price on emotion | caitlyn kiramman x vi
okay second of all this fic is inspired by this drawing made by @/XWilson127 on twitter. can't stop thinking about it so yeah.
i lost my ability to write so this kinda sucks
outside its raining. lightning pierces through the curtains into that poorly lit room.
vi lies on the bed. her limbs feel incredibly tense to the point that she wonders if it is possible that her muscles have contracted so much that they can never return to normal. today it was her turn to fight, at first that giant man managed to destabilize her with a punch in her chest, so hard that she lost her breath for a good ten seconds. she thinks she only got air in her lungs back just because she saw that stupid smile of victory in that man's face and she got mad.
but she had won anyway, so she went home with a taste of victory and a bottle of alcohol. loris wasn't in town today to celebrate, so now she was in her rented room, watching how the light was hitting in the empty bottles of alcohol reflecting the color in her wall, like a cheap aurora borealis.
her room is a mess. besides the bottles of alcohol scattered on the floor, vi's room is decorated with clothes everywhere; on the floor, on the door handle, on her bed. from her point of view, she can see the little mark that jinx left on her last visit made with the paint that vi uses for her fights.
jinx has been in and out for a couple months now. last time she showed up when vi was sleeping; when the pink haired girl opened her eyes to hear drawers being rattled, a pair of long blue braids greeted her. vi remembers how her first instinct was to attack her, then jinx insulted her, then left. to this day vi doesn't know how she managed to get into the apartment.
so yeah, jinx has been... there.
before vi can wander further in her thoughts, a knock on the door catches her attention. she thinks maybe it's from the heavy blizzard outside, so she doesn't think much of it; she keeps looking at jinx mark.
a clap of thunder explodes in the sky, vi feels the earth that holds her rumble. she really wishes that loris would be here tonight. he is good company, she thinks; he is quiet, so most of the talking is on vi's part, usually riddled with strange babbling and exaggeratedly pronounced words because of the alcohol.
lately, vi has noticed how the alcohol has worn off; she still can't decide if she likes it or if it scares her. her life has been all about finding options to avoid consciousness for the past few months, from bruises to the cheapest alcohol she could find at the corner store. they work for a couple of weeks, then she is back at the same spot where she started.
another knock on the door comes.
she doesn't consider herself suicidal. she doesn't want to die, for sure, but she is aware of her personality's propensity for not-so-healthy methods. or so she thinks.
it's the third knock on the door that succeeds in calling vi to the surface of her thoughts. she lets out a groan of pain as she gets out of bed, her legs dragging heavily toward the door.
vi thinks maybe it's loris, deploying a sudden apparition that manages to save vi from that boring, lonely rainy night. she also thinks it might be jinx, but jinx isn't polite enough to knock on the door.
instead, a pair of crooked teeths greet her.
"what took you so long? it's raining outside."
her body instinctively slides to the side, leaving the way clear for the slender body to scurry inside quickly. a sea-blue haze pervades the room, and vi feels like she hasn't had a drop of alcohol in years.
"yeah, hello to you too" vi mutters, closing the door.
the noise of the storm leaves the room, but the presence of water makes an appearance; in front of her, caitlyn is soaking wet. the locks of her long hair shed fat drops of water, her uniform turns a darker shade where the drops landed, which becomes tighter and louder with every step she takes, leaving an unobtrusive trail for her craft.
cailtyn's eyebrows furrow. her lips open, but no sound comes from them. vi sits on the bed, her eyes match those of the blue-haired woman; it's been two weeks.
for the past few months an unorthodox routine has been going on in those four walls that vi calls home. she doesn't remember when it started, or how it became so recurrent, but when the nights became lonely and boring, she would catch herself waiting for a knock on the door.
or at least that was two weeks ago, when caitlyn showed signs of life.
"so, you came back from the dead" vi says, her legs manspreading
caitlyn purses her lips "i was busy"
"things got... complicated" her hair sheds droplets of water; vi follows the path of one with her eyes, who descends caitlyn's long torso.
vi's eyes reconnect with caitlyn's as the droplet disappears "you don't owe me explanations" vi murmurs
vi can't figure out where in the recesses of her being such hostility comes from, she feels a little stupid about it, but she can't help it. two fucking weeks.
caitlyn's eyes transform, they become harder, less bright, emptier. "you are right. i dont owe you nothing" she says, her strong accent punctuating every word.
the atmosphere feels tense. the thunder continues to make a presentation in the sky, which lights up with each flash of lightning, small rays of light among so much darkness.
"so" vi says "what brings you here?"
vi knows, and caitlyn knows that vi knows. she knows why caitlyn is there, that night, when a thunderstorm is practically tearing the city apart. she could be anywhere, but there she is, in vi's disgusting room, which smells like alcohol and something that she cannot decipher.
caitlyn's furtive visits happen on random days of the week, sometimes in her civilian clothes, sometimes in her enforcer's clothes; usually at night time, when the streets of zaun lie uninhabited, where any sound could be mistaken for the rushing wind.
vi can recite this nightly routine as if it were the anthem: caitlyn shows up at her door with an excuse of being in the middle of an investigation, vi says she doesn't know anything about it, they argue, and then they fuck.
sometimes vi thinks caitlyn's lie isn't necessary, but she can't help but feel that it adds a more interesting twist to the whole thing.
"i heard that jinx has been around lately" caitlyn says, and vi smiles.
well, she hasn't used that one in a while. it's fair.
"mhm" vi says "so that is all it takes for you to come back. jinx."
"i already told you. things has been busy."
"no, i know" vi says "since deciding which fancy restaurant to go eat at every night must be complicated" she knows that she's been a little bit to hard on her, but she can't help to care.
caitlyn lets out a snort. everything she's saying is true, or at least partially true.
normally, caitlyn's secret, spontaneous visits occurred once a week, twice a week if she was feeling lucky, but those last two weeks luck was not something that characterized them. the weight of the power that her own family name inherited from her had been stealing overtime from caitlyn's life, and she had been feeling a little bit of a struggle to take care of it. sometimes caitlyn felt as if her last name was something tangible, a solid object she had to carry all day, every day, for the rest of eternity.
but her words aren't sincere enough to tell vi is that during these weeks apart, caitlyn has been searching for vi's essence in other women.
things were never easy between them. somehow, something always got left unsaid in between them, pricking like a thorn in the prettiest rose in the whole garden, pressing the skin against the thorn to see how long it can last before you hurt yourself.
she knows. she knows all of this is pointless, she knows that sex isn't enough with vi, that somehow nothing is enough with her lately. these last weeks, she found herself daydreaming about the curvature of her nose, the ink on her cheek, the scar on her lips.
but she can't afford that. even coming from a wealthy family, caitlyn can't afford the luxury of feelings, nothing there seems to have a price for her to get it, so the closest thing she can get is the sex.
and she knows that it may be selfish, but if that is the only thing she can get from vi, she will take it.
"i don't care if you don't believe me" caitlyn says "i dont know why i even bother to tell you".
her words sound harsh, her thick accent stands out.
when vi stands up, a few inches separate them. the only source of light from a dim lamp on the makeshift bedside table illuminates caitlyn's features, a dance of light and shadow reflected on her face. vi thinks that maybe the way her face is illuminated is her favorite aurora borealis.
vi's fingertips gently brush the seam of caitlyn's skirt, wrapping the fabric around her finger and causing a slight tug. she can see caitlyn's chest rise and fall.
"what are you really here for, cupcake?"
and that is all it takes.
vi still has her fight makeup on; the black shadow is scattered across her eyelids, there are spots where the shadow has patched and left large uneven chunks. she has a band-aid over her eyebrow and the artificially dyed hair lie messily across her face, but still, underneath all that, it doesn't stop her from seeing the moment when caitlyn leaves her performance and launches into her touch.
everything feels desperate. their lips fight fiercely in an intense kiss, the sound of saliva and wet lips floods the room that was once tamed by the rain outside. vi's hands clutch at caitlyn's jaw, who allows herself to be manipulated with pleasure.
none of it is tender; it's carnal. bot of them are aware of the sound of spit and heaving breaths heard in the room, but none of them seem to care enough to stop. two weeks.
caitlyn's slender, nimble fingers drop vi's leather jacket to the floor, which falls with a thud. her fingertips touch every inch of accessible skin with desperation, trying to memorize every detail, every texture of her physiognomy, to absorb every reaction of her body and then repeat the action and get the same results. the blue-haired woman's hands slip down vi's shirt until they find her breasts, where she squeezes and rubs, pinches and plays.
she loves vi's body. maybe it's superficial, but the way her muscles contract and her skin lies so tight is something that caitlyn could swear changes her brain chemistry.
she can feel how vi drags her toward the bed with steps too clumsy that they are both surprised when their bodies collide against the soft mattress and not the cold floor. caitlyn falls on top of vi, but quickly vi goes on top, leaving caitlyn's long body under her power. vi's hands navigate the full expanse of skin, her fingers sliding the fabric of caitlyn's skirt toward her hips, leaving the flesh of her thighs exposed.
vi's lips leave caitlyn's for a new adventure that begins at her neck. vi sucks and bites lightly like a famished animal, she can feel the taste of rain on caitlyn's skin, who lets out muffled moans.
she can feel vi's fingers squeezing the flesh of her inner thighs. the touch is hard and ecstatic, and both can predict the marks that will appear in the not-too-distant future. their fingers entwine in vi's hair, who whimpers as she is tugged with pleasure.
she has missed this. no one has ever treated her, or well, fuck her, like vi does. she likes that she doesn't feel the necessity of being in control with her, that she can lay down and vi will make her feel good no matter what. with vi, everything flows.
when other women got to touch caitly's body, she often found herself being overly calculating, the need to be in control of the situation overtaking her in a way where enjoyment was the last thing on the list, focused on displaying that performance for an imaginary audience.
last week, caitlyn found herself in a brothel. when the girl was eating her out, caitlyn couldn't force herself to enjoy the moment, so when she faked an orgasm and went home, she vowed never to return.
with vi, caitlyn is stripped of this obsessive need for control.
a flash of lightning illuminates the room. vi can see the desire in cait's eyes.
sometimes vi feels like it's all meaningless; too many nights have passed where the alcohol doesn't work as intended and her mind navigates the sea of worries that inhabit her being, convincing herself that the next time caitlyn shows up at her door, vi won't open it, that she will stop satisfying the needs of a piltover enforcer who only comes to her aid when the nights seem endless and sleep is not present, when frustration and the desire to ignore the exaggerated power she possesses suddenly invades her, guiding her blindly to that dark and lonely room. vi thinks that this is the only way she can break the cycle in half.
but then, for a fraction of a millisecond, she sees that familiar look in caitlyn's eyes and vi knows that her desire has betrayed her once again.
and she hates it. she hates that when all of the sex is over, she goes back to the same place where she started; drunk, beaten and missing a warmth that doesn't belong to her. there have been multiple nights when caitlyn's face where the only thing she could see, where every tone of midnight blue sent shocks through her whole body reminding her that she is alive, and alone.
but she'd rather have a little bit of caitlyn than none of her.
one night, after vi won a fight against a fucking monster -that's what she called him-, she went to a bar with loris, with the excuse that she deserved a good drink after she was about to be beaten to death. the night went well, loris bought her a drink and they talked about the next rounds, training, among other things, but when vi turned to look at loris, a flash of blue eyes caught her attention.
her ears were deafened and loris' words were forgotten. vi could have sworn she felt her heart stop for a few seconds, her skin drained of any trace of color and a bead of cold sweat ran down her spine, paralyzing her completely in a pigsty in the depths of zaun.
it wasn't many seconds before that woman turned around and her identity was revealed; it wasn't her. of course. she took a shot after that, and ended up throwing up on some random people's porch on the way back home, with loris by her side.
but that doesn't matter at the moment, not when vi's fingers slip inside caitlyn's underwear, the fabric of the skirt covering up that indecent act taking place in the privacy of four walls.
she didn't tell violet that these last two weeks she's been away she touched herself imagining that her fingers were vi's. or that she put a handful of pillows down imagining that it was vi beside her and not her usual solitude.
she wasn't allowed to say that.
vi straightens up. look at that view; the way cait is spreading her legs, the way her hips chase vi's touch, how her eyebrows furrow and her lips search for air. caitlyn's hands tug vi's t-shirt hard enough for vi to get the message. she pulls it off and tosses it to the floor, revealing her breasts to cait, who is already drooling.
they usually don't talk when they have sex, the only things that are uttered aloud are directions, like faster or louder, or some insult when vi pushes cait too hard when she is overstimulated.
the lack of talking is not because they don't care about each other, but because they have learned each other's bodies in such a way that they don't need words. a language so intimate that there are only two speakers in the whole world.
the bleached locks fall over her face in a perfectly messy way that caitlyn doesn't know whether to run them off or leave them there for her enjoyment, but before she can even decide, vi leans over and drops a trickle of saliva toward caitlyn's pussy.
caitlyn stifles a moan, her body getting used to the change in temperature. she feels vi's saliva running down her folds.
all of it it's so nasty, but she likes it.
vi's fingers quickly unbutton her pants, revealing the strap clinging to her pelvis. caitlyn wants to roll her eyes at that.
then she thinks if she is seeing someone else.
the head of the fake penis rubs against caitlyn's entrance. vi takes the length of it and moves it up and down, spreading that whitish liquid and sending shudders through the blue-haired woman's body.
vi feels mesmerized. the wet noises make her go crazy, the way caitlyn moves her hips in desperation, her lips letting out low moans. her fingers attack her clitoris, massaging that bundle of nerves as if all the time in the world belonged to her.
she knows she can make cait feel good, and that fills her with an explosion of power that vi feels drunk.
a thunderclap explodes outside, the earth beneath the floor that holds them trembles. the whole world belongs to them.
the light in the room is not bright enough to reveal how much they have missed each other.
caitlyn loves being teased by vi, but it's been two fucking weeks, and she can't wait anymore longer.
so when vi pulls out the strap, caitlyn pulls on vi's arm until her back hits the mattress and she's positioned on top of her body, her thighs on either side of vi's legs, who lies mesmerized by the sight.
her uniform is still on as if nothing has happened, the fabric of her skirt bunched up over her hips, a wet mark revealed in her underwear where vi touched her.
vi rests her weight on one of her arms, her torso is leaning back slightly, her other hand holds caitlyn's bare thigh.
"do you need help?" vi says. she feels like she hasn't used her voice in a million times. her throat itches.
caitlyn shakes her head. her hands seek support on vi's broad shoulders, which lend themselves without complaint. her body lifts a little, vi can see her chew her lower lip hard, and before sinking into the strap, caitlyn pulls her underwear to the side.
vi thinks that was the hottest thing ever. she also thinks she can cum with just that.
when caitlyn feels the base of the strap touch her skin, she lets out a sigh. she never tried this position with vi before, or with any other women. she feels full. somehow, her throat feels full, as if a million moans made themselves at home in her throat, and that at the slightest movement of her hips they'll all come rushing out.
she goes up, and then down. she does this a few times before she can get used to. her hands never leave vi's shoulders, squeezing the tanned skin tightly as the strap hits some sensitive part inside her. quickly, caitlyn's rhythm increases, who dances her hips faster and harder.
the sound of skin colliding is as dirty as it is addictive. vi lets out slight moans, not just from the sight, but because csitlyn's thrusts cause the base of the strap to rub against her clit, making her see stars.
vi's lips find their home again on caitlyn's neck, who facilitates access. everything feels hot. the redhead's skin burns, her neck carries a flush that extends into her cleavage, a path vi has traversed countless times. the pace only increases with each second, caitlyn's hips become unruly, the movements more awkward and faster. vi tilts her hips up, and the sound caitlyn makes is one she's never heard before.
she does this a couple of times before caitlyn starts to shake. vi's lips come up, capturing caitlyn's in a wet kiss, caitlyn fucks herself into vi while her mouth is getting fucked the same way by vi's tongue, who shamelessly assaults caitlyn's mouth.
more than a kiss it might seem like an attempt to shut the other up mutually, the guttural moans die on the other's tongue, vibrating at the movement of the onslaught. vi's hand travels from caitlyn's throat, caressing every inch of her body, squeezing the flesh of her hips and thighs, until it reaches her clitoris, where it presses.
she can't kiss caitlyn no more. she can't keep her mouth shut, her legs tremble and vi knows she's on the verge of an explosion. her moans sound more like whimpers, jumping on vi again and again.
"violet" cailtyn moans, her voice is shaky and high-pitched.
her pleasure is so great that it drugs her. caitlyn feels the need to vomit all her feelings to vi, to tell her that she really is the woman she imagined every time another girl touched her, that when she closes her eyes her scar on her lip is the only thing she can see, that her heart constantly seeks her warmth.
but she can't do it, so when she climaxes and the orgasm passes, she rises from vi's lap, her legs shaky and sticky
"let me know if you hear from Jinx."
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