Archive of Our Own ^beta

“A week?” Caitlyn asked, cocking her head to the side. She was holding a mug of tea in her palms, the coffee shop around them bustling with midday customers, bandages on her face, her lip, bruising slowly fading after the days between their kiss on the old bridge.

Vi cringed inwardly, trying not to read into that. A week being too short? Too long? She felt like she knew this girl intimately - as one did when you nearly die a dozen times in the span of three days - but the only tones she could decipher were ones relating to panic - muffled shouts or stressful exhalations that always revolved around next - what to do next, where to go next, who to see next.

“Too short?” Vi asked, because beating around the bush was never an option when it came to Caitlyn. Because beating around the bush wasn’t her - wasn’t them. The sling her right arm was resting in was evidence of that very prospect.

“No,” Caitlyn said, hesitantly. She looked around the coffee shop, slid one of her sneakered feet closer to Vi’s booted ones. She looked bashful, almost, radiant despite the obvious bruising and trauma her face and body had gone through over the past week. They’d kept in close contact, constantly checking in, texting incessantly - reluctant to let one another go after being so focused on each others’ safety for such a long time.

“Oh,” Vi confirmed, nodding her head slowly, “well, good. That’s good.”

“I just-” Caitlyn started, frowned at her tea, “can we still hang out as friends?”

Vi nodded, eyes widening. “Before the-”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn nodded, chin rapidly moving, “I just - it’s a long week, and I feel safer around you. It still feels-”

“-like someone’s chasing,” Vi finished, and the two smiled at each other - soft smiles, endearing smiles.

“Yeah,” Caitlyn breathed, stretching her other foot towards Vi’s, her sneakers resting in between Vi’s boots. Vi’s jeans were well-weathered, her T-shirt a green thing with an oil company’s logo on it. Caitlyn’s bomber jacket and slacks were well-broken in, comfortable looking. The coffee shop buzzed with activity as they took increased interest in their surroundings.

“Okay, so,” Vi said, refocusing on them, “we can still hang out and stuff. But our first date-”

“-will be one week from today,” Caitlyn finished.

“Sounds good.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Sounds great.”

“It’s pretty loud,” Vi said by way of apology, and Caitlyn waved her off as they stepped into the conference room. Vi tugged her sleeve along the back row - pushing through the gathered reporters and onlookers as they weaved past the assembled chairs to take up their places leaning against a mural of the second purge’s signing. Vi almost leaned right next to her painted self, immortalised on the wall, before swearing and shuffling so she was covering Mylo’s face with her shoulder. Caitlyn noticed with a smirk, but wisely said nothing - especially when Vi was shooting daggers at her neck.

“Is he running late?” Caitlyn asked, and Vi nodded, grinning.

“He always does when it’s good news - it allows him to gloat a little more. Powder and Ekko are probably calling him names - it’s always helped.”

“Helped what?” Caitlyn asked, and the room exploded in light and sound as Mylo strode to a podium and the reporters leapt to their face, clamouring with questions. A light skinned blonde girl was at Mylo’s side, whispered something that he listened to intently, beamed at her about, and gripped the podium as he stepped to it, flipping a piece of paper over.

“Alrighty, folks,” Mylo said, clearing his throat directly into the microphone, “I’m pleased to announce that the class action lawsuit involving the pollution of Vaunite water by five different holdings in the Piltover jurisdiction - Manning LLC, Brady United, SingedCo, Mortrassin LD, and Stars-Rotherming - has officially settled.”

“A figure-” Mylo raised his voice, paused until the reporters died back down, “a figure, as part of the settlement agreement, will not be disclosed to the public, but my associate Ms King and I are very happy with the outcome - as are my one hundred and ninety three clients. As most of you are aware, I’ve had to take a lot of time away from representing defendants to close off this suit, and I’m thrilled to be able to go back to the trenches.”

A reporter’s hand shot up, and Mylo nodded at them with his chin.

“Are the rumours true that you took part in the fighting on the old bridge six days ago?”

Mylo’s smile froze, and his eyes found Vi and Caitlyn, in the back of the room. Vi waggled her eyebrows, and Caitlyn averted her gaze, biting both of her cheeks hard.

“No,” Mylo said shortly, pointing to another reporter.

“It doesn’t get better,” Vi whispered in Caitlyn’s ear, pretending not to see the other woman shudder, “wanna blow this joint?”

“I saw a street meat vendor on the way over,” Caitlyn replied, voice just as low, just as seductive, “and I’m in the mood to be unhealthy.”

“Lead the way,” Vi responded.

“I appreciate the help,” Caitlyn said, in a paint-stained T-shirt and ratty cutoffs, door swinging open to reveal a carefully drop-clothed apartment and all the furniture moved into the middle of the room. Vi was in a tank-top that said “Monkeys Are Bullshit” and jeans that had more patches than denim, her fists in her pockets as she stepped into the space.

“It’s no bother,” Vi responded, wiggling her eyebrows. Buckets of paint and rollers were set out and stacked neatly in the hallway, ready for them to get to work with. Vi’s shoulder still ached, but her sling had come off four hours before and she was ready to slowly and carefully work it back into ship-shape. Painting was a good way of doing that - smoothly pressing things onto walls.

“Are you an experienced painter?” Caitlyn asked, tying her hair up and directing Vi to pick up the supplies and move into the living room. Caitlyn’s balcony was still sealed shut, broken there from Vi’s little booby-trap. The landlord had given Caitlyn a snarky little note about it that Caitlyn had filed quietly in case of further harassment. One of those details Vi loved.

“I’ve painted a few times. Mylo and Bea’s place. Vander’s bar a couple of times. You roll the stuff on, you don’t spill it.”

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow as she set out a tray, handed Vi a screwdriver to open the can of paint with. “That last one is key.”

Vi nodded, solemnly accepting her task. “I swear on my life.”

“Your life must not mean much,” Caitlyn said later, breathless with laughter as she twisted away from Vi’s tickling fingers, both covered in a liberal amount of pale, pastel green. The walls were almost done, but for a smear on the northernmost one where Vi had slipped on a loose piece of drop cloth and flung spatters across Caitlyn’s chest and neck. It had resulted in a brief paint war that had led to their current position - Vi on top of Caitlyn, worming green fingers against Caitlyn’s clothed ribs.

Caitlyn smiled up at her, Vi smiled down, and they slowly moved forwards, pressing closely, softly, until their lips met. It wasn’t surrounded by flashing red and blue lights this time, or tinged with the coppery taste of Caitlyn’s healed split lip, Vi’s loosened teeth. It was soft and slow and with the floorboards against Vi’s fingertips, the smell of fresh paint in the air. It was simple and easy and they took a moment - just a brief moment - to drink each other in, settle, calm.

They parted, and they smiled, still - shy, quiet.

“I think I should go,” Vi said, softly, thinking of their date and the deadline on her calendar.

Caitlyn nodded, hummed, threaded fingers through Vi’s hair. She smirked, eyes dancing.

“You’re just skipping out on work.”

Lunch wasn’t dinner, and they met at a sandwich cart near Caitlyn’s apartment - Caitlyn ordering a veggie patty on Rye, Vi ordering a cheese steak sandwich. The two sat at a bus stop bench, ate, and watched people move through sun-kissed Piltover, the freedom of not needing to swivel their necks to look out for metal arms, the absence of an unconscious pressure of who and what and why lifting their shoulders and straightening their spines. They weren’t Vandal Vi, or target Caitlyn - they just got to be two girls on the bench, eating sandwiches and nursing crushes.

Because Caitlyn was clearly going stir crazy and Vi read that in every breath she took, the two went on a meandering walk down the New Bridge, keeping their gait checked and pace easy. Vi’s cutoff sweater was maroon, and Ekko had once told her it showed off the colour of her eyes, making an awesome contrast. Caitlyn’s shirt was long and black and adorned with a logo of a metal band, and she said she didn’t remember where she’d gotten it in a way that made Vi think that this was something that Caitlyn didn’t display, that she was seeing a part of Caitlyn that few had access to.

Caitlyn talked about idle things, wanting a dog, favourite movies, the price of the city and how she’d thought of moving to Zaun a few times but had never really pulled the trigger. She mused about how she was more open to it now, ironically, even with the city having brought her nothing but a week of pain, misery. The way that Caitlyn talked had Vi picturing herself in the frame, standing on the edges in some, front and center in others, posing with her, joking with her, smiling with her. The way Caitlyn talked about the future made her realise that she suddenly cared about her own.

Lunch wasn’t dinner, and neither was a walk down the new bridge, leaning against the guard rail as they oversaw the ships that came and left from Piltover port. Neither was leaning in to kiss Caitlyn with the taller woman bent slightly backwards over the railing, the sun at her back and the ocean on the skyline, soaring into the horizon.

Caitlyn had been invited to a club, and as it happened, Vi had been invited to the same one.

Turned out, Jayce and Mel knew Claggor and Mylo - and more than in passing. Mylo had shouted Jayce down on no less than four separate occasions, mostly about laws that had little to do with Jayce - a fact that both parties knew. Mel had zoned the aqueduct that Claggor had worked on during his first months on the job, and the two had sent very professional emails back and forth where Mel would sidebar and detract and attempt to deflect while Claggor sent the very same mildly pleasant letter over and over and over again, chipping Mel’s defences away with an endless patience.

The result was that Mel liked Claggor quite a bit, and Mylo and Jayce couldn’t stand to be in the same room, and so the club was absent of big brunette hair poofs as well as the Man of Progress himself, which both suited Vi fine.

Their two parties merged fairly quickly, Claggor and Mel making small talk about work while Caitlyn and Vi kept shooting heated glances towards one another. Vi had never seen Caitlyn in her full glory - a backless black dress with a long slit up the side, long spiky heels, a necklace and fancy dangling earrings shaped in a Zaun crest. For a reason that Vi didn’t feel like exploring, seeing her city’s insignia marking Caitlyn in some way made her flushed, weak. She vividly fantasised about securing the skin that attached the jewelry to Caitlyn between her teeth and tugging. She then realised that she didn’t have any particular reason to not act on it.

Making out in the hallway that led to the bathroom wasn’t dinner, and they found themselves gasping into each others mouths and grinding loosely, Vi’s hands finding their way up the slit in Caitlyn’s dress, Caitlyn’s fingers tugging at Vi’s hair and skating her thumbs down Vi’s throat in a way that made Vi swallow hard, breathe deep.

“This is going to be,” Vi muttered, “the shortest dinner of all time.”

“Save the date,” Caitlyn whispered into Vi’s ear, and pressed closer to her, kissing at her jawline, and made Vi groan.

Making out in the hallway wasn’t dinner, and neither was panting into one another until their friends came to find them, drag them to dance.

They texted non-stop. The plans for their first official date were punctuated by selfies fired back and forth (confidently by Caitlyn, clumsily by Vi), increasingly more and more personal banter that ranged from favourite foods to favourite hobbies to preferences in the sheets. Caitlyn pretended that she was talking about linens when she mentioned lying on top of them, preferring to feel the weight of them sink beneath her.

Vi was never one for pretending, and had sent the word bottom in response.

They had a good laugh about it, behind their phone screens. Vi had a decidedly different noise to the thought of it much later, alone in her bedroom and thinking about the day circled on her calendar, bringing herself to a lazy orgasm to a photo of Caitlyn in boxer briefs and little else - just helping with the shopping, that’s all. Vi had mentioned she looked good in purple.

“I’m right here,” Vi whispered, cell phone still in her hand. Caitlyn looked so small and frail, curled against her wall, a picture frame - her and the tall blonde adonis - cracked on the floorboards from her panic. She’d called Vi and told her, fear in her voice, that Sevika was here, she was here and she was going to take Caitlyn away again and she’d already killed Vi.

Vi had made it here in under fifteen minutes, coaxed her way up the elevator and through the front door.

Vi laid the cell phone down on the coffee table, taking slow, even steps towards Caitlyn, keeping her arms spread wide in a hugging gesture.

“She’s gone, Caitlyn,” Vi continued, “you remember? You saw her fall.”

Caitlyn nodded, breath hitching, skin shivering. She was wearing nothing but a thin pink shirt and sleep shorts, and was all gooseflesh from the cold and a pale vulnerability. Vi kept approaching, nice and slow, finally getting close enough to pull Caitlyn close in a hug, squeeze her gently, whisper into her hair.

“I’ve got you,” Vi said, “it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Cuddling wasn’t dinner, especially after a nightmare. They weren’t breaking any rules by having Vi plastered to Caitlyn’s back, a hand running through her long dark strands of hair, whispering sweet nothings until Caitlyn’s breathing evened out. She stayed a few hours, lying in Caitlyn’s bed fully clothed until she was sure that Caitlyn was fast asleep, attempted to leave as quietly as she could.

She only got as far as the edge of the bed before Caitlyn tugged her back with a muted whine, and she resigned herself to sleeping in her jeans in a foreign bed.

It was one of the worst sleeps of her life, but waking up was beautiful - Caitlyn wrapped around her like a vine, her bare skin scraping denim, squeezing Vi so close that she could feel the imprint of Caitlyn’s breasts on her arm. Caitlyn was clinging to her bad one - pins and needles already shooting out to her forearm, her fingers twitching and fighting to close - but Vi didn’t want to move her, didn’t want to disturb her.

Vi was dehydrated, felt gross and sticky in her clothes, her bladder was full to bursting, but with Caitlyn on her arm she’d stay here forever, until the sun winked out in the sky.

The day of the date, several things happened all at once.

Garen called Vi’s cell phone, asking to meet her for a briefing about her civilian consultation job. Vi had agreed with the same hesitance she’d always displayed around Zaunite enforcers, a brand of uncertainty mixed with mistrust and a touch of guilt and self-loathing. Garen’s words on the Old Bridge had long faded away, brushed away in the easy gesture of someone used to deflecting compliments and reading them as insult.

“I just wanted to follow up,” Garen’s voice said, soft and calm through the tiny cell phone speaker - Vi’s actual cell phone, not a burner, not a loaner.  “The last time we spoke, you were pretty shaken.”

“I don’t know, Garen,” Vi murmured, staring at her own reflection. Her days off were mostly spent laying around her small apartment. Her tank top stuck to her skin, she needed a shower, and she was freshly awoken at eleven AM. She needed all the time she could possibly get to change this hopeless lesbian in the mirror into the muscle-armed butch of Caitlyn’s dreams.

Maybe she could just leap up to a fire escape again. That had seemed to do it for Caitlyn last time.

“Can I make a proposal?” Garen continued, “Come by the station. Scope it out for us, see what there is to see. Maybe you find it’s still a cesspool of enforcers that just want to crack skulls, or maybe you find there’s a place for you here.”

Vi fidgeted with the strap of her tank top, the tattoo - VI - staring at her from under her cheek. She could still feel the needle pressing into her skin, the pain burning outwards from it, humiliation somehow worse than the multiple punctures and ink that had invaded her. She hadn’t been back to that building since she’d been called the right arm of the law, and the consciousness of that fact pressed in against the edges of her vision, made her head swim slightly.

“Let me -  I’ll get back to you,” Vi said, and clicked off, dialled another number.

“Hey, squirt,” Vander’s voice boomed through the speaker, a smile colouring his tone, “what’s the word?”

“I need some advice,” was Vi’s response.

The assembled Enforcers watched Vi’s face with a mixture of recognition, awe, and trepidation - standing before her in plain blue uniforms that were stripped of all gold and regalia of the past, instead plain denim, badges that were more like patches sewn into the breasts. Vi remembered the tall hats, gas masks, flecks of gold trim in the past, and saw this as a marked improvement - an attempt to bring the Enforcers down to the people, rather than holding them above.

Garen had brought her through the Enforcer’s headquarters, showed her his plans for making the agency more respectable, more a servant of the people versus the arm of the law. Vi had listened intently, asked questions, flipped through a thick manilla envelope full of where her policies had started, where they’d morphed out of a combination of necessity and modernization.

Now, looking over the roster of Zaunite enforcers, she saw a diverse crowd. Garen and Lux had expanded the group of Enforcers from a bunch of Piltover castoffs to include the rising population of hybrids in the area, several faces from outside of Zaun entirely. She stood before them awkwardly, her own picture on the wall above her right shoulder, listing her as the first sheriff of Zaun.

“I’m Vi,” she said by way of introduction, “and you’ll get to know me pretty well over the next few weeks. Sheriff Garen has brought me on as a civilian overseer - one of a few that’ll be hired in the coming days - and my goal here will be to help make sure we’re all working, uh. That we’re working towards serving the community.”

She swallowed, her fingernails biting her palms. She’d never been the words-first guy.

“That’s basically it,” she said, “if you have questions, you can ask Garen or myself. I’ll start on Monday.”

She coughed into her fist, then turned and walked out of the room at a quick clip, her boots clomping on the concrete stairs two at a time to get to her bike, her garage, get home and back to transforming the hopeless lesbian into something Caitlyn might find desirable.

“Vi?” called a young voice - high pitched, uncertain - and Vi looked up towards the landing above to see a young Enforcer recruit - couldn’t be older than 20 - smiling shyly at her.

“I just - wanted to say,” they said, “I’m a big fan. You’re the reason I became an Enforcer - to, uh, help change the system.”

Vi hesitated at that, smiled slowly, hesitantly. She nodded once, tightly.

“We’ll need the help,” she answered, and the recruit grinned conspiratorially.

Vi rode the high all the way home. She swore it made her bike faster.

Caitlyn had also been busy, Vi learned through texts as she removed her boyfriend jeans only to find a second pair of boyfriend jeans in a slightly lighter shade, figuring that it could bring out her eyes more or something. Caitlyn had gotten a call about her experience with Sevika, asking about some sort of book deal that could be struck. She’d refused initially, focusing on recovery, focusing on not shuddering in the dark when she could swear that Sevika was just around a corner.

The publisher had called back, upping their price. Caitlyn, once again, refused - it wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place.

A third callback with a figure that was truly mind boggling gave Caitlyn more pause. She asked what the time frame was, and she was assured that the story was timeless, the events in it mesmerising, that they’d wait a decade if it took her that long. She called her therapist after telling the publisher she’d think about it, weighed the pros, the cons, the ins and outs of reliving trauma, the healing nature of it.

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn said to Vi on the phone, her voice a comforting blanket around Vi’s ears, “should I?”

Vi was standing in her bathroom in her boxer shorts, having just finished applying lotion to ashy elbows and knees, curling her shoulder inwards and outwards to make the small surgical scar pop out, flatten as the muscles flexed.

“It’s your story,” Vi said, gently, “and I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea to gain control over how it’s told, you know?”

“It’s our story,” countered Caitlyn, “it’s yours and mine and - it’s sort of a story about Zaun, in a way. Don’t you think?”

Vi shrugged a little, hung up on the idea of it being her story. Her story was just an unfriendly dyke who crushed rocks, thrust into the spotlight, making the most of what she had. Her story wasn’t special - not the way Caitlyn’s was, could be.

As if sensing this through the connection, Caitlyn’s words formed grit teeth. “One day, I’m going to make you understand how beautiful your story is, Violet Doe.”

One day. A future together. A place and time that wasn’t here and now, planning instead of reacting.

Vi hadn’t been good with ‘one day’s, but maybe she’d like to give it a shot.

With Caitlyn, she’d like to give it a shot.

“One day,” Vi said, flexing her shoulder forwards, the surgical scar popping out again, “I’ll believe you.”

By the time they were both on their way to the agreed upon restaurant, it was cutting it close to their reservation. Downtown traffic was packed with people headed out on a Friday night, cabs and private ride systems clogging the roads and making so that even Vi on her bike had to hop a few curbs, swoop in and out of lanes to try and beat the rush. By the time she had made it to the restaurant, hooked her helmet to her handlebars and stood up to check her phone, she had a missed call and a text message.

Caitlyn:

My car broke down again - same issue as last time. I’m trying to make it out to you, but it’s looking grim.

Caitlyn answered on the first ring, and Vi couldn’t help but smile through her greeting.

“I cannot believe,” Caitlyn seethed, “that this would happen. I was so looking forward to dinner.”

“This isn’t a ploy, right?” Vi had the confidence to tease, “you wouldn’t lie just to get out of dinner with me?”

“Of course I want dinner with you - have you seen you?”

“Cool. Want me to pick something up?”

“I was going to suggest it,” Caitlyn sounded relieved, happy, “my place?”

“I’ll be right over.”

Caitlyn answered the door with a soft smile, dressed in a blood red dress that hugged her hips, accentuated her long, long legs. Vi managed just barely not to have her tongue pop out like a cartoon animal - a pink set of stairs just rolling out onto Caitlyn’s hardwood floor. A bag of takeout was in Vi’s hand, dangling by two fingers - styrofoam containers creaking idly as it spun. Vi set it on the kitchen table as she entered, shoved her hands into her good jean pockets, her grey long sleeve half-tucked into them.

They faced one another shyly, the table between them, keeping them honest. Vi’s smile was mostly lips - Caitlyn’s was freer, with that gap tooth flashing.

“You-” Caitlyn began, at the same time Vi said “So-”.

“You first,” Vi indicated, and Caitlyn took a breath.

“You look great, Vi,” Caitlyn said, eyes raking over her, “I like you like this.”

Vi glanced down, eyes sliding down Caitlyn’s form, getting stuck at the speed traps that were Caitlyn’s thighs, Caitlyn’s hips, Caitlyn’s breasts, before meeting her eyes. Dark blue on light blue, freshwater and saltwater meeting, mixing.

“I like you like this,” Vi repeated, and her smile turned sharp, wolfish. Caitlyn’s own grin widened, and they smiled at one another like idiots.

“The, uh,” Caitlyn said, gesturing to the food, “this may keep a while?”

Vi blinked, looking at the food for a moment, back to Caitlyn. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn whispered, slowly moving around the kitchen table, “uh, I’m not - I’m not that hungry right now.”

“Hmm,” Vi murmured as Caitlyn stood in front of her, lanky and tall, a brimming and cool glass of water, “neither am I. Right now.”

“For food,” Caitlyn clarified, reaching behind Vi to push the bag backwards, sliding it further and further away from the table.

“For food?” Vi whispered back, Caitlyn’s arm remaining on the table, brushing against Caitlyn’s ribcage. The taller woman’s other arm came down, too, until they were on either side of Vi’s waist, penning her inbetween a hard tabletop and the velvety smooth material of Caitlyn’s red dress.

“Tell me, Vi,” Caitlyn whispered, stepping further towards Vi, “do you like to be told what to do?”

Vi swallowed, nodded.

“Let’s see,” Caitlyn grunted out, and pressed her body to Vi’s, her lips tickling the sensitive skin below Vi’s ear, “how good you are at following commands.”

Vi grunted, turned her face to press her cheek to Caitlyn’s, her palms sliding to Caitlyn’s hips. She gripped lightly, feeling the ropes of muscle, sliding her hands around to Caitlyn's ass, tugging her closer, closer. Caitlyn exhaled shakily, pressed a kiss just below Vi's ear, trailed her lips around until they were breathing in each other's air, staring into each other's eyes, feeling, trusting.

"I trust you," Caitlyn said into the space.

Vi smirked. "Obviously."

Caitlyn gave her a pointed look, and Vi rolled her eyes.

"I trust you too. I've been in a life or death situation with you. Of course I trust you."

Caitlyn leaned closer, her mouth shaping the word good, her lips brushing slightly against Vi's. Again, they just breathed, took one another in.

"You uh," Vi started, swallowed, "mentioned commands?"

Caitlyn nodded, pressing one hand to the back of Vi's head, eyes roaming her face. "You'd like that?"

Vi nodded, smiled, shrugged. "I haven't-" she started, frowned at the ground, began anew, "I've never done it before."

Caitlyn's smile was a permanent fixture, a radiant thing that lulled Vi in.

"We'll figure it out together," she said, and then curled her fingers into Vi's hair, tugged experimentally. The brief feeling of pain, followed by a static electricity of longing that started from Caitlyn's fist and languidly curled down to Vi's core. She let her head fall back, surrendering under Caitlyn's ministration, exposing her throat to Caitlyns lips as the taller woman slowly worked her way up and down the exposed flesh.

Vi swallowed as Caitlyn worked her lips up her throat, pressing one kiss to her jaw, her chin, and that fist in Vi's hair levelled out, tilting her to face Caitlyn once more as Caitlyns lips pressed into hers. Vi groaned, tightening her grip on Caitlyns ass as their lips parted, tongues pressing into one another, a hot, wet dance of teeth and lips and them. Caitlyns other hand curved around Vi's back, sliding into the space between Vi's shirt and her skin, stroking lightly and leaving little trails of fire down Vi's lower spine.

When they parted, Caitlyns eyes were smoky, full of promise.

"Fuck," Vi muttered, and then - "bedroom?"

"Bedroom," groaned Caitlyn.

Vi was on her back on the bed, Caitlyn positioned over here and slowly working herself on Vi's mouth and face. Vi was lost in a world that was empty, a void replaced by Caitlyns taste on her tongue, Caitlyns skin around her head, Caitlyns subtle, gentle motions as she sought more and more and more. Her ears picked up little sounds - groaning, soft gasps, little whimpers as her face was ridden, steadily increasing with each passing moment.

For her part, Vi was active - her tongue danced, pressing up and into Caitlyn in short thrusts, using Caitlyn's rocking motion to drag it up and down her clit, moving in slow, flat circles. Her boxers were still on, uncomfortably damp and sticking to one thigh as her hips rocked of their own accord, wrapped up in the sights and smells and tastes and sounds of Caitlyn taking her pleasure.

"Vi," Caitlyn breathed, a low groan, "there you go, there you go."

Caitlyn lifted her hips, pressing her clit on Vi's outstretched tongue. Vi shook her head lightly, pressed firmly as she moved it in a rocking motion, dragging the sensitive nub over each and every one of her taste buds.

Caitlyn let out a deep, guttural grunt, and a flood of moisture filled Vi's mouth, dampening her face as Caitlyn broke around her, panting that ended on a high pitched whine. Vi opened her eyes to see the silhouette of Caitlyn’s breasts, her dark hair spilling over them, sticking to dampened skin. She let out a long, languid sigh as Vi’s tongue slowly pulled back into her mouth, her lips pursing as she dotted Caitlyn’s pussy with little kisses, adoring nuzzles, making the woman chuckle lightly, fingers sliding into Vi’s hair.

“You are,” Caitlyn began, “ so good at that.”

With her hands on either side of Vi’s head, she leveraged herself off, slid down the bed until they were at eye level - Vi still on her back, Caitlyn on her side - and Caitlyn’s hand started stroking Vi’s collarbones, gray long sleeve spattered with moisture - her own spit and Caitlyn’s come.

“It takes two to tango,” Vi said, and her voice turned broken as Caitlyn’s fingers worked their way south, fingers pinching lightly at a tightened nub of a nipple, plucking it gently and making Vi’s hips twitch.

“Mm,” Caitlyn murmured, shifting closer until her nose was buried in Vi’s cheek, her hand continuing to trail south, south, south - fingertips just barely sneaking under Vi’s waistband as Vi jerked her hips upwards, seeking contact.

“I’m so glad you danced lead, then,” Caitlyn purred, her fingers rubbing gently at the skin of Vi’s waist. Vi growled out, moved to grab Caitlyn’s wrist and put it where she wanted it - where she needed it - but froze when Caitlyn let out an ah-ah .

“No,” Caitlyn whispered, “hands at your sides, Vi.”

Vi hesitated, then slowly curled her hands into fists, dug them into the mattress as Caitlyn’s fingers kept swirling, swirling. Long languid strokes that followed the band of her boxers, around the seam, exploring warm skin that was slightly indented from the pattern of the elastic.

“Let me explore you,” Caitlyn continued to whisper, her lips capturing Vi’s earlobe, tugging on it. Vi shivered, leaned into the touch, a whimpering shiver erupting from her throat and torso. Caitlyn let out an interested sound, opened her lips to capture the lobe with her teeth, tug lightly.

“You like that?” Caitlyn asked, and Vi’s nod was so quick, so violent, that Caitlyn chuckled before resuming her soft biting. Vi’s hands twitched with the effort to not touch Caitlyn, touch herself, touch something that would relieve the ache of having Caitlyn ride her face and now the teasing little skating of fingertips against her skin, too far above where she needed them to be.

“Caitlyn,” Vi warned, going for threatening and coming out whispery, desperate.

“Hmmm?” Caitlyn replied, having moved her lips to the shell of Vi’s ear, running her tongue around the edge. The sound of it was wet, hot, made Vi shiver lightly, fists grip tightly.

“Caitlyn, come on ,” Vi whined out.

“What’s the magic word?” Caitlyn taunted, and Vi huffed.

“Orgasm,” Vi snapped back, and Caitlyn chuckled, kissing the shell of Vi’s ear, kissing Vi’s cheek, nose, and finally lips - taking her time, tasting herself on Vi’s tongue.

“God,” Caitlyn groaned, “you taste like you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” Vi fired back, “but I’d enjoy it a lot more if yo oooh,” and Caitlyn’s fingers found their way home, circling once before plunging deep, hooking to tap right there , and Vi was so pent up that this wasn’t going to take long at all.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn murmured against Vi’s ear, claiming it with her teeth and tongue, and Vi’s fists squirmed against the sheets as her hips bucked and body clenched and Caitlyn pushed into her again and again, dragging her thumb from Vi’s opening back up to her clit, dancing on it, coaxing, tugging, and pulling Vi towards the edge.

After Vi had received her reward, they found themselves back out into the kitchen to tear into the food - not even bothering to heat it back up, eating cold right from the containers. Caitlyn was wearing Vi’s long sleeve and her bikini panties, Vi was wearing her boxers and tank top, skin and scar exposed. Caitlyn was forking chicken fried rice into her mouth rapidly while Vi speared some chicken, much more invested in watching this prim-and-proper journalist consume food than eating her own.

Caitlyn took a pause from inhaling the rice dish to say “what?”

Vi smiled, tilted her head slightly, shifted in her seat. She felt slightly bruised - Caitlyn’s ministrations picked up speed as they had gone along, resulting in her kneeling between Vi’s legs and whirring in and out of her while she’d gripped the sheets in her fists and arched -

“You’re so beautiful,” Vi said softly, still with her chicken hovering six inches over her container, speared on her fork. Caitlyn smiled - shy, much to shy for someone who was whispering good girl in Vi’s ear twenty minutes prior as Vi struggled to come down from orgasm number four.

“Thanks,” Caitlyn responded, like a dork, before “you are too.”

Vi grinned. “I know.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, scooped up more fried rice, shovelled it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully as she regarded Vi. After a beat, she swallowed, pointed at Vi with her spoon.

“You’re amazing in a lot of ways, too. You’re a good person.”

Vi nodded, suddenly uneasy with the direction of the conversation.

“I’m proud that you took that job. You’ll do good things there - I haven’t known you for long, but even I can tell how passionate you are about the people of this city.”

“They’re my people,” Vi muttered into her chicken, finally eating.

“They are,” Caitlyn confirmed, and smiled softly. Then, she set her spoon down, folded her hands.

“Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”

Vi frowned at the question, shook her head. “Don’t think so. Why?”

“Well,” Caitlyn said, shifting nearly imperceptibly in her seat, “I was thinking that, though it might be uncomfortable without a change of clothes, and we’d most likely need to move your bike from the visitor’s to my guest spot so it doesn’t get towed, and I do need to go to the mechanic’s to check on my car eventually, and-”

“Are you asking me to stay over?”

Caitlyn jerked her head, snapping out of her tangent. She blinked at Vi, then curled her lips at the expression on Vi’s face - open, earnest, eager.

“If you’d like,” Caitlyn offered.

“I’d love to,” Vi said, smiling back, “I can even give you a lift to the shop, if you’d like.”

“Great. Settled,” Caitlyn said, and began eating the rice at a much more measured pace. Vi, too, picked at the chicken, pacing herself. Every now and again she’d sneak a glance towards Caitlyn, only to find her eyes. They smiled every time it happened.

Vi was on her knees, her hands gripping her ankles at the base of the bed. Caitlyn was in front of her, stripped bare except for those fucking purple boxers, a packing ring supporting a blue cock that bobbed in front of her. She was doing her best to lubricate it with her tongue and lips as Caitlyn held her head steady, tilting her to work her gaping mouth up the side of the shaft, back to the tip, and down the other side. The whole time, Caitlyn kept making little coos, noises that signalled how much she approved of Vi being wanton and waiting and ready for her.

When it was shiny with her spit, Caitlyn tugged on her hair and stepped aside, insistent little pulls that had Vi rising to her feet, turning on a heel and bending herself over the foot of the bed, arms outstretched in front of her. Caitlin used her feet to spread Vi wide, her hands stroking up Vi’s ass and lower back, nails dragging back downwards until they found the base of her cock.

Caitlyn tilted the cock until it was pressed  where she needed it, slowly pushed forwards, rocked back. She worked it into Vi slowly, surely, with a meticulous Vi had come to expect - each forward advance making her keen lightly, swallow back little noises as it dragged into her, dragged back out.

When - finally - it bottomed out in her, Vi’s back arched under the attention, a growl trapped in her throat as Caitlyn slowly moved forwards, crawling up her body until Caitlyn’s limbs and torso were surrounding her, one bicep curling underneath Vi’s chin, the other arm stretching in front of her, pressed into the mattress for leverage.

“Taking it so well,” Caitlyn whispered into Vi’s hair, kissing there as she ground herself into Vi, making Vi whimper at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Vi grunted, then, “fuck, I can take more.”

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Caitlyn asked, and Vi buried her face into Caitlyn’s arm, nodding, breathless, wanting.

“Okay, darling. Okay.”

Caitlyn’s hips rocked backwards, and jerked forwards, expelling Vi’s breath on a gasp. Another slow rock out, a jerk forwards, and Vi’s foot came off of the ground, knee bending as she squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her face further into Caitlyn’s forearm as Caitlyn began to fuck her in earnest, hard, deep thrusts that sent her hips deep into the mattress, the bed creaking lightly, scraping against the floor inch by inch as Caitlyn plunged in and out, in and out, until Vi’s clenched teeth began to ache and her breath came in staccato bursts.

She came with stars behind her eyes, a soft bed under her front, and Caitlyn all around her, Caitlyn’s voice calling her baby and darling and she felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

So loved.

Vi woke up sometime in the night to a gasp, and Caitlyn on top of her, riding her thigh while asleep, slick underwear dragging up her skin. She flailed for a moment in consciousness, trying to find purchase from being thrust from sleep so suddenly, and managed to grip Caitlyn’s hips as the other woman let out a grunt, her own eyes blinking, widening, meeting Vi’s.

“What’s-” Caitlyn began, and Vi shushed her with a kiss, urging her hips forwards, allowing Caitlyn to glide on her, a whimper trapped between their lips paired with a sigh of contentment. Caitlyn shifted so that her own thigh was pressing against Vi’s core with each down thrust, and they faltered for a moment before finding a rhythm, pressing pounding hearts together as their hips worked together, a soft, gentle coupling punctuated by soft, slow kisses and the long, languid stroking of their fingers.

This moment without words was a gift, in the early hours, with the sun still trapped far below the horizon.

They were making breakfast in the morning when it was finally said - or, rather, they were heating up the leftovers of the chinese food they’d started into the day before. Vi was wearing one of Caitlyn’s oversized hoodies and her boxers, the sleeves slightly too long for her, coming down to just over her fingertips. Caitlyn wore a robe - one that Vi had rolled her eyes when she’d spotted, but hadn’t tried to fight the smile that accompanied the gesture - that was deep crimson red, material looking smooth and soft and accentuating the ropy muscle that moved beneath it.

Vi was just finishing her turn in the microwave, leaning up on her tiptoes to look at the rotating chinese food when Caitlyn made a distressed kind of sound from behind her. Curiously, Vi looked over her shoulder, finding Caitlyn watching her, spoon in hand, plate on the table, taking a deep breath.

“I, uh,” Caitlyn started, hesitated, and then, “think I love you.”

Vi froze, took a deep, slow breath, and punched the microwave open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn said, shaking her head, tossing her spoon on the kitchen table. “Total stereotype.”

“You said it,” Vi responded, heart thumping in her chest as she took her plate to the kitchen table, set it gently on the wood, sat down. She watched Caitlyn as she also sat, and they regarded one another over their food, somberly.

“That’s a bad idea,” Vi said.

“What?” Caitlyn asked, immediately looking at her plate, alarm in her features.

“No, not - not the food, uh. Loving me.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just - I have a lot to figure out, Caitlyn. I can be pretty standoffish, and we just had a whole- thing, our week together. I don’t know if-”

“I know,” Caitlyn said, softly, “I know all the rationale. I just think I should be honest with you - you deserve honesty.”

“Thanks,” Vi muttered, and stuck some of the food in her mouth to prevent from speaking further.

Caitlyn watched her for a moment. “You also deserve love, Vi.”

Vi nodded, hesitant. “I’m trying to.”

“You’ve already succeeded, darling,” Caitlyn said matter-of-factly, like this wasn’t a controversial statement at all, and began to dig into her breakfast.

Vi started to eat too, then tossed her fork back into the food. “I think I love you too,” she scowled out.

Caitlyn smiled, took a bite, and wiggled her eyebrows, causing Vi to chuckle, shake her head.

“Such a stereotype,” Vi muttered.

“Such a stereotype,” Caitlyn agreed.

Vi reached across the table, and Caitlyn reached too. Their fingers entwined there on the scarred wood, soft smiles meeting across them, the smell of reheated chinese wafting into the air between them and the sounds of Piltover reaching their ears.