wesleynotponcy | Room 504, Laaaaaate Wednesday Night

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Room 504, Laaaaaate Wednesday Night

Wesley couldn't quite clamp down on the small pained noises that rose instinctively in his throat as he made his way agonizingly slowly up the last set of stairs to the fifth floor. It just figured, didn't it, that his room would be on the top floor when he was in this condition. Well. At least it wasn't too far from the stairwell to his room.

He limped the few steps to his door and unlocked it. He knew that he would have to do inventory of the injuries later, but right now he was focused rather single-mindedly on making sure Katniss had enough food and then collapsing in bed. He rather hoped he'd find her sleeping -- he didn't much fancy the idea of her seeing him like this. It would just be another piece of evidence that he wasn't equipped to take care of someone.

[[For the mockingjay. Up early for probable eventual SP.]]

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Not to worry, Katniss, Wesley had no feelings for genderswapped!Bruce!

He opened and closed his mouth several times, startled, then said, "Er. Likewise."

Her mouth twisted in a slight smirk, even as she blushed a darker red. "I -- never mind. Poor Buffy, though. I'd feel the same way."

Her first thought was one that she was glad she'd stamped down -- that as long as she was in her own body, though, it would probably be fine. Her mouth was getting away from her tonight enough already, though.

"Oh, well, of course," he agreed, though he was avoiding actually visualizing what such a thing would be like, thank you. "The island's proclivity toward impromptu transformations is bothersome enough. It's one thing to look different for a few days; something like that is... different."

"I'm glad I'm not a bird anymore," she noted softly, snuggling -- she'd deny using that word even in narrative -- against him. "It was bizarre, but I also just...spent a lot of time thinking. I guess it was probably good for me."

"About what?" he murmured, settling one arm around her shoulders. "If you don't mind sharing, of course."

"Prim." It was the first time she'd said her name in a long time, and Katniss half-expected the world to come crashing down.

It didn't.

"Karla. Peeta. Finnick. You. How I've been...acting." She took a deep breath, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He set his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently to suggest that it was okay to say the name, or anything else she might need to share. It was fine.

"I promise you," he murmured, softly but intensely, "I'd never dream of holding it against you."

"Of course not," she said, smiling a little. "That's one of the reasons I love you. But I'm sorry. I'm...going to try to stop that. I don't know if it'll stay like this, or if I'll go back to that, but I'm actually going to try."

"Good. Good, that's... yes. That's good." Really, Wes? Was it? "And if there's anything I can do to help, or if you're having an especially rough time, I'd be more than happy to come sit with you, or do whatever you need," he offered.

Like making out, for example.

"I like what we were doing a moment ago," Katniss offered shyly -- almost flirtatiously, for her. "I -- you know, I missed you, and...yes."

"Then what we were doing a moment ago it is," Wesley teased. He started to shift onto his side, thinking that might be more comfortable, then winced.

"Maybe sitting up would be best."

"...how about you get comfortable, and I'll...fit around you," Katniss offered, wincing with concern as she watched him.

"Probably a better idea," Wesley agreed, smiling. "Thank you." He shifted positions a few times, trying to find something that would work without being either awkward or uncomfortable, and eventually ended up laying on his back, face turned to look at her. "Is this all right?"

"If you're comfortable, it's perfect," Katniss murmured, leaning over to kiss him. "I don't know what I'm doing," she added again, between soft little kisses, because that was a thing she could do now, too. She was experimenting! "Tell me if it's...bad, or too much, or...just keep me updated."

"I somehow doubt that'll be an issue," he murmured in between kisses of his own. As the tingles that accompanied being kissed began resparking in his chest, he found himself oddly motivated, and reached a hand out to settle on her side.

And after everything in the last few moments, how a simple hand on her side could send that kind of flutter through her was beyond Katniss. She shifted a little, skimming her fingertips out to graze his chest. She was mindful of his wounds but...well, he was warm and there and touchable and hers. How could she not?

Mid-kiss, Wesley let out a small noise of pleasure at that. While before he'd had just his fingertips just tenatively brushing against her side, now he took her touch as an indication that it was okay. So he got more comfortable, and lay his palm flat against the shirt that was entirely too worn and baggy on her, and just... felt.

How could something so unfamiliar be so comfortable? And more importantly, how could something so comfortable be so exciting at the same time?

Katniss would need two hands and possibly her toes to count how many shirtless or outright naked men she'd seen in her life, on her mother's table or thanks to the Games. And yet, before now, she'd never felt a bit attracted to a man's chest.

Things were different now.

And the thing was, she was comfortable. Comfortable, but like her skin was too tight, too, and she couldn't quite think straight, and that hand at her waist was so warm and she was tingling and Katniss leaned closer, crossing her body gently across his to deepen the kiss.

Wesley couldn't say the same, truth be told; his understanding of the female form was limited to the textbooks he'd studied as a child and one painful two-hour lecture from primary school that he'd done his best to repress. But he'd grown up with a Watcher's reverent respect for women, bordering on idolatry, and he'd imagined too many times what it might be like to be so close and so comfortable with one.

In his head, it had never been this tangible, or ever in full-color. His visuals were always abstract and vague, whereas this was sharply, starkly real.

He let out a contented sigh into her mouth, his hand slowly traveling up her side. Not so far up as to be uncomfortable for her -- he was a gentleman, after all. Just... up.

Katniss had never had time to daydream, or moon over boys, or wonder what this would be like. Now she finally understood what the other girls she'd known had been blushing over, and the appeal of certain outfits. Outfits that generally weren't her style, but right now she was deeply regretting her general policy of modesty. She liked being in his shirt, but there was a hand and there could have been skin -- her skin -- being touched, but some part of her knew that there needed to be a pace to this.

She finally understood it, though. Not...how to be good at this, but the why behind a lot of things. Congratulations, Katniss. You've discovered hormones and lust.

In any case, that hand traveling up wasn't getting any sort of halt from her, though it had earned a large amount of her attention. The rest was focused on balancing above him, one hand steadying herself on the bed as she experimentally nipped lightly at his lower lip. She was curious about nearly everything, it seemed.

Wesley gasped an "Oh!" into her mouth, but he certainly wasn't pulling away. The sudden sharpness of the nip had been startling, but even more so was the fact that it set off more of those adrenaline-like sparks that were firing in his chest. Before tonight, with a few confusing exceptions he didn't often dwell on, he'd only ever thought of intimacy as soft kisses and gentle touches, if even that. The fact that something like a bite, even an experimental one like that, could feel inviting? It was strange.

So, naturally, he had to try it out for himself, and he reciprocated with a quick nip of his own.

Katniss let out a happy gasp of her own, that weird fluttery want drifting through her abdomen again. She squirmed, trailing one of her feet along his leg. She wanted to climb over him and or pull him on top of her and feel all of him and she'd never wanted anything like this before, not really, and it was strange and new and exciting and she needed to focus.

Focus.

Focus, perhaps, on very gently exploring places to kiss aside from his mouth. Like maybe his neck. She was careful, though.

As it turned out, Wesley liked that a whole lot, judging by the quick gasp of breath and sudden pleasured shudder that ran through him. Though she wasn't exactly lacking for access routes, he instinctively tilted his neck away from her, baring more exposed skin where she could repeat that maneuver.

Kissing thus rendered more complicated, he went about finding something to do with the rest of his body, and settled on entwining one leg with hers and, as an afterthought, beginning to massage his fingertips feather-lightly into her side.

And now she had no shortage of places to target. Katniss ran a trail of light kisses along his jawline, mindful of his abraisions, and found the crook of his neck. She pressed a soft kiss there too and, because it seemed like a good idea (she didn't know. It could be the worst idea she'd ever had, but she wanted to try anyway), she flicked her tongue out against the soft skin there.

She was curious. And when Katniss was curious about things, she experimented to understand.

Wesley's whole body trembled at that last one, and the hand cupping her side tightened just a bit as a result. Dozens of ideas popped up in his head as a response, all of them more assertive than he'd been to this point. So, after a moment of psyching himself up for this, he made to roll the two of them over, which would -- if she allowed it -- put him on top of her, propped up on one fortunately uninjured elbow.

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