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The mansion is cold. Eerie, too, the way it sits in silence—not a creak or a breeze. Forever pristine and polished, like it’s encased in amber. Vi hates it. She wishes she could go home, but there is no home to go to anymore.
What an absolutely depressing thought.
All those years she was stuck in Stillwater, planning what she would do when she got out. How she would track down Powder and re-establish their little family. All those sleepless nights, those laid-out plans. Just to stumble out of one prison and into another.
Because this is a prison, in its own way. To be stuck here, inside these tall marble walls in the very city that’s stolen so much from her already. It’s a pretty prison, she won’t deny it. But a prison nonetheless.
Mrs. and Mr. Kiramman are not unlike the guards that take a little too much pleasure in humiliating their prisoners. And the house staff—Zaunites who make their daily trek to the Kiramman household just to be treated as no better than the scum they clean off the floors. They’re the prisoners that stare her down and size her up—the ones always moments away from fighting for their place, as if it’s not at the very bottom of the food chain.
It’s not all bad, though. Caitlyn is here. With her soft hands and her blue eyes and that unshakable determination to do what’s right. There’s never been anyone like her—not in Zaun, and certainly not in Stillwater.
“Mother says we must wait until the morning to speak to the council,” she says frustratedly, and Vi notices the furrow between her eyebrows. Her fingers itch to touch it, to smooth it out, to ease her worry.
“Will they listen?” Vi asks.
“We’ll have to make them listen.”
Always so stubborn, always so headstrong–always drawing Vi in.
“I’ll come back tomorrow and we can—”
“What?” Caitlyn interrupts her, and there’s that furrowed brow again.
It’s not fair, Vi thinks. To be that pretty.
“You’re not staying here?” Caitlyn asks.
Oh, what a difficult question. To stay in this mansion, this epitome of everything that’s wrong with Piltover. A week ago she would have said fuck no. But, then again, a week ago she didn’t know Caitlyn Kiramman.
What it is about her, Vi has no idea. She doesn’t have the words for it. But there’s a softness in her gaze, a warmth in her touch. It’s something that she’s never felt before. She doesn’t know when she started to notice it, only that she can’t ignore it any longer.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asks, and as she waits for Caitlyn’s response, she realizes she’s holding her breath.
Say yes, she thinks. Say you want me here. Say you want me with you.
Caitlyn’s cheeks turn a very faint shade of pink. “Oh, well, yes. I mean, you’re welcome to, if you’d like. I’ve got plenty of room in my bed.” Vi’s eyebrows shoot up at the suggestion—her heart skipping a beat. Caitlyn’s does too, her face now flushing fully red as she scrambles to add, “O-or you can take one of the guest rooms, of course. I’ll go tell Mother now, actually. We have…”
She’s rambling now, and Vi only catches every other word—too busy thinking about how soft Caitlyn’s bed would be, how warm it would feel to lie beside her. It doesn’t help, either, that as Caitlyn talks her tooth gap appears and reappears with each syllable. It’s so inexplicably attractive. All of her is—her messy ponytail, her blushing face, her annoyingly posh accent.
“...So, really, you can take any room you want,” Caitlyn finishes at last.
And Vi nods once, then confidently says, “I want yours.”
—
Caitlyn Kiramman doesn’t get butterflies. She never has, not really. The closest sensation has been the feeling right before pulling the trigger on a rifle—when the air is taught with anticipation, when every breath has to be measured. And still, it doesn’t compare to this. To seeing Vi in a white shirt and oversized boxers, standing at the foot of her bed and looking right at her—with those beautiful grey eyes, so soft now where they were once hard and untrusting.
Something shifted between them, somewhere along the way. Caitlyn can’t pinpoint exactly where or when, but she knows there is no going back. And it’s still all so simple, so innocent. It’s warm glances and soft touches and hugs that last a little too long to be platonic.
Am I delusional in thinking that you feel the same? she wonders. That you’re as drawn to me as I am to you? That you dread having to say goodbye again? That your skin burns to be touched, your lips ache to be kissed? Is that too much? Is it just me who wants to feel you, wants to know what your softness tastes like? Is it just me who wants to know you—all of you? Please, don’t you want to know me too?
Caitlyn is yanked away from her thoughts—her ruminations—when the boxers slide off Vi’s hips just so, revealing a trail of pink curls running up to her abdomen. Suddenly she feels rather faint.
“Are these your boyfriend’s clothes?” Vi asks, glancing down at herself as she nervously runs her hands through her hair. And Caitlyn wants to run her own hands through it, to tangle up her fingers in her pink locks.
“You still think I fancy men?” Caitlyn says back, and Vi chuckles.
“Guess that answers that question then,” she says as she lets herself fall onto the bed.
It’s odd seeing Vi in her bed—unusual and different. But not bad. No, not bad at all. And Caitlyn has had her fair share of girls in her bed, but never has she truly stopped to look at them like this. Never has she hoped that they would stay for longer than just a few hours. Never has she thought, You’re what’s been missing all those nights I couldn’t sleep.
“Oh, is this your side?” Vi asks, and Caitlyn realizes she’s been staring.
“No, no,” Caitlyn says. “It’s fine. I typically sleep in the middle, but I don’t mind. Take whichever side you’d like.”
As long as you’re here, Caitlyn finds herself thinking, I’m sure I’ll sleep just fine.
—
It doesn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep. After the last couple of days they’ve had, their bodies are exhausted in more ways than one. They talk, if only for a few moments—about their childhoods and their upbringings. How different they are, almost mirror opposites. And yet, there’s a thread there—a connection somewhere. They both feel it. That tug, that pull towards each other. Has that always been there?
These are the questions they ask themselves as they doze off, curled up facing each other—mirror images, even now.
—
Vi wakes up in the middle of the night. It's something she’s always done for as long as she can remember. But this time it’s different. This time there’s the warm press of Caitlyn’s body up against hers. It’s soothing, it’s peaceful—it’s so, so nice.
She blinks, trying to adjust to the darkness and fully orient herself. Caitlyn’s face is buried in Vi’s chest, her arm over her waist, and their legs intertwined. Vi’s heart soars at this unexpected closeness, this undeserving warmth.
She should roll away, should give her space. She knows that. But she finds she does not want to. It feels too good like this–bodies together, breaths and heartbeats in sync. She thinks back to the way they hugged at the bridge, when they thought they’d likely never see each other again. It sent a wave of warmth straight through her then. And it does again now. Except that now it’s ten times better–ten times warmer. She’s going to melt here, with Caitlyn in her arms.
Caitlyn nuzzles closer, and Vi can’t help but place her lips on the top of her head–not quite kissing it, though the thought crosses her mind. She breathes in and takes in the scent of her hair. Sweet like lavender.
Vi can’t remember the last time she felt like this. Has she ever? She doesn’t know, she doesn’t care. All she has the capacity to think about right now is I hope this night never ends.
It has to, of course, and she knows this. They have to speak to the council, end Silco’s reign over the undercity, and get Powder back. She sighs, the day ahead already weighing so heavy on her.
But then Caitlyn stirs, letting out the sweetest, softest sound that she’s ever heard–and Vi’s mind goes blank again. Tomorrow can wait.
—
“Hey, hey,” Vi whispers. “Cait, it’s okay.”
Caitlyn furrows her brow, clinging onto Vi’s voice like a lifeline. The images in her mind—gunfire and explosions and blood and betrayal and—
“I’ve got you,” Vi says, and it’s so soft, so gentle—so fully reserved for Caitlyn’s ears alone. “You’re okay.”
The dream begins to fade away, giving way to reality. But Caitlyn’s frantic heart doesn’t yet settle, needing more comfort. Comfort that Vi is more than happy to provide, circling her arms around her trembling body and pulling her in closer.
Vi smells just like the trees she grew up around–the ones that watched her shoot at targets, that kept her company when no one else would. She nuzzles deeper into her chest–perhaps by instinct, perhaps because she’s greedy. She wants to drown herself in her—to take all of her warmth, all of her softness so that no one else can have it.
Oh, what a selfish, needy thought. But in this moment, with the dead of night cloaking them, with her nightmare still at the forefront of her mind—it’s the only thought that she can formulate. I want all of you, all to myself.
“Oh, I know,” Vi coos, feeling the way Caitlyn’s body shakes. “I know, baby, I know.”
Caitlyn’s heart stutters now for different reasons. Baby. Such a silly little word–and yet it’s enough to fully bring her to the present.
She blinks her eyes open, finally taking in her surroundings—fully registering the feel of being in Vi’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” she says automatically as she starts to pull away, but Vi’s grip around her keeps her close. “I didn’t realize I–”
“It’s okay,” Vi says again. “You had a nightmare, but you’re safe now.”
“I feel safe,” Caitlyn’s words come out before she can stop them, before she can unpack what they mean. In your arms, in your presence. I feel safe.
“Good,” Vi says, and even though it’s dark, Caitlyn can tell that there’s a small smile there. How she wishes she could see it, could see all of her. “Is it okay that I keep holding you?”
It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.
“Yes,” Caitlyn says, settling back into her chest. “You’re very soft.”
Where is her filter tonight? She is too tired, too sleepy—too absolutely smitten—to care.
Vi chuckles. “Soft?”
“I just…I didn’t expect you to be this comfortable,” she explains.
Vi full on laughs, and Caitlyn basks in the sound. “Don’t let the muscles fool you, Cupcake.”
“You’re warm too,” she says. “It’s nice.”
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Vi suggests. “I’ll be right here if you have another nightmare.”
“All right.”
—
“Vi?” Caitlyn whispers.
“Mhm?” Vi hums groggily in response.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“‘S okay. Did you have another nightmare?”
“No,” she says simply because the truth feels like too much.
I just wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice, is what she wants to say. I wanted to dismantle all your sentences in my mind until I got to the core of you. Because I crave to disassemble you like one of my favorite rifles—to memorize each piece, run my fingers along them and feel every one of your ridges and divots. Just to, then, put you back together. Just to, then, say that I know you.
“These past few days have been nothing short of terrible,” she says instead. “But I… I’m glad that I met you. That I got you out of Stillwater. I’m glad it’s you.”
“How’d you pick me anyway?” Vi asks, genuinely curious.
“Your connections to the undercity,” she half-lies.
And, of course, Vi sees right through it. “Over half of the inmates have connections. What made you pick me ?”
Caitlyn groans, burying her face deeper in Vi’s chest as she says, “You’re going to think it’s daft.”
“Try me.”
Caitlyn sighs, but finally admits, “I liked your eyes.”
“My eyes?”
“There’s a photograph in your file,” she explains. “I thought you had very nice eyes. And…you do.”
She can feel Vi smiling into her hair as she says, “What a roundabout way to say you think I’m hot.”
“That’s not–I’m not…!” Caitlyn argues, pulling herself back from the embrace, though their limbs remain tangled up together.
Vi laughs, loosening her grip to let her put space between them–space that they both know won’t last. “What? You don’t think I’m hot?”
“I…” Caitlyn all but short circuits.
And Vi, being ever the gentleman, helps her out. “You know I think you’re hot.”
Caitlyn’s cheeks warm, the words coming back to her—though they never really left—saying, You’re hot, Cupcake.
“Fine. Yes,” she admits if only to relieve some of the tension in the air. “All right, I think you’re hot . I don’t know why you need me to say it. It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”
“What’s obvious?”
“That I’m attracted to you,” she says. And then, “That I fancy you.” What a small word for such a big feeling, but it’s the only one she has.
“Oh, I–” Now it’s Vi’s turn to short-circuit, to stutter and stumble. “I fancy you too,” she manages to say, liking the way the unfamiliar word feels on her tongue. “And I’m attracted to you. Obviously. A lot. On both accounts.”
Nice going, Vi thinks to herself sarcastically. Way to be smooth about it.
But still, there’s a weight to the words—to both of theirs. And so it suddenly feels terribly hot in this room; the space between them now both too much and not enough.
“A lot?” Caitlyn repeats.
“Yeah.”
“Should I not be this close to you, then?” Caitlyn asks, her voice light. “Is it causing you difficulties?”
“Are you teasing me?” Vi asks.
“Do you like being teased?”
“Fuck, Cait,” she chuckles, pretending the words didn’t just stir up something deep inside her–something she hasn’t allowed herself to feel for some time now. “You’re something else.”
“I can give you more space if you’d—oh!”
Vi interrupts her by lunging forward, rolling Caitlyn onto her back and hovering above her. Their chests are flush against each other again, not a single inch between them. The sudden movement makes Caitlyn giggle. And it’s all still so playful, bordering on innocent. But there’s something else here now—the warmth has now turned into heat. The softness into tension .
“Have you got a girlfriend in Stillwater that’s going to try to murder me when she gets out?” Caitlyn asks.
Vi shakes her head. “No girlfriend, Cupcake.”
“Good,” Caitlyn says, satisfied, her hands coming up to Vi’s face. Her fingers trace her features—her sharp jaw, her perfect nose. And Vi lets her.
How good it feels to be touched like this—to be seen without eyes, to be committed to memory. Caitlyn will think back on tonight for many nights to come. She’ll bring her fingertips to her lips and kiss them, imagining all the places on Vi’s face that they have touched.
“I’ve never felt like this for someone so quickly,” Caitlyn says. I’ve never felt like this for anyone at all.
“Me neither.”
They lie there in silence for another moment, both of them taking in what they’ve just admitted to each other. It was so easy to say, wasn’t it? Because it was already so clearly written on their faces, infused into every touch. They realize, then, that it wasn’t truly the fear of rejection that had been holding them back. No, it was worse–it was the dread of reality.
“If things were different…” Vi starts, and what she means is, If we were anybody else …
“I know,” Caitlyn sighs. “This is still rather nice. Being here with you.”
“Yeah.”
“This is our only night together, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Then perhaps, we shouldn’t waste it?” she suggests.
“You want to…?” Vi’s throat runs dry and her heart hammers in her chest. “I mean,..”
“You’re nervous,” Caitlyn points out. What a curious thing for Vi of all people—the one who took Caitlyn to a brothel within the first hour of knowing her—to get so nervous around the prospect of sex.
Vi groans, burying her face in the crook of Caitlyn’s neck—hiding. “ You make me nervous.”
Caitlyn runs her fingers soothingly through Vi’s hair, and feels her melt at the touch. She puts her whole weight on Caitlyn now, and it feels so nice.
“We don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Vi says softly, her warm breath tickling Caitlyn’s skin. “Fuck, baby, I want to so bad.”
Caitlyn’s heart flutters again.
“Then why don’t we?” she asks, trying to stay collected through this, but her voice is already coming out breathy and uneven.
“Because then I won’t want to leave you.”
Then don’t, Caitlyn wants to say, but she knows that’s not something she can ask for. So instead she asks, “Do you want to leave me now?”
Vi lifts her head back up, brow furrowed as she tries to see into Caitlyn’s blue eyes through the dark. “I really don’t.”
“Then what difference will it make? Either way, we have to say goodbye. And either way, we both will hate to.”
Vi takes this in. She’s right, of course. Regardless, she won’t want to walk away. But sleeping together will only make each step she takes away from Caitlyn that much more painful. That much more unbearable.
So the question, really, is, Will it be worth it? And Vi already knows the answer.
—
Caitlyn’s body feels electrified—buzzing and sparking with energy. Feeling the weight of Vi’s body, the weight of Vi’s words— it’s all almost too much.
So when Vi leans in and kisses her, she almost can’t help the moan that slips out of her at the feel of her mouth—her lips, then her tongue, then even her teeth.
It’s such a desperate kiss—so much more than either one of them anticipated that it would be. But it turns out that when you’re this pent up—when you like someone this much—it’s almost impossible to stop once you’ve started. Impossible to go slow, impossible to pace yourself.
They are ravenous, they are parched, they are dying. And the only thing keeping them alive is each other’s bodies—the way they feel, the way they writhe.
Oh, they’re fucking desperate. They’re clawing at each other’s clothes like animals, hands already itching to feel all that newly exposed skin.
“Fuck,” Vi groans into Caitlyn’s mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Why did we wait so long…” Caitlyn wonders out loud in between open-mouthed kisses. “…to do this?”
“We’re such fucking fools,” Vi says, before kissing down Caitlyn’s neck. And Caitlyn thinks, Yes. I reckon I am quite the fool for you.