A/N: Originally published for the Prompts in Panem week long Everlark challenge on Tumblr (Round 4: Seven Deadly Sins; Day 2: Greed), this outtake takes place roughly between the events of Chapters 11 and 12. It's lemony so proceed with caution.

We've only been together a week when Peeta decides that it's high time he takes me on a proper date. I keep telling him that I'm more than happy to stay in with greasy pizza and a Redbox DVD, but he's bound and determined to take me to dinner and an honest-to-God movie theater. Finally, I got so tired of him giving me ridiculous puppy eyes, I just agreed and he promised to pick me up just as soon as he made his quick nightly rounds in the Suicide Slums to verify that everything is quiet in the city.

"Shouldn't take long," he had said as he kissed my nose on his way out the door. "We'll make the ten-twenty show. Worst case scenario, we head downtown and catch one at midnight."

The last time I checked my watch, it was 11:15. I'm not angry with him—far from it. I know that he's out saving lives and that he'd much rather be holding my hand and stealing popcorn from beneath my fingers—but I'd be lying if I said I hadn't actually been kind of looking forward to doing something semi-normal with him for once. The pitfalls of dating a superhero.

I sigh and curl into a ball on the bed. I don't mean to fall asleep, but I'm assuming that's what happened when I feel Peeta's lips ghost over mine just before the bed beside me sinks under his weight.

"Shit," I mutter sleepily. "I fell asleep."

"S'okay," he whispers against my skin. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back."

His fingers tug at the hem of my camisole and slide along my hip bones, anchoring me. This is new. When Peeta's patrols take a long time he usually slides into bed and pulls me as close to him as he can manage, as if he's protecting me from whatever he's seen that night. There's purpose behind his hands tonight and his lips work their way down my exposed neck.

I sigh and start to relax back into him when he pulls away from me and slides the strap of my top down. "You… You have a tattoo."

"Yeah, stupid college decision." My cheeks color furiously and I flip onto my back to hide it from his view. As wonderful for my career my friendship with Gale Hawthorne has been, he's also been known to get me into some serious trouble. Case in point: the fucking ink on my right shoulder blade, which was the result of me being far too stubborn for my own good and him knowing exactly how to push my buttons.

Peeta sits up and watches me carefully. "What's it feel like? When you get one, I mean."

I shrug. "It kind of stings more than anything I guess. You know when you get a burn?"

He shakes his head. Oh, right. Of course he doesn't know. I chew my lip contemplatively. How do you describe pain to someone who's never experienced it?

"Do you…" I hesitate because there's still so much about Peeta that I have yet to learn. "Do your feet ever fall asleep? Or your arm, like when you lay on it at night?" He nods slowly, so I continue. "The pin-prick feeling? It's like that only magnified by about a thousand."

He nods slowly, turning my words over in his head, and brushes my hair out of the way. "Can I see it?"

"Sure." I sit up, nestling myself between his knees before pulling my loose hair over my shoulder to fully expose the skin.

He runs his thumb over the tiny tattoo. "What is it?"

"Well." I bite my thumbnail nervously. "It's a lark."

He snorts. "Ironic."

"It was my dad's nickname when he was growing up. Because he sang so well that all the birds stopped to listen, thinking he was one of them."

I feel his lips brush the skin lightly and his hands reach around my ribs to rest on my stomach. "You're beautiful," he murmurs between kisses. "Just when I think I've got everything about you figured out, I find something new."

"I'm sorry…" I breathe, already lost in the heat building in my gut.

"Don't be." Peeta slides his hand inside my jeans. "It just makes me want you that much more."

I lean back into him and begin to suckle the tender skin just under his earlobe. "Please…" I whisper.

Long fingers dip below the waistband of my panties and he barely has to touch me to find the answer to his unasked question. "Shit," he hisses. "You're already so wet."

I take his earlobe between my teeth and nip lightly, expecting his digits to take up the slow, torturous circles that have become commonplace over the last week. Instead he grabs my chin lightly and claims my mouth. Our tongues dance for a moment, writhing together as I feel my jeans rip away from my hips.

"Sorry," he whispers, but the twinkle of his blue eyes is enough to convince me that he isn't entirely contrite as he flips me onto my back and makes short work of my camisole and lingerie, leaving me completely bare to him, save for the pair of Chucks on my feet.

I respond by tugging his polo shirt from his chest. "Shut up and kiss me." He obliges, palming my left breast in his hand as he rocks his hips against my core. His hand leaves and I'm immediately saddened at its absence, but it's all worth it as he frees his length from the khaki trousers and sheaths himself inside me in one fluid motion.

I grasp at his shoulder and sigh as he begins to move. "God, Katniss… I want you so bad…"

"You have me," I moan in response, digging the heels of my shoes into his thighs to spur him on, faster and harder.

Peeta shakes his head. "I want all of you. I want every freckle, every mole, every tattoo, every scar… I want them all to myself for the rest of our lives."

"Always…" I hiss as he grabs my hand and guides it to the bundle of nerves just above where we connect. His first two fingers cover mine and he leads a rhythmic assault on the sensitive nub. "Always, you have me. All of me."

"Fuck, Katniss." He moves quickly, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back until our hips are flush. Our fingers move together in a flurry and every nerve in my body seems to be raw and exposed. It won't be long now.

"Peeta…" It takes my last bit of energy to intentionally squeeze my walls around him but it's worth it. I fall apart underneath him, moaning and gasping and begging him to join me in the sheer bliss. He kisses me hard and pumps one, two, three more times before I feel him spill inside me and he wrenches his mouth from mine to groan my name. He lays beside me and I press light kisses on his bicep as we catch our breaths together.

Later, after his breathing has become deep and even, his arms wrap protectively around my waist and I snuggle back into him, feeling completely satisfied with our date night, even though it didn't turn out exactly like he'd planned.

Just before I fall asleep, I feel his lips graze the tiny bird on my right shoulder blade and I make a mental note that maybe more tattoos aren't out of my future if they always elicit such a response from Peeta.