He prided himself on being a gentleman. At least that's what Peeta told himself when he looked in the mirror: "You are a gentleman." He lived life by simple guidelines: Hold the door, say please and thank you, wait your turn, never ask for what wasn't being offered… And being a gentleman worked for him, almost all of the time, unless his mother was angry, or there wasn't enough food to go around or something else entirely. Like now, lying here in bed with his cock hard and pushing against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention in a most ungentlemanly way.

He was almost embarrassed at how turned on and ready he was, a feeling of tightness and tension in his abdomen, and a solid, warm ache in his groin. If he were anybody else, he might be mad at the cause of all this: Johanna Mason from District 7. Johanna Mason, District 7 and her elevator strip tease and the first pair of breasts he had actually seen up close and personal.

The grin on her face had been knowing and her eyes half-lidded and coy when she asked him to unzip her gown. Warmth seemed to radiate off her body and fill the small glass enclosure. When she had shucked the gown down to the floor, she had turned to him and held his gaze with her eyes. And then, in the silent moments between floors, his eyes had wandered. They had passed down the creamy skin of her long neck, taking in the rounded curves of her breasts. Gentlemanly or not, Peeta imagined her breasts in his hands, pale and smooth, topped with dark pink nipples, peaked and demanding attention. He had thought about touching them, twisting them, rolling his tongue across them.

Before the elevator had opened onto her floor, his eyes had slid just a little lower. Her black underwear was filmy and sheer, barely covering anything. It was half decoration as much as it was functional. She was bare there, he saw, and wondered if it was a personal choice or a stylists' one. Having seen her skill with an axe, it would take a brave person to force anything onto her against her will.

"What do you think, now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?" she had asked, eyebrows arching and a smile on her lips. Sex wasn't even something he'd felt capable thinking of in the last six months since the games. But when she asked it, he could remember wanting and desire that he had felt before. He could remember the quiet of his stifled cries in his room, his hand wrapped around himself, finding fulfillment in thoughts of Katniss's mouth, his hands in her hair and their bodies close together.

And now here he was again, alone in his room, desire making his heartbeat thunder in his ears and denying him any other thought but that of fulfillment. Opening his palm, he pressed his hand flat against the stiffness of his cock, rubbing softly through the fabric. A garbled moan escaped his mouth. He coughed, covering the noise in the quiet of his room. There was a time to be a gentleman and a time not to be. Reaching to unfasten the pants, he lifted his hips, slipping both pants and undergarments down his body.

Peeta fell back against the sheets. Freed from the fabric confines, his erection continued to demand attention. Taking his hand back to his cock, he stroked once, tentatively. At the feel of the tips of his fingers gliding over his warm skin, he moaned softly through closed lips. His thumb brushed along the head of his cock, feeling the ridge where it flared and the sensitive skin underneath it. Brushing over the tip, he spread a small amount of the wetness gathering there.

Closing his eyes, he wrapped his hand fully around himself. Gently squeezing, he slid his hand up his shaft. Johanna flashed in mind, her cream and pink breasts and her wry mouth. Peeta paused, almost instantly feeling guilt; this wasn't what or who he usually imagined. The ache in his groin was growing more pronounced and guilt seemed less and less relevant now.

His hand stroked down his stiffness, eyes closing again. He had never thought about sleeping with anyone before, but now those were the thoughts dancing before his eyes. Peeta could imagine Johanna, spread out before him, eyes sparkling and mouth curled into a smile as she held her bare self open to him. Hand continuing to squeeze and pulse over his cock, he gutturally moaned imagining her delicate pinkness. He imagined watching the beginnings of pleasure on her face, sliding his fingers over the slick wetness between her legs. Pausing his strokes he cupped his balls, biting his lip against the sounds threatening to escape.

As he started to slide his hand up and down again, pumping his cock, he imagined the warmth of Johanna surrounding his fingers as he explored. Slipping his fingers in and out of her, he would lower his head to her round breasts, nipping and licking her nipples. Fingers still inside her, he would let his thumb drift up, rubbing softly against her clit. He was half panting and half moaning now, still controlling the strokes of his cock, but his thigh muscles were trembling with restraint. Turning his head, he let his face rest against the cool pillow next to him, covering his sounds.

With his fingers still deep inside her and the building pressure of his thumb on her clit, he would make her come first. Not just because ladies first was proper, but because it made him want his own pleasure more. He imagined her crying out, a wavering high pitched cries as she squeezed around his fingers. He stroked himself a little quicker now, moaning into the pillow. As Johanna lay there, spread open and soaked in her pleasure, he would pull his fingers out and lick them clean. He would show her how good she tasted, what more there could be to come from this. Then he would press his groin to her, his cock sliding against her bare wetness. While she was still recovering from her own orgasm, he would push inside her, sliding fully into her and feeling her squeeze around him.

Peeta's hand was tight on his dick now, his hips pushing up into his hand in time with his strokes. A half whimper escaped his mouth as he loosed his grip a bit to make this last longer. When he tried to imagine he was fully inside her, his fantasy began to falter. He knew enough about the mechanics to know what was involved, how it could feel, but still something felt off. His strokes stayed slow as his mind drifted back to that morning, as he and Katniss linked hands to ride out for the tributes' parade. For the first time in months she had looked at him in a way that instead of feeling wounded, left him warm.

He was quiet a moment, his hand still. He thought of Katniss, his favorite things about her, her hair and her mouth. The parade that morning had been a glorious expression of both – the sun had caught the red highlights in the intricate braids in her hair, her mouth had been hard set and determined. Peeta came back to the way she had looked at him, the warmth in her eyes.

Thoughts of Johanna's bare pink flesh began to fade as Peeta imagined how things could have ended today instead of this. They would have come back to this room hand in hand and she would have pulled him to her, back against the door and bodies rubbing together. Turning himself over to this fantasy, Peeta resumed stroking his stiff cock, thumb spreading his precome over his shaft. Pinned between Peeta and the door, Katniss' head would tilt up, their mouths meet. He would take his time with her lips; tongues intertwining, pushing his hips into her body and letting her feel his arousal. Then he would tangle his hand in her hair, tilting her head to kiss his way, down her jaw, along the sensitive skin of her neck. Her hands would be in his hair, nails gently scratching his neck.

Finding their way to the edge of the bed, he would kneel before her, pushing her dress up over her hips. In his mind's eye, Katniss didn't bother with the pretense of underwear the way Johanna had, and when she opened her legs to him, there was nothing separating them. Looking up from where he knelt between her knees, he would meet her eyes, darkened with makeup and wanting, and she would know what was coming. This moment was not a time to waste with fingers. Eyes never parting hers, his mouth would be on her, licking slowly through her folds, feeling her knees quiver around his face when he tongue pressed against her clit.

Moaning now, over and over again, Peeta thrust into his hand. He could imagine Johanna's breasts when he closed his eyes, but his mind was on Katniss. With his mouth against her, tongue flicking across her clit, he imagined Katniss biting her lip and whimpering to hold in her sounds of pleasure. He would suck the swollen nub of her clit into his mouth, putting the pressure of his lips and tongue circling and swirling against her. He could imagine her thighs quivering next to him; her hands on his shoulders and in his hair holding herself up. Moans punctuating her words and breath short, he would make her call out his name. His tongue would circle, pushing and gliding against her until she finally shook with her orgasm, calling out "Peeta" over and over again.

The thought of Katniss' orgasm, the image of her eyes closed and mouth wide with pleasure, drove him over the edge. His hands and hips pumped in quick time, air seeming to rush from his lungs as he imagined everything he would give her. Leaning into the pillow next to stifle his moans, he shook with his orgasm, warmth rushing down over his hand and onto his stomach. "Katniss," he moaned, "Katniss, Katniss."