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Be My Lullaby

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Kat flops onto the bed, worn and out of breath, not even bothering to take off her shoes. The covers are soft beneath her back, soft like relief and clouds and fluffy bunnies and she doesn’t know why she feels dizzy even when she’s lying down. Maybe she should drink something. She should probably drink something. Whatever.

"Long day of killing?" says that familiar voice, always taking on a nice post-coital quality even when they have knives at each other’s throats.

"You have no idea,” Katarina replies with a groan. “I thought you were scheduled for a match today.”

When she looks up a little, Yasuo is grinning. “They surrendered,” he says. He climbs onto the bed and starts removing her boots. “So, tell me about your day.”

At Yasuo’s domestic tone, Kat snorts out a laugh. He smiles down at her, starting to undo her belt. “Had a run-in with the Crownguards about an hour ago,” she says. “Think the big one’s under the impression he has something to prove now that he’s getting the handjobs of Noxus.”

"Wasn’t that your doing?" Yasuo says, quirking an eyebrow. Kat smacks him.

"Long-ass fight, long-ass walk home, long-ass day, haven’t had a chance to stop for much of anything since I left here," she sighs.

Graciously, Yasuo offers his hip flask. Despite knowing full well that alcohol is not a good solution to dehydration, Kat downs the whole damn thing anyway. It… really doesn’t take long for her to start feeling a bit blurred at the edges. 

He’s taking her clothes off, she realizes blearily. How about that. “I’m in no state to be lovemaking, y’know,” she says, smacking him in the shoulder.

"Wasn’t planning on it ‘til you got some rest, kitten," Yasuo replies, kissing her forehead. "But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you sleep with all those knives strapped to gods-know-where."

Kat giggles, rolling into him and hugging his thigh. “Thanks.”

"You want your nightclothes?" he asks. She does her best to shrug while her lover is taking off her corset. "All right. Think you can sleep like this?"

"Mm, only if you’re not leaving me here," Katarina replies, nuzzling his hip. 

Yasuo strokes her hair with one hand, fumbling at his belt with the other. Kat would question it, but damn, that was some strong whatever. Tasted damn good, though. 

His hand leaves her scalp, and she curls tighter around his waist. Yasuo is so dreadfully warm, she thinks blissfully. 

The soft tones of a wind instrument float overhead, and Kat barely manages to crack her eyes open to watch Yasuo playing a small reed flute. Huh. Well, she already knew he was good with his mouth. It’s not too much of a surprise. (She wishes he’d said something earlier, though.)

The tune is slow—almost mournful, she thinks. Or, well, tries to. Thinking is hard when her mind is fogged with alcohol and the warmth of her Ionian lover and the sweet melody of his lullaby. Her breathing is already starting to slow. She wants to watch him play, wants to savor the moment, but… but…


 

Yasuo pauses when he hears Kat snoring. Smiling, he steps off the bed and tucks her in before nestling himself into place beside her.