you don't leave."

"Even if I did, I'd come back. I'd never leave you for good."

"I know. This is just a precaution," Cato replied.

Peeta frowned. He decided not to push the matter because he couldn't understand Cato's reasoning and he knew that the further into they went, the more confused he'd get. It was best just to let Cato be the way he was and not question his motives. At least Peeta could recognize this and knew when to push and when not to push.

"You're beautiful," Cato flirted, kissing Peeta's cheek. Peeta rolled his eyes but smiled none-the-less. "If I could make love to you every second of the day, I'd be glad to do it."