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Mornings in Piltover are always so tranquil, so peaceful. Clear, golden sunlight reflects off the gilded beams and balconies of the vast cityscape, painting warm streaks across the polished stone of the streets below between stark, clean shadows. The air is clear - nothing like the fog-ridden stench of the fissures - and seems to play its own soundtrack of ringing bells, singing birds, and gentle hums of wind.
There’s nothing about waking up to this picturesque scene that isn’t truly and astoundingly beautiful, and it’s precisely that beauty that sets Vi on edge every time.
She’s been visiting Caitlyn for a few weeks now, ever since that night where everything went wrong. At first, she’d managed to convince herself her attachment to her was borne out of guilt and regret at letting Powd- Jinx kidnap her hardly an hour after she’d left her alone under flickering lamplight and solemn rainfall.
That excuse didn’t last long, however; Caitlyn’s words had managed to slowly erode the stony mask she’d been wearing her entire life, and when words couldn’t chip away at the last few layers, then her silent, soft lips did the trick just as well.
Vi had been quick to find something akin to home in Caitlyn’s words, Caitlyn’s lips, Caitlyn’s life. Years spent between slabs of stone and bars of steel have stripped away all sense of an already-barren comfort she’d tried to hold onto all those years locked away in Stillwater.
She’s an anchor; strong, sturdy iron linked together and keeping her from drifting into the expansive ocean of her own self-destruction. She’s a bed; warm and safe, Vi can tuck herself away when her muscles burn and scream after hours spent fighting only to survive, blanketed by the comfort of company that wants to keep her just as safe as she’s always tried to keep others. She can already feel the strong foundations in their home, the ones they’ve built together out of stone and steel and oil and water.
But it’s only Caitlyn.
She might very well be Vi’s first home in years, but she can hardly say the same for Piltover.
It’s all gold and marble and an atmosphere so polished she swears she can see her reflection in the dirt of potted plants on balconies across from Caitlyn’s bedroom window. Sometimes, she feels like she can’t even take in the sweet air up here without risking arrest or having to pay a fine; it wouldn’t be such a painful thought if she hadn’t become so familiar with the city of yesteryears in that quiet, isolated cell with only ghosts of those days to keep her company.
Zaun’s taught her never to trust an open hand, an unlit alley, an act of kindness, an upset pull of her gut, and Piltover’s given her nothing but. Perhaps it’s that, in the rare instances she’s seen walking the streets with Caitlyn in full daylight, she always draws attention with her bloodied bandages and tousled hair, but even that’s hardly a good enough excuse for the faces of disgust she receives - faces that would probably look at least a little bit better caved in from her fist, though Caitlyn’s stopped her enough times from following through on that thought.
It’s always uneasy being in Piltover, even on these quiet, lazy, tranquil mornings that should bring her no small amount of peace. She knows she doesn’t belong, and hexes know if she ever will.
Her head hangs low as she ignores the songs of birds on an adjacent balcony, as if staring down at the rich cobblestone below will somehow drown the sound out; she’s grown used to quieting the world around her with stone, as much as she’s found it less effective here than in Stillwater.
At least there are less screams, she muses with a shudder.
(That hardly makes it any easier to be here.)
There’s a rustling of lavish sheets behind her as Caitlyn stirs on the bed, and it’s the first sign of peace Vi’s found all morning. She turns her attention away from a loud, unwelcoming paradise and finds much more beauty in watching Caitlyn struggle to free herself from the layers and layers of plush sheets she’s pulled on top of herself. Poised, prim, and proper as she might be, there’s an honesty to Caitlyn that Vi can’t help but appreciate, and it’s the exact kind of honesty she sees right now in her tangled blue hair, in her fair skin adorned with faint, pale scars and dark lovemarks, and in the grouchy frown tugging at her thin lips.
“Morning, Cupcake,” Vi croaks with a gentle huff of laughter, still shaking the sleep from her own voice.
It takes Caitlyn a moment to come to her senses, but she finally returns the greeting with a sleepy drawl of, “Why aren’t you in bed?”
Vi laughs again, a clearer sound this time, and leans back against the windowsill. “You were snoring like a fissure compound, Cupcake. You left me no choice.”
“I do not snore!” Caitlyn protests. Her eyes still haven’t opened yet but that doesn’t stop her from appearing monumentally offended at the remark. “And stop calling me that. It’s too early for it to be cute.”
“I disagree. I think it’s always cute.”
Caitlyn, still unimpressed in this morning state, blows a stray lock of hair out of her face before rubbing at her eyes. Vi loves seeing Caitlyn undone in so many ways, and that’s not reserved solely for dark, husky nights where her skin seers with a wanton lust she’s never had reciprocated. In moments like this, where she can’t do anything but indulge the delighted smirk that plays in her expression, she finds herself just as enamoured as ever before, and moreso than she’d ever thought possible.
It doesn’t take long for Caitlyn to finally wake fully, though her movements are still weighted by sleep as she groggily shifts over to the other side of the bed and lays on her side. “What are you looking at?”
Vi shrugs and glances towards the city outside the estate; so much for that moment of peace, she muses, though she’d never voice that particular upset to Caitlyn.
“Just…taking the morning in, I guess,” is what she opts for instead, hoping that Caitlyn’s too tired to notice the blatant dip in her tone.
She’s met instead with pursed lips, and Vi silently reprimands herself for trying to outplay one of Piltover’s finest detectives. “You hate mornings here.”
“Caught red-handed,” Vi relents with a brusque tone and a quick raise of her hands. "Everything here is so stupidly gawdy. I bet even the pigeons shit gold."
Now it’s Caitlyn’s turn to laugh as she sits herself up, the early morning sun highlighting how soft her bare skin is in contrast with the fresh hickies of last night. "Not everything here is that fancy, Vi."
"Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure I started smelling like daisies the moment I spent one night here.”
Caitlyn laughs again as she slides off the bed, padding gently towards Vi with a warm smile. Vi lets her body loosen as Caitlyn twines their fingers together before bringing Vi’s knuckles to her lips for a series of sweet kisses that melt her stony heart.
“I know it’s not quite what you’re used to, but you’re always welcome,” she assures, her eyes dipping over the outline of her fingers to meet hers.
“I know, Cupcake. Thanks.” There’s no amount of her that can thank Caitlyn enough for the home she’s been given, but she can’t shake the feeling of walking among streets she doesn’t belong to, who don’t welcome her with the same kindness.
Caitlyn quirks an eyebrow at Vi musings, pressing another soothing kiss to her bruised hand. “There’s a but, isn’t there?”
Vi’s gaze averts as she tries to hide her sigh behind her words. "It’s not exactly Zaun. I still don't feel like I fit in here."
"You will. I promise." Caitlyn’s response is quick, and Vi knows she rarely leaves room for her to doubt herself, but the city outside shimmers and glistens with colours she’d never have imagined in her wildest childhood daydreams and the wind sings songs so beautiful they feel like a vile taunt.
Vi pulls her fingers back gently and lets her hands fall to her sides, brushing against the rough, stiff muscle of her thighs where long-settled wounds still tingle against her touch. "That's not what I mean, Cupcake."
"Well, what do you mean?"
Vi knows Caitlyn’s not stupid enough to misunderstand what she means, but it’s in these moments that the Enforcer in her really starts to show. If it were anyone other than the girl she hopes loves her the same amount as her heart gives, she’d feel like she was in the middle of an interrogation.
But Caitlyn’s eyes aren’t prying and her words aren’t pressing. She gives Vi space with her silence and assurance with her patience, the soft pads of her thumb skating gently over the rise of her cheekbone where her namesake sits.
Vi can’t say anything to divert attention from her, not with Caitlyn giving her such kindness. Still, she dams the words behind her teeth, her heart leaping up her throat but safe from harm nonetheless. Opening up, especially about her own pain and doubts, has always been reason enough for Vi to flee or to fight or to build up the stone in front of her; her heart’s broken enough as is, and she’s spent enough time cultivating its protection to let her guard down so quickly, even for a pretty face.
Even for someone she cares so much about.
Still, Caitlyn looks at her with all the world’s patience and all of life’s kindness. She’s every good thing Vi’s ever known, at least the only one that’s kept its purity instead of souring in the acrid, dense smog of the Lanes. Everything ends up rotten down there anyways, and she wonders if maybe Stillwater saved her from a more wretched fate.
For a moment, Vi hardly feels welcome in her own skin. The sun from outside casts just around the corner and tickles her shoulder. It’s so alien to even feel the sunlight after having spent years yearning for even a hint of its spark. Some mornings she doesn’t know if she’s even allowed to think about getting used to it.
It isn’t until Caitlyn repeats her name that Vi relents, letting her heart leap from her throat and coat vulnerable words with all the doubt it’s kept hidden. "Cait. Look at me. I'm not exactly Piltover's finest over here."
"I'd beg to differ,” Caitlyn retorts quickly, softly, though something playful flavours her voice. “I actually asked you to stay for breakfast. That's not a luxury most girls here get."
"But I'm not from here.” Vi’s attention turns back to the picturesque metropolis outside as she gestures to the window beside her. “That's not something I can shake off. It's not something I want to shake off.” Then, in a voice so small even she finds herself taken aback by, “Do you wish I was different, Caitlyn?"
Once again, Caitlyn leaves no room for doubt. "Not in any way. I don't know if you've figured this out yet, but there's not much good I have to say about Piltover.” Her soft smile tilts cheekily for just a second as she cradles Vi’s jaw in her palm once more, striking a delicate line across her cheek that draws a rosy blush in its wake. “That just so happens to include a lot of the girls I've seen."
This time, Vi’s words have a playful tone to them, despite the broken whisper her voice nearly dips into. "So you're into me because I'm a Zaunite?"
"I'm into you because you're you. That includes who you were, who you are, what you've done and seen...and yes, where you're from.” Her palm glides away from Vi’s cheek, brushing softly along the side of her neck before she begins to trace the intricate tattoos on her shoulder with a deliberate and affirming touch, almost as if kneading the sentiment into the still gears adorning her skin. “There's plenty to love about you, Vi, and I love all of it."
Vi feels an indignant rebuttal rumble in her throat, but the look in Caitlyn’s eyes assure her that she’s not budging from her adoration of her. All her life, her body’s only known roughness, violence, pain; she’s still learning to accept these soft touches against long-settled scars and calluses just as she’s still learning not to see danger in the eyes of someone she cares so fondly for.
Her back finds the cool metal frame of Caitlyn’s window, and sunlight pours over her shoulder, highlighting every feature of hers she’d always been sure would be a blight to a city so perfect, so clean, so ignorant of the troubles going on right under their noses.
Caitlyn doesn’t budge. She’s had ample opportunity to squirm at the sight of pale, raised flesh and deep, red grooves, and instead has taken every opportunity to treat it with the same care and attention she would her rifle after a hard day at work. She’s had days to wince at the pattern of gears and wires illustrated across Vi’s back and arms and instead has traced her fingers intently, devotedly, over them, committing each to memory and finding stories in their placement.
She finds those stories reflected in Caitlyn’s enamoured gaze, finds every reason Caitlyn could love her - and not in spite of who she is. Every inch of Vi is factored into the love she shows her, and it’s all that she can do to make sure she loves her just as much in return. It’s everything she can do to take every affectionate touch and snorting bout of laughter and moment of solace in the middle of the night into her being, etched into her skin like carvings in stone alongside everything else that’s made her up to this point, ugly and painful as they may be.
Awash in gilded sunlight and haloed by a soft morning haze, Caitlyn is the image of perfection, and Vi believes - even for just a moment - that that must be how Caitlyn sees her, too.
But Vi is a mosaic of her pain, broken apart by scars and clouded by ink to shelter her own fears, working her beyond her limits to protect herself and others from the monsters she’s put into the world. Behind her steely gaze, it’s the same story: her mind reels at the stimulation of want and the creeping arousal of doubts and fears.
She’d always thought that oil and water couldn’t mix. Maybe this is what that sentiment truly meant; after all, what pleasure can she wash her own mistakes away with?
“I’m…you mean all of that,” Vi murmurs, not looking for confirmation but trying to find the truth in those words.
“Every word, Vi,” Caitlyn says. Her eyes flit for a moment to Vi’s lips, and a wash of pink dances across her cheeks. “Shall I show you how much I mean it?”
Vi reaches for Caitlyn’s hand, curling her bruised fingers her own and choosing not to notice how different they look, instead focusing intently on the familiar, thoughtful look in Caitlyn’s eyes.
She catches her gaze, takes a moment to appreciate the sight before her, and swallows back the excuse she’d been about to utter. “Show me,” she implores, gently, as she guides Caitlyn’s thumb to the scar on her upper lip; it’s an old wound, but it stings like it’s fresh when she remembers every ugly moment leading to its inception. “Please.”
Caitlyn wastes little time in answering Vi’s request, melting into the intimate atmosphere before, in a moment, her lips meet hers, pouring a definite, adamant love that words could not match into every breathless, beautiful moment of this kiss. It doesn’t take long for their lips to part, but Caitlyn doesn’t leave Vi wanting, instead dragging her lips across her set jaw with languid dedication. Vi’s cheeks light with a rosy blush, and her lips part as if lost on the words she wishes could convey what Caitlyn had just wordlessly given her moments before.
The corner of her jaw, where the lobe of her pierced ear wears the same pink as her cheeks, is where Caitlyn directs her affection next, taking a moment to comb the bristles of her undercut with her short fingernails, before leaving a final, sensual kiss on the inked gear adorning her pulse. Vi has to bite back the husky gasp she nearly takes, worrying even for a moment that her own presence might fracture the tenderness she’s being given.
That worry sours and curdles despite her resistance, however, and she pulls away at the sound of her own arousal to find her breath - her safety - amidst creeping doubts in the recesses of her mind. “Wait.”
Caitlyn stops, hovering inches from Vi’s lips as concern sullies her expression. “What?”
“Are you sure about this?” Vi’s eyes dart to the world outside her bedroom for a moment; it’s still just as pristine, just as lush and sickeningly gilded. It almost feels sinful to be doing this, and while Vi’s more than happy to break a few rules, she’s had enough of ruining others’ lives for one of her own.
Caitlyn’s breath leaves her mouth in a quiet sigh. “Why, are you not?”
“No, I am. I just…” Excuse after excuse rolls through her mind, though it takes a moment for one to find its way to her mouth. “I mean, you don’t wanna ruin the fancy Kiramman name, do you?”
A moment of dull silence settles between them as Caitlyn parses Vi’s excuse, not pulling away from her for a moment to let her escape from what she’s so scared of wanting.
“Vi, I am very happy to ruin the fancy Kiramman name.” Her tone is light but affirming, and her expression holds all the same caring it always does, even when she’s letting her more daring tendencies colour it. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past five years?”
Vi’s lip twitches against a cynical laugh, but somehow the sentiment manages to escape. “So you are just into me for my body.”
“Not just ,” Caitlyn admonishes, though the feather-light touch of her fingers suggest otherwise. Vi knows that’s not the case, not after so many times hearing Caitlyn praise her for so much, but more than just sickness festers in the minds of her people, and caution and doubt are as strong as any hook she can throw.
“Not just? ”
“I’m not saying it’s not a factor.”
“And what about the rest of me?”
“All factors, too.” Caitlyn’s eyes flick across her body before dragging back up to catch Vi’s gaze. “Let me show you what I mean, please.”
Her chest closes in around the thunderous beating of her heart, veiling her longing with a thick wall of stone and excuses she’s practiced her entire life, but there’s a reason for the callouses on Vi’s knuckles, and stone eventually cracks with enough determination.
She can feel her chest crack with the patient but impassioned look on Caitlyn’s face, the stone surrounding her shoulders splintering with the idle glide of her fingertips. She’d spill every secret and insecurity she carries, but Caitlyn only wants her mouth for one thing right now.
Wordlessly, Vi invites her back, and her reward is an even more fervent kiss that nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. It doesn’t feel dangerous to lose her composure to Caitlyn’s lips, however, and soon she finds herself welcoming every flutter of affection that fills the cracks in her chest.
When Caitlyn draws back to meet Vi’s gaze, her eyes swim with a dark want alongside the adamant veneration they’d held before. “Believe me now, darling?”
“Totally,” Vi manages shakily, though her veins thrum for more. Rarely does she feel so deliberately adored, even when their nights together bear no shortage of intimacy. She wonders if this is how addiction feels - and if it is, she surely can’t blame herself for falling victim to it.
Caitlyn bites her lip and scans Vi’s features. “Do you need more? There’s a perfectly good bed behind us.” There’s a moment where her lip curls dangerously, and hexes it’s the kind of danger that Vi would barrel straight towards, headfirst and blind to leave her breathless and aching. “Or I could fuck you right here for all of Piltover to see how breathtakingly gorgeous you are.”
Oh.
Vi gulps, and the warm blush dancing across her cheek blooms with heat. So that’s the kind of morning this is going to be.
Caitlyn’s thumb grazes patient, idle lines across her cheek, every drag leaving her skin molten in its wake, and her eyes flit between Vi’s as she waits for her to collect her suddenly scattered thoughts and respond.
“Yeah,” Vi breathes, nearly moans, “yeah. Here.”
Caitlyn quirks a brow at her. “Here?”
“Here.”
Vis’ response is met with a tilted smirk, tempering the alluring danger that she’d once presented with an earnest excitement, before her lips find their way back to Vi’s with more ardent fervour in her kiss. Vi’s hands grasp for Caitlyn, pulling their bodies flush together and adding to the luxury felt against her rough skin, oil and water meeting and mixing despite what they’ve always been told.
Despite familiar thoughts, Vi’s body soon finds the reassuring pleasure of sensations in this kiss, of citrus fruits she’d never had the opportunity to taste, of fingers clamouring to keep her close - not to hurt, not to kill, but to love.
And Caitlyn loves all of her in fragments, trailing deep kisses on every inch of her that she can touch. It’s a gentleness Vi’s growing accustomed to, and so the delicate care she takes with her body is more than appreciated, especially against the encroaching intensity of her own arousal. She swears Caitlyn can feel the way her pulse races under her touch as her fingers drag towards her collar with a trail of adoring kisses in their wake.
Even here, faint scars split her body into different stories of pain, but Caitlyn takes them all with the same care, letting her lips and fingers wander as though she’s mapped out the grooves and angles of Vi’s body and remembers every inch of her, every old wound and inked line committed to memory beyond the pain of their origins.
It’s when Caitlyn’s teeth graze her breast, her bottom lip just barely brushing her nipple, that Vi has to swallow back a moan, careful again not to break her own immersion in this pure moment with her own rough timbre.
Caitlyn stops for a brief moment, though her fingers remain fixed to Vi’s chest. “It’s okay, darling,” she purls, a sweet smile evident in her words, “I like how you sound.”
“Yeah?”
Her response isn’t immediate, but Vi gets her answer when Caitlyn takes her nipple into her mouth, sucking at the sensitive spot until a shuddering sigh breaks from her mouth. She hardly needs the words to be assuaged, and instead acquiesces to a quick chuckle as the back of her head collides with the window frame.
“Point taken,” Vi huffs through her own bemused grin.
She feels Caitlyn smirk against her breast. “That’s my Vi,” she mutters before wrapping her lips back around her nipple, running her tongue against the hardening bud and clearly delighting in Vi’s reactions.
Surely, if this is Caitlyn’s way of making her feel just as precious as every sparkling treasure up here in Piltover, she’d be hard-pressed to say it isn’t effective. Caitlyn draws molten lines across her chest, tracing the thrumming outlines of tense muscle twitching in tandem with every lap of her tongue and gentle bite of her teeth, and Vi isn’t sure if it’s the morning sun cresting over her that’s causing her body to flush with sizzling heat or if Caitlyn’s been keeping her best work from her.
Caitlyn makes sure to pair every salacious moment with tender, loving actions and hushed words veiled by husky breaths.
“Handsome,” she hums, sending a foreign but satisfying chill through her skin to buffet the wash of heat overwhelming her.
“Gorgeous,” she praises, her words surely laced with shimmer if the rush in Vi’s veins is to be believed.
“Stunning,” she manages, barely above a whisper, and accentuates the statement by kissing the wet skin of her breast just above her nipple, lending intimacy to the seconds that Vi is given to catch her breath and collect her thoughts.
She’s hardly surprised at the tenderness; for all of Caitlyn’s experience, she’s a gentle lover befitting such a gentle soul. Her love grates against the image of the world Vi’s had to construct all these years, but only now does she realise she enjoys that image’s unravelling. She’s spent so many years keeping her body together with stone and chain and ink; perhaps being unravelled is an unfamiliar bliss, but it’s bliss nonetheless.
She feels Caitlyn’s lips and the tip of her nose drag across her chest, feather-light kisses marking her trail, and soon her fingers have come around to gently knead the defined muscles of her abdomen, mapping the grooves and dips with utter devotion while her lips continue to plant their own adoration in the wake of her touch.
Vi’s breath hiccups as a finger strikes a particularly sensitive spot, and for a moment she’s sure Caitlyn’s name is hidden in the gasp. It wouldn’t surprise her if that were the case; she’s being treated with such devotion, such love, the least she can do is coat the name of the world's most perfect woman with as much passion.
A lusting ache pools in her gut and between her legs, making her even more aware of just how much Caitlyn’s managed to affect her in such a small amount of time together. Her fingers knit into Caitlyn’s hair, guiding her attention up for a moment; the sinful expression she wears belies the reverence of her actions, tying her tongue and stuttering her breath in that rousing paradox.
“Cupcake-,“ she manages through the sensation, “please.”
“Please?” Caitlyn’s brow quirks. It's unfair how she can manage to make such a look so disarming (and how Vi will always lay down her arms for her).
Vi cards her thumb through Caitlyn’s hair. “Please…I want your mouth…”
Caitlyn pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, humming in thought for a moment before directing her attention to Vi’s abs to run her tongue along the tense muscles.
“There?” she asks coyly before lightly skating her teeth against her defined body.
Vi indulges the shudder that Caitlyn invokes, but her body only thrums for something more, something deeper.
The pads of Caitlyn’s fingers run slowly across Vi’s knuckles, guiding her hand away from her hairline and taking it in a gentle grasp. “Show me where.”
Vi guides Caitlyn’s touch down her stomach, down her hips, down her thighs, until resting it against her slick sex. “There, Cupcake.”
Her fingers hover for a moment, tips resting against Vi’s wet thigh while her thumb idly brushes the dark hairs between her legs. It takes nearly all of Vi’s restraint not to buckle and knot her fingers back into Caitlyn’s hair, but the hesitation of the moment isn’t excruciating or frustrating. The silence of the moment is leaden with desire, with devotion, with Caitlyn taking her time to admire her partner with a lidded stare and parted lips.
If anything, it makes Vi’s body rattle when Caitlyn finally dips forward and laps at Vi’s cunt. Her breath explodes from her mouth, choking out a scratchy whine that Vi hadn’t even thought possible in her own voice, and the plaster walls nearly crack under the pressure of her palm’s heel digging against it, desperate for some purchase as Caitlyn begins to eat her out.
With every lap and drag of Caitlyn’s tongue, Vi’s hips buck, and every playful flick or ardent suck of her clit leaves her more of a mess than the last. There’s nothing that Caitlyn’s mouth does to her that leaves her short of enamoured, breathless, hot-
Cared for.
Amidst the medley of thoughts and sensations and whispers of adoration that kiss her smouldering skin, Vi feels cared for in a way she never expected, her body finding itself capable of accepting love again. She doesn't doubt that being fucked like this - with a reverence often reserved for idols and gold - could break the stone walls built around her, shatter the chains pulling her into herself. Caitlyn doesn't treat her as weak, but she treats her as lovable, as cherishable, as the people outside their door might never treat her - and Caitlyn flies in the face of all of that. For her.
Vi might just be ready to crumble and fall apart for Caitlyn; after all, she knows for once that her pieces are in safe hands.
The wall behind her creaks and splinters, and Vi can feel that lust inside her growing with every deliberate movement of Caitlyn’s mouth, playing between eating her out and toying with her clit all the while tracing her hands along every facet of her body, tracing the patterns of destruction Vi wears - and that she knows Caitlyn adores her in spite of. Because of. The two are a blur in Vi’s mind, anyways, as Caitlyn gives her something far sweeter to focus on.
Vi bites into her bottom lip as a particularly strong sensation wracks her body and brings her climax closer. “Cait-” she stutters, “Cait, I’m-”
If her mind weren’t so foggy right now, she’d swear to hearing Caitlyn giggle, but she can be sure of the pace that she picks up, pulling one hand back to grab hold of Vi’s ass while the other braces behind them.
It doesn’t take long for Vi to come; her muscles tense against a surging pleasure that fills her body and blanks her mind. In an instant, she’s vulnerable, a strained gasp scratching its way out of her throat to join the medley of sensation she feels, and not for an instant does Caitlyn stop touching her, pleasuring her, easing her through the orgasm until her vision returns from a spin and her muscles fall apart.
“Easy, babe. Easy, easy,” Vi hears through the remnant haze of her climax, like a dream or an echo; Caitlyn’s voice is so familiar to her, and it calms her instantly as she helps her find stable ground again.
Vi drops back against the wall with Caitlyn to slow her impact; she doesn’t even bother to register how the plaster cracks again, instead choosing to focus on letting breath back into her lungs as best as she can. Sunlight streams through their window still, but she knows the heat that it brings and the heat Caitlyn’s driven into her. Her and Caitlyn have fucked before, but never has Vi felt so unbelievably spent - and unbelievably satisfied.
After a moment, Vi’s gaze tilts up to catch Caitlyn wiping her chin with her palm and licking away the slick residue; when their eyes meet, Caitlyn lets out an easy, saccharine giggle.
“You know I love how you taste,” she insists with a smile, accentuating her point with another quick lick. “Funny that you call me Cupcake when you’re the one who tastes so sweet.”
Through her pants, Vi manages a rough chuckle. “Trust me, I have every reason to call you Cupcake.” Then, in a more solemn tone, “I think I broke your wall.”
Caitlyn feigns an upset frown, though the giggle she tries in vain to stifle gives the act away. “What a shame. I guess we’ll have to break the bed next time.”
Vi laughs again, but this time it feels lighter, sweeter. She has no reason to believe Caitlyn’s planning on leaving her, especially after how much love she just showed her, but old habits are hard to shake, old shadows are hard to lose, and the persistent worry about oil and water snakes around her mind.
“Cait…”
Before she can even begin her thought, Caitlyn places her palm against the corner of Vi’s jaw, cradling her as gently as she looks at Vi.
“I love you, Vi. I love you more than I ever thought I could love somebody.” She drags the pad of her thumb down Vi’s cheek, and it’s instinct for Vi to catch her hand in hers and hold it close. “I love all of you. And I want to keep loving you.”
“Yeah?” Vi murmurs.
Caitlyn smiles as she pulls Vi’s hand to her lips, planting the most chaste of kisses against her knuckles. “Yes,” she breathes over the ridge of their joined hands, “I do. Even if you came so hard you broke a wall.”
“You’re not gonna let that go, are you Cupcake?” Vi grumbles playfully with a roll of her eyes.
“I’d rather not. That crack is going to remind me of just how good I am."
“Or I could just tell you. You’re good, Cupcake. You’re incredible.”
“You’re not always going to be able to tell me.” Caitlyn’s expression turns devilish again as she grazes her teeth along the ridges of Vi’s knuckles. “Like when you’re using your mouth for other things, for example.”
Enough of Vi has been pulled together for her to feel her own strength return, and her mind runs with thoughts other than the brilliant sun outside or the gilded symmetry of the city past the window, past her home. Now, she can only think of Caitlyn, of the home she’s given her, of the love she’s returned to her, of the safety she gives to her every single moment she’s in her life.
And of the utterly salacious grin she wears.
“Then let’s go break that bed,” Vi says, and a broken home has never enticed her more.