A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been busy doing the one shot requests and working on my other story 'Bitten' which I am greatly invested in.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. This is purely fanfiction for other people's entertainment. I apologize for any typos.

Chapter Five: Ivory

Clove tried not to snicker. She bit her lip to hold it back and shut the door behind them. "He's in the office," she said, walking off and fluffing the feather duster in every direction along the way.

Peeta folded his arms insecurely and started up the stairs. It wasn't a good sign that Clove's first reaction was snickering. He felt so exposed and vulnerable. He began to worry about Cato having the same reaction as his maid. What if he didn't look like Cato was expecting him to? What if he turned his nose up at him? What if he didn't like what he saw?

His hand shook as he knocked on the door. "Cato?"

"Come on in."

Peeta stared at the floor as he entered, scared to meet his 'master's' eyes. This was ridiculous, he had just walked through the town like this, because his car was in the garage being fixed up. Everyone he passed looked at him as if he were mad. Peeta had wanted to stop every single one of them and explain that he was not doing this by his own free will.

Cato smirked when he saw him. "You actually did it."

Peeta looked at him incredulously. The embarrassment was ditched for a moment. "Of course I did it, you told me to."

"That is the best response a sub has ever given me," Cato said, sounding thoroughly impressed.

"Oh, well, thanks for the compliment," Peeta muttered. He pulled his sleeve up nervously, trying to cover up as much as he could. The room felt chilly, making goosepimples break out across the surface of his skin. Exposed did not half cover what he was feeling in that moment. He wished for the first time ever that he didn't mind hair and didn't shave all the time. Somehow he felt like Cato would love it.

"Come here," Cato said. Peeta obeyed, walking until he reached the desk and didn't have any more ground to cover. His heart's pace was slowly beginning to build, starting to slowly speed up from it's ordinary beat. He stared at Cato, unsure about how he was expected to proceed.

Cato pushed his seat back a little. "Come round here," he said.

Peeta sucked in a shaky breath and nodded, walking around the desk and standing a few metres away. Was it always going to be like this? Was he always going to be nervous and edgy? He certainly couldn't see himself relaxing in this situation any time soon. How long was Cato planning on keeping it going anyway? Until Rye's treatment was over or . . . after that?

Cato reached out and grabbed his hand. "A little closer than that," he said, pulling him closer. Peeta reluctantly let him. When he was close enough, Cato pulled him into his lap. "Much better." Peeta was scared to move. He felt like if he did, he would disturb something. Cato wound his arms around Peeta's waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. "I want to talk to you about something."

"About what?" Peeta squeaked.

"I know it's obviously a sensitive topic," said Cato slowly, "but we need to talk about what happened when I put you under the hypnosis."

"It was nothing," Peeta immediately said. "It was a nightmare I had when I was younger. Your hynosis just unearthed it, that's all. You don't have to worry about it, I swear." Cato was being surprisingly gentle, his thumbs tracing soft circles on his hips underneath his shirt. "I used to have nightmares like that all the time when I was younger."

"But Peeta, it was so vivid," Cato said.

Peeta stared at the papers on Cato's desk with a frown. "Because sometimes nightmares are vivid," he answered.

Cato tsked and Peeta knew that he did not believe anything he said. But that was his loss. Because the ordeal with Seneca didn't happen, his mother told him so. She said it was a nightmare, all of it. And Peeta had no reason to not believe his mother. She never lied to any of them. And when Peeta was a child, he had suffered a lot of nightmares. He just never had one like that before. One thing his mother never explained, however, was why Seneca never showed his face at the house again.

"Is that going to deter you from what you planned to do with me?" asked Peeta. He didn't know whether the thought of Cato dumping him because of his nightmare about Seneca was a relief or a disappointment. "Because that has never made me wish to stray away from intimacy before."

"So you've thought about intimacy with another man?" asked Cato.

"Uh . . ." Peeta's mouth was suddenly dry. He struggled for words before finally squeaking out a tiny, "Kind of." The truth was, it was Cato that had made him start thinking about intimacy with other men. But what he had said was still true, the Seneca nightmare hadn't deterred him from such thoughts.

Cato grinned wickedly. "I knew you weren't that innocent. Innocence doesn't exist."

"It doesn't?" asked Peeta.

"Purity, maybe. But not innocence."

"Oh." Peeta swiftly brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "What is it you wish to do today, anyway? Since you're not planning to . . . uh . . . 'punish' me for not engaging in your peadaphilic phone encounter."

"Peadaphilic phone encounter," Cato repeated. One of his hands had crept down from Peeta's hip and rested comfortably on the fabric of his shorts that covered his thigh. "From what I heard you quite enjoyed the . . . 'peadaphilic' phone encounter."

"I admit to nothing," Peeta muttered, his face burning in embarrassment.

Cato smirked, but said nothing. Peeta watched as he reached for the phone on his desk and tugged it closer. He pressed a couple of buttons and then something muffled came through on the speaker. Peeta strained to hear what it was, leaning closer to the phone in curiosity. He jumped back in shock when the relization dawned on him.

"You recorded that phone call?!" he exclaimed.

"Of course I did," replied Cato. "That, my gorgeous little pet, is the sound of you humping your own bed. And, as I am out to say-" He stopped.

"The sounds you make are so sexy."

Peeta's jaw unhinged in horror. "But that means that I-"

"A-ah M-Master, I-I-"

"Oh my god, are you kidding me right now?!" Peeta shouted. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die while simulatneously feeling the urge to smack Cato for being such a disgusting pervert.

"What do you want, Peeta?"

"I want y-y-you t-t-t-to-"

The breathing was getting choppier and harsher. Peeta couldn't listen, pressing his face against his thighs, completely mortified, and covering his ears to block it all out. Cato listened without pause, a smug smile on his face the entire time.

"To what, Peeta?"

"I want to you t-touch me!"

Unable to take it anymore, Peeta lurched forward and thumped the stop button. Cato leaned back in his seat, the shift of his knees causing Peeta's feet to lift off the floor. "Oh my god, can this get any worse?" the younger boy grumbled in sheer embarrassment.

"Well, not unless you think my furfilling your request is something worse?" guessed Cato.

"What request?" Peeta asked.

Cato pulled Peeta back against him, so his back was flush against his front, and purred into his ear, "The request to touch you." His hands tried to slip underneath the pyjama shorts but Peeta burst out laughing-more hysterical than humourous-and scrambled out of Cato's lap. He got his feet on the ground and turned around, only to stumble backwards into the desk when Cato stood up as well.

There was a predatory look in his eyes that made Peeta laugh even harder. Ever since he was a child, he would laugh when he was nervous. It was something he couldn't control and the more anxious he got, the harder he laughed. "You really wouldn't like down there," he tried to reason. "I'm a mess-" He stopped when he realized that Cato had already seen him 'down there' before and obviously did not have a problem.

Damn.

Okay, he was going to have to come up with a new stragety.

Peeta yelped in shock when Cato hoisted him up and neatly sat him on the edge of the desk. He felt a little humiliated at how his feet didn't reach the floor and swung back and forth inches from it. Cato wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck and pulled Peeta close their mouths touched. Instantly Peeta forgot about his laughing or the fact that he was a midgit. All he could focus on was how soft and warm Cato's lips were.

Peeta let Cato's tongue invade his mouth, where it stroked him into an infinitie oblivion where reasonable thought didn't exist. A soft moan escaped him but he didn't care. Cato's mouth moved fiercely against Peeta's, who felt like he was fumbling a little bit. Somehow, Cato managed to be gentle and rough at the exact same time.

The hands, once at his waist, hooked into the waistband of his shorts. Peeta squirmed away nervoulsy. "I don't know," he said, pushing back.

Cato kissed his neck, the hand on the base of his neck playing with the curls that pressed there. "We can talk more about your nightmares," he said. His tongue found a paticularly sensitive area between Peeta's neck and collarbone, creating an electric jolt that went straight to the younger boy's groin.

"I don't know," Peeta simply repeated, his back arching into Cato in a way he didn't understand. It was kind of like he was a piece of metal being pulled toward a manget. His body craved to be touched, the same way it had during the phone call, but he was scared. He was frightened, terrified, even, of his own primal instincts.

"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," Cato pulled back, his arms looped around Peeta's waist, caging him. "I may be blackmailing you but I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"I want . . ." Peeta trailed off unsurely. He touched his fingertips to his lips. They were warm and swollen. "I don't know what I want."

Cato smiled, as if he expected this. "I can help you figure it out if you just relax and trust me," he said.

Peeta stared at Cato, unsure about whether he could trust him at all or not. But was he forever to live carefully, never taking risks, never indulging in simple pleasures? Peeta nodded. "Okay, help me."

The answer greatly pleased Cato. He leaned in and captured Peeta's lips again, slowly absorbing the taste of the younger boy's mouth. Peeta forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and focusing on nothing else but Cato's lips moving against his own. Cato gently pushed him so he lay on his back on the desk, never once breaking the kiss. Peeta's heart pounded in fear and trepidation, so hard he knew Cato could feel it when he placed a gentle hand on his chest.

Cato's arms were tightly wrapped around Peeta's waist but they were slowly venturing lower. Peeta tried not to squirm but couldn't help it, the muscles of his lower stomach tightening the way they had done the previous night. His hips thrust up in search of the relief his mattress had provided.

Cato hooked his fingers into the waistband of Peeta's shorts and gently tugged them down. Peeta, for some reason, found himself lifting his hips to help Cato. The fear of being exposed was lost in a sea of ecstasy and passion. He couldn't think straight, all he really wanted was to feel that glorious feeling he had experienced the previous night. And it seemed that Cato was the only person who could give him that.

"You have beautiful skin," Cato purred, pushing his hands up underneath Peeta's shirt to expose his torso.

Peeta blushed, the pink tint poisoning his chest and neck. Cato grinned and kissed the flush. The feeling of his lips carefully skimming over his skin made Peeta whine in want, his inhibitions having been washed down the drain. "It's like you're made up of porcelin." He feathered his fingers down Peeta's stomach, watching his stomach heave under his touch. "Like you could crack and break under the gentlest of pressures."

If Cato had have said this when Peeta wasn't lost in his own little world of pleasure then he would have came out with a smart response but he couldn't because he barely heard him. "Cato p-please, I n-n-need-"

"Sssh, I know," Cato teased. He kissed Peeta's navel, chuckling when Peeta groaned in response. Cato pushed his hand into his lover's underwear, kissing his lips to silence his moan as he took a gentle hold of his shaft.

A loud mewl exploded from Peeta's throat when Cato started stroking him. The thing that aroused him most, beside his better judgement, was the fact that Cato was being so gentle with him, almost like he were a piece of porcelin that could break. Peeta's hands wound around Cato's neck but he couldn't keep still so they soon slipped down and scrabbled at his back. All the blood rushed from his head and went straight to his groin, leaving all rational thought behind as his head hollowed out.

Peeta squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to focus on the movement of Cato's hand on him. Up and down, up and down, up and down, bringing him closer to that proverbial edge that he had reached yesterday.

He felt it coming, closer and closer, until he couldn't hold on anymore. With a scream of ecstasy, Peeta's back bowed into Cato and he released. When it was over, he fell back against the desk and just lay there, exhausted.

"You could have warned me," Cato chuckled, pulling his hand out from Peeta's underwear with a smirk. Peeta blushed when he saw the white liquid covering it but it had nothing on the scarlet that stained his face when the older man licked it all off. "Hmm, you taste gorgeous."

All Peeta wanted now was to go to sleep. "That was . . ."

"I know," Cato replied. He helped Peeta ease his shorts back on, his hands caressing a generous portion of his bare legs along the way. "I can safely say that you're the first guy I've ever brought to orgasm who was still wearing his black sneakers at the time."

Peeta realized that he was, indeed, still wearing his shoes. "Well, congrats."

Cato chuckled. "Come on, you're all sweaty, I'll draw you a bath."

Peeta blinked, heaving himself to sit up straight on the desk. "Huh?"

"I said come, I'll draw you a bath," Cato said, taking Peeta's hand and guiding him off the desk.

"I've done enough coming today to last me a while," Peeta muttered, following Cato like an obedient puppy.

Cato laughed. "Oh, we'll see."

A/N: R&R with your thoughts! :)