*Title and inspiration courtesy of Jake Owen*

He couldn't do it anymore.

Peeta picked up his jacket for the third time, stuffed his arms through the holes, but didn't move from the spot his feet were rooted to in his foyer. He'd been ready to go to the bar for twenty minutes, but he'd been at war with himself the entire time and couldn't make himself walk out the door. He knew Katniss would be waiting.

Sighing, he looked at himself in the mirror that hung over the small wood table he stood beside. Tired, flat blue eyes stared back at him. He scrubbed at his eyes and then raked a rough hand up through his blond hair causing it to stand on end all over his head. He scowled at his reflection. She liked his hair that way - tousled and messy. She'd told him it made him look like he just rolled out of bed. He quickly flattened it back out and banged his head harshly against the mirror, causing it to drum a hollow cadence against the wall. Frustrated, he pulled his arms free of the jacket and threw it over the back of his couch.

She could wait. She could wait forever.

He was done.

He just couldn't deal with this convoluted, fucked up "arrangement" they'd fallen into - a long string of one-night stands that showed no signs of ending, but absolutely no signs of becoming anything more.

Because Katniss "didn't do relationships."

So they fucked. A lot. There was no use in prettying it up. It was what it was. She was very good at keeping any emotion from sullying their time together. And yet, somehow, she still had him on the edge, ready to fall.

Their arrangement was not one he liked, but he wouldn't say it was without benefit. Equal parts satisfying and unsatisfying. A paradox of having everything, but nothing at all. The nights she came to him were unparalleled. But the need for her to give a little in return was nearly overwhelming. He was ready to turn their arrangement into something more. But each time he tried to bring it up, she would turn his attentions elsewhere - seeing to physical needs rather than the ones that plagued his heart.

It started almost a half year ago on a rainy night when he was tending bar for his friend, Finnick, whose wife had just gone into labor with their first child. Peeta had struck up a conversation with the pretty brunette at the end of the bar, never intending for a casual conversation about hockey to lead where it did. He'd never been one for picking up strangers in a bar, but she just had a way about her that, even then, he couldn't resist. That night had been the first of many, although he took more care to actually get her into a bed these days rather than taking her up against the back of the bar - jean skirt pushed up around her hips, his mouth clasped onto her exposed breast and his hips pounding a heavy rhythm into her.

They'd been meeting in the bar every Saturday since then. Always on her terms. If he called her, she never returned his calls and she never called him on her own.

Fuck it. He turned from his sorry reflection, kicked his boots off and padded down the hall to the kitchen for a beer. If his brothers or Finn could see him now, they'd probably fall down laughing. Call him a pussy for turning down free sex. Maybe he was. But he was twenty nine years old. He was over empty hook-ups. He wanted to settle down. Start a family. Be with someone who actually wanted to know him and who wanted him to know her. If that made him a pussy, so be it.

He cracked his beer open, the cap lifting off his Guinness with a satisfying phhss, and slumped down into the cushions of his couch with the remote in his hand ready to spend the night watching football.

Two hours had passed when he heard a soft knock on his front door.

He peered through the peephole. She stood on the other side of his door twisting the end of her braid around her fingers. Something that felt a little like hope sprung deep in his chest. It wasn't like her to track him down. But, then again, he'd never stood her up until now.

He held the door open for her and motioned for her to come in. She slid in on quiet feet and went straight for the bedroom. His shoulders slumped. So much for hope.

He brought his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed at the nerve that seemed to be twitching out of his skin and followed her into his bedroom.

"What are you doing here, Katniss?" He asked. He could hear the weariness in his voice and instantly wished he had somehow masked it when he watched her face fall.

"It's Saturday, you didn't show up," she said, leaning up to kiss his lips. She tasted of tequila. He hated tequila.

"I know. You didn't answer my question."

"Do, um, do you want me to leave?" She asked hesitantly, busy hands stilling on her shirt buttons. Uncertainty bloomed over her olive skin. He'd never turned her away before and he could hear the veneer of confidence cracking in her voice, see it in her storm cloud eyes as they peered up at him through heavy lids.

He felt his resolve wilt under her gaze.

"No," he said, moving into her, even though everything in him told him to step back. He indulged himself by running the backs of his fingers along her jaw and tucking a stray hair behind her ear. It was the type of intimate gesture she usually shied away from. But tonight, she leaned into his palm as his thumb stroked her cheek. His eyebrows knit together while his heart skipped a beat inside his chest. He softened a little. "It's just been a long day and I wasn't expecting you to show up here. What made you come here, Katniss?"

"I can't stay, but I needed to see you," she breathed as she stood on tip toes again and brushed her lips over his. "Feel you."

"Katniss," Peeta groaned as her hand snaked up his shirt and then back down the front of his boxer briefs, stroking him. She knew how to get what she wanted from him. Knew just how to touch him and where. Because that's who they were - who he let them become over these months - strangers who could expertly map each others bodies in the dark of night but who couldn't even name the others favorite color.

His mind was racing as she slid and pressed her body against his. He'd been so set on ending this. Was that just a couple of hours ago? He was weak. She made him weak. Why did this woman have this effect on him? And the longer this went on, the more he craved her and the emptier he felt.

He was tired of feeling empty. He had to take some of the power away from her. Even it out a little, because he had none as it stood. They couldn't keep going like this.

Peeta grabbed both her hands in one of his, raised them over her head and pressed himself into her. She groaned.

"Tell me your favorite color," he said against her ear, moving her back to the bed. He felt her still against him and he raised his head to look into her eyes. They were cloudy. Confused.

"What?"

"Your favorite color, Katniss. What is it?" He dragged his tongue over her throat, zeroing in on the pulse point just below her ear and eased her down onto the mattress. The air left her in a hiss.

"I, I don't know Peeta." She squirmed impatiently under him, straining her hips toward him, trying unsuccessfully to coax him into relieving the ache he knew he'd created in her.

"Tell me, Katniss, and I'll give you what you want." Moving down her body, he began to inch her jeans down her thighs to punctuate his promise. It was a small thing he was asking, nothing too profound - he knew it. And maybe it didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, but he needed something. Something more than nothing. Because the more time that went by, the more he felt himself drowning in her and getting nothing in return.

This time, what he got in return was a stuttering Katniss. He'd thrown her and he had to admit that it pleased him.

"Gr…green."

"Good…good," he said removing her panties and settling himself between her legs. He kissed the inside of her thighs, breathing her in. He felt her shudder all around him. "What's your favorite thing to drink?"

"What? Peeta, what is this?" She asked, sitting up slightly on her elbows. He didn't answer though. Rather, he just smirked and hovered over her sex, letting his breath tease her. Eyebrows raised, he dared her not to answer.

"Sweet tea," she said, her breath shuddering out of her after he closed his mouth over her. She tasted like the sweetest drug. "I like…sweet…oohh…tea."

She was burning up under him. Hot and ready. He loved that about her. She was always so pliant and responsive. It was the exact reason he had never had it in him to turn her away. And fuck, he really wanted to be inside her right now – to sink his dick where his tongue now played. But he wasn't going to give up on this little game he started. He had a point to make and he was damn well going to make it while he still had some semblance of control left.

He ran his finger over her slit, dipping it in once, twice, as his tongue played a torturous game with her clit. He worked her until each breath was leaving her as a pant and she was slick with need. He felt her tighten, moans becoming deeper.

"Now…Peeta…now. Please."

He supposed she expected him to slam into her, as that was his MO, because her eyes snapped open when he inched his way up her body, covering her, letting his cock rest right at her entrance, but not moving to get a condom or enter her. Lust swirled through him and although he wanted to prolong torturing her for as long as he could, he couldn't help but indulge himself a little by rubbing his length through the wetness that had accumulated there. The whimper that escaped her was only icing.

"Tell me why you're here, Katniss."

She eyed him indignantly. He raised his eyebrows in challenge, still sliding his throbbing cock over her.

"Tell me."

"It doesn't matter, Peeta."

"It matters to me," he said, trailing, wet, open-mouthed kisses over her torso before focusing on her taut nipple. He pulled at it, making it pebble and pucker enticingly. "Tell me."

"God, Peeta!" she said with an edge of anger lacing her voice. She strained against him, gasps cutting her words. "I just want you to fuck me! Just fuck me already."

Her words sliced through him, carving a gaping hole through the hunger he was feeling for her. He shouldn't have expected anything more. It really was all she wanted from him.

He sat back on his haunches and let his head hang limply on his shoulders. Sighing, he pushed his matted hair off his forehead and looked her dead in the eye. "I can't do this anymore, Katniss."

She sat up quickly, pulling a blanket over herself. "What do you mean you can do this?" she asked, eyeing his traitorous cock as it still pointed defiantly at her. He shifted around and picked up his jeans from the floor.

"I mean, I can't do this with you anymore. I can't be alone with you anymore and be the guy you fuck whenever you get an itch, Katniss. I want more…I need more." He kicked his legs in and stuffed himself into his jeans, whimpering a little at the ache in his balls. "We've been doing this for almost six months now and I don't even know the most basic things about you…where you work, who your friends are. The only thing I know is that you have a penchant for top shelf tequila. Fuck…you could be married for all I know." Honestly, he'd never given that little gem much thought before and it made the bottom dropped out of his stomach. His eyes flickered to where her bare left hand was clutched around the blanket. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Please tell me you're not married," he managed to croak.

It was like watching a storm gather. She stiffened. Her eyes cleared of the smoky, sex-filled haze they had been in, narrowed and then darkened.

"Of course I'm not married. What kind of person do you think I am, Peeta?" she spat out as she leapt off the bed, gathering her clothes in her arms.

"I have no idea, Katniss! That's exactly what I'm saying. I don't know anything about you! You won't let me know anything about you. And I'm tired of it." He watched her try to pull her clothes on as quickly as possible, but the tequila he'd tasted on her had her tripping over herself. He walked to her and laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She flinched and jerked away.

"I told you I don't do relationships," she said between her teeth, but he could have sworn he saw her swipe at her eyes as she left the room and went for the door. She had her back to him, though and he couldn't know for sure. She turned her head slightly toward him as she moved a shaking hand to open the front door. But she still refused to look at him. "I'm sorry I came tonight."

And then she was gone.

Just like that, it was over. He expected to feel relief. Waited for it, but all he felt has hollow. It was better this way. Better to get out now before she crushed him.

He was flicking through the channels on his TV a half hour later when he heard another soft knock at his door. He looked around his floor to see if she left anything before going to answer it.

"Hey," he said quietly, holding the door open just enough for his body. She stood there twisting her hands together under the dim glow of his porch light, looking small and unsure. "Did you forget something?"

She swallowed, steeled herself and let her eyes meet his.

"I work in the Forestry Department. My best friend's name is Gale, although I spend most of my time with my sister and I can eat an entire pan of brownies in one sitting all by myself."

Peeta fought the smile that threatened as seed of home sprouted inside him.

Katniss fumbled a second when he didn't say anything.

"And…and…I came here tonight because I wanted to be with you. Not just to…" she winced, "to fuck or scratch an itch...as you so delicately put it…but because I like being with you. I like…you...a lot...and that scares me."

He let the smile come full this time. "Well then," he started, holding the door open for her. "Would you like to come in? Start again? Maybe even stay awhile?"

"Yeah," she said, a corner of her mouth turning up in a shy smile. "I'd like that."

He closed the door behind her and held his arms out. She walked to him, fitting herself to him in a way that felt new. Tilting her chin up, he kissed her softly, taking his time.

This he could do.