warning: slight pedophila, forced prostitution, and semi-graphic depictions of violence
Everyone in the Capitol has their favourite Victor: the people, the Gamemakers, politicians, doctors, other celebrities. Even the President's sons have inclinations towards certain victors, though Marcius is too proud to admit he has an affinity towards Brutus. Mostly because of how fluid Caius is with them - drinking and sexing them up every other weekend - he's a disgrace to the prestige of his own name. Muddying the fear their father puts into the people of Panem.
All of this settles when reckless Caius stops a second in his drunken stupor to watch the Sixty-First Games. His eyes glazed with inebriation watch as Cashmere Reitz is shoved down in a puddle of mud then yanked back up by the roots of her hair. Normally, Caius would be shouting at the televised projection like the rest of the bar, rooting for the boy from District Two who managed to put the prissy District One girl in her place. However, something about the way she gurgles the mud, wretches, then has her face forced back into the puddle has his arteries twisting in complex nautical knots.
He wants her out of that boy's hands. Wants her out of that slimy wetland of an arena and to be in a warm, feathery bed with an actual meal. Wants her to kill that bastard who would dare lay a hand on her. Wants to see her smile and giggle like she did with Caesar twelve days ago. Caius wants nothing more than to take her home with him so no one can ever hurt her again.
That night, when Caius finds Enobaria waiting in his bed like she always is, he cannot follow through with their routine. Dropping down onto the bed, he stares up at the sheer canopy and bears his heart. Anguish pouring out as he comes to realize the atrocity that is the Hunger Games and the desire to save Cashmere.
As she listens, her lips pull back in a grin as they expose her pointed teeth. Caius swallows back a lump of bile at the sight of them, no longer aroused by his mortality.
"So, Mr. Snow, what do you want to do with all these feelings now?" She purrs, reminding him so much of Tigris, the stylist he slept with only once.
"What is there to possibly do but harbour them until I lose my mind?" He replies.
Enobaria breaks out into laughter before pressing a kiss to his cheek and whispering, "You can do anything you want. You are the President's son after all."
Day in and day out Caius plays his part but with a heavy heart as he mulls over Enobaria's words. What could be possibly do as the President's son, trapped by the rules that enslave Panem much like everyone else; nepotism does not exempt him from cuts, bruises, or death. Maybe he can start with her, beautiful darling Cashmere who scalped the District Two boy to victory, but won't so much as bat an eyelash at him (as if something froze over inside of her).
Plagued with dead end ideas, March 21st arrives before he realizes New Years had come and gone. Sitting in his usual plush chair around the board room table, listening half-heartedly to the blathering of Academy directors praise their star pupils, until a familiar set of eyes appear on screen.
Gloss Reitz, the name before the boy's portrait reads. That's it!
*3 Years Later*
March 21st is they day they gather to pick the upcoming year's Tributes. The Academy directors of Districts One, Two, and Four sit to the right; Caius, Marcius, and the Gamemaker sit to the left, while President Snow sits at the head of the long board room table. This year its Plutarch Heavensbee sitting in the Gamemaker's chair, replacing the retired Seius Crane.
Like every year, the Academy directors display their choice for Volunteers first. Gushing reverently over each of their top candidates statistics, as if they have something to prove. The districts' children do speak for themselves, they don't need to be advocated for by the swine that offer them up for a crown of thorns - or so Caius believes anyhow.
Bored by the drivel, Caius' gaze trails from the projected images of the coming year's District Four's tributes to Plutarch Heavensbee who is riffling through the folders of other potential Tributes. The Gamemaker is focused, finger tapping softly against his lips in deep thought until suddenly it stops and his hand shoots into the air.
"Excuse me, Director Axia, if I may interrupt for a moment." He lifts his head from the pages to make direct eye contact. "Can you give me more information on Finnick Odair?"
Heavensbee seems to have stumped her, bringing a great deal of amusement to Caius, which drags his attention from Plutarch to his father who also displays a degree of intrigue.
"Mr. Heavensbee, sir, I really do think you should see who we have lined up as volunteers. They will exceed your expectations for the show, especially in th-"
"Ms Axia, Plutarch has asked you very kindly about a specific candidate, please do so," the President speaks crisply. The director visibly gulps before she scrambles to pull up Finnick Odair's file.
Plutarch grins as Caius' jaw drops. He has never seen a boy so young and absolutely scrumptious. Finnick's sea green eyes are sharp as they hone in on the projectile launched from the second floor of the Academy training center. At only fourteen, he has the height of a seventeen year old and the command of a trident like a fifty year old, skewering each target as if they were fish in a net. And like an elegant garnish, Finnick punctuates his display by looking back at the camera with a genuine grin asking "how was that"?
Caius cannot find it in him to suppress the ugly surge of lust that runs through his veins for this young tribute. Throwing away years of turmoil and reducing his laments of change to empty words.
"Interesting. It's been quite a while since we've had such a young man show so much promise," the President says. "What do you say Caius? Marcius?"
To obtain the boy and bring him into their world there is no other way than through the Games. Caius' heart aches for what he must do, but Panem needs Finnick Odair. He needs Finnick Odair. Hopefully, the boy will forgive him one day if he ever finds out.
"I vote yes," Caius says. "The Capitol will adore him!" And devour him, but not until Caius does so first.
"Very well, that's three votes in favour of Mr. Odair as Male Tribute. Who else do you advise Mr. Heavensbee?"
Well into the evening, Caius couldn't forget about Finnick Odair. Sitting in his parlour by the fireplace, those green eyes remain burned behind his eyelids as that crackling pubescent voice asking "how was that" plays on a loop in his head. Oh how time moves slowly.
"I wasn't going to say anything during the meeting, but you are aware you are in a relationship with Cashmere Reitz, yes?" Marcius speaks above the rim of his tea cup, startling Caius.
His sweet, darling, gorgeous Cashmere, how even his love for her cannot compete with this craving. "Yes, Brother, I am aware. She is the love life after all." Caius rolls his eyes as he takes the steaming cup offered to him by one of the many Avoxes in their mansion.
Marcius chuckles. "The love of your life, that's why you want the boy. Who you don't even know will be victorious might I add."
"Oh! He will be victorious. Dear old Mags won't have any trouble getting people to sponsor him. If by some fluke she can't, I can arrange for that to be fixed." Caius grins.
"Finnick means as much as Cashmere does to you?" Marcius sighs. Caius has not spoken of going to great lengths to save a boy from the arena since Cashmere's brother Gloss. The day he stepped onto the hovercraft headed back to Panem after the Sixty-Second Games, Cashmere flew into Caius' arms and has not left since.
"It would be a great loss if Panem could not celebrate him. But the loss would be strictly my own without Cashmere and that's unmeasurably unbearable."
The simmering lust do not pull the strings on these pretty words. Cashmere has slowly but surely become a part of him that he could not replace, a dip in his bed that a new mattress can't cover. He loves her through the night terrors as she relives scalping Syn, watching Kaiser eaten alive by mutts, and her own phantom pain of her hair being ripped from her skull. Her exterior as sold as a diamonds, but beneath it all lays a kindness and warmth Caius adores.
"Then this… attraction to the boy is…" Marcius quirks a brow.
"Nothing! Absolutely harmless," He lies seamlessly.
"Good." Marcius relaxes back into the plush chair across fromCaius. "I would loathe to see you break my darling Sister's heart."
"I would never. I would sooner die."
Except death did not come, only the bitter limbo of the aftermath of his actions.
**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.