Puppet Strings

Chapter Three

A/N: Near the end of this chapter may seem a bit disjointed because I had to edit out some graphic pieces. I will be posting the links to the rest of the story today though because the rest is too graphic to post so if you want to get the full scene, you'll find it under the links.

Peeta couldn't get up the entire next day. He lay in bed and tried not to move. Even shifting the tiniest of bits created the most horrible of tears of pain that ripped through him. Cato felt guilty, or acted that way anyway, and spent every spare second he had to care for his broken boyfriend. Thankfully, it wasn't so bad the next day and Peeta was able to move around the house again.

A few days after Cato came home angry, Peeta found himself alone in the apartment. When he tried to leave, he discovered that Cato had locked the door. Why would he do that? Didn't he trust him to come back? Peeta couldn't believe how ridiculous it was. Did Cato think because he hurt him once during sex that Peeta would want to leave? Surely he wasn't that paranoid?

Days went on and Cato spent more and more time outside the apartment. And the more time Cato spent outside the apartment, the more time Peeta spent inside the apartment. He never got home to get his own clothes and was forced to wander around the place in his underwear and one of Cato's t-shirts. Every time he brought it up with Cato, his boyfriend always brushed him off.

It was getting a little irritating.

He felt like he was drowning in Cato's clothes, like a baby in its dad's garments but Cato kept insisting that it was sexy. What had brought on Cato's change in demeanour was beyond Peeta and he worried that maybe work was beginning to press down on him. Peeta hoped that Cato would maybe get better when his workload lifted but the hope didn't seem to be working.

He wished Cato would tell him what exactly it was he did for a living when not at the Arena.

Whatever it was, it was certainly stressing Cato out. The older man would come home angry, coiled up like a spring, and no matter what Peeta tried to do to help, he'd get snapped at none the less. Peeta knew that it wasn't Cato's fault and if he had to work two jobs then he'd probably be snippy too, but it was getting harder and harder not to get agitated by getting his head bitten off every time he tried to help.

Although there was one thing he could always do that helped. No matter what mood Cato was in, he'd always be up for sex. Now, Peeta didn't mind that, all healthy relationships have intimacy, but when it begins to become a dominating part of said relationship then it becomes a cause for concern. Peeta was beginning to feel like a sex toy, milling about the apartment in his underpants until Cato came home and fucked him blind. That wasn't any way to live. It wasn't any way to have a relationship either.

Peeta lay on the couch, three weeks after having last left the apartment, staring at the ceiling. Cato would be back any minute, he could sense it. Propping himself up on his elbows, Peeta pulled his shirt up a little and looked at his hips. Peppered with bruises. Not just faint, brown-ish ones. Deep, angry purple and black ones. How could he never feel those when he was receiving them? Surely he'd feel something.

The lock on the door switched and Peeta quickly pushed the shirt back down. Cato came into the apartment, weirdly happy for the first time in . . . forever. "There's my gorgeous boyfriend!" Cato exclaimed, his grin so wide it almost mimicked a grimace. Peeta was slightly taken aback and wasn't prepared for when Cato lifted him off the couch and twirled him around. He yelped and grabbed Cato's arms for balance, the apartment spinning around in a whirlwind of colours. When the twirling stopped, Peeta barely had a chance to think before Cato claimed his lips in a shearing kiss. It was powerful, as usual, but held a certain warmth to it. Peeta pushed up on his tiptoes to reach Cato's height and wound his arms around his neck. Fingers danced down his spine and a hand playfully groped his ass. Peeta moaned softly before pulling back from Cato and raising an eyebrow.