"We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone."

"Despite everything that's going to happen in the next few days, this was probably one of the best days of my life," Peeta says as he slides into bed, wrapping his arms around me, holding me from behind. I roll over onto my back so that I can look him in the eye. "Me, too," I whisper.

Suddenly the relaxed feeling that seemed to envelop us like a bubble dissipates and Peeta looks serious. His right hand gently caresses my stomach and finds a patch of skin on my left side. I inhale deeply at his touch and before I know what's happening he's kissing me.

There are no cameras here, at least none that I know about. I freeze.

He stops himself and pulls back, smiling at me sadly. "I'm sorry. I broke the rules."

"We don't have any rules," I reply, leaning up to return his kiss.

Somehow, in the last couple of days, Peeta and I have become a team, separate from Haymitch or even the designers. I think of how Peeta has behaved since the end of the Games—giving District 11 part of our winnings, painting Rue for the judges—and I know I can never think of him the same way again. Is he becoming too much like me—impetuous and rebellious—or I am becoming more like him, willing to risk my life to keep my integrity?

It's a thought lost inside a nice kiss. Warm and gentle. The kind you might like to have at the end of the world to remind you there is still kindness after all.

Peeta's left hand moves up to hold my head while his right hand slides under the edge of my shirt, caressing my side and back. His hands feel amazing on my skin. I feel weirdly relaxed, almost drugged. Too relaxed for a place as dangerous as the Capitol.

Peeta stops, as though the thought occurred to him at the same moment. If we weren't going to be fighting so hard to kill ourselves for the other during the Quarter Quell I'd think we were perfectly in synch in every way.

"I'm going to turn out the lights," he says. I watch him wander around the room, making sure every possible source of light is extinguished. He's afraid we're on camera and doesn't want to give Snow the footage.

When he comes back to bed, he slides into place exactly where he was.

"Thank you for that, Katniss."

"You're welcome, Peeta," I say in mock seriousness. I wait for him to kiss me again but he doesn't. "Peeta?"

I reach for him and pull him to me, eager to feel the languid warmth that unfurls inside me when he touches me. I think, selfishly, that he usually does what I ask, and since this is something I thought he wanted he'll comply.

We kiss for a long time, our hands exploring each other tentatively. I'm eager for his touch but my eagerness makes me nervous, which makes me feel like I'm fumbling. I slip my hands under his t-shirt and he inhales deeply.

He uses my hands as a guide to where he can put his own. When I touch his back his hands go up under my shirt, doing the same. Peeta will take this as far as I let it go, but, as always, he lets me set the pace. I'm appreciative but I almost wish he'd dare me to go further.

I pull his shirt off over his head and he pauses for a moment to look at me in the darkness before kissing me again. My hands trace his back and chest as his kisses trail down my neck to the small of my throat.

"Katniss," he whispers, "Your hands feel so good."

I push him up and he immediately retreats, assuming I want to put a stop to it. I pull my own shirt over my head and look up at him, surprised at my own brazenness.

He takes my hands in his and pushes me back down on the bed as he leans in to kiss me again. His fingers still entwined in mine, he moves our hands above my head and looks down at me, eyes dark with longing.

He leans down and kisses my exposed shoulder. He starts on the right and kisses across to the left, and then down to my chest. Finally, he lets go of my hands so that he can cup my breasts while sucking gently on first one nipple then the other. I find myself moaning beneath him, pressing my hips up. My legs are wrapped around his middle. My behavior is surprising to me—I wonder he's surprised?

He lifts his head up and begins kissing my mouth again. This time the kisses are deeper, wetter.

I reach down and slip my hands under his pajama pants, feeling the firm flesh of his hips. He moans and says my name, pressing his hips against mine. I can feel his erection through his pants. It makes me feel oddly powerful to know he wants me in this way.

When I start pushing his pants down his hand reaches out to stop me.

Suddenly, I'm embarrassed. I wonder if he now thinks I'm like those sad girls standing outside Cray's door. Or worse yet maybe he think I'm a little like Cray—using him for my pleasure.

"Katniss," he starts. He looks me in the eyes, his right hand caressing my face as his left hand holds most of his weight. "You don't have to do this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" It's not like Peeta to struggle with words. "I want you so." He's shaking his head slightly, as if he can't decide what to do. I know he's thinking about Gale—and maybe I should be, too. But I don't plan on seeing Gale again in this life so there's not much left to feel guilty about.

"I want you," I whisper, tracing my hands up his sides and onto his chest. "I want this with you before one or both of us is dead."

He takes this in for a moment before kissing me too briefly and then sliding down to my waist. He holds himself up by his elbows as he slowly kisses my stomach and then lower, running his tongue and teeth and lips along the line of my pajama pants.

Wavering between heat and nervous energy I reach down and push him back, taking my pants off myself. Then I reach for his. He kisses me as I push the pants down over his hips. We're both naked and the feel of skin on skin makes me feel alive.

I pull him down on top of me. "Please, Peeta…" I beg as I pull him close. His erection is hard and heavy between us. I can't help but reach out for it and he makes a sound like a whimper as I touch him. I wrap my hands around it and tug gently.

"I want you to be inside me," I say, shameless.

He lies fully on top of me and my knees point to opposite walls of the room. He starts kissing me again and we're both fumbling, trying to get into position. Finally he shifts and I realize that the soft, warm core at the center of my body is liquid. He makes a sound as he slips inside me that is a mixture of longing and relief.

I yelp as he pushes in and it surprises us both.

It stops him cold.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. It stings."

Peeta holds my face, his own is a mixture of pleasure and devastation. It's almost funny.

"What can I do? Do you need me to stop?"

"I think I just need a minute to relax. It's a new feeling." He nods, entirely confused. "Let's just not move for a few moments, if that's ok."

"Of course."

He leans down to kiss my neck, likely hoping it will elicit the little cries it did before. It does feel good but the strange mixture of pain and discomfort where there had been lava is more distracting.

I wrap my arms up and around his neck and he kisses my mouth. He takes this is a sign to continue and pushes again. I whimper again, trying to hide it.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want it to hurt you." He's pulling back slightly now and it feels weirdly good. Like something inside me is giving way from pain to a new feeling that is pleasurable.

"Have you had this happen before?" I ask.

"No. I've never done this before, Katniss." His cheeks are pink.

"Wait," I say, pulling him back to me. "Don't stop. It's not that bad. It's getting better." He looks doubtful. This isn't just my first time. It's Peeta's. And, for a minute, I'd thought only of myself.

He leans back in, careful not to push too deep. I breathe as deeply as I can, hopeful that the pleasurable elements overtake the discomfort.

"Tell me what it feels like for you. It will help me relax again," I say.

He lets out a short breath and buries his face in my neck.

"You feel so amazing, Katniss," his says, voice thick with emotion. "You're so warm and wet. And you look so beautiful naked. I mean, I figured you would but your skin is so soft and…" He puts his forehead to mind and kisses me again and again, careful not to shift his hips. He kisses me until I feel completely relaxed.

"Ok, that worked. Try again."

And then he's moving inside me, slowly but steadily. And it feels good. It feels right to have Peeta this close, to not have anything between us. I look at his face as he moves inside me for a few moments until he clutches me and buries his face into my shoulder as his entire body shakes. He whispers my name as he finishes. He looks at me with gratitude and love—I know that's what he wanted to say when he opted to kiss me instead. And when his lips touch mine as he disentangles our bodies I can't help but think, Yes, I am ready to die for the boy with the bread.