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Hockey Night in Runeterra ended with a bang - a 3-2 victory for the Ironfists of Ionia over their bitter rivals, the Piltover Lone Stars, and the Ironfists were celebrating in what they colloquially called ‘their bar’.
‘Their bar’ was actually a working class bar equidistant between most of the players’ houses and the rink - the owner made a deal with some captain of the team fifteen years ago, and the Ironfists had come here ever since - filling the bar with local celebrities in exchange for the occasional private back room party where no press could get in. The deal may as well have been made in blood with how seriously the owner took it - on days that the Ironfists needed him to close up shop, he could be found pushing customers out with a broom.
Laura DiPosse sat with Vi Wickett at the bar, sipped from her beer, and slid a glance over at her teammate, smirked. When she finished off her beer pull, she wiped her mouth with her hand, suppressed a belch, and said: “Sloppy finish from us, there, huh?”
“Win’s a win,” Vi said, shrugging, “they don’t ask how, they ask how many.”
Laura laughed. “I bet you say that every time you block a shot with your face.”
Vi grinned at her. “Hit my bucket, not my face. Anytime you don’t lose a giblet’s a good time.”
“Right,” Laura said, smiling, “well, good win, captain.”
Vi’s smile fell a little as she tipped her beer back. Laura watched the way it settled on her - the captaincy. New C’s were hard to take for most teams, but Vi only recently signed a new contract, was one of the youngest players on the squad - it had to be intimidating.
Laura was a few years older, but to her eyes, Vi made a good captain. It was only halfway through her first campaign, but she’d earned respect and was learning on the job - her and Coach Daniels were figuring each other out. If Laura was a betting woman, she’d bet on Daniels being kicked out long before Vi sniffed the trading block.
Plus, Ionia fucking loved her.
Behind the two of them propping up the bar, the team grabbed brews, shook bowls of peanuts, bitched about the game. A few of them were eyeing other bargoers, looking to shoot their shot off the ice as well as they’d played on it.
“Should we keep ‘em focused?” Laura asked, pointing a thumb at the squad. “Beating Piltover is nice, but we’re on a heater - we should keep it rolling against Demascia.”
Vi’s phone lit up with a notification - no contact picture, a semi-colon for a name - and she flipped her phone over, mulling Laura’s words. “I want them loose - I’ve ridden them pretty hard the past few, and beating Kiramman and Landsman is worth celebrating.”
Laura shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
Vi flipped the phone over, texted a few digits, and put it in her pocket, finished her beer off. She clapped Laura on the shoulder as she rose to head out. “Gotta jet - have somewhere to be.”
“Later, cap,” Laura said, and Vi paid the tab - plus a hundred bucks for the rest of the night - and tugged an Ironfists ballcap on her head as she headed into the Ionia weather.
Vi knocked at the hotel room with two knuckles, tugged her ballcap a little lower over her eyebrows. She glanced down the hallway - making sure there was nobody around, always feeling like a covert operative whenever these messages came through.
The door opened, and Vi said, “I wasn’t expecting you to text after we beat you so…”
Vi turned, and was greeted by a black lace set of panties, a sheer pink negligee.
“...bad,” Vi finished, swallowing hard.
A fist formed in Vi’s collar, and the door slammed shut behind her as Kiramman pulled her in.
“Well,” Vi said, gasping for air with her back feeling welded to the bedsheets, “that certainly felt like you felt a type of way about losing.”
“You score two goals in a loss,” Kiramman’s voice called, “tell me if you don’t feel a type of way.”
“No doubt,” Vi mused, smiling at the ceiling, wiping her pink bangs out of her eye. She was thinking of growing a mullet - might make the post-sex haze a little kinder on her abused eyelashes if she could keep the bangs out of them.
She wasn’t ready to leave quite yet, Kiramman wasn’t rushing her out - made the markings for a longer ‘date’. Vi couldn’t say she minded - she could still see Kiramman in lingerie when she closed her eyes.
“Would I look good in a mullet?” Vi called.
“What?”
“A mullet,” Vi continued, “you know - business up front, party in the back?”
“I’m not your stylist.”
“No,” Vi said, rolling her eyes, “but you fuck me four to six times a year.”
“So?”
“So, considering you bring me to your bed four-to-six a campaign, I figured you might have an opinion on my general level of attractiveness. And whatnot.”
“The whatnot is fine,” Kiramman’s voice said after a pause, “I don’t care what your hair looks like.”
Vi propped her head up with her arm, flexing her bicep and letting the lines of her new tattoo bounce with the movement. She liked the way the light hit it, maybe would strike a pose if Kiramman ever came back from the bathroom. “You really have no opinion? Aren’t you like, a fashionable person?”
“I’ve had the same haircut since I got to the show,” Kiramman’s voice said.
Vi shifted herself to be lying on her side, head propped, her other hand at her hip. Her thighs were still sticky, sweat still cooling between her breasts. “Should I get my nipples pierced?” Vi asked.
“Yes.” Kiramman replied immediately.
Vi chuckled. “Well, at least you have priorities.” She frowned, holding her pose for a few moments longer. “What are you doing in there - defusing a bomb?”
“So impatient,” Kiramman muttered, “leave if you’re tired of waiting.”
“You don’t want me to leave,” Vi shot back, but didn’t let that statement linger in case it was wrong. “Seriously, are you trying to break into the hotel vault? A strap can’t be that complicated.”
Kiramman muttered a curse. “Was it that obvious?”
“I mean, you could be doing… your business, I guess, but I imagine you would’ve closed the door at least if that were the case.”
With a groan of strained muscles, Vi got up from the bed, pushed the bathroom door open.
Kiramman was fighting with what appeared to be a purple cock, and a harness with more buckles than Vi had ever seen was half-on her hips, half-off. The cock bobbed as Kiramman’s forearms flexed with the movements, fighting with the little black buckles - three dark satin straps dangling near the tiled floor.
She looked up, flushed. Vi grinned, leaning against the door jam of the bathroom door. “Need a little help?”
Kiramman rolled her eyes. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
“I’m sure,” Vi said, grin widening, “they tell you to act like you’ve been here before with this kind of thing.”
“I’ve - been here before,” Kiramman defended, “but I’ve never - this is the first time I’ve bought one of these. It’s supposed to be good for people with bad knees.”
Vi raised an eyebrow. “Your knee having problems?”
“Some,” Kiramman said, and Vi glanced down bare legs to see a fresh circular bruise on Kiramman’s kneecap.
“I don’t remember you taking one tonight,” Vi said.
“It’s older,” Kiramman snapped, quick - too quick. Vi’s brow creased in curiosity before Kiramman snapped her fingers, pointed to the dick jutting from her pelvis. “Are you here to help, or…?”
Vi stepped closer, gripped the dangling straps and moved them to where she thought they were supposed to go. They looked like they wrapped down Kiramman’s thighs - more support, she supposed - and one buckled behind her ass. The harness was a deep purple, slightly off the shade of the cock, closer to Kiramman’s hair. There was a little mesh window in it to display a thatch of Cait’s pubic hair - kept neat and tidy.
Vi crouched to one knee and began to buckle Kiramman in fully, shifting and adjusting the twisted straps. Kiramman tried to help with quick and nervous fingers, but let Vi do her thing after the third time Vi batted them away. The low crouch brought Vi closer to the bruised knee - too fresh to be before the game.
Vi pushed it from her mind, buckled the last strap, and glanced up at Kiramman, the cock bobbing in her vision. “Feel okay?”
“Yeah,” Kiramman said, twisting her hips experimentally, thrusting slightly. The cock held firm, and she looked hot like this - with her hips framed by the purple criss-crossing satin, the black buckles, the semi-translucent dick.
“It looks a little hinky,” Vi said, “move forwards again?”
Kiramman frowned. “It looks fine to me. Let’s go to the bed.”
“I don’t want to readjust it,” Vi said, “just - move forwards again.”
Kiramman rolled her eyes, bucked her hips forwards, and let out a gasp as Vi captured the strap between her lips, cupped Kiramman’s hips, and bobbed her head forwards.
“ Fuck ,” Kiramman groaned, and the sound of her posh accent swearing had Vi licking at the silicone, her big hands stroking down Kiramman’s thighs, her fingernails gliding back up. Kiramman placed one hand against the bathroom counter, the other slid into pink tresses as Vi sucked and slobbered on that purple cock, making it shine in the bathroom light as she bobbed her head.
“God,” Kiramman said, tugging at Vi’s hair as the forward worked the cock with her lips, her tongue lashing out slowly to lick along the base, bathing it. “You look so fucking good like this.”
Vi popped off the strap, grinned upwards. “You didn’t expect to walk out of the bathroom wearing a strap without me getting it ready , do you?”
“I didn’t know what to expect,” Kiramman replied, as Vi bent forwards to drag her tongue along one side of the toy, “we’ve never done - this, before.”
Four to six times a year, they’d played with fingers and mouths, grinding, hands on toys, vibrators - but never this. Vi had practice on both sides of it - she liked the challenge in different ways - but didn’t know Kiramman enjoyed this, didn’t know she was willing to go here.
“I want to,” Vi said, “do you?”
Kiramman’s eyes were dark and needy as Vi punctuated her question with a hand stroking the dick, testing how wet she’d made it.
“Yes,” Kiramman said, quiet and firm.
Vi nodded, rose to her feet. They looked one another in the eye - Kiramman had widened her stance so she was only a few inches taller, the fucking bitch - and Kiramman’s hands stroked down Vi’s hips, one sliding up her back to grip her hair.
Vi thought she was about to kiss her - was about to slide away in a panic, when Kiramman gripped her hair, turned her around, and pushed against her spine.
“Right here?” Vi asked, as she bent low.
“Can’t wait,” Kiramman said, and Vi felt the cock run up her slit and heard Kiramman’s low growl. “Fuck. You’re so fucking soaked, Vi.”
“The harness,” Vi groaned, as she felt the blunt head begin to push into her, “is ridiculous, but it makes you look so fucking hot, Kiramman.”
Kiramman’s grip on her hair kept her from bending further forwards, her ab muscles tightening in protest as Kiramman worked the cock slowly forwards. It was on the thinner side, five inches long, and it worked inside Vi so cleanly and quickly because Vi could feel herself leaving trails of wetness down her thighs, the cold of the bathroom raising gooseflesh on the back of her knees.
When Kiramman bottomed out, she began to grind forwards and back, micro-movements that made Vi groan, her hands reaching for purchase on the wall in front of her, something to push back on for extra friction.
“God,” Vi panted, “that feels just perfect. That feels good.”
“Tried to get one that was close to three fingers,” Kiramman panted back, “I know that’s what you like.”
Vi did. Oh, Vi so did as Kiramman worked the dick as deep as it could go, ground into Vi’s wiggling, seeking hips. Kiramman’s grip on Vi’s hair was short lived, the tresses slipping from her fingers as she instead moved to gripping both of Vi’s hips and holding on for dear life as Vi bucked against her, working back against the cock, wiggling her ass and flexing her spine to take her pleasure. Kiramman worked herself into her with a surety that Vi didn’t expect for someone she’d caught literal moments ago being confused by a harness, but she was grateful for it - so grateful to fuck an athlete with body control, who reacted to her seamlessly, pushed when she pushed and pulled when she pulled.
Vi had tried, sometimes, to categorize what was happening here - when she wasn’t trying not to think about it at all. The sex was good - fuck, the sex was great . But sometimes Kiramman was desperate for her, and sometimes Vi was a little bit desperate for Kiramman, too. Maybe it was seeing her name always paired with Kiramman’s, or maybe it was that Vi had developed a thing for tall and willowy and muscular femmes, or maybe it was just the utter lack of strings - Kiramman would text her, or Vi would text Kiramman, and they’d be having sex in fifteen minutes or less like a pizza place guarantee.
But that was about all the philosophical musings her brain was willing to process, because just then, Kiramman gripped her hips, slammed into her, shifted, and hit a fucking spot that made Vi squeak and jerk forwards, a tingle erupting from her stomach.
Kiramman paused, blew a few times - likely trying to get hair out of her mouth. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” Vi gasped through grit teeth, “that was - good.”
“Good?” Kiramman asked, and probed lightly, wiggling her hips. “Where?”
“Don’t - fuck ,” Vi whimpered.
“Oooh,” Kiramman said, smugness in her tone, “good. Right here?”
Again, she hit the spot, and again, Vi’s toes curled and her abs clenched and her fingernails dug into the wall.
“Right there,” Kiramman replied smugly, and began to work the cock to drive into that spot - again and again and again until Vi was letting out gasping wails that echoed on the tile wall, until she was lifting onto her toes and her body was working without her. Her fingers spread wide, her left eye closed, her neck lost the fight to keep her head up as she was bobbed and wobbled around as Kiramman punished that spot inside her with quick and deep thrusts and she was cumming, cumming, cumming around the dick.
Kiramman pulled at Vi’s arms until she was upright and leaning backwards, the strap still inside her as Kiramman pet down Vi’s front - nipples, abs, the thatch of hair that grew wild and untamed on Vi’s pubic bone. All the while she ground against Vi’s ass, her own little pants from the friction wetting Vi’s ear.
“Need to cum?” Vi groaned, working herself back into Kiramman when her legs were steady.
“I’m ready to blow,” Kiramman admitted, voice rough with need, “I can get there by just - is it okay if I keep-”
“Yeah,” Vi said, hands gripping back onto Kiramman’s hips as she worked her forwards, the muscles of her ass rubbing against that stupid-complicated harness, making Kiramman grunt. They worked together, Kiramman’s lips against Vi’s hairline, Vi’s hands stroking and biting into her thighs.
If it were anyone else, she’d probably be adding a slow, teasing makeout to this, but - well. They never kissed. They didn’t kiss.
It was a rule they’d made. Kiramman made it - or maybe Vi did. Someone had ducked first, anyways.
Kiramman shuddered, whined, and exhaled loudly into Vi’s ear, wrapping her arms around Vi’s ribs. Vi squeezed back, murmuring sweet nothings - little appraisals, good girls, precious diamonds as Kiramman broke apart and held her close.
Instead of kissing, Vi breathed her in as Kiramman bent around her, tight as a bowstring, nuzzled her hairline. Instead of kissing, Vi watched her shatter and slowly reform.
Kiramman stood up straight after a moment, and Vi pulled forwards until the cock slipped out of her, standing purple and brilliant against the darker shade of the harness.
“Maybe a mullet would work,” Kiramman said, a little shaky, “it would give me more to grab, anyways.”
Vi grinned. “I’ve done more drastic things for worse reasons, I guess. You look good in purple.”
Kiramman rolled her eyes. “You said I looked good on red and black when we fucked at your place last time.”
“You did,” Vi mused, frowned, “you do.”
They locked eyes - the third time they’d fuck this campaign, third of four-to-six, and Vi grinned - sharp and sure.
“I think we both look good on red and black, honestly,” Vi said.
Kiramman began to unbuckle her harness, fighting her own smile.
“We do,” Kiramman said.