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Cinnick	By : Xylianaa Category: G through L > The Hunger Games Trilogy Views: 4167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games nor do I claim to and I certainly don't make any money from writing about it.

Chapter List
- 1-Cinna's Past
- 1
Note: This scene takes place between Chapters 22-23 of the fanfiction called "War Games" found on ffnet. We omitted it to leave room for other relationships and scenes to occur, since Cinna/Finnick isn't one of our main. If you haven't read War Games or either of it's prequels, Wildfire or Songbird, that's okay. You don't need to have read it for this to make sense, just keep in mind the setting is different from the canon and you'll be fine.
The majority of the rebels had vanished from the living room, though Cinna and Portia remained. The male designer was sitting on the living room couch, a dirty, torn apart book on his lap as he began to re-sketch the designs from the damaged pages into a new tablet, occasionally asking his female friend for advice on a variety of aspects of the designs.     Finnick stopped in front of the two Capitol designers, craning his head to look at the sketches. Portia glanced up at the Victor, raising her eyebrows, but Finnick didn't look away from the book. "Whatcha doin'?"
    The male designer pulled his gaze up briefly towards Finnick before looking back down, delicately turning one of the pages of the damaged tablet. "Just re-drawing a few of my designs.”
    Finnick sighed heavily, sitting on the coffee table in front of them, even though it groaned slightly under the weight of the man's muscle mass. "That sounds boring."
    "It is a little mundane, but I'll manage. I'd much rather be working on my actual pieces but everybody's too busy to assist so this will have to do for now."
    "I'm not busy," Finnick immediately replied, sitting up straighter. "Will that be less boring than this?"
Cinna placed the book he drew in on top of the one on his lap before crossing his arms overtop the book's cover, eying Finnick. "Depends how fond you are of modeling, I suppose."
    Finnick smirked slyly, standing up and motioning toward his body. "I was born for it. Try and find a better model in this house of uglies. Everything looks better on Finnick Odair."
Cinna let himself crack a slight smile as he stood up. "I'm certain of that. Alright then, I have a few pieces in the attic. Shall we?"
  Finnick nodded shortly before bounding up the stairs, happy he had found something to occupy his time. Taking the books in his arms, he waved to Portia slightly before starting up the stairs, towards the attic.
~*~

    Once inside, the room was somewhat cramped with slanted walls due to the closeness to the roof of the structure. At some point, Cinna and Portia had found a spare couch to put inside the room and the walls were plastered with sketches and the floor littered with fabric and threads. The two had turned the room into their own personal studio.
    As soon as Finnick entered the room, he had to duck his head so it didn't brush the ceiling. He frowned, glancing back at Cinna. "What is this, a room for midgets?"
    "We had to make due. Portia and I were just happy enough to be able to have a room for this sort of thing for the time being," Cinna admitted as he put the books on the floor beside the couch. As he was at the ground, he pulled out a cardboard box from behind the sofa and pulled out a black rebel outfit he had been working on. He handed Finnick the full outfit.
    Finnick took the clothing in his hands, examining them for a moment, before shamelessly getting undressed in front of the designer. He knew there was no reason to hide himself, seeing as this was Cinna's job. He'd seen countless people naked probably. He took his time and pulled on the new-and-improved rebel uniform.  Cinna stood back and waited patiently for the Victor before him to change. Once Finnick was done, Cinna's head tilted to the side as he looked the outfit up and down, starting to circle around the room.
"How's it feel? Tight anywhere or uncomfortable? Your arms are a bit larger then I had given room for, I can see that already," Cinna deducted as he ran his fingers down the seam-line of Finnick's right arm.
    Finnick tried to rotate his arms but ended up just shaking his head. "Yeah, it's tight over the shoulders and arms. And thighs. You're used to designing for delicate Mockingjays, not manly men, huh?" He gave Cinna his signature lopsided, charming smile.
    Cinna dropped his hand down, but smiled lightly as he crossed one arm over his chest, pinching his own chin with his other in thought. "I guess I'm out of practice. Men is more of Portia's specialty," he sighed before walking in front of Finnick, looking down towards his thighs. "On the inside or out is it tight?"
    "Uhh... I'm not sure," Finnick admitted sheepishly. He didn't understand much about clothing, all he knew was that he couldn't run or punch people if he needed to. "Inside?"
    Cinna dropped his arms immediately before, without warning, kneeling down in front of Finnick. He reached his hands over and leaned in a little, trying to determine where exactly the seams were tailored wrong. Finnick made a small, nervous noise, backing away from Cinna's hands until his back pressed against the sloped wall. The designer dropped his hands, looking up at Finnick with slight confusion and surprise. "Something wrong?" he asked, still kneeling down.
    When Finnick spoke, it was higher pitched than normal. "N-no." He cleared his throat, forcing his voice back down to its usual low baritone. "Sorry. I just... you're all in my area, man, that's all."
Cinna bit back a laugh at the Victor's choice of words and tone. "If I'm going to figure out what's wrong with the garment, I need to see it. Am I really managing to make Finnick Odair uncomfortable?"
    Finnick's cheeks turned red but he raised his chin slightly, defiantly. "I'm not uncomfortable. I'm just... having completely normal bodily reactions, that's all. To you... and your... kneeling."
    But Cinna ignored his words, his calm eyes focusing on the Victors face. "Uncomfortable and blushing. I really accomplished a feat today."
    "I'm only human," Finnick mumbled after a moment, looking down at the designer. "Stop looking at me like that. You're making me nervous."
    "Alright, alright, but hold still so I can check the seams then, okay?"
    Finnick fell quiet, but it didn't stop the redness from moving into his ears as well. He crossed his large arms over his broad chest but stayed still regardless. Cinna took the silence as an agreement before moving forward towards the Victor. The designer reached forward again as his head leaned forward, closely observing the seams that ran down his inner thigh. He reached forward towards his knee, running his index finger from the knee up the seam, thinking silently to himself.
    Finnick's thigh began to shake and he clenched his jaw. Quickly, he set his hands over his crotch, growling animalistically. "Is that necessary?"
    "Is there another problem?" Cinna asked lightly before tugging slightly at some of the material at his lap, trying to determine where exactly the pants were too tight at, though he found it significantly more difficult since the cloth became generally tighter all around.
    "Cinna, for fuck sake, I have a boner!"Finnick finally hissed, moving his hands away to cover his face awkwardly.
    "I've noticed," the designer sighed as he forced himself back up to a stand, though still stood at a similar distance. "I suppose we can't continue then while you're like this."
    "No, we can't," Finnick immediately agreed, lowering his hands from his face when he was sure it wasn't red anymore.
    "Though, I have to say, I'm flattered, Finnick."
    His ears went instantly red again. "Why would you be flattered?"
"That you would react in such a way because of me," he let out a small chuckle before stepped back from the Victor, heading towards the couch.
Finnick just watched him silently for a moment before clearing his throat. "I don't think it's weird for me to react like this to a beautiful man kneeling in front of me."
    "Beautiful?" Cinna smiled before sitting on the sofa. "There's only one truly beautiful person in this room and that certainly isn't me, Finnick. But thank you for the compliment."
    Finnick snorted before sitting down next to Cinna, running a hand through his hair. He was used to being called beautiful. He had heard it a million times since he was 14 but it was always different coming from someone that actually mattered. It was more embarrassing. "Well, it's true."
The designer turned his head back towards Finnick, the slight smile still on his face but mixed with a new look. Intrigue. "It's odd, you almost seem bashful."
    He blinked and looked back at Cinna. "Why would that be odd? I can't be embarrassed?"
    "I just never pictured Finnick Odair the type to be easily embarrassed was all."
    Finnick paused before shrugging. "I guess you're right. It's just been a long time since the Capitol and any... intimate situation. Maybe I've lost all my charm."
"You still seem rather charming to me, if that's any consolation," the designer chuckled as he leaned back, crossing one of his legs over his own lap. "But more seriously, perhaps you're just out of practice."
    "Perhaps. I guess I've never actually engaged in anything willingly." He paused for a moment before rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "Sorry. You don't want to hear about that."
    "If you want me to listen, I will. I've heard many stories during my job and have been told that I am a good listener."
    "I'm sure you are. I don't like talking about it, though, if that's okay. I don't even know why I brought it up. I guess to make myself feel better about my awkward timing."
    "Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Finnick. The last thing I want to do is back you into a situation you don't want to be in."
    "Do you ever think about yourself?" Finnick suddenly said, glancing back at Cinna.
    This confused Cinna. He rose an eyebrow suddenly, turning back at the Victor. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean, you're sitting here, asking me about myself and telling me to do what makes me comfortable. I've seen you with Katniss and it's the same way. Do you ever talk about yourself or do what you want to?"
It was Cinna's turn now to feel uncomfortable. The designer, probably for the first time, pulled his eyes away from Finnick, studying the scuffs and dirt on his shoe. "If I didn't want to be here, I'd still be at the Capitol dolling up Tributes for the Games. So, yes Finnick, I do what I want to."
Finnick's ears turned slightly pink again, but he didn't remove his eyes from Cinna's face. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
"What do you want me to say? Nobody's really bothered to ask me anything so I've had no reason to talk about myself."
Finnick paused a moment before setting his chin in his hand, eyeing Cinna thoughtfully. "That's really sad. Okay, Cinna, where are you from?"
"I don't mind it. Everybody likes to have their secrets. But you already know that I'm a Capitol boy, Finnick," Cinna smiled, letting his eyes fall back to the Victor though they looked significantly more uneased.
Finnick just smiled back, shaking his head. "No, you're not. You're too gentle and quiet to be from the Capitol. I've met my fair share of Capitol citizens and I know a District boy when I see one, Cinna, don't insult me."
"I had no intentions of insulting you, Finnick. I've just long forgotten my District life, I suppose."
Finnick paused before setting a hand on Cinna's knee, comfortingly. "Maybe it's time to remember."
Cinna actually faltered at the notion. The designer had pushed all memories of his past far from his mind and the concept of talking about them was foreign to him. He almost had to laugh at how hypocritical that was. Cinna, who had always been there for others when they needed him, was uncomfortable with speaking about his own past and experiences. He actually stuttered. "P-perhaps...."
Finnick paused, staring at him for a moment. He squeezed his knee once before lifting his hand. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. But just know, I was a whore and a slave. Nothing in your past can be more uncomfortable than that."
"I know about your past, Finnick. The idea that others suffered more then I was never a comforting one," he lightly commented, though did appreciate Finnick's attempt at comfort. With a small sigh, he lightly put a hand over Finnick's on his knee, though there was a hint of hesitation in his body language. "Four."
Finnick blinked, sitting up a little more. He tried to be as calm as Cinna, but he couldn't mask his surprise. "You were from Four? No. I would have known you... right?"
"I kept to myself a lot. I was sort of a timid boy, sticking to only a few places with my sketchbook, drawing seashells near the beach." His voice was almost a mutter now, though the tone showed hints of curiousity. Finnick might have known him, if the Victor ever noticed him. When he was a boy, Cinna certainly noticed Finnick.
He stared at him for a moment, trying to put his mind back in District 4. It seemed so far away now, and so long ago. He couldn't even remember the exact color of the ocean or the way the seagulls sounded or even the way the fish moved in the water. But, vaguely, he could remember a boy, small for his age, drawing on the beach. Shy and easily ignored, the exact opposite of Finnick, who had always been outgoing, loud and boisterous, tall and broad. "Yeah, I... Cinna isn't a Four name. Did you change it?"
"Yes. I used to be Ronan."
"Ronan...." Finnick paused, running the word through his mind. "You were a few years older than me. You didn't have your eyeliner then. I remember you were small, but Annie would always point to you. She was concerned that you never had anyone around you."
Cinna cracked a small, sad smile and squeezed Finnick's hand slightly. Cinna could help but also feel happy about Finnick's statement, revealing that the Victor had actually taken notice of him. "That was me. Surprised?"
"Pleasantly," Finnick smiled back slightly. "Why did you leave to go to the Capitol?"
"To be a designer."
He spoke almost too quickly though and his voice seemed more distant from the statement. Upon hearing himself speak, Cinna realized that he lacked a talent for lying. Finnick instantly told him too. "You're a horrible liar. Maybe you should stick to the truth from now on."
"I'm not particularly fond of the truth, though. I prefer my delusions."
"Don't we all? It doesn't change the reality, though, so spill."
Cinna pressed his lips together tightly as he searched his minds for the words to say, his eyes falling towards their hands on his knee. "I was never Reaped or in the Games myself, but we have much more in common then you'd think, Finnick."
Finnick moved slightly closer to him, shifting his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with Cinna's. When he spoke again, it was softer, almost as if he spoke at a normal level, Cinna would stop talking. "What happened?"
"I shouldn't tell you."
"Well, you're going to."
"You won't like it."
"That's fine."
"You don't understand."
"If you told me, I'd understand."
Cinna squeezed Finnick's hand again but refused to avoid the man's eyes anymore. He looked directly at him as if in defiance against every urge in his body screaming at him to run. "Fine. After you won the Hunger Games, it almost started a trend in the Capitol. Everybody wanted you, but were unable because you were too young at the time and there was only one Finnick Odair. So, instead, it translated that everybody wanted a part of District 4. At the time, I was legal, so I became one of those parts."
Finnick's large hand went limp in Cinna's as he stared at him. "Wait... what? Why would you do that?"
"I was stupid, afraid, and alone. I didn't have any family left and what was left of my parents inheritance was diminishing. They offered a house, a place to stay, and a promise that all tesserae with my name on it would be gone."
Finnick stared at him for a moment before releasing his hand. He turned his eyes from Cinna, feeling his chest hurt at the mere idea of it all. He couldn't say anything for a moment before he choked out, "I'm sorry."
"I warned you that you wouldn't like it," Cinna sighed, looking down as his now lonely hand on his knee. "But I don't blame you, so don't blame yourself for it or feel any guilt. While it was terrible, I survived and am here now because of it. Things happen and everything bad passes."
"Don't give me that shit," Finnick said quietly, leaning his head back on the couch. "It was my fault for winning. You were so small, even after I won, so innocent, and I envied you for it every day. I envied everyone in Four and now apparently I was wrong. People were being pimped out the entire time? They started selling me when I was fifteen, a year after I had won. How long were they selling everyone else as well?"
"I don't know about everybody else," Cinna admitted, looking towards the Victor beside him. "I was until I turned nineteen...."
Finnick didn't look back at him. He just shut his eyes and shook his head. "I thought I was doing so much. So many stupid, vapid women and their stupid husband closet cases. But we were both doing it at the same time."
"I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry, Finnick."
Cinna reached towards him, gently putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Even when revisiting his own past and remembering all the terrible memories he had stored away, Cinna refused to put himself first. Even now, he was still there, putting himself out to comfort others. Finnick tensed up slightly at Cinna's touch, but he didn't move away. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking at the smaller man. He forced a smile, trying to reassure him. "
I'm glad you did. It's just a shock. I'm... sorry you had to go through that."
"Don't apologize. It was a long time ago. I've started over since then and I'm happy now."
He smiled slightly. "You'll have to tell me how to do that, then."
"I found other things to occupy my time with," he informed almost matter-of-factly as he straightened up, letting his hand slid down the Victor's arm and to the couch. "Found something to be passionate about."
Finnick frowned a little, but shook his head. "Yeah, well. You're good at designing clothes and stuff. I'm not good at anything except being pretty."
"I'm certain you could find something if you tried, though you do make a marvelous model."
"Being a pretty boy, sex, and killing people. A marvelous resume."
"It doesn't have to be a career, Finnick. Mine just sort of fell into place and became one once I met Portia, I never planned on making a job out of it."
"Well, it's a good thing you did, since you basically created the Mockingjay."
"It is," he nodded.
There was a long pause between the two before the designer abruptly stood up. He walked over towards the back of the sofa and began to rummage through some of the boxes he and Portia had stored there until pulling out a few tablets and a pencil. Finnick watched Cinna for a moment from over the back of the couch, kind of like a child. "What are you doing now?"
"I'm not doing anything. You are," he said simply as he handed the pencil and tablet up to him.
Finnick took the pencil and tablet, looking down at them. They looked awkward in his large hands. "Uh, what?"
Cinna walked back around the couch before sitting next to the Victor, a small, almost playful grin on his face. "Draw something. If you want me to teach you to occupy your time, then you'll start like I did."
"Cinna, I don't know..." he trailed off and glanced up at the designer. "You're good at this. If there's one thing I hate, it's being bad at stuff. That's why I don't try new things."
"Everybody's bad at first, Finnick. Do you really think I was naturally born with a steady hand and talent?"
"Yes," he immediately answered, giving Cinna a winning smile.
"Well, I wasn't and I can prove it," he laughed before pulling out another old, damaged book that he had grabbed from the box.
"What, do you keep all of your old stuff?" Finnick set the tablet on his lap, leaning closer to Cinna.
"I'm a bit of a pack rat. Mostly for sentimental reasons. You should feel special that I'm even showing you these, it's embarrassing, really."
The designer kept a small smile on his face as he began to flip through. By the yellow tint of the pages and water damage that had long since dried and wrinkled the corners of the book, the age of the pages looked rather old. Cinna stopped on one page in particular where a rather crude looking picture of a conch shell was drawn on. The lines were unsteady, the shape was deformed, and the colors chosen were ones a conch shell had never had in all of history.
Finnick snorted but quickly covered it up, disguising it as clearing his throat. "I've totally seen a conch that color, Cinna."
"Thank you, Finnick," the designer mumbled before closing the book, his face turning a shade redder for the first time. He quickly shook it off before turning to the end of the book, turning it so Finnick could see better. On the newer page was the same type of shell, but significantly better drawn that it could easily have been thought to have been done by someone else. The picture also included a background with the sandy beach and the sky. The time of day Cinna drew this was obviously dawn, thus explaining the orange glow Cinna had failed to give the shell in his first attempt but so elegantly pulled off in the newer.
Finnick smiled softly, instantly picturing little Cinna working and working on that shell until it was perfect. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment before nodding. "Alright. You win. I guess you're right."
Cinna closed the book almost triumphantly before turning to look back up at the Victor. "It's okay to not be perfect at first. But, for me at least, it was the hard work to perfect my art and try new things that nobody has thought of before that helped me get by. It gave me a goal."
Finnick glanced up at Cinna and was immediately struck with embarrassment at how close he had gotten to the other man. He cleared his throat and moved his face back slightly. "Well, you succeeded."
The corner of Cinna's lip curled up in a partial grin at Finnick's withdraw. He cast his eyes back down towards the tablet on Finnick's lap before opening it to a blank page and gently placed the pencil in Finnick's hand, moving his fingers to hold it properly. Finnick stared down at the top of Cinna's hand, his mouth half open as he tried to focus on his own breathing instead of the feeling of the other's man's fingers on his. He tightened his fingers on the pencil and cleared his throat. "I don't know what to draw," he finally said, his voice a little strangled and soft.
"It's alright," Cinna reassured him as he looked up towards the Victor, his hand still over Finnick's. "It doesn't have to be anything special. Whatever the first thing you see works fine."
"That would be you, but I wouldn't want to butcher something so perfect," he smiled at him, although it was slightly shaky.
Cinna's smile grew slightly as he turned back around the room, trying to find something interesting for him to draw. "Figure drawing is too tricky to start out with anyways."
Finnick's confidence was slowly returning as he stared at the side of Cinna's face. "'Oh, gee, thanks, Finnick. You're really sexy too. Let's make out or something.'"
"Oh, gee, thanks Finnick. You're really sexy too. Let's make out," Cinna echoed in an uncharacteristically playful manner before his eyes shot right back on Finnick to gauge his reaction.
"Alright."
Although Finnick's ears turned red under his hair, his face didn't show surprise. One corner of his mouth tilted upwards in amusement before he let the pencil fall onto the tablet. He reached his hands forward, spanning the sides of Cinna's face easily, before tugging him forward and pressing his lips against the designer's. Cinna's eyebrows shot up, however, not expecting Finnick to actually make such a move. Regardless, he was happy that he did. The designer turned himself slightly so he was better facing the Victor, his arms snaking around Finnick's waist and pulling himself closer.
Finnick sighed quietly into Cinna's mouth, sliding one hand into the designer's hair and moving his other to the small of his back, softly tracing his long fingers up his spine. He hadn't been sure how Cinna would respond, but that nervousness disappeared. The designer was always so calm, Finnick wasn't sure if he was reading the signals correctly, but apparently he had. But his calm nature had vanished as Cinna's kisses became more passionate with every lingering moment. His hands grasped on to the material of the new uniform, wanting to pull him even closer but, at the same time, not wanting to seem too desperate. It had been a long time - too long - since Cinna had been with someone in any sort of intimate situation like this and he was almost fearful that if he wasn't cautious enough, he would scare Finnick away.
It obviously didn't bother Finnick, however. He matched Cinna's passion with his own as he gripped the smaller man's hips in his hands and pushed him onto his back on the couch. He instantly covered Cinna's body with his own, moving his mouth down to nip at his neck.
Cinna's head tilted back as he let out a small gasp, almost shivering at the feeling of the Victor's lips on his neck. His hands moved up to the back of Finnick's head, grasping the hair there pulling slightly but still gentle enough not to hurt him. Finnick's fingers slid under the hem of Cinna's shirt, softly tracing nonsensical patterns on the flesh over his ribs as he pulled one of the designer's earlobes between his teeth, biting down teasingly. While he had never done anything like this consensually, he by no means was inexperienced. He was just usually in Cinna's position, although not enjoying it as much as he was.
    The spot was very sensitive to the designer. Cinna's grasp quickly turned into a moan as his grip grew tighter at Finnick's tantalizing bites. His hips bucked slightly under the muscular rebel. His face was now a rare shade of red for Cinna, a side of himself he'd usually try to cover with his calm complex. However, with Finnick, he wasn't hiding at all.
    Finnick's tongue quickly soothed the bite mark before he let out a soft moan in Cinna's ear. His hands clenched on Cinna's ribs as he pressed his hips down against the designer's before moving his lips back to the designer's. Suddenly, his kisses turned even more heated and desperate as he ran his tongue along the other man's teeth. Cinna parted his lips more, invitingly, before his own tongue brushed against Finnick's. He kissed back with just as much desperation behind his actions, the fear of scaring off the Victor gone along with the ability to come up with any concrete thoughts.           Cinna released Finnick's hair from his grasp as his hands slid down, first down the man's arms then down his sides. He stopped them once his palms were towards the rim of the uniform's shirt, sliding a few fingers under it and lightly brushing two fingers on the bare flesh at Finnick's hips.
    Finnick made a small noise of frustration. Suddenly, the too-tight clothes felt even tighter and hot against his skin. The feeling wasn't exactly welcome. He pulled his mouth away from Cinna's after a few more moments. He pressed one more soft kiss to the designer's kiss-swollen lips before leaning up and pulling off his own shirt, throwing it across the room as if it were on fire.
    Cinna blinked his eyes open when Finnick had pulled away, almost disappointed until his hazy vision focused on the now shirtless Victor. He said nothing but didn't attempt to fight the heat rising in his cheeks. Finnick Odair was a very attractive man, this much was a fact generally accepted nationwide and now Cinna had full proof straddled overtop of him. His eyes traveled, but only briefly before they landed, locked with Finnick's. While lust was definitely evident in his gaze, it was different from the sex hungry Capitol citizens of Panem. It was a much more tender, compassionate, and affectionate gaze.
His eyes stayed on Finnick's as his fingers traced up the now bare sides of his skin.     Finnick stared back at the man under him for a moment, fighting the urge to shiver as he felt the designer's fingers on his ribs, before cupping Cinna's face in his hands. "Sorry. It was getting hot in here. Or maybe it's just you," he said, smiling. Although his line was corny and playful, his tone was heavy and serious and his eyes were gentle and caring. He slowly slid his hands down, his fingers barely skimming the other man's chest, and slid them under Cinna's shirt.
    "I was beginning to think the same, though, between the two of us, it certainly wouldn't be because of me," Cinna replied, somehow managing to keep his tone at the same, calm tone it always had, though with a bit more of a pant behind his words. The designer lifted himself up slightly from the couch, sliding his arms up and over his head, his forearms draping over the arm of the couch slightly. He cast his eyes down towards Finnick's hand before looking to his own shirt's rim. "Would you mind?"
    Finnick eyed the man beneath him silently taking in the way he was laying, and couldn't help it as his eyes softened at the beauty the designer possessed. He instantly grasped the edge of Cinna's shirt in his hands and pulled it over his head, dropping it softly to the floor delicately.     Cinna was by no means as built as Finnick but he wasn't out of shape. The designer was quite thin and slender, his skin smooth and soft from the amount of care he obviously put in to his complexion. Still, Cinna felt a slight level of insecurity as he mentally compared himself to the bronze haired Adonis above him, but refused to let it show. Instead, once the shirt was down, Cinna leaned up and wrapped his arms around Finnick's waist once again. He leaned forward slightly, letting his heated breath tickle of the surface of the Victor's skin right below his ear before planting his lips down, lining his neck with heated kisses, light nips, and love bites.
    "Cinna," Finnick hissed his name before sucking in a sharp breath, sliding his hands up the other man's back. He let out a gasp at how soft Cinna's skin was against his calloused fingers mixed with the pleasure rolling in his stomach at the designer's lips on his neck. Cinna sighed against the man's neck, enamored by the way Finnick breathed his name. He wanted to hear him again.
He traveled his lips down Finnick's jawline lightly, disciplining himself heavily to keep his actions gentle and soothing until he reached a softer spot near Finnick's ear. Kissing the area a few more times, he resting his soft hand on the opposite side of his neck before sucking down hard on the spot.
    "Cinna!" This time, Finnick's voice was louder, more of a groan, as he tightened his hands around Cinna's waist, his fingers digging into the designer's hips. His eyes closed as his breathing became harsher. He was pleasantly surprised at Cinna's actions. He hadn't thought the man would be so outgoing, but he wasn't about to complain.
The designer couldn't help but smile against Finnick's skin. He rested his hands on the back of Finnick's neck before pulling away from the spot. He lingered near for only for a few more moments, examining the bruised flesh with satisfaction, before laying back down on the couch. Cinna pulled the larger man down until their lips were less then an inch away, but didn't close the gap yet. Instead, he released one hand from Finnick's neck, trailing it down over his shoulder, chest, stomach, stopping only when the designer's fingers made contact with the Victor's pants.
Finnick slowly opened his eyes when he realized Cinna wasn't going to kiss him. He leaned his weight on his elbows on either side of the designer's head, looking down at him. He licked his lips and looked like he wanted to speak but decided against it. Instead, he just ran a hand through Cinna's hair gently before leaning down the rest of the way and pressing his lips against the other man's hard. Cinna wholeheartedly returned the kiss as his other hand rested on Finnick's hip.
As he continued exploring every part of Finnick's lips, the designer's fingers found themselves dipping under the rim of the uniform pants. However, he halted his hand from straying too far down or attempting to move the material, not wanting to act without approval first. Finnick's lips fell from Cinna's as they began to trail down his jaw. Being more bold, Finnick's hands slipped from Cinna's back to under his pants, swiftly grabbing his ass fully. The Victor let out a growl against Cinna's neck as he pressed his teeth against the designer's pulse point. "Waiting for a written invitation?"
    Cinna groaned and, another first, couldn't think of a witty comment back. He squirmed slightly under Finnick before grasping the material in his hands without hesitation and pushing down on the fabric. Due to his position under the Victor, he knew he wouldn't be able to get them down all the way but he still tried his hardest to move them down as far as he could. Finnick gracefully kicked them off his ankles, a skill that came with practice, before latching his mouth onto Cinna's collarbone, sucking down hard as he simultaneously slid his hands to the front of his pants. He undid the button swiftly before pushing them off the designer's slim hips.
    "F-Finnick," Cinna breathlessly gasped as he threw his head back. He lifted his hips up, unconsciously pressing himself up close against Finnick to give him more room to pull the clothing down and off the rest of the way. Finnick pushed his pants down as far as he could, his teeth pressing into Cinna's collarbone as he smiled at his reaction. He grasped his hips tightly and moved his mouth further down to the designer's right pectoral, biting him there as well. Cinna kicked the clothing off as his hands grasped desperately at the man's shoulders as his breathing hitched. The designer separated his legs once his ankles were free, resting them on either side of the Victor.
    Finnick released his skin before crawling back up until his face was directly over Cinna's. He let out a soft gasp as their hips pressed together, but he tried to stifle it as he quickly pressed his lips back to the designer's, knotting his hands in the other man's hair. Cinna, however, groaned loudly against the Victor. His grip was firm on Finnick's hips as he pushed his hips closer against Finnick's, his kisses becoming a bit more rough and filled with hunger. Feeling like he was drowning, Finnick pulled away from Cinna, pressing his mouth roughly against the designer's shoulder.
"Cin-Cinna, you're so beautiful," he mumbled softly against his lover's skin as he slid his fingertips over the waistband of the man's underwear. Cinna could only gasp in reply, his head spinning too fast to form sentences. Moving his legs closer together, he lifted his hips again for Finnick to better remove the under garment, taking in the man's earlobe and sucking down hard on it as he did. Finnick let out a choked noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper before roughly shoving Cinna's underwear down as far as he could in his current position. With his other hand, he grasped the designer's bare hip tightly.
    Cinna pushed his last remaining article of clothing off of his ankles before grabbing the rim of the last bit of fabric that separated the two, impatiently. Giving the ear one final bite, he released it as his forehead dropped to Finnick's shoulder, panting a little as he began to push the fabric down. Finnick quickly kicked off the last piece of fabric between them to the floor as if it had offended him and covered Cinna quickly with his entire body. He was tense, desperate, and most of all, extremely aroused, but he stopped himself. He smoothed a large hand over Cinna's hair before pulling his head back slightly to look down at him. His eyes were dark, so dark that hardly a hint of green was visible, and he was panting slightly as he ran his other hand up and down Cinna's side, reverently. "Are-are you sure about this?"
    Cinna's eyes focused on Finnick's, his fingers dancing lightly up the Victor's spine as he gave him a reassuring nod. He was almost nervous, but his body ached for this and he knew nothing in the world would make either the rebels stop now.           "I can't think of anything I want more," he breathed before leaning up, kissing his lips again briefly.
    "Me neither," Finnick said softly, reassuringly, when Cinna's lips left his. He smiled at him, albeit slightly nervously, before grasping Cinna's hips tightly in his hands. He tilted them upwards a little, pressing his lips together tightly before entering him, forcing himself to be gentle.
Cinna's head trust back against the couch as his eyes shutting tightly with a gasp. Regardless of how gentle Finnick was, it hurt, but he had anticipated that. He gripped on to the couch, trying to stay relaxed as his body threatened to tense up.
Finnick instantly froze, looking down at Cinna. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to the other man's mouth. As good as it felt and as much as he wanted to drive into the designer's body desperately, he forced himself to stay still, gripping the arm of the couch behind Cinna's head so hard, his knuckles were turning white. "I-I'm sorry."
Cinna managed to shake his head, panting. "I'll b-be alright, I just... n-need a m-minute... to a-adjust," he managed, forcing his body to calm.
"Just... just tell me when," Finnick forced out around a groan before setting his head down on Cinna's bare shoulder, planting small, gentle kisses there, trying to sooth him.     Cinna tried to force a smile towards Finnick, though it was lost, hidden beneath the Victor's hair that Cinna pressed his forehead against.           The designer closed his eyes again, slowly but surely getting more and more accustomed to the feeling of Finnick. After a few very long minutes, Cinna released his death grip on the sofa's cushions before placing his hands on the back of Finnick's neck again, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. "A-alright, I think I'm r-ready."
    Finnick slowly pulled his lips back from Cinna's shoulder. He pushed some of the hair off his lover's forehead, kissing him softly, before pulling out and driving back in. Instantly, he let out a soft groan at the feeling. While it wasn't exactly a new feeling to Finnick, it was different. He felt emotionally connected for the first time.
    Cinna's head fell back against the couch again as he let out a small whimper behind his bit lip. It still hurt, but significantly less. The line between pleasure and pain was starting to blur as Cinna moved one of his hands up to Finnick's bronze hair, grasping it again. "F-Finnick...."
    Finnick dropped his forehead onto Cinna's shoulder, instantly speeding up. As if Cinna saying his name was a switch, he began to move increasingly faster and harder, gasping for breath. He bit the spot between Cinna's neck and shoulder, groaning into it. Cinna could hardly see straight. The designer lifted his hips slightly, finding a more comfortable angle. As he began to push himself closer towards Finnick in unison with the Victor's moves, his gasps suddenly turned into moans. He felt his entire body shudder against Finnick, the new angle causing the bronze haired man above him to hit a new, sensitive spot inside of the designer.
    "Oh, god, Cinna," Finnick sighed against his neck before pulling back, looking down at him. He sped up a little before reaching between them, grasping the designer's cock and moving his hand in time to their thrusts. Cinna's body squirmed and jerked under the Victor's body, almost as if he'd never been touched there before.
He reached over suddenly, taking Finnick's cheek in his hand, before pressing his already bruised lips against the Victor's. He couldn't help but moan and whimper against Finnick's lips, but he refused to part. The way he kissed him was full of passion and love as he continued to trust himself down onto Finnick. Finnick sighed softly against Cinna's lips but didn't pause in his actions. He immediately kissed him back, matching his passion and love with his own. He grunted against the designer's mouth as he began to shudder.
    Cinna felt the larger man's body shake over him but still did not release his lips. Moving his hands down, he dug his fingertips deep up Finnick's back and over his shoulders, feeling as though he too was going to cave soon. He bucked his hips again a few times, pressing himself onto Finnick as close and hard as he could.     Finnick clenched his jaw, his lips still pressed against Cinna's but not moving his hips anymore. He was trying desperately to make sure Cinna got off before he did, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the faster and harder he moved.
    Finnick's stillness would have in any other circumstance or time caused confused Cinna, but the designer was too close to stop and wonder. His kisses were beginning to become much more erratic, a mixture of moans and whimpers still emitting from the back of his throat. He body was becoming more and more tense and he knew it couldn't hold himself back any longer. "F-Finnick, I...."
    Finnick instantly let out a shaky breath against Cinna's mouth. He moved his mouth from the designers and took his earlobe into his mouth again briefly before groaning against his ear. "G-go ahead, baby... let go."
        Cinna didn't need any further convincing. His hands squeezed Finnick's strong shoulders before he threw his head back with one final moan as the world came crashing down around him. His body convulsed as a long forgotten wave of ecstasy surged though him. He screamed out Finnick's name, breathlessy. As soon as Finnick felt Cinna contracting around him, he came as well. He pressed his forehead hard against the designer's shoulder, letting out a low grunt in the vague form of Cinna's name. He wrapped his arms around Cinna tightly, shuddering against him before bonelessly falling on top of his body.
    Cinna's arms snaked around Finnick's neck almost immediately once the man was on him. The designer's breathing was heavier then it ever had been before as he laid under the Victor, gasping. He remained motionless for a long time, his head falling to the side of Finnick's and hiding his face in the man's bronze hair. He didn't want to let go or ever have to leave.
    Finnick pressed his sweaty forehead against Cinna's shoulder for a long moment before turning his face toward his lover's. He paused and gave him a small smile, brushing his nose against the other man's, almost shyly.     Cinna's eyes opened slightly at he looked back at him. Slowly, he smiled and pushed a few wild strands of hair back down behind the man's ear.     Finnick held his body up slightly from Cinna, leaning up on his elbows as to not crush the smaller man. "Was that good?"
    "I thought you'd be able to gauge that from my reactions," the designer teased, his calm tone returning as he lightly kissed the tip of Finnick's nose.
    "I'm a compliment addict," Finnick smiled brightly, lightly running his hands through the sides of Cinna's hair.
    Cinna flashed him a smile back before dropping his hand down to Finnick's cheek. "Alright. It was fantastic."
    Finnick gave him his trademark smile before slowly pulling out of him, sitting back off him a little. "I know. You were fantastic. I never would have guessed calm Cinna could be such a wildcat."
    Cinna's smile faltered mildly as his cheeks turned a lighter shade of red. He turned his gaze away, embarrassed as he shrugged. "I like to surprise."
    "Well, it was sexy," Finnick reassured him, sliding his hand over Cinna's. The designer turned to look back at Finnick, though his eyes went to their hands. While he didn't smile, he had a soft gleam in his eyes.           "I want to be able to do this again, Finnick. Not now, obviously, but soon.”
    Finnick nodded gently after a moment, leaning forward and kissing Cinna's forehead briefly. "We will. Whenever you want, trust me."
    Cinna closed his eyes, letting himself smile again, but not fully. Not yet at least. "Thanks Finnick, I... I didn't want this to be just a one time thing. I was worried...."
    Finnick furrowed his eyebrows but took Cinna's face in his hands, gently. "I wouldn't do that, Cinna. I... I like you. And I'd like to spend time with you, not just like this, although this was awesome."
    Cinna's eyes met up with his, his smile finally becoming full. He put his hands over the two on his cheeks. "I'd like that too, Finnick. I'd like that a lot."
    "Good," Finnick smiled back at him and pressed his lips against Cinna's briefly in agreement.
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Cinnick