[fic] dig out our flaws
Part Two
**2 years later**
Every night of every day of the week, there has been a loud, long lasting party happening in the three other penthouse suites in her building. Mostly she just rolls her eyes and knocks gently on the doors of her neighbours to keep the music down. Though, it usually ends up as both she and Caius’ as guests without any chance of leaving. Being the center of attention is single handedly the worst aspect of being a nation-wide celebrity.
Cashmere was coming back from grocery shopping, having planned on making dinner for her and Caius in celebration of unpacking the last box in the penthouse they would soon be sharing as husband and wife.
Though, she knew something was off when not hear a peep as she came up to the fifteenth floor. When the elevator doors open and she steps out into the hall, she can hear each and every click of her heels against the hardwood.
Something is very wrong.
Turning the key into the door, she locks the door rather than opening it. Between the shift in gears, Cashmere hears a rather loud whimper come from inside the penthouse from a voice that was much too high to be Caius’. Fumbling with the lock a little with impatient hands the whimpers get louder.
The door clicks and with a forceful shove of her hip, it opens causing her to lose her footing. Catching herself with grace, Cashmere doesn’t bother to take off her shoes as she runs through the front hallway. She turns left at the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter; turns right, past the library and music room following the growing intensity of the mewls. Whoever is gracing Caius with their company is in pain.
The mewls draw her to the sitting room, where candles are lit and plates with glasses of white wine lay cast aside on the cherrywood table. However, her fractious blue eyes don’t linger on the preparations. Her gaze holds onto the still newly victorious, sixteen year old, Finnick Odair with his head resting on the back of the loveseat, eyes shut but rigid body screaming in discomfort as her fiancé’s head bobs up and down between Finnick’s waxed, wide spread legs.
Finnick’s lips curl around the blood curdling sound as his large hands push against Caius’ thick, white locks. The lips and tongue Caius has kissed and pleasured her with countless times over; the ones she thought now belonged to her alone, lavish someone else thoroughly. Increasing with speed and gripping onto the boy’s sun kissed thighs tightly Caius rips a scream from Finnick as he digs his nails into the boy’s tender muscles.
Finnick whips his head to the side and catches her eye first. His beautifully white, painted eyes smudged as tears bubble along his waterline.
“Help,” he mouths, his eyes then squeeze shut as Caius pulls another pain induced shriek from him. The shire volume sends hundreds of joules of energy through her veins, jumpstarting her heart as if she were brought back to life.
“Caius!” Cutting through the air, the sheer volume of her voice startles both her fiancé and Finnick. Caius jumps to his feet before she can blink, his pale blue eyes like that of a mutt devouring its prey.
“Cashmere! D-Darling, you’re back so soon.” He takes a careful step towards her; she takes two steps back.
“Why is he here?!” her unsteady index finger thrust itself into Finnick’s face.
“Princess,” Caius says slowly, taking a much smaller step and reaching out his hand. The hand that now has bits of Finnick Odair’s flesh and blood under its nails. “He is an engagement gift from Father. I’m sorry I started without you, please don’t cry. I don’t like it when you cry.”
Her knees collapse under her as the heel of her palms push into her eyes to wipe away her tears. A gift. He’s a gift. She would think the President would at least be pleasant enough and invite her into his family warmly. Was the life she was going to leave behind that important to him that he needed to remind her of it? Even when Caius kneels in front of her and places a kiss to her forehead, she does not move.
“Cash, it’s okay. We can finish together.” He attempts to reassure her as he cups her cheeks.
She lifts her head and brought her palm firmly across his cheek. “It is not fucking okay! I am not laying one fucking finger on Odair!”
“But darling, it’s his first time!” Caius’ eyes bright in nauseating excitement. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to show him what it’s like, feel him wither beneath you as he has his first orgasm?”
Cashmere watches Caius’ eyes shift to catch Finnick’s pained gaze, his pink tongue darting along his lips. “He was so close too. It won’t take long.”
Shoving her fiancé onto the ground she pushes her toes forcefully into his chest, he grimaces.
“Um...Cashmere?” Finnick speaks, voice raspy.
“What?” she snarls, whipping her head over to him, teeth bared.
“I’d prefer it if it were you, actually.” His gorgeous lips turn up sheepishly at her. Whether its a mask or genuine bashfulness she can't tell. “It’ll be less daunting.”
Cashmere pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, “I’d rather not…”
“The poor boy is asking you to take his unsullied virtue. Take it! Please!” Caius begs while he wiggles out beneath Cashmere’s foot. “Please, princess. For me.”
Cashmere sighs, her shoulders falling. It is better for a fellow service providing victor to show him the ropes. “You won’t always get this lucky, Odair.”
Resting his head back against the loveseat, his shoulders relaxed as his eyes swirl in gratitude. “I don’t expect to.”
Cashmere shakes her head and side steps her fiancé. Standing square in front of a naked Finnick Odair she does a full body scan while running her tongue over her teeth. “I still don’t approve of this.”
Finnick shrugs. Reaching up, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her down. She loses her balance, falling right on top of him their lips meeting asymmetrically. He doesn’t hesitate to sift his fingers through her wisps of curled hair, drawing her even closer to realign their lips and applying the right amount of pressure onto hers.
Cashmere’s stunned with how smooth and full this are, moving tenderly against her as if he wants to genuinely please her. Almost letting her guard down by succumbing to his touch, she refrains, as the burning sensation of Caius’ stare on them keeps that wall of non-consent standing strong.
Finnick unconsciously trails his fingers to the curled ends and splay across her bare arms until they reach her hands. Weaving them together, he takes their conjoined hands and guides them over the withering erection between them.
His eyes open a fraction, pleading green swimming in a sea of lust. How can he possibly want this?
“Touch him, Darling,” Caius’ voice is thick when he speaks. “Keep him warm and ready until I come back.”
“Where are you going?” She whips her head around, staring straight at her flushed man.
“The bedroom. I’m going to go grab something,” Caius replies, a smile on his lips as he swiftly leaves the sitting room. She listens for the faded sound of footsteps on hardwood before peeling herself off Finnick, however, it’s he who pushes her back into the couch cushions to straddle her. Dropping his lips to her ear he speaks in a rushed whisper she barely catches his words.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I was advised to involve you, was told you’ll be kinder or something. Anyways, this isn’t new territory for me so don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
He's got this? If her arms weren’t locked by her sides she’d shove him then strangle every last breath out of his body. She’s heard the gossip of her neighbours, each of them eager for a date of Finnick Odair who they aren’t allowed to touch until his sixteenth birthday. Where does he get off acting all superior like he has any idea what it’s like to be forced to perform sexually?
“So then you’ve been prostituted before?” Cashmere speaks far above a whisper. The confusion etched all over his face reveals itself faster than the word “what?” can form on his lips. That’s what she thought. Bucking her hips up against his, she attempts to force him back into his position on the couch but Finnick holds his balance.
“Stop,” he thrusts his hips down, pinning hers down with all his strength. The wince that flickers across his expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “What are you talking about?”
“And you said you got this. Well, hate to break it to you Honey but you don’t. You don’t even know what’s waiting for you when Caius gets back,” she sneers at him. “You see, I do. Caius has fucked his way through victors since he learned that his cock doesn’t just fit nicely in his hand.”
Finnick visibly pales. He sits back on his haunches without another word as dawning comes upon his face.
“I was just hoping...he’d had changed these last 5 years,” she trails off, looking past Finnick’s sex swept bronze hair not wanting to linger on his trembling body.
Except she can’t help but be distracted by his shaking, broad shoulders. Cobalt eyes trace along the lean muscles from his limbs and stomach, drinking in his tan, until she reaches the bloody scratches on his thighs.
Reaching out to touch the gashes, she’s stopped by Finnick who shuts his legs and crawls up to sit on the armrest. A pool of blood has begun to dry on the couch as well as the occasional droplet that trails up along the armrest. Her eyes draw up to his but he refuses to meet them, embarrassed tears bubbling in the corners.
“Where?” Is all she requests from him in order for his thighs to spread. The bite marks above the head aren’t deep but even the smallest pressure of teeth to the sensitive skin can cause it to break. She gulps down the bile that lingers at the back of her throat as she grabs a napkin to clot the bleeding.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into hi--” Cashmere is interrupted by Caius looming over Finnick, in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, with the boy’s hair firmly between his pale, boney fingers as he drops kisses to the boy’s neck.
“I just got a little carried away, that’s all. He’s a delectable present, Darling,” Caius coos, his other hand grasping hers as he guides it along Finnick’s shaft. “You’ll think so too when you actually start playing with him.”
No, she couldn’t do it. By being a part of the game she would be condoning the treatment she receives from wealthy Capitol citizens just like her fiance. There was nothing to condemn about being blackmailed into prostitution, Finnick needs to know that, be shown it.
“I won’t.” Cashmere fixes Caius with a steely stare.
“Even after he begged you." Caius’ hand grips around hers tighter as he guides her to pump Finnick harder. A whimper passes his lips as the friction of skin on skin heats the open wound.
“No, Caius. How can you stand there touching him like that. You know you’re hurting him and yet, here you are like the last few years of our lives never happened. I thought you were done breaking in new victors!” She tries to tug her hand away but Caius grips onto it harder. Both she and Finnick have tears spilling down their carefully painted cheeks.
“Cashmere,” Caius calls darkly. “I think you need to leave.” His words cut as sharply as the knife she had when she gutted a tribute during the bloodbath. Instead of adrenaline running through her veins, she felt as achey, exposed and empty as that tribute.
“That’s it then.” She doesn’t know where the strength to speak comes from but she uses her breath wisely. “I mean nothing to you. All you’ve said, the promises you’ve made; all of them were empty?”
Caius unclasps his hand from hers. “I said, I think you need to leave.”
“And what about Finnick?” She cradles her sore hand against her chest.
A deep sigh, floating with exhaustion and exasperation passes from Caius’ mouth. “Seeing as how you are not interested in our present, I will be taking advantage of it.”
The bile could no longer be suppressed, rushing to the washroom the contents of her stomach come up over and over until there is nothing left. Streams of tears still falling down her face but her weeping is anything but silent. She wails with abandon. How could he do this? How could he throw it all away? In this moment she hated no one more than her fiancé. Even Finnick, the fool, - albeit a close second - did not come to par. Cashmere whips the pink diamond ring against the wall hoping it’ll break. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near him ever again.
***
Cashmere remains in bathroom long into the night. Unlocking the door and stepping back into the apartment only when the screams that come from Finnick and the grunts of pleasure that erupt from Caius no longer echo along the walls.
Having taken off her heels long ago, she tiptoes across the hardwood and back into the sitting room, hoping to fall asleep on the pull out couch, she spots Finnick sitting upright with his eyes as luminous as a glow stick. He doesn’t seem to notice her as he teeters back and forth. All curled up, he seems so small as opposed to his generous height while his face, battered, holds the features of a young boy.
“Finn-ick,” she hiccups. His eyes dart up to hers, fresh with fear. She wants to reach out to him, to cradle his head in her lap and tell him it gets better. However, she is stopped by his words that run through her head, “I’ve got this.” and it sends her blood boiling all over again. If she coddled him now he’d never learn.
“Didn’t have it, did you?” she spits. Heading back the way she came, Cashmere tries to ignore his weeping but it’s as grating as nails on a chalkboard. She can’t leave him sitting in the cold like that. He is a victor after all, and victors take care of each other.
Pivoting, she stomps into the sitting room, grabs one of his clammy hands and leads him to the spacious guest bedroom and the chrome themed en suite. Finnick stands as if he's made of marble while Cashmere draws water into the grandiose bathtub before him. Once the tub is filled and the jets stream, she turns to him and it’s like he's never seen water or anything else for that matter. Finnick’s eyes are nothing but wide and empty, void of life and thought.
She can’t afford to keep feeling sorry for him, but it’s an impossible task. Finnick’s but a boy dragged into being the whore he needs to be to keep the heads of the people he loves on their necks. Even if Finnick put up a fight, Caius wouldn’t complain back to his father. Would he? Cashmere couldn’t afford to think about that either.
“Finnick,” she calls softly, hoping he’ll snap back into that arrogant man from hours ago. There is no such luck but she tries again as she lifts herself from the metal rim around the tub to reach for his hand. It’s the pad of her index finger that touches his hand that has his eyes flooding with fear. Only a fraction of it subsiding when she sees the dawning come to his face.
“How about a bath? “ Her patience has never stretched this thin before as it does watching Finnick’s blank expression. The moment she opens her mouth to snap at him, footfall after footfall carry him closer to the tub and into the lukewarm bath water.
Sinking down into the tub, Finnick slides against the porcelain until his head is submerged under water. Once she sees the first air bubble, Cashmere leaves the bathroom to rummage through the drawers in the bedroom where Caius keeps his sweats.
Upon entering the en suite, Cashmere drops the clothes from her hands and slides across the tiles in her bare feet to the tub.
"Finnick!" She shouts as she tries to pull him out of the water. With his whole body sans his feet under the lukewarm water he's harder to pull up than she thought. But he doesn't need assistance, his face darts up and intakes a sharp breath of air. The rigidness is his shoulders has vanished along with the crazed look in his catatonic eyes.
The fish needed to go back to the sea.
"Everything alright?" He asks with the kind of nonchalance that makes a woman crazy, as if he doesn't know what he did.
“You were...I thought…” she gapes, bringing a smile up into his cheeks bones.
"Ironic wouldn't it be, if I drowned," he says, hoisting himself out of the large tub. With the stark white lights blaring down onto the chrome surfaces and warm gray walls it makes the scratches and bruises evident. Thankfully, he dries and dresses quickly concealing the ugly bruise around his collarbone and scrapes above his hips once more. The white cotton v-neck and baggy gray fit him with just enough room to spare.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” His smile is even more dazzling in person than on TV. It has her enchanted before she realizes it.
“Yeah. Okay,” she mumbles.
“Um. Do you mind if I crash in the bed?” He asks as he takes another towel from the shelves beneath the tub and dries his hair. “Well, on the condition that you’ll share it with me.”
“E-excuse me?” she blathers, anger searing through her skin. How could he possibly still want intimacy after that?
“I’ve had a rough night and so have you and I thought...maybe...y’know what, forget it. It’s stupid. We don’t know each other, why would you want to cuddle with me?”
Cuddle. He wants to cuddle?! Cashmere doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or spew the rainbow of colourful words that sit on the tip of her tongue. Laughing wins as she erupts into a fit of giggles and snorts.
“I knew it. Of course you would think it’s stupid. I’m sorry I asked.”
“I want to say no but…” She can’t help it, with the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes flicker in the light, he's impossible to resist. “I think we could both use someone warm tonight.”
The glow of a soft smile radiates from Finnick's face as he passes between Cashmere and the door frame as gracefully as he can with the limp. He barely makes a sound as he climbs into bed and under the cream-coloured sheets, resting on his stomach as his arms weave around the down pillow. Those sea green eyes flutter with partial sleep as they watch her undress and redress in a cotton t-shirt identical to the one he wears. Cashmere draws back the thick covers and joins him, however, his hands do not move from where they curl underneath the pillow.
"I thought you wanted to cuddle?" She asks impatiently. Finnick smiles in reply offering her a shrug.
"This is enough." His fingers do find their way across to her side of the bed and clasp around her fingers beneath her own pillow supporting her head. “Thanks Penny,” he mumbles drifting off.
Penny...the name rings familiar but Cashmere can’t place as to why. Not that it matters at this very moment as she squeezes Finnick’s limp hand. With all the makeup and fear wiped cleaned, the lines in his face have smoothed over look his age, maybe even a little younger. She counts the seconds between each rise and fall of his back as he breathes long slow breaths, enraptured by the solace he finds in sleep. How nightmares don’t tug at his lineless face, like a puppeteer to a marionette, leaves her insides to churn with anxiety.
The ebb and flow of stomach acid and tension leave Cashmere wide awake all night, eyes fixated on Finnick’s careful breathing, anticipating when he too will wake. For then, the nightmare will begin.
**2 years later**
Every night of every day of the week, there has been a loud, long lasting party happening in the three other penthouse suites in her building. Mostly she just rolls her eyes and knocks gently on the doors of her neighbours to keep the music down. Though, it usually ends up as both she and Caius’ as guests without any chance of leaving. Being the center of attention is single handedly the worst aspect of being a nation-wide celebrity.
Cashmere was coming back from grocery shopping, having planned on making dinner for her and Caius in celebration of unpacking the last box in the penthouse they would soon be sharing as husband and wife.
Though, she knew something was off when not hear a peep as she came up to the fifteenth floor. When the elevator doors open and she steps out into the hall, she can hear each and every click of her heels against the hardwood.
Something is very wrong.
Turning the key into the door, she locks the door rather than opening it. Between the shift in gears, Cashmere hears a rather loud whimper come from inside the penthouse from a voice that was much too high to be Caius’. Fumbling with the lock a little with impatient hands the whimpers get louder.
The door clicks and with a forceful shove of her hip, it opens causing her to lose her footing. Catching herself with grace, Cashmere doesn’t bother to take off her shoes as she runs through the front hallway. She turns left at the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter; turns right, past the library and music room following the growing intensity of the mewls. Whoever is gracing Caius with their company is in pain.
The mewls draw her to the sitting room, where candles are lit and plates with glasses of white wine lay cast aside on the cherrywood table. However, her fractious blue eyes don’t linger on the preparations. Her gaze holds onto the still newly victorious, sixteen year old, Finnick Odair with his head resting on the back of the loveseat, eyes shut but rigid body screaming in discomfort as her fiancé’s head bobs up and down between Finnick’s waxed, wide spread legs.
Finnick’s lips curl around the blood curdling sound as his large hands push against Caius’ thick, white locks. The lips and tongue Caius has kissed and pleasured her with countless times over; the ones she thought now belonged to her alone, lavish someone else thoroughly. Increasing with speed and gripping onto the boy’s sun kissed thighs tightly Caius rips a scream from Finnick as he digs his nails into the boy’s tender muscles.
Finnick whips his head to the side and catches her eye first. His beautifully white, painted eyes smudged as tears bubble along his waterline.
“Help,” he mouths, his eyes then squeeze shut as Caius pulls another pain induced shriek from him. The shire volume sends hundreds of joules of energy through her veins, jumpstarting her heart as if she were brought back to life.
“Caius!” Cutting through the air, the sheer volume of her voice startles both her fiancé and Finnick. Caius jumps to his feet before she can blink, his pale blue eyes like that of a mutt devouring its prey.
“Cashmere! D-Darling, you’re back so soon.” He takes a careful step towards her; she takes two steps back.
“Why is he here?!” her unsteady index finger thrust itself into Finnick’s face.
“Princess,” Caius says slowly, taking a much smaller step and reaching out his hand. The hand that now has bits of Finnick Odair’s flesh and blood under its nails. “He is an engagement gift from Father. I’m sorry I started without you, please don’t cry. I don’t like it when you cry.”
Her knees collapse under her as the heel of her palms push into her eyes to wipe away her tears. A gift. He’s a gift. She would think the President would at least be pleasant enough and invite her into his family warmly. Was the life she was going to leave behind that important to him that he needed to remind her of it? Even when Caius kneels in front of her and places a kiss to her forehead, she does not move.
“Cash, it’s okay. We can finish together.” He attempts to reassure her as he cups her cheeks.
She lifts her head and brought her palm firmly across his cheek. “It is not fucking okay! I am not laying one fucking finger on Odair!”
“But darling, it’s his first time!” Caius’ eyes bright in nauseating excitement. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to show him what it’s like, feel him wither beneath you as he has his first orgasm?”
Cashmere watches Caius’ eyes shift to catch Finnick’s pained gaze, his pink tongue darting along his lips. “He was so close too. It won’t take long.”
Shoving her fiancé onto the ground she pushes her toes forcefully into his chest, he grimaces.
“Um...Cashmere?” Finnick speaks, voice raspy.
“What?” she snarls, whipping her head over to him, teeth bared.
“I’d prefer it if it were you, actually.” His gorgeous lips turn up sheepishly at her. Whether its a mask or genuine bashfulness she can't tell. “It’ll be less daunting.”
Cashmere pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, “I’d rather not…”
“The poor boy is asking you to take his unsullied virtue. Take it! Please!” Caius begs while he wiggles out beneath Cashmere’s foot. “Please, princess. For me.”
Cashmere sighs, her shoulders falling. It is better for a fellow service providing victor to show him the ropes. “You won’t always get this lucky, Odair.”
Resting his head back against the loveseat, his shoulders relaxed as his eyes swirl in gratitude. “I don’t expect to.”
Cashmere shakes her head and side steps her fiancé. Standing square in front of a naked Finnick Odair she does a full body scan while running her tongue over her teeth. “I still don’t approve of this.”
Finnick shrugs. Reaching up, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her down. She loses her balance, falling right on top of him their lips meeting asymmetrically. He doesn’t hesitate to sift his fingers through her wisps of curled hair, drawing her even closer to realign their lips and applying the right amount of pressure onto hers.
Cashmere’s stunned with how smooth and full this are, moving tenderly against her as if he wants to genuinely please her. Almost letting her guard down by succumbing to his touch, she refrains, as the burning sensation of Caius’ stare on them keeps that wall of non-consent standing strong.
Finnick unconsciously trails his fingers to the curled ends and splay across her bare arms until they reach her hands. Weaving them together, he takes their conjoined hands and guides them over the withering erection between them.
His eyes open a fraction, pleading green swimming in a sea of lust. How can he possibly want this?
“Touch him, Darling,” Caius’ voice is thick when he speaks. “Keep him warm and ready until I come back.”
“Where are you going?” She whips her head around, staring straight at her flushed man.
“The bedroom. I’m going to go grab something,” Caius replies, a smile on his lips as he swiftly leaves the sitting room. She listens for the faded sound of footsteps on hardwood before peeling herself off Finnick, however, it’s he who pushes her back into the couch cushions to straddle her. Dropping his lips to her ear he speaks in a rushed whisper she barely catches his words.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I was advised to involve you, was told you’ll be kinder or something. Anyways, this isn’t new territory for me so don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
He's got this? If her arms weren’t locked by her sides she’d shove him then strangle every last breath out of his body. She’s heard the gossip of her neighbours, each of them eager for a date of Finnick Odair who they aren’t allowed to touch until his sixteenth birthday. Where does he get off acting all superior like he has any idea what it’s like to be forced to perform sexually?
“So then you’ve been prostituted before?” Cashmere speaks far above a whisper. The confusion etched all over his face reveals itself faster than the word “what?” can form on his lips. That’s what she thought. Bucking her hips up against his, she attempts to force him back into his position on the couch but Finnick holds his balance.
“Stop,” he thrusts his hips down, pinning hers down with all his strength. The wince that flickers across his expression doesn’t go unnoticed. “What are you talking about?”
“And you said you got this. Well, hate to break it to you Honey but you don’t. You don’t even know what’s waiting for you when Caius gets back,” she sneers at him. “You see, I do. Caius has fucked his way through victors since he learned that his cock doesn’t just fit nicely in his hand.”
Finnick visibly pales. He sits back on his haunches without another word as dawning comes upon his face.
“I was just hoping...he’d had changed these last 5 years,” she trails off, looking past Finnick’s sex swept bronze hair not wanting to linger on his trembling body.
Except she can’t help but be distracted by his shaking, broad shoulders. Cobalt eyes trace along the lean muscles from his limbs and stomach, drinking in his tan, until she reaches the bloody scratches on his thighs.
Reaching out to touch the gashes, she’s stopped by Finnick who shuts his legs and crawls up to sit on the armrest. A pool of blood has begun to dry on the couch as well as the occasional droplet that trails up along the armrest. Her eyes draw up to his but he refuses to meet them, embarrassed tears bubbling in the corners.
“Where?” Is all she requests from him in order for his thighs to spread. The bite marks above the head aren’t deep but even the smallest pressure of teeth to the sensitive skin can cause it to break. She gulps down the bile that lingers at the back of her throat as she grabs a napkin to clot the bleeding.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into hi--” Cashmere is interrupted by Caius looming over Finnick, in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, with the boy’s hair firmly between his pale, boney fingers as he drops kisses to the boy’s neck.
“I just got a little carried away, that’s all. He’s a delectable present, Darling,” Caius coos, his other hand grasping hers as he guides it along Finnick’s shaft. “You’ll think so too when you actually start playing with him.”
No, she couldn’t do it. By being a part of the game she would be condoning the treatment she receives from wealthy Capitol citizens just like her fiance. There was nothing to condemn about being blackmailed into prostitution, Finnick needs to know that, be shown it.
“I won’t.” Cashmere fixes Caius with a steely stare.
“Even after he begged you." Caius’ hand grips around hers tighter as he guides her to pump Finnick harder. A whimper passes his lips as the friction of skin on skin heats the open wound.
“No, Caius. How can you stand there touching him like that. You know you’re hurting him and yet, here you are like the last few years of our lives never happened. I thought you were done breaking in new victors!” She tries to tug her hand away but Caius grips onto it harder. Both she and Finnick have tears spilling down their carefully painted cheeks.
“Cashmere,” Caius calls darkly. “I think you need to leave.” His words cut as sharply as the knife she had when she gutted a tribute during the bloodbath. Instead of adrenaline running through her veins, she felt as achey, exposed and empty as that tribute.
“That’s it then.” She doesn’t know where the strength to speak comes from but she uses her breath wisely. “I mean nothing to you. All you’ve said, the promises you’ve made; all of them were empty?”
Caius unclasps his hand from hers. “I said, I think you need to leave.”
“And what about Finnick?” She cradles her sore hand against her chest.
A deep sigh, floating with exhaustion and exasperation passes from Caius’ mouth. “Seeing as how you are not interested in our present, I will be taking advantage of it.”
The bile could no longer be suppressed, rushing to the washroom the contents of her stomach come up over and over until there is nothing left. Streams of tears still falling down her face but her weeping is anything but silent. She wails with abandon. How could he do this? How could he throw it all away? In this moment she hated no one more than her fiancé. Even Finnick, the fool, - albeit a close second - did not come to par. Cashmere whips the pink diamond ring against the wall hoping it’ll break. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near him ever again.
***
Cashmere remains in bathroom long into the night. Unlocking the door and stepping back into the apartment only when the screams that come from Finnick and the grunts of pleasure that erupt from Caius no longer echo along the walls.
Having taken off her heels long ago, she tiptoes across the hardwood and back into the sitting room, hoping to fall asleep on the pull out couch, she spots Finnick sitting upright with his eyes as luminous as a glow stick. He doesn’t seem to notice her as he teeters back and forth. All curled up, he seems so small as opposed to his generous height while his face, battered, holds the features of a young boy.
“Finn-ick,” she hiccups. His eyes dart up to hers, fresh with fear. She wants to reach out to him, to cradle his head in her lap and tell him it gets better. However, she is stopped by his words that run through her head, “I’ve got this.” and it sends her blood boiling all over again. If she coddled him now he’d never learn.
“Didn’t have it, did you?” she spits. Heading back the way she came, Cashmere tries to ignore his weeping but it’s as grating as nails on a chalkboard. She can’t leave him sitting in the cold like that. He is a victor after all, and victors take care of each other.
Pivoting, she stomps into the sitting room, grabs one of his clammy hands and leads him to the spacious guest bedroom and the chrome themed en suite. Finnick stands as if he's made of marble while Cashmere draws water into the grandiose bathtub before him. Once the tub is filled and the jets stream, she turns to him and it’s like he's never seen water or anything else for that matter. Finnick’s eyes are nothing but wide and empty, void of life and thought.
She can’t afford to keep feeling sorry for him, but it’s an impossible task. Finnick’s but a boy dragged into being the whore he needs to be to keep the heads of the people he loves on their necks. Even if Finnick put up a fight, Caius wouldn’t complain back to his father. Would he? Cashmere couldn’t afford to think about that either.
“Finnick,” she calls softly, hoping he’ll snap back into that arrogant man from hours ago. There is no such luck but she tries again as she lifts herself from the metal rim around the tub to reach for his hand. It’s the pad of her index finger that touches his hand that has his eyes flooding with fear. Only a fraction of it subsiding when she sees the dawning come to his face.
“How about a bath? “ Her patience has never stretched this thin before as it does watching Finnick’s blank expression. The moment she opens her mouth to snap at him, footfall after footfall carry him closer to the tub and into the lukewarm bath water.
Sinking down into the tub, Finnick slides against the porcelain until his head is submerged under water. Once she sees the first air bubble, Cashmere leaves the bathroom to rummage through the drawers in the bedroom where Caius keeps his sweats.
Upon entering the en suite, Cashmere drops the clothes from her hands and slides across the tiles in her bare feet to the tub.
"Finnick!" She shouts as she tries to pull him out of the water. With his whole body sans his feet under the lukewarm water he's harder to pull up than she thought. But he doesn't need assistance, his face darts up and intakes a sharp breath of air. The rigidness is his shoulders has vanished along with the crazed look in his catatonic eyes.
The fish needed to go back to the sea.
"Everything alright?" He asks with the kind of nonchalance that makes a woman crazy, as if he doesn't know what he did.
“You were...I thought…” she gapes, bringing a smile up into his cheeks bones.
"Ironic wouldn't it be, if I drowned," he says, hoisting himself out of the large tub. With the stark white lights blaring down onto the chrome surfaces and warm gray walls it makes the scratches and bruises evident. Thankfully, he dries and dresses quickly concealing the ugly bruise around his collarbone and scrapes above his hips once more. The white cotton v-neck and baggy gray fit him with just enough room to spare.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” His smile is even more dazzling in person than on TV. It has her enchanted before she realizes it.
“Yeah. Okay,” she mumbles.
“Um. Do you mind if I crash in the bed?” He asks as he takes another towel from the shelves beneath the tub and dries his hair. “Well, on the condition that you’ll share it with me.”
“E-excuse me?” she blathers, anger searing through her skin. How could he possibly still want intimacy after that?
“I’ve had a rough night and so have you and I thought...maybe...y’know what, forget it. It’s stupid. We don’t know each other, why would you want to cuddle with me?”
Cuddle. He wants to cuddle?! Cashmere doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or spew the rainbow of colourful words that sit on the tip of her tongue. Laughing wins as she erupts into a fit of giggles and snorts.
“I knew it. Of course you would think it’s stupid. I’m sorry I asked.”
“I want to say no but…” She can’t help it, with the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes flicker in the light, he's impossible to resist. “I think we could both use someone warm tonight.”
The glow of a soft smile radiates from Finnick's face as he passes between Cashmere and the door frame as gracefully as he can with the limp. He barely makes a sound as he climbs into bed and under the cream-coloured sheets, resting on his stomach as his arms weave around the down pillow. Those sea green eyes flutter with partial sleep as they watch her undress and redress in a cotton t-shirt identical to the one he wears. Cashmere draws back the thick covers and joins him, however, his hands do not move from where they curl underneath the pillow.
"I thought you wanted to cuddle?" She asks impatiently. Finnick smiles in reply offering her a shrug.
"This is enough." His fingers do find their way across to her side of the bed and clasp around her fingers beneath her own pillow supporting her head. “Thanks Penny,” he mumbles drifting off.
Penny...the name rings familiar but Cashmere can’t place as to why. Not that it matters at this very moment as she squeezes Finnick’s limp hand. With all the makeup and fear wiped cleaned, the lines in his face have smoothed over look his age, maybe even a little younger. She counts the seconds between each rise and fall of his back as he breathes long slow breaths, enraptured by the solace he finds in sleep. How nightmares don’t tug at his lineless face, like a puppeteer to a marionette, leaves her insides to churn with anxiety.
The ebb and flow of stomach acid and tension leave Cashmere wide awake all night, eyes fixated on Finnick’s careful breathing, anticipating when he too will wake. For then, the nightmare will begin.