A/N: For Level One of the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge at Caesar's Palace. Prompt: Finnick/Cinna.
His new stylist is standing at the edge of the door, and Finnick is shaking.
Cinna stares at him, tilting his head as though to see him in a better light, and soon his hands will be brushing along the line of Finnick's jaw and slipping past the edges of the robe that's so thin and sheer it might as well not be there at all, and soon there will be another secret whispered in his ear and another needle in his veins to stop the nightmares and–
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" he echoes. He knows how the game is played, with promises in every smile, every lick of his lips. There's no room for apology there. Why should there be? He's asking for it, after all. He deserves everything they do to him.
Cinna still doesn't come closer. "You must think we're all animals here."
His breath catches despite himself, because admitting it means treason and treason means punishment and punishment means something far worse than death. "No, I-"
"No matter," Cinna says. "I have a proposition for you."
Finnick can't hide his flinch this time, and Cinna's face shutters. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I have a proposal for you."
"Oh?" he says, not trusting himself to say anything more.
"I'm not going to touch you without your permission. In exchange, I'd like you to be honest with me. If you're not all right with something, I want you to tell me that." After a while, he prods, "Do we have an agreement?"
Finnick is glad that the man is too far away to see the tears starting to form in his eyes. "Yes."
"Excellent." Cinna takes his first step forward, moving slowly like he's trying not to startle a wild animal. "Let's get started, then." He draws up a chair beside Finnick and opens a box on the table. "I usually begin with the powder. Can I touch your face?"
"Yes."
Cinna leans forward and starts to apply it with a gentle hand. This close, Finnick can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. It's too much, and he closes his own, only to jump when Cinna's brush skims past his lips. After that, he keeps his eyes open.
"You can," he blurts out after a few moments of silence. "Touch me, I mean. If you want."
"No," Cinna says, not even pausing in his work. "Not until you want me to."
Be honest. "I do."