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For the second time in less than a month, Caitlyn Kiramman found herself eye to eye with a detestably extensive plethora of bouquets.
The pocket of her mind that insisted on incessantly cataloging information was frantically chronicling the display of botany before her — lilies, orchids, bursts of jasmine, roses and tulips in every imaginable shade, bluebells, irises, hyacinths, the list seemed to go on. Each bouquet had clearly been purchased from Piltover’s high-end florists — every petal, every stem and leaf, was genetically tailored to be absolutely flawless and emit an unnatural quantity of corresponding perfume. More than anything, the smell was far more overpowering than the colour assaulting her from the small greenhouse suddenly residing in her childhood bedroom. Caitlyn felt her neck strain as her head cocked to one side, eyes still fixated on the floral parade. Flower arranging had been one of the alternatives Cassandra Kiramman had tried to redirect her daughter towards, when it became clear her interest in firing rifles was more than just a passing fascination. They’d spent many tedious hours together, Cassandra fussing over colour palettes and scent combinations, the proportions of the vase compared to the flowers being displayed, whilst her younger self had valiantly tried not to fall asleep …
Now, she would never again even get to spend hours in the company of her mother, let alone participating in activities as exorbitantly wasteful as arranging flowers.
Caitlyn released blindly behind her and pulled shut the door behind her, the same hand fumbling to turn the lock. It wasn’t necessarily that she wished to be alone — despite that the printed manuscript for the eulogy she’d given at her mother’s funeral was still fisted in her other hand, indicating she had every reason for such a desire. It was more the fact that there would be nobody knocking on her bedroom door that Caitlyn wished to see.
Jayce was medically comatose; her father had been isolating himself in his study behind a firmly locked door since they’d returned home from the hospital, emerging only to attend Cassandra’s funeral; and Vi … well, she hadn’t seen the Undercity girl since the night when everything had changed, and Vi had delivered her to a medical facility that hadn’t her past the foyer reception of the crude basis of her class status. She didn’t want to think about Vi, because that meant thinking about Jinx — or was it Powder now? She couldn’t remember, the details smudged thanks to injury-induced memory loss — Jinx , who kidnapped her from her bathroom and pointed a pistol at her head, before shooting down the building with Caitlyn’s mother inside it, after she’d put a bullet in Silco.
But she didn’t allow herself to stew on the matter any further. It already felt like she was falling apart at the seams thanks to the loss of her mother; she didn’t need to further unspool thanks to somebody who hadn’t even bothered to send a note in the last few days.
Stepping deliberately around her assembled florist display and filing a mental note to have the servants relocate them to the compost chute in the morning, Caitlyn crossed her room to her bed. Her conspiracy board still lay on the floor, neglected. Despite that she could now confidently fill the gaps she had spent months puzzling over, Caitlyn had not been able to bring herself to amend the board. Instead, she’d thrown a silken bed sheet over it and resolved not to dwell on the board until her mother’s funeral and the other necessary arrangements and events was … dealt with.
Caitlyn glanced towards the bathroom — she had no intention of entering it, unable to shake off the paranoia that Jinx would once more be waiting amongst the steam, her eyes glinting with the inevitably catastrophic pairing of murderous and madness, armed to the teeth, one of her signature doodles sketched out on the mirror. She resisted the shudder that threatened to spider its way down her spine and instead turned towards her vanity. She had worn expensive, effeminate clothes that Cassandra had always liked best on her, dyed black by the household servants a few days ago for the occasion. Her hair was pinned up in an up-do, and her makeup was appropriately somber — excluding the telltale tracks of mascara. Unable to regard her own reflection for a moment longer, Caitlyn hastily removed her makeup, wrestled her hair out of the formal style, and exchanged her funeral attire for a set of linen pyjamas.
Yet she did not move to her bed and the physical comfort it offered. Part of it was courtesy of the emotional energy still pelt up inside her; Caitlyn doubted she could relax when her energy levels felt barely emptied, her thoughts as ever-moving and boisterous as a migrating flock of geese. The other half of it was the issue of her own hygiene — she hadn’t showered for days since the Jinx incident, and she was beginning to physically feel it, like a film of grime and sweat residing on her skin.
Naturally, it began to rain, reflecting the tempestuous riot of emotions within her. Caitlyn could clearly hear it drumming on her window panes, on the roof overhead, and for a moment simply considered walking downstairs and into the gardens, lying down on her back amongst her mother’s flowerbeds, and letting the rainwater wash over her. At the very least, she would be less inclined to glance over her shoulder and confirm Jinx wasn’t there, ready as an ambush.
Gazing out of the window, Caitlyn allowed herself to become captivated by the steady cycle of raindrops chasing themselves down the glass panel. Beyond the window, Piltover was laid out like an ornate tapestry, and above it, swollen black thunderclouds had invaded the usual nighttime scene of moonlight and stars.
And then, just outside her window, she saw something move . Too large to be anything mistaken as a small animal — large and long and distinctly human-shaped.
Her mind flashing back to Jinx, throat lurching with panic, Caitlyn dived for the nightstand, and yanked out the drawer so swiftly it was sent to the carpeted floor with a clattering thunk . Amongst the mess of paper and trinkets sat a revolver, its silvery barrel winking in the lamplight. Despite how jittery she felt, her hand was steady as she seized the firearm and directed its aim back to the window.
… where a figure was easing open the window, lock picks in hand, hood yanked up over their hair. Caitlyn’s lungs hitched as she set eyes on the flash of pink hair, grimy hand wraps, a familiar red jacket.
She found herself lowering the gun. “ Vi ?”
The other girl threw back her hood properly, sending rainwater flying in every direction, pocketing the lock picks. For a long moment Caitlyn could only drink in the sight of her. She still looked as battered as she had a few days ago after Jinx’s catalytic dinner party; sporadically dusted in her own blood, soaked hair clinging to her face and neck like insistent tentacles, purpled bags cupped under her eyes. Her Hextech gauntlets were absent, Caitlyn noted, as Vi cleared her throat, blue eyes flashing to meet hers. “Hey there, cupcake.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Way to make a girl feel welcome,” Vi cocked her head pointedly to the window she had just emerged through. “I’ll just let myself out again, shall I?”
Caitlyn was shaking her head, setting her revolver on the foot of her bed. Every inch of her seemed to be yearning to approach Vi, to touch her, to affirm that she was truly there and not some detailed hallucination produced by fatigue and grief. Yet she held herself back, keeping a distance between herself and the brawler. “Please, don’t go. I haven’t seen you since …” she trailed off, unsure how to fill the absence of her own words. Since the day Silco was shot and Jinx razed the council to rubble. Since you left me at the medical facility. Since your psychologically unstable sister scampered off after bombing the capitol building.
“You don’t need to finish that sentence,” Vi offered. She dragged a forked hand through her sopping hair, persuading it away from her eyes. Caitlyn watched the movement, not missing the bruises that bloomed on her knuckles like blue and red wildflowers, the evident stiffness of her muscles. “Sorry for not calling in these last few days.”
“I imagine you’ve had plenty on your plate,” Caitlyn began, graciously, but Vi cut her off.
“Don’t sugar coat it. Your mother just died and then I turn up like a sewerage rat the house cat dragged in through the back door.”
“Actually, that’s a bedroom window, not the back door,” Caitlyn corrected.
“Still not the most ideal.” Vi had the audacity to wink at her. “How many other girls have you snuck through this window before, cupcake?”
“Enough to give my mother a heart attack,” Caitlyn remarked, then cringed at herself. Vi grimaced sympathetically. She coughed delicately. “I suppose I’ll be making ‘rolling in her grave’ jokes from this point onwards.”
“Cait!”
“Don’t look at me like that, Vi. I suppose it’s better I’m making poorly timed jokes rather than falling over myself weeping.”
Vi crossed the room and guided her to sit — on her own bed no less — her wrapped palm hovering at Caitlyn’s back. “I’m not sure whether or not I should be concerned you’re using humour as a coping strategy.”
“At the very least, I wasn’t broadcasting my morbid humour at my mother’s humour,” she shrugged.
“I know,” Vi admitted quietly. At Caitlyn’s questioning look, she elaborated, “Probably didn’t see me, but I was there, scaled one of the buildings. I heard the euology you gave. You’re … good at public speaking.”
Caitlyn felt a blush colour her cheeks at Vi’s compliment. “It was possibly the only useful asset I learned at finishing school.” She released a heavy breath. “I was mostly pleased to make it through the speech without crying so much I required to be escorted offstage.”
“Not that people could blame you for that,” Vi rested a hand on Caitlyn’s now, if you could even call the gesture that, calloused fingertips pressed tenderly over spidery knuckles. “You watched your own mother get blown up, by my sister no less.”
Caitlyn eyed her. “Was that why you were gone for so many days? Because of Pow — Jinx ?”
Despite her efforts, Vi still winced at the mention of her sister. “Partially, yes. I had to get patched up first — the Fireflies kept me hidden until I was up on my feet again. Since Silco got shot, the Undercity’s like a prison riot. I dunno how it hasn’t spilt up here yet; it’s a civil war practically waiting to happen.”
“They understand that there’s been a shift in power, because of the attack on the capitol building,” Caitlyn added, reciting what she had read in the Piltover Gazette . “They’ve always considered Jinx to be a lone terrorist, and because of Marcus, they had no idea of the extent of Silco’s involvement with the gang warfare and Shimmer. Many Topsiders are horribly misinformed.”
Vi snorted, sardonically. “You say that like it’s a change from the norm, cupcake.”
Caitlyn stared at her hands, folded in her lap, realising instantly her mistake. “You’re right. I apologise.”
Vi bumped her shoulder into hers. “You’re forgiven.”
“I’d hope so, considering you’re the one who broke into my bedroom. Otherwise I’d be asking you to leave.”
“Would I get the courtesy of being shooed through a proper door or would I just have to crawl through the window like your grief-rebound booty call?”
Caitlyn shook her head adamantly, trying to repress another blush at Vi’s crude wording. She couldn’t deny that she was appealed to the idea of pressed up against Vi, skin on skin, mouths roaming, hands and tongues exploring. “You’re neither a booty call or the — what was it? — sewerage rat dragged in by the house cat.”
“Good to know.” Vi snorted again. “You’re probably the only Topsider who would say that.”
“Well, I am quite exceptional, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Now Vi laughed, shifting closer, her thigh flush against Caitlyn’s now. “Think highly of yourself, do you?”
“No need to worry. I think the same thing about you.”
Another smile, this one pulling crookedly at the side of Vi’s mouth. Inexplicably, Caitlyn’s gaze was drawn to follow the movement — a look that the other woman did not miss in the slightest.
Leaning forward, Vi’s crooked smile stretched into something positively wicked. “Whatcha staring at, cupcake?”
Caitlyn felt a hot flush bloom across the crest of her cheeks, but didn’t move away. “What else do you think I’m looking at, Violet?”
Vi ballooned her cheeks and exhaled. “You’re giving me the full name and everything. That’s a bit of a low blow.”
“I think the entirety of your self deserves to be acknowledged.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Are you fishing for compliments, Vi?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.” Vi extended a wrapped hand, bruising fingers gently brushing an errant lock of hair out of Caitlyn’s eyes, and for a moment she paused to ponder, that hands so capable of violence and carnage, could also be so dizzyingly gentle.
“I suppose you wouldn’t have received an abundance of such comments in prison,” Caitlyn responded, and instantly regretted her words, the comfortable dynamic that had been enveloping them punctured in a heartbeat.
Vi leaned away, the playful warmth dissolving from her expression. “Way to kill the mood, cupcake.”
“I’m sorry.” Caitlyn stared at her hands, cursing her stupid mouth, her lack of discipline that suddenly seemed to run away whenever she was in Vi’s presence.
“I should have known better than to expect a moment like that to last,” Vi muttered, words weighted with all of the things Caitlyn had dared not otherwise hope for. She rose to her feet, abruptly, brushing her palms on her pants absently. “I should go. Leave you be. I’m supposed to be meeting Ekko anyway, we’re hunting Pow — Jinx.” She finished, looking slightly ill.
“I’d like you to stay,” Caitlyn blinked at her own words, once again cursing her runaway tongue, and Vi stilled in surprise, staring at her, the eyebrow sporting the slash cocked quizzically. “That is, if you still have to meet Ekko.”
“Not until midnight.” Vi replied slowly. “I’m all yours until then, Caitlyn.”
A shiver spidered down her spine at Vi’s use of her name. “Good.” Staring into her eyes, Caitlyn was suddenly uncertain whether her next words were calculated, or once again impulsive. “I feel safer with you here, anyway.”
A teasing smile replaced the previous look on Vi’s expression. “What, you’ve got this huge fancy mansion, and it takes an Undercity girl in your bedroom to finally make you feel safe and sound?”
“In your dreams.” Caitlyn responded dryly. “Ironically, an Undercity girl was the one who made me feel that way in the first place.”
Vi’s expression sobered in an instant, and then she was moving back towards Caitlyn, dropping to kneel before her. “What do you mean by that, cupcake?”
“You know,” Caitlyn urged. Her recall of Jinx’s nightmarish, twisted dinner party was foggy thanks to her multiple concussions, but she was fairly certain Vi had some idea of how Jinx had snatched her away from the eyes of Topside.
Her stomach dropped as the clueless, concerned expression remained firmly on Vi’s face.
Oh.
She has no idea.
“No, I don’t.” Once again, Vi reached a hand, this time to rest the pads of her fingers gently on the expanse of skin between Caitlyn’s thumb and forefinger. “Wouldn’t be asking if I did.”
Caitlyn sucked in a stabilising breath, trying to pull the words together. “Jinx,” she managed to get out, solemnly.
Understanding lit Vi’s face and she leaned back, brow furrowing. “She snatched you from here ? This very room?”
“Not quite,” Caitlyn replied stiffly, suddenly becoming very interested in her hands, folding and knotting anxiously in her lap.
Vi’s hand moved, once more, to rest on hers. “Talk to me, Caitlyn,” she urged quietly.
She couldn’t. It felt like her lips were suddenly glued together, her thoughts slowly, retreating into themselves, refusing to let her mind recover the details. But she remembered her heart aching, her heart aching because of Vi, her heart aching because of that ridiculous oil and water analogy she’d used in the rain, and then — then she’d turned, and the bathroom had been full of steam, and the monkey emerged on the mirror like a conviction painted in the wall in bloody handprints, and then Jinx had emerged …
“I was in the shower.”
The other girl jerked back, understanding turning to horror. “ Cait .”
“And I can’t stop thinking about it …” Caitlyn turned away, unable to see the look on Vi’s face, unable to dwell on it any longer than she had allowed herself. “When I’m not thinking about my mother, I’m thinking about … that. Always, Jinx seems to be occupying my thoughts, somehow.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t feel safe in my own house, Vi. I know it’s extremely privileged of me to say such a thing, but I never feared that my home could be … trespassed. Violated. And now I have experienced it, and I am terrified, and I cannot seem to turn my back on things, let alone enter the bathroom. I haven’t showered in days.”
Vi was silent for a long moment; Caitlyn chanced a glance at her, noting her bowed head, the sorrowful set of her broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“You shouldn’t apologise.”
“She’s my sister.”
“That doesn’t correlate with you taking responsibility for her actions.”
“But I’m responsible for her .” She felt Vi once again move to her feet, this time pacing between the bed and Vi’s conspiracy board, not once commenting on either the contents of the board or the absurd display of wilting botany only inches from her footfalls.
Caitlyn licked her lips. “Says the person intending to track her down at midnight.”
Vi’s distressed footfalls come to a sudden halt. “It’s for the best.”
“For Jinx, or for Piltover?”
Vi fixed her with an iron look. “She’s a liability to both Piltover and herself. I dunno what Silco planted in her head, what he really did to her … but he’s the reason why she’s so fucked up, and it’s because of me she fell into his claws in the first place.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about my sister. What plans did you have for tonight?”
Caitlyn gave her a wry look. “It’s the night after my mother’s funeral, Vi. I wasn’t exactly planning on attending any extravagant charity balls or galas.”
Vi’s self-directed look of horror prompted the first laugh out of her for the first time in days . Caitlyn cleared her throat. “But in all honesty, my only plan was to … well, stomach having a quick wash. I’m surprised you haven’t commented on my body hygiene, or lack thereof, yet.”
“Your Topside standards are probably squeaky clean compared to anyone where I’m from,” Vi replied, crisply. She jerked her chin towards the door where Caitlyn’s ensuite bathroom sat behind it. “You want me to stand guard?”
There was no part of Caitlyn that insisted on denying Vi’s offer.
She felt safe with Vi; that aspect was absolutely non negotiable. She trusted Vi more than she had ever trusted anyone in her life. She could trust Vi with seeing her at her most vulnerable. (And in the absolutely, irrationally unlikely event that Jinx did make a return … well, who better than her own sister to confront her?)
“I doubt that would make me feel more secure,” Caitlyn retorted, humourlessly. Then, before she could reconsider, “... Would you mind being somewhere where I can speak to you? Know that you’re there?”
A pause followed this, weighted with the similar kind of fragile silence in waiting for a grenade to expire.
Then, “Asking me to shower with you, cupcake?”
Caitlyn felt her eyes roll to the back of her skull. “Not exactly.”
“I’ll wash your hair for you, the whole kit-and-kaboodle.”
“You’re behaving no better than a prepubescent boy with a grievous lack of filter.”
Instead of shutting up, like Caitlyn wanted her to, and not at all because her head was currently swimming with vivid images of Vi sharing her shower being wrapped in Vi’s arms pinned against the tiles sharing the same air exploring each other’s skin under the guise of cleaning Vi Vi Vi Vi Vi, the other girl grinned shamelessly at her. “That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
A second, equally cocky grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her exasperation was only a facade though, as Caitlyn pushed herself upright from the mattress and crossed the bedroom, resting an unsteady hand on the door to her ensuite. She pushed open the door, sucking in a breath at the lurching, unknown darkness, the flash of reflection, then groped for the light switch. Bright, clear light flooded the room. It looked exactly as it should have been. No shrouds of steam. No monkey on the mirror. No Jinx.
Just Vi, now leaning against the doorframe next to her, the cocky smile gone from her face, and now something softer, more compliant. Caitlyn repressed the sudden, maddening urge to lean into her arms and fasten her mouth to Vi’s.
She crossed the room to the shower and pivoted the taps so that hot water could run. Behind her, Vi whistled. “You have no idea what this all looks like to a slum rat from the Lanes, do you?”
“I thought we’d established you’re not alike to rodents,” Caitlyn muttered. She followed her steps backwards, this time to where a wicker panel stood and ducked behind it to undress. Her breathing shallowed, fingers trembling as she unbuttoned first the blazer and then the dress she had worn to her mother’s funeral, stepping then out of her stockings and underwear. Not daring to see where Vi was looking — she could sense her solid presence leaning against the doorframe, easing some of the irrational anxiety pressing down on her lungs— she drew a steadying breath and tracked back to the shower, stepping under the steady stream of now hot water, steam spilling at her feet.
No shrouds of steam. No monkey on the mirror. No Jinx .
Vi didn’t speak up until Caitlyn was completely submerged under the stream of water, reaching for the bar of soap that was situated close by. “So, what did you have in mind for this little chit chat?”
Caitlyn hummed, gliding the bar of soap over her bare skin. She wondered how much of herself was exposed to Vi, and her cheeks resumed their previous blush. She didn’t doubt that Vi was unused to bare bodies — prison hardly had opportunities for privacy, and she’d seen how cavalier Vi had behaved in the brothel. She found herself truly unsure whether or not to be embarrassed of her body, gawky and unshaven, tan lines predominant.
“Anything is up for debate,” Caitlyn responded, her throat dry. “Preferably not involving either of our family matters or general politics. Something … light hearted.”
She felt Vi consider her words; she chanced the briefest glance over her shoulder. Vi was leaning against the doorframe, exactly as she’d been invited to, arms folded, gaze fixed unwaveringly at a pocket of the bathroom, away from Caitlyn.
The Undercity girl cleared her throat. “I’m curious. Does your soap smell like cupcakes, cupcake?”
An inelegant snort dropped from Caitlyn’s lips. She raised the bar of soap to her nose and inhaled. “You’ll be disappointed to learn I prefer roses.”
“You predicted correctly.”
“Well then, if I’m the disappointment, how do you prefer your soap?” A challenging smile tugged at Caitlyn’s mouth and she was so engaged in the banter she almost turned to face Vi — almost . Vi could see enough of her behind as it was. “You certainly strike me as the citrus and sandalwood sort.”
“I have absolutely no fucking clue what sandalwood is, let alone what it smells like. Neither the Lanes or Stillwater had a dazzling variety of soap scents.”
“Perhaps we should take an excursion to the artisan markets together,” Caitlyn prompted. Of course, when she imagined such a scene, she pictured them walking hand in hand, weaving through the throngs of people and brightly coloured stalls. She shook her head. Oil and water.
“Yeah?” A sardonic snort. “And what could I possibly need from some fancy artisan market?”
“I imagine we could secure you an organic leather punching bag within the hour.” Setting aside the bar of rose-scented soap, Caitlyn reached for the bottles of shampoo, her hand pausing when Vi spoke up again.
“Didn’t I say I’d wash your hair for you?”
Another unwelcome blush found its way onto her face. She set the bottle of shampoo back down. “You don’t have to do that.”
“What if I wanted to, huh?”
Caitlyn stared at the ornate golden taps, counting to five, her body temperature plummeting despite the hot water gliding over her skin. She swallowed thickly. Oil and water.
“Are you certain?”
Vi cleared her throat. “As much as I’m enjoying the view, Caitlyn, it would be nice to be up close and personal, you know?”
Don’t do this to yourself, Caitlyn.
Oh, but I want to.
Caitlyn tipped back her chin, steeling herself. She was truly doing this. She was truly inviting a girl she’d known for less than a month, a girl from the Lanes, a girl whose sister was responsible for her mother’s death , into her shower, into her arms. “All right. Come and wash my hair, then.”
There was the quiet click of the door being sealed, but the fear of the monkey on the mirror, the fear of Jinx , was suddenly absent. She willed herself to keep her back to Vi as she listened to the unmistakeable rustles of Vi shucking off her layers of clothing, muscles tensing. Breathing was no longer a priority; the only function Caitlyn’s entire body seemed fully capable of was taking careful note of every breath Vi drew, every delicate sound of her shedding her clothes, the sticky pads of her bare feet on the tiles as Vi crossed the bathroom. She had never been more hyper aware of anything else in her life once Vi was enclosed in the same shower booth as Caitlyn, now sharing the same space, the same air, the same water.
Caitlyn dared look at her, and her entire self seemed to riot. She didn’t let her gaze linger below Vi’s collarbones, but she didn’t miss the smooth planes of muscle, the sporadic curls of tattoo ink, the expanse of bare skin, right there — and was that telltale blink of metal a nipple piercing? — and all over again, she found herself longing to let Vi do far more than just wash her hair for her.
But Vi kept her word, a keenly suggestive glint in her eye as she reached a sculpted arm over Caitlyn’s shoulder, reaching for the bottle of shampoo situated there. Pooling a liberal amount of shampoo into her cupped hand, Vi began conversationally, “Whatcha thinking about, cupcake?”
“My mother is likely rolling in her grave at this very moment,” Caitlyn retorted. Somehow, she managed to sound perfectly composed. All she could think about was ViViViViViVi .
“Good thing she’s not around to point a firearm at us,” Vi quipped. “Turn around for me, Cait.”
Caitlyn didn’t hesitate, tilting back to face the wall, and a moment later Vi’s fingers were speared through her hair, gently massaging the shampoo into her scalp and roots. She pressed her lips firmly together to restrain any humiliating noises, pretending she wasn’t imagining where else Vi could put those supple, responsive hands of hers to good use.
Methodically, Vi rinsed out the shampoo and then ladled on the conditioner. “Gotta admit, it’s kinda weird washing long hair again, even though it’s not mine.”
“You’ve never had long hair before?”
“Years ago, when I was a little kid. Started cutting it short once I was getting into fights — gives your opponent less to yank on.”
Caitlyn recalled a fighting technique of Vi’s — taking a fistful of hair at the base of their skull and using the leverage to pummel them in the face — and wondered if that particular approach had been demonstrated on a younger Vi, and thus given the incentive to shear off her hair. She’d wanted to cut her own hair shorter plenty of times herself (so much more convenient ) but Cassandra Kiramman had been overbearingly opinionated on the matter.
She felt Vi’s fingertips move through her wet hair, caressing, rather than working hair product through the strands, then carefully resting on Caitlyn’s shoulder blade. The point of contact was so simple, so casual, but it sent showers of nervous fireworks prickling over her skin.
“Vi?”
“Cupcake?”
She repressed a roll of her eyes, but more affectionate rather than truly irritated. “I would like to look at you, if that’s all right with you.”
Vi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers clenching slightly on Caitlyn’s skin, and she felt the Undercity girl suck in an unsteady breath. Then she spoke, her tone cavalier. “Well, I’ve been checking you out for the last ten minutes, so that only seems fair.”
“I certainly hope I’m up to standard,” she muttered, twisting her wet, clean hair over her shoulder. Silently hoping she wouldn’t slip on the tiles and embarrass herself, Caitlyn turned around to properly face the other girl in the shower.
Now completely facing the undercity girl, Vi seemed to engulf her, and Caitlyn allowed it. For a moment their eyes twitched away from each other, not quite making eye contact but refusing to look any further than the collarbones, but curiosity got the better of them both and she was feeling dizzy all over again. She’d seen girls naked before, but this was different. Vi was compact, broad shoulders and powerful stomach and thick thighs; she was like a painting that its artist had come back repeatedly to add more details; scars here, tattoos there, the ripple of muscle over there. Caitlyn had guessed correctly about the nipple piercing, and delighted in that.
And then Vi’s thumb was resting on her chin, drawing her gaze back up, eyes searching hers in such a way that Caitlyn’s entire body simultaneously skyrocketed and hollowed. “Caitlyn,” she murmured. “You’re more than just fucking standard .”
Her unoccupied hand reached for Caitlyn’s shoulder, then slid around to her back, drawing their bodies closer together, and Caitlyn utterly forgot how to breathe at the sensation of Vi’s bare body flush against hers. She might have gasped. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement . To see Vi naked was one thing. To feel it pressed firmly, without hesitation, against her own skin, made Caitlyn feel like a supernova. Her hands fumbled, claiming Vi’s delicious shoulders. “Violet,” she found herself murmuring. “If you don’t kiss me in this very moment, I’m going to use you as target practise.”
Vi laughed — but didn’t deny her. “Whatever you say, cupcake.” She leaned in closer, head ducking in over Caitlyn’s, and hungrily fastened her mouth to Caitlyn’s waiting one.
Kissing Vi entirely obliterated any fragment of sense left in Caitlyn’s mind. She gasped into Vi’s hot mouth, leaning into her feverishly as their arms tightened around each other, the hot water still sliding over them consistently. The kiss begun — innocently, as it should, for a first. Soft and sweet. But then Vi pulled back an inch, her nose rubbing Caitlyn’s.
“Did I do something wrong?” She demanded, still sharing air with Vi, disappointed it had ended so soon, not wanting it to in the slightest.
“Fuck, ‘course not,” Vi responded, dragging some of the wet hair away from Caitlyn’s cheeks. “It’s just been a while since I’ve done this with somebody I care about. Don’t wanna rush, y‘know?”
“I certainly don’t mind,” Caitlyn scoffed, her hand reaching up to Vi’s scalp, fingers twisting in her short pink locks.
“You looked like you were still gonna use me as target practise a moment ago,” Vi teased, and Caitlyn quickly kissed her again to silence her. This time the kiss was more heated, more hungry, and Caitlyn tugged Vi’s hair, encouraging her head at a tilted angle, and used the leverage to slide her tongue in Vi’s mouth.
Vi moaned into her mouth, and Caitlyn quivered as the other woman lowered her sinewy arms, bracketing them around Caitlyn’s waist rather than her back. For a moment she focused on exploring Vi’s mouth, alternating between nibbling Vi’s bottom lip and dipping her tongue into the other girl’s mouth. Vi shifted her weight forwards, and then Caitlyn found herself pinned against the glass panel of the shower wall.
“Doubling back to the brothel, are we?”
Vi released a bark of laughter. “Your tongue wasn’t down my throat then, so I’m definitely enjoying the upgrade.” She felt the pads of Vi’s fingertips sketch circles over her skin. “Don’t mind if I touch you while you’re doing that?”
“Be my guest,” Caitlyn responded, taking this as her cue to continue kissing Vi again. It was maddeningly all consuming, the manner of how Vi captivated her and how swimmingly they interacted, in such a way that she never imagined possible. She had read all kinds of descriptions on how a kiss felt like with the right person — that it was like fireworks and butterflies and magic, like heavenly bliss and exhilarating euphoria. Kissing Vi was like all of those things and more, though she supposed that sounded cliche in itself. It didn’t help that Vi’s hands were now freely roaming over Caitlyn’s skin, the brawler dragging her palms hungrily over Caitlyn’s waist, the slope of her hips, the small of her back — and if that wasn’t already driving her absolutely mental, Vi’s calloused hands ran over the plains of her stomach, before feathering up to cup her breasts. Her touch was cautious at first, until Caitlyn made a sound at the back of her throat that she would normally be embarrassed about, except that it prompted Vi to give her chest a cheeky squeeze, thumbs resting on her nipples.
“This still okay, cupcake?” Vi murmured against Caitlyn’s mouth, breathless, as they pulled apart for a few unnecessary seconds to breathe. Her head tilted, lips pressing first to Caitlyn’s cheek, then her jaw, nipping cheekily at her ear.
“ Yes ,” Caitlyn responded, half whimper.
“You don’t feel pressured at all?”
“Do you really believe I’d let you get this far if I did?”
Vi kissed her neck now, soft, slow, the tip of her tongue gently dragging over the column of Caitlyn’s throat. “You’re not the easily intimidated sort.” Her hands squeezed Caitlyn’s breasts again as her head ducked lower, and Caitlyn’s knees buckled as Vi’s tongue now swept over her nipples, only for Vi to fit her knee between her thighs. Caitlyn made a sound between a hum and a moan as Vi took her nipple into her mouth, her calloused hand kneading her other breast.
Despite the lusty fog settling over Caitlyn’s thoughts, one of Vi’s comments from earlier came back to her. “You’re not some ‘grief rebound booty-call’,” she muttered, struggling to articulate her words thanks to Vi’s ministrations.
Vi released her, but her face remained level with Caitlyn’s chest. “Sure about that?”
“Certain,” Caitlyn responded. “I’m not a casual person. And you’re too important to be just … that.”
Another cocky grin on Vi’s behalf. “I’m important, eh?”
“Stop trying to further cushion your ego and touch me again.”
“Again, where?” Vi gave her breasts another teasing squeeze. “Here?”
Caitlyn resisted the urge to writhe against the shower wall, desperately trying to steer her thoughts away from Vi’s clever hands between her legs and failing, sending her a stern look. “Violet.”
Vi leaned forwards and pressed a delicate kiss to Caitlyn’s jaw. “You’re not enjoying me touching you, cupcake?”
Caitlyn moved her hands to Vi’s broad shoulders, steaming water sloughing onto the ink curling over her warm skin. She swung up her leg, hooking her knee over Vi’s hip, drawing their lower halves closer together. She felt Vi’s breathing shallow. “Stop being such a tease.”
“What gave you that impression, huh?” Before Caitlyn could think of a witty quip, one of Vi’s hands moved to Caitlyn’s thigh, and her thoughts tunnelled. Her other hand still squeezing and kneading Caitlyn’s breasts, Vi’s other hand skimmed up her leg to her hip, before her fingers feathered to Caitlyn’s naval and then below .
Caitlyn felt her eyelids flutter. “ Oh .”
To her surprise, Vi didn’t tease her for this, instead quickly locating her clit, first ghosting the pads of her fore and middle finger over the impossibly sensitive spot. When Caitlyn made another sound of want at the back of her throat, Vi pressed her thumb to her clit instead, moving in deliberate clockwork motions. Caitlyn saw stars, knees buckling, but she hadn’t climaxed. Not yet. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, cupcake. Want to put my tongue here and listen to all the pretty sounds you’d make.”
Caitlyn couldn’t bring herself to articulate words, her arms now tightening around Vi’s shoulders, drawing their chests flush together, sending her thoughts cartwheeling all over again.
“I think it’s better you wait, first. Let you get all warmed up first.” Vi sucked on Caitlyn’s throat, leaving a mark there. “All right if I put my fingers inside you?”
“ Yes ,” Caitlyn responded breathlessly, almost embarrassingly quickly. Her thoughts were tumbling on top of each other. She sucked in a shaking breath as Vi, boldly, brushed two digits at her entrance, thumb still on her clit. She didn’t object to the two fingers instead of one — they both knew she was wet enough. Her other hand now supporting Caitlyn, Vi began kissing her neck as her fingers eased inside Caitlyn.
Oh .
Caitlyn gasped, hips buckling forwards reflexively. She spread her legs further, hands desperately pulling Vi closer, needing Vi’s body flush on her, her tongue on her skin, her fingers inside her …
Vi began to move her hand, pumping her fingers slowly at first, curling her fingers with every stroke, thumb still caressing Caitlyn’s clit. But then Vi’s hand was moving faster and she was kissing Caitlyn’s skin again, neck and jaw and collarbones and breasts. Breathlessly, Caitlyn encouraged her to extend a third finger, and she only lasted a matter of moments further before she climaxed with a broken whimper.
Vi held her closely as Caitlyn reached her peak and then came down from it, dragging her soaking hair out of her eyes and kissing her, sucking Caitlyn’s bottom lip between her teeth. When they finally pulled apart, Vi murmured, “I’m getting a little concerned about how much water we’re wasting, cupcake.”
Caitlyn didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to leave this room, not when Vi was holding her, and kissing her, and pinning her against the wall, and making her feel so delirious . She cleared her throat. “Would it be very Topsider of me to say I don’t care?”
“It’s disgustingly Topsider of you,” Vi agreed, kissing her chastely. “Never said anything about stopping what we’re doing, but.”
“Do you still need to leave before midnight?”
“I’ve still got time to fuck you into the mattress, if that’s what you’re asking.”