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Water drips through the cracked plumbing and falls down the mine shaft, creating small puddles in the blackened earth. Skeletons of old machines lay abandoned on this floor, any valuable parts long gone, stolen and peddled in the Lanes. Further down waits the abyss, and at the limit between ground and void is a strange shooting stand, badly illuminated by a few old miner's lamps.
There are two moving targets dangling by the end of ropes and a third sitting between them, wriggling in a chair. Jinx draws her gun slowly and fires at the middle one, missing on purpose. The bullet flies by the side of her ear and the target flinches at the whistling wind passing through. With a ding, the bullet hits one metal part of the structure at the other end of the cave and falls down the large hole, the sound echoing and repeating with each new beam or debris it meets on the long way down.
Another bullet goes by the target, this time right over her shoulder, so close the strength of it tears threads from the fabric of her cloth. Muffled sounds come out of the gag, annoying chatter joining the already busy room of Jinx's head. She lets her waste her breath, amusing herself by playing with her gun, spinning it around by the handle between her dextrous fingers and thinking about where to fire next while listening to the ding ding ding echoing from the second bullet. One shadow opts for the arm; another ghost screams for the top of the head. She fires right above the ankle, chained to one of the front legs.
This time, it's close enough to scratch the skin and draw blood. With a cry, her target curls up on herself as best as she can considering the chains binding her to her seat, hands tied behind her back. Before the bullet can cling its way down the shaft this time, Jinx shoots again, in the small open space between the hip and the bend of the elbow. It goes through and splits the wood of the back of the chair. Slowed down, its trajectory slightly diverted by that obstacle, the bullet then directly falls to the abyss with the rest, whistling in an arc through the cold air. Jinx lets out a nasty laugh at her perfect shot and Caitlyn, trying to move away by shaking the chair, only manages to stumble and drop with it in the mud.
"Careful there! You could fall to your death!"
Jinx approaches her target and pulls the chair back up with a huff, ignoring the muffled protests. By the strength of just one hand, she holds on to the backrest and pushes to make the seat lean over its two back legs, right by the edge.
"See? Big fall there."
Caitlyn's eyes are wide with terror, alternatively looking between the abyss and the muzzle of Jinx's gun, still pointed at her, the inside of the barrel a deep black hole. She sits very still, her breath heavy under the gag. Jinx smiles, liking what she sees, and brings back the chair a bit farther from the edge.
Excitation bubbles inside her like sparks of colors in the dark mine and she plays with her gun again to occupy her itchy hands. Only this time, she's having her fun pointing and poking at Caitlyn's body from up close. She slides the still slightly warm barrel against her cheek and neck, taps the handle on her shoulder before spinning it around with a flourish, to dig the metal in the inside of her armpit, teasingly rubbing the muzzle against it. There's something a bit erotic about it, and her index draw circles in the small space between the trigger and its guard. Caitlyn tenses even more.
Wanting to make things last, Jinx gives her some retrieve by slowly pulling the gun away and moving it down her torso, bumping the metal along the way of her ribcage until it clings against the chains, then poking at her thighs to test out their firmness. They're nicely muscled and Jinx takes that out as a sign to drop down on her lap, sitting on the side with one arm circling around her shoulders. The closeness clearly unnerves Caitlyn, which is a big plus, and she tenses once more when Jinx presses the barrel against her chest. It's fun to imagine the way her nipple reacts under the pressure, while Jinx's hand slightly twists the gun around where it should be, pushing one breast up, then drawing circles with the muzzle. The muffled gasps of surprise, fear and perhaps even the tiniest bit of accidental arousal only add to that, making her tingle all over while she observes every reaction she can catch.
Caitlyn's a good girl who knows her guns —Caitlyn's a bitch who wants to steal everything Jinx has— so she's been paying attention to the number of times this one was shot and she's surely aware, given the model, that it should have just one more bullet left in it. That is, if Jinx has filled it completely.
But despite the fear of that last bullet, she eventually calms down and the trembling of her body under Jinx's casual inspection turns to shaking with anger, eyebrows furrowing and eyes burning with rage.
"What's that, want to say something?"
Jinx pats her face and hair softly to remove the mud from her previous fall. Her skin has a soft smoothness fitting of the Piltover elites, living in their ivory towers with luxury beauty products and no fumes everywhere to destroy one's flesh and insides. She runs a chipped pink nail on the side of her cheek, to leave a thin line and disturb that perfect surface, before undoing the rubber gag. Caitlyn coughs a bit before immediately babbling on.
"You can't keep me here, this will only worsen the situation for Zaun. If the other enforcers don't find me, they might launch an assault or raid any suspicious place in the Lanes. Vi will—"
Before she can keep going, Jinx sticks the gun's barrel in her mouth, forcing her to open wide so the large stick of metal won't hurt as it's thrust in. There are many voices stirring in Jinx's head already, that she has mostly learnt to deal with, but she's not willing to listen to the poison of that enforcer. She's not willing to let her spill out one word about her sister, and certainly not hear the way she says her name.
It feels really nice to see the look of pure horror on her face, how each muscle twitches and twists in reaction to both the gun's physicality and the danger it represents. With delicate movements of the wrist, Jinx rolls the barrel around Caitlyn's tongue, pushing in to deepen the kiss. The weapon has a pretty thick width so it's hard to manage but her captive does so anyway. The panicked, strangled noises she makes as she tries to keep pace with her are music to her ears. When Jinx turns the gun to the right or left, the bump that show on her cheeks makes for a pleasant sight. And the obscene sucking sounds while she pulls it forth and backwards satisfy her need to see Caitlyn be brought low in the best way imaginable.
Jinx squirms, pressing her thighs together to contain the excitement that courses through her. If she doesn't stop it from rising too fast, she might get overwhelmed and shoot before satisfying all her whims. Grabbing Caitlyn by the nape, she pulls, to force her to take the gun deeper in.
"There, there, dirty girl. Show me how they do it in Piltover, city of progress and luxury."
She aches to humiliate her, to write the dirtiest curses flashing in her head on that porcelain skin with burning iron, to break her so she'll admit everything she has done to wrong Jinx, to sully her until she's as twisted as little Pow-Pow and Vi won't want her anymore. That is, if she ever lets Vi find her, she might have other ideas for what to do with her prisoner. She's not sure what yet, ideas are dancing in her mind too quickly to decide.
Despite how nice the view of that mouth circling around her gun is, Jinx has to pull her weapon off to show Caitlyn how nasty she can be. She shifts position to straddle her, then slowly takes out the barrel, watching with fascination the drool dripping from it. Caitlyn coughs, then spits between their crossed thighs.
"Ew, don't they teach the rich little ladies how to swallow?"
Jinx can't help but snicker at her own gross joke. To take things further, she licks at the salty metal of the barrel, mixing their saliva. In front of her, Caitlyn winces then glare.
"You damn monster..."
It's clearly visible on her face, how completely and irrevocably insane she thinks Jinx is. But she's not the first, nor the tenth person to look at her like that, far from it, so Jinx isn't really moved. She grins instead and points the gun back at her, to wipe the length of the barrel on her cheek first, before moving down to her stomach. Her free hand ruffles the lace of the navy blue uniform, before pulling the skirt part up.
"Don't you dare!" Caitlyn shouts while banging against the chains tying her up to the chair.
Underneath, there's a black short that Jinx has to fight with to push it down, tearing the cloth a bit in the process, then some more lacy underwear —how fancy! Slut!— which her gun's muzzle quickly reaches for. It pokes at its opening then pushes its way past it so it can slide down the mount of her pubis. It's the lace's turn to tear now, but Jinx assumes it's nothing that can't be fixed or replaced in a hot minute, when someone is as filthy rich as Piltover's elite.
"Stop! Stop it!"
The anger in Caitlyn's voice shifts into fear with each new cry, while elation rises inside Jinx with every limit she breaches.
"Now, now, Caity, we're just having a good time, aren't we?"
Under her panties, she stroke the opening of her labia with just the tip of her gun, too big to reach down easily, rubbing against the clit on the way. Caitlyn clenches her teeth, trying desperately to maintain a confident facade, even though Jinx can see her eyes moisten in the dark.
"Just tell me, do you want it to feel good or bad?"
The ones screaming in her head are of two minds so she might as well ask the person in question. Caitlyn stays silent for a while, before spitting her answer in contempt.
"Fuck you."
Jinx finds the retort pretty ironic, and she laughs with her head hanging back, releasing her hold for a moment. Then Caitlyn starts screaming, with the hope of the desperate, for someone, anyone, to come, to help. So Jinx has to shut her up, more for the sake of sparing herself the shrieking than because someone might hear her. She bites at her lips, before sticking her tongue in, just like she did her gun. Caitlyn bites back and the taste of blood enters her mouth, overwhelming her senses with a lust for more, like one of those sharks maddened by the scent of bleeding prey Silco showed her once.
But deep sea ghosts bring recent specters back to the surface too painfully and Jinx has to clench her free hand on her thigh, to dig her nail in the skin under the cloth and chase the too numerous illusions with physical pain. The flesh inside her mouth prickles from being bitten, but it's half-drowned by the warmth of the kiss and the tongue trying to resist her.
Unlike with the gun, Caitlyn keeps fighting and soon, their two mouths are sloppily bumping against each other, like they're wrestling with their heads over some ridiculously small territory. Their chins hit each other and Jinx gives up, she has already thrust a part of herself deep inside her throat before anyway, she should get to exploring uncharted territory instead. She attacks the skin of her face next, salty with sweat and fear, leaving her mark on it with teeth and saliva, while her gun tries to penetrate her prisoner once more, toying with her lower lips this time. The panties and shorts are still getting in the way though, and removing them further while sitting over Caitlyn's legs is proving difficult, the chains around her stomach, linking her wrists behind her back, rattling every time Jinx pushes her around. She digs the muzzle of her gun harder, trying to put it in by force, earning pained whines in response.
Caitlyn seems lost in how to act between calling for help, with only the echo of her own voice down the mine shaft answering her, spitting insults at Jinx to earn laughs of amusement or more pain in return when she hits right, or resolving herself to endure with indignant dignity the assault she finds herself under. Jinx would prefer the third option, because it'll be all the more sweeter when she finally breaks down.
At last, she manages to free the way in front of her gun. She takes the time to rub Caitlyn's clit with two fingers so she can get her wetter —though it was already molested by the front sight of the muzzle when she tried to dig it in— and makes little hops in her lap to lean even closer, letting her head rest on her shoulder. The gentle smell of high-class perfume mixed with the mud and dirt from underground tickles her nose.
"I'm coming in," she says casually, her breath against her ear.
Caitlyn clenches her teeth when Jinx starts slowly pushing past the labia. The both of them are looking down at the tip of the gun as it disappears from view, entering into flesh. Jinx is moving carefully, as if she were playing with explosives, her index put at rest along the trigger guard. She waits a bit when she encounters resistance, trying to move around gently, treating Caitlyn with nearly as much love she would a delicate engineering project —what Caity doesn't know though is that those still often end with fireworks and nasty explosions.
"Wow, you're so tight," she whispers to her, breathless, in a parody of a boastful but inexperienced teenage boy's dirty talk, perhaps like Mylo would say, if he wasn't dead and she hadn't killed him.
She pushes the gun a bit harsher then, and Caitlyn winces, the muscles of her cunt clenching around the cold, hard metal, making the chains rattle once more and lifting Jinx up slightly with the tensing of her thighs. The fingers on the handle pull back just a bit, before moving the barrel in again. Taking opportunity of the momentum, Jinx stirs her hips, pushing them forwards in line with the rythm of her gun. There's something electric about it, with how close they are, her the bottom of her palm sometimes brushing against her own crotch, together with the handle and the safety of her gun. The usual tightness of her pants squeezes at her even more strongly than it normally would, scratching the itch of her arousal that keeps rising with the twisting of her hips.
Her thighs and Caitlyn's seem glued together in the growing heat of their connected bodies, the firm and warm muscles sticking together like puzzle pieces, perhaps with the help of the gathering sweat from their mating. Caitlyn doesn't let out any more words now, only heavy breathing with every push and pull of the gun, that she tries to take in the best she can. She's enduring, like Jinx wanted her to, but it's not as fun as she thought it would be, to see her trying to act brave and tough. She can take a guess that internally, she's rationalizing her situation, thinking about buying time for help to come and keeping her strengths in case she'll need them, understanding the need to bear the pain for the sake of survival, resisting the impulse to argue and fight back. Basically managing to keep her mind clear-headed, because she's just so fucking rational, this Piltover sharpshooter. Unlike Jinx. Maybe that's what pisses her the most.
So she has to make the conversation for two —Jinx is great at conversing alone, in the first place. It's not even hateful, like she would expect for it to turn, with all the dislike spewing in her head for Caitlyn. She can even pretend to be friendly, chatting absent-mindedly about gun fare, explosives, the history of the mines they're in, even slipping into remembering bits of her childhood that relate to all that, exploring the tunnels with the others, hoping to find some secret passage they'd blow up to get their hands on a forgotten, hidden treasure nobody knew about. Something to make their lives so much better.
The sex is nicely distracting in that situation, the pleasant grinding of her crotch lulling harsher feelings to sleep in the back of her mind, filling her head with a soft buzz that helps her chatter mindlessly. Her hand slips the gun back and forth with ease by now, her rythm getting quicker as she approaches climax. It all feels like a well oiled machine, working perfectly.
Jinx amuses herself with tasting Caitlyn's skin again, sucking at her earlobe and sliding her tongue in the curve of her ear before trying to write her name by licking along her cheek, the waving of her hips complicating the task. The handle of the gun bumps against her crotch in just the right way and she comes before she can finish the X, with a jolt that makes her botch the last line.
Tension courses through her body for a moment, then loosens up, leaving her limbs heavy and exhausted. Laughing softly, she lets her head fall on Caitlyn's shoulder again, slowing down the pace of the gun's movements, before finally pulling it out with a pop of the tired, wet cunt.
Caitlyn lets out a soft sigh of what might be simple relief, or maybe something more.
Her head is facing down, expression hidden by her long, dark hair. Jinx pulls strands behind her ear, to better see what she looks like after sex. Anguish shines on her otherwise closed face. The muzzle rises to stroke her clit one last time, so Jinx can appreciate the efforts it takes Caitlyn to contain any strong reaction, muscles tensing and mouth trembling, her teeth scraping against her bottom lip.
Satisfied, Jinx lets go and moves the barrel away. It's sticky all over with fluids, so she rubs it against Caitlyn's thigh to clean it off. She listen to the sound of her breathing and when she hears her finish to inhale and starts to exhale, calming down at last, is when she shoots the last bullet.
The gun, still against her thigh, fires towards the ground, sparks flying between their legs in the dark, and Caitlyn screams upon hearing the sound, all the accumulated fear flowing out in a torrent. It echoes at the bottom of the mine, like a howl rising from the depths, deformed and monstrous. And when the surprise has passed and her scream has died in her still wide opened mouth, Jinx starts laughing, louder than she has done all day. She laughs and laughs, seemingly without end, until the ground starts shifting and she loses her footing on Caitlyn's lap. Caitlyn, who is also falling somehow, together with the chair. Caitlyn who pushed against her bonds, throwing the chair backward, in the hopes of making the both of them drop into the abyss.
For a second, Jinx's head goes wonderfully blank, empty of ghosts and flashing lights, then her body finally reacts, arms and legs clasping around Caitlyn while the wood hit the ground, the backrest being the only part to go over the edge.
A second passes with the both of them too shaken by the shock to react. Head pressed against Caitlyn's chest, Jinx then lets out a small sigh of relief, at her good instinct in placing the seat farther from the abyss when she pulled it back up. She's not quite out of trouble yet though, given her braids and Caitlyn's hair are dangling towards the darkness of the bottom shaft. When Jinx gazes into it, the hole feels like a giant mouth, advancing to engulf her, the sight disorienting. It's not a good thing given her unstable base, one wrong move and their position could turn even more precarious.
Luckily, Caitlyn is still slightly stunned, hit more strongly by the direct shock of the fall. She doesn't appear to be capable of tipping them over toward the deep end just yet. Jinx breaths deeply, tightens her muscles and backflips away from the gulf.
She drops neatly into a crouched position, feet stable on solid ground, then grabs the legs of the chair and pulls, bringing Caitlyn back to safety, her bitter prisoner grimacing upon the failure of her mad bet.
"Jinxed! Jinxed!"
Twisted satisfaction comes in shouting the cursed name at someone else than herself. Sitting in the dirt, reaching closer to Caitlyn, Jinx pulls away her tousled hair once more to poke at her face and tease her with mean pleasure.
"What was that, a lover's suicide? Aaw, come on."
A disgusted expression distorts Caitlyn's face at the words. Jinx falls next to her without minding the muddy soil and pecks her cheeks. The position is uncomfortable but she feels at ease somehow, her head incredibly calm after that brief moment of near-death panick. They're both dirtied now, in that dark place where the only way to go is down. But there's no need to hurry to fall. She knows plenty of side tunnels to go through first, a whole abandoned labyrinth in which to hide something or someone for a long, long time.
"Why don't we stay together and have a bit more fun."
Her index draws the lines of her little pet monkey signature on Caitlyn's chest. No trace stays on the fabric but it's still there, glowing bright in her mind. Jinx thinks she has enough dead people sticking around already, she can try keeping this one alive, on her own terms.