Chapter Text
Peeta ducked into the grimy doorway of the Capitol, furtively wiping his hand on his pants as he approached the counter. Behind a pane of bulletproof glass, a lone cashier sat, staring morosely at a small black and white television playing a rerun of TJ Hooker.
“Ten bucks per dance and aim your wad at the floor. Blow jobs are thirty, payable in advance,” the guy said, not even bothering to look away from the screen.
Peeta pulled a wrinkled fifty from his pocket and slid it through the pass slot. The clerk’s meaty hand swiped the cash. “Do you want change?”
“No.” His voice came out as a squeak and he cursed, clearing his throat. “Two dances from the brunette and a hummer.”
The clerk snorted and flicked a button on the board beside him. “Got your usual. Room four. Curtain closes after ten minutes, you want more, there’s a slot under the window.”
Peeta shuffled slowly over to the door inset into the wall next to the cashier window. A tall, lanky man stood next to it, arms folded across his chest, a knowing smirk on his pockmarked face. “Can’t stay away?” He grunted, pulling open the door so Peeta could walk through it.
Peeta shrugged and walked through the door, moving down the dimly lit hallway until he found room number four. He pushed aside the curtain and slipped inside. A single chair sat in the center of the room, facing a curtained window. He sat down and pushed the button embedded in the floor with his foot. The curtain slid open, revealing a tiny room and a slim, dark haired woman staring out at him with dead quicksilver eyes. He came every night to watch her, slim hipped and small breasted, dancing listlessly for the men who paid for her time. He wondered sometimes what it would be like to fuck her, to feel those lithe legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her, mouth open in a soft oh as she came. He wanted to taste her dusky nipples, feel them pebble beneath his tongue as he licked and sucked. Her hair was always in a single braid and he wanted to loosen it, run his fingers through it and wrap it around his fist as he pumped into her from behind.
Peeta leaned back in the chair, one hand unfastening his pants, sliding his cock out of the slit in his boxers. As she began to move, his fingers began a slow rhythmic stroke up and down the already semi hard length.
The dry slap of skin on skin filled the room, over top of the cheesy music that was piped in through speakers set high on the wall. The room smelled like old gym socks and rank body odor, it was a wonder he could even keep it up. The woman behind the glass undulated slowly, bending over to give him the perfect view of her pussy, pressed back against the glass.
The curtain slid aside, startling him and he jumped, nearly falling out of the chair. His head turned slowly away from the window. She was nothing he’d ever thought of before, and now that she stood before him, he stared at her, wide eyed and dry mouthed and wondered why.
She was soft curves and skin that looked like peaches and cream, blond hair that matched his spread enticingly over her breasts, the tight pink nipples peeking out teasingly through the thick strands and see-through mesh that covered them.
His gaze traveled further, down to the thatch of blonde hair between her thighs, barely visible through the black mesh skirt she wore. His hands clenched tightly at his sides, cock hardening to the point of pain. Wide blue eyes met his and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she walked closer.
Sweat beaded on his upper lip and his cock twitched in his hand as she stopped in front of him, dropping a thin mat down onto the filthy floor between his knees.
“Lean back.” Her voice was husky and soft and he complied instantly, gaze locking onto the woman behind the glass, still moving listlessly to the music, eyes glazed – lost in a world that he’d never belong to.
Warm lips enclosed his cock, slick tongue sliding up and down the shaft. He lifted his gaze to the curtain, licking his lips as he imagined it was her going down on him, sucking his cock into the wet heat of her mouth, tongue dipping into the slit. His hips thrust up as she moved faster, hollowing out her cheeks and humming with each pass up and down, her other hand reaching into his boxers and caressing his balls, rolling them in her palm and squeezing lightly. He let himself get lost in the fantasy once more, that the girl would take him home and he’d bury himself deep, fucking her into oblivion.
He felt the familiar tingling at the base of his spine that signaled his imminent release. She was good, this one, hard and fast, tongue moving in all the right places to make him blow his load quickly. When she sucked him in again, loosening her jaw so that he slid halfway down her throat, he couldn’t hold back. With a strangled moan, he let go, shooting hot jets of cum down her throat, cock twitching as she swallowed every drop.
His eyes locked on the girl behind the glass once more as the blonde released his softening cock with a soft popping sound. She was still moving to the music as the curtain slid slowly closed. The girl kneeling between his feet leaned back and rose slowly to her feet, walking to the door and leaving him alone once more.
He stood up, tucking himself back into his pants. With one last glance towards the curtain, he walked out of the room and down the dingy hallway back to his solitary life.
As he passed the muscle at the doorway, the man spoke. “Same time tomorrow?”
Peeta looked up, meeting his gaze. “Always.”