Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“God, the absolute nerve of them!” Caitlyn explodes, for at least the third time on this phone call, and catches the tail end of Jayce’s sigh.

“I know, Cait, I know. It’s good ol’ boys club bullshit at its finest.”

Caitlyn shuts her eyes and leans her head back against the plush back of her couch, pushing her temper down to a simmer. “Sorry, thank you, Jayce. And thank Mel for me, please. What does she like to drink? I need to get her a gift basket for finessing this for me.”

“What’s a big brother for? And Mel’s been really into this one Freljordian gin; hold on let me get the name.”

Cait stares at the dull ivory of her ceiling, listening to the clatter of Jayce’s keyboard and tries to rub the angry tension out of her neck. She only manages to deepen the ache.

“Ah, here we go,” Jayce says. He tells her the name and Cait peels herself off her couch to grab a pad off the side table and note it down; she'll leave the office for lunch and pick it up this week. A personal favor means a personal gift, not just hiring a shopper or hitting up Doordash.

“I thought Noxians were into wine?” Cait says, absently doodling on the notepad. “Isn’t that their whole thing?” That, and corporate espionage, Cait thinks sourly, but that’s not Mel’s fault.

“Yeah but Mel hates tannins, that’s why she never drinks tea.” Jayce says this like it’s very fascinating personal information because, bless the man, he was born a wife guy. Cait has no idea how Mel tolerates the clinging. She hums in response as Jayce rambles and makes another note on her scribbly notepad, underlines it. No tea.

“So,”Jayce says as he winds down his Tales of Mel. “What are you going to do about it, Sprout?”

Cait heaves a sigh. That’s the thing she's been indulging in her outrage to avoid thinking about. When Cait had heard through the office grapevine that she had been earmarked for an off-Partner track, an of Council position, she had immediately reached out to Mel in a panic. There was no one else Cait knew better at networking than Mel, and she had come through, gotten it right from the horse’s mouth. The firm considers Caitlyn both a reputational and a flight risk. Until they consider her respectable enough, with roots set down in the city, they don’t want to risk putting her on a Partner track. The Partner who had spoken with Mel had opined that, were he in Caitlyn’s place, he’d find a pretty little fiancee to settle down with and kill two birds with one stone.

Even apart from that vile little aside, the whole thing galls Caitlyn viciously. They want to keep her as a resource, a show name, a Kiramman in the stables to match a Kiramman in the name of the firm. Her great-grandmother had been a founding partner of Hale, Kiramman & Grauf, her mother worked in this firm before moving on to serve the city as Governor, then Senator. This is the city Cait was born in. She’d become a First-Year lawyer here at twenty, before the ink was even dry on her Bar certificate, four years as an Associate, and made Senior Associate last year. Her path has been accelerated, but she's earned what she’s gotten. But Cait’s great-grandmother is dead, and retired senator Cassandra Kiramman is planning a move to Ionia, land of both her foremothers, and competing law firms. As for Caitlyn herself, well, she did all her schooling in Ionia, and with her mother and father leaving, she has no real ties to Piltover, and she’s an open lesbian with a string of short term relationships and hook-ups. There are plenty of public candids of her leaving bars and restaurants and nightclubs, never with the same woman on her arm, trotted out whenever the society pages have a slow week.

Caitlyn could holler homophobia and misogyny until she was blue in the face, and it would certainly get her attention, a brief flash of performative outrage online. It might even ding the company’s stock values slightly, or get some unimportant and likely uninvolved c-suite suit fired. What it wouldn’t do is get Caitlyn what she wants: a position as Partner in the firm. It would, in fact, softly blacklist her from most other BigLaw firms as well.

More personally, the idea of taking that little toad’s advice and just…picking a woman to get engaged to, trying to force that intimacy with someone who is basically a stranger living in her home is just - ugh. It makes Cait’s skin crawl, and frankly, considering her most recent experiences, it makes her afraid.

“God, I have no fucking idea, Jayce.” Cait rubs her forehead, then swears again when she realizes the pen is still in her hand, and she's left a blue streak on her face.

Jayce hums thoughtfully then sighs, his fingers audibly drumming, clearly prevaricating. Cait does not tell him to just spit it out because she loves him, and his girlfriend just helped her enormously.

“I have this friend - you know, my cool lesbian gym bro?”

Cait smiles; she has heard about Jacye’s little workout buddy. The man had just moved to Piltover and was so happy to make a friend who was willing to discuss - whatever they talk about that the nerds in Jayce's labs aren’t interested in - protein powders, reps of things.

Jayce launches into a tale of woe: how his friend had finally shipped the baby sister she raised herself after the death of their family off to college. How the slumlord they rented their crappy apartment from had been putting them off about water stains and mold issues for so long that the inevitable thing that happens with leaking water had happened, and the ceiling had collapsed. No one had been hurt, but the gym friend’s - whose name is Vi, Caitlyn learns - belongings sat in dirty water, covered in sodden insulation and drywall all day. She'd lost almost everything, and with the apartment unlivable, Jayce said she was currently living in a motel, her slumlord was dodging all communication, and she didn’t know what to do.

Caitlyn makes the appropriate noises, mind churning. At the forefront is sympathy and outrage, that someone has to deal with this sort of blow when her life was finally getting easier, that someone would keep two young women living in a moldy wreck, then further dodge responsibility after it collapsed. Then comes the jittering nerves, because she knows what Jayce is getting at and it’s so stupid, it’s a bad romantic comedy, and Cait hates that she’s desperate enough that she can see it working.

This woman is also a lesbian, is already vetted by Jayce, and Cait easily has the means to make it worth her while. It would be mutual help, really. Cait needs to look respectable and grounded - and apparently she needs a fucking fiancee for that - and Vi needs a place to stay while she gets back on her feet. Caitlyn can be a roommate for a bit. Once she makes Partner and Vi is comfortable their engagement can always just not work out, and both of them will have gotten what they need out of it. Maybe things will go well enough that Cait will even come out of this with a new friend. It’s been hard to maintain relationships when work takes up so much of her life, and making a new friend would be lovely.

“I hate that this actually sounds like a workable idea to me,” she says, and Jayce scoffs.

“You should trust me! It sounds like a cheesy movie plot, but I think it could help both my friends out of a pinch,” he says, warm and hopeful as ever.

Cait smiles fondly, and tells him to set up a meeting, giving him a list of days and times when she can squeeze in half an hour at a cafe. To meet who could possibly become her fucking fiancee. Fake fiancee. God, what is Cait even doing?

Hanging up on Jayce, Cait drops back onto her sofa with a groan, propping her legs up on the arm. She stares out the french doors to the terrace, gauzy curtains fluttering over the glass. Spring is well underway and all her plants are a riot of greenery, new buds and vines crawling up the trellised awning. She should take the patio furniture out soon.

It’s hard to imagine someone else living here full-time; even Maddie had only spent a few days a week at Caitlyn’s place. She has the space, the guest room is still cleaned every week along with the rest of the apartment, it shouldn’t be a problem for Marie to accommodate cooking for one more. Cait drums her fingers on her chest, then gets up off the couch and pulls on leggings, puts her hair up. If she lays there she’s going to drive herself mad imagining disaster scenarios made up of every horrible roommate situation she’s ever heard of. She’s going for a run, she’s going to eat dinner and she’s going to get more than six hours of sleep. She’s actually going to meet this Vi before she talks herself out of this whole farce before it even starts.

****

Vi lies on her back on the shitty mattress in her shitty hotel room, trying to quash the paranoia that every tickle of her leg hair being stirred by the shitty AC is actually a bedbug crawling up her shin.

It’s fine, she’s fine – the hotel is just cheap, not actively disgusting, and Vi had checked the seams of the mattress and the cushions of the chairs, and taken the pillows out of their cases and everything else she could think of before so much as letting her thrifted suitcase touch the balding carpet. Paranoia is a lingering motherfucker, though. A few years ago an infestation had hit their building, coming through Powder and Vi’s vents from another unit. Even though it had been one of the few issues their landlord had properly addressed, it had been one of the worst times Vi can remember. The money they lost throwing out furniture and buying plastic covers for their mattresses, clearing out the freezer so they could put Powder’s school books, sealed in off-brand ziplock bags, in there to kill any eggs. Having to take time off work because she had to be home for all three times the technician came to spray. She remembers sitting in their tiny bathroom in the middle of the night, because Powder couldn’t hear her cry in there, feeling ashamed and dirty and exhausted, her skin crawling too hard to let her sleep on her infested mattress. The pinprick scars on her and Powder's ankles from the bites had taken years to fade completely.

So Vi’s been in some shitty situations, and though it’s extra insulting that this feels like a fucking repeat assault - same shitty landlord, same loss of belongings - at least this time Powder isn’t involved. A twofold relief, both because Powder doesn’t need this shit during her freshman year of college and, guiltily, that Vi doesn’t have to wrangle her little sister’s volatile reactions and feelings while dealing with this.

Vi’s joked that she’s been a single mom since she was fifteen, mostly to smooth over other people’s discomfort with her situation. Fifteen was when Vander had started to get sick. Her uncle had been a lifelong smoker, and Vi, who had lost both her mother and father to random chance at ten, had seen the cough that shook her uncle's massive shoulders, and the flecks of blood on the handkerchiefs he tried to hide, and she’d gone out and gotten a part-time job after school as a bagger at the Market Basket down the street.

She’d opened her own bank account, separate from the ones Vander had opened with Powder and her, just to make sure she always has access to money. Last year she’d heard Mandy talking about her Oma’s death during science lab, and how her mother was having issues accessing her late mother’s accounts to cover her final expenses, even though her name was also on the account.

Vi looked up apartment prices and budgeting tips and legal guardianship with regard to orphaned siblings on the computers at school and started doing her peers' math homework and english essays for cash in addition to her bagger job. Vander had watched her do all this with his brow dug down and a frown making deep lines on his face, but they never talked about it. The money from their parents' accident was socked away for Powder to go to college, and they don’t have any other family. Mylo was trying to keep his head down in the Navy long enough to get his education paid for, and Claggor was in trade school. Just like them, Vi is doing what she has to do, and both Vander and her know it.

Vander held on until Vi was two weeks past eighteen. It was as on purpose as that sort of thing could be, Vi thinks. He’d waited to make sure Vi and her sister wouldn’t be separated by the state. She doesn’t cry at his funeral, all Vi can think of through the service is how she has to find an apartment close enough to where they used to live so that Powder doesn’t have to switch schools, and how she can’t really make a comprehensive budget until she knows if they can get a place with utilities included.

That’s been the last ten years of her life. Things did get easier; Vi thinks they got out of it okay. Powder is thriving in college, Vi managed to get a handful of therapy sessions before their health insurance changed, and those probably saved her from juvie. She has better jobs now, a car that runs, even a tiny bit of savings. Or she did, until the roof fell in and most of her belongings sat in rusty water for eight hours. Now she’s here, firmly ignoring her bug-induced paranoia, listening to Jayce describe the plot of a bad romcom like it’s a legitimate solution and feeling desperate enough to agree.

“So this other lesbian friend of yours-”

“My sister from another mister.”

“Christ, dude. So, your sister - you’re sure she’s not playing a prank on us? Or planning on trafficking my organs?”

If she is, it’s not a dealbreaker. Vi would hand over a kidney, or her spleen, or something else non-vital at this point. Can’t you grow your liver back if you donate a chunk of it? Vi is so fucking tired, in a way that no amount of sleep seems to touch, that recovering from surgery actually sounds relaxing. Especially if she can do it in some rich lawyer’s apartment.

Jayce laughs. “No, no, I know it sounds really weird, but Cait’s the most ambitious person I've ever met, and she’s been gunning for a Partner position since she started at that firm. I guess one of her grandmas was a founder or something? If getting fake-hitched is what she needs to do to get it, she’s going to do it, and she’s going to excel at it.”

Vi raises an eyebrow at the water-stained panelled drop ceiling. She’s sure getting a good grade in being a fiancee is a very normal and healthy mindset, but that’s not really Vi’s business. “What the fuck is that about anyway? Is it the 1950s in her office? They seriously said she needs to wife up to be taken seriously?”

“Lawyers are so fucking weird, Vi,” Jayce says, with the kind of fervent intensity that comes of being the only sane person in a room. “Cait once told me about how she had to speak with this baby lawyer because she was wearing red heels to the office.”

“That jezebel,” Vi says dryly.

Jayce goes off on more stories about how damn weird lawyers are and Vi lays there in her tiny hotel room, with her dinner of cup noodle and vending machine snacks waiting, and thinks that roommating it up with someone who may be a stick in the mud legal shark but is still human enough to give advice to a young lawyer sounds more and more like the clear winner out of her current line up of shitty choices.

Cait doubts Jayce's insane plan more and more the closer the lunch date gets. On the day of, she drinks too much green tea, pees every twenty minutes that day as a result, and holds onto the fact that the cafe she chose is one she loves. If it’s a flop, Cait will still get a giant iced coffee, and one of their proper bagels, smeared with cream cheese and piled with tomato and cucumber, lox and capers.

Then she actually meets this Vi face to face.

The worst part is that Cait is sold at first sight, and Jayce's stupid smug expression knows it. Vi has a heartbreakingly pretty face, ticked with a couple intriguing scars. A shaggy candy pink undercut, the long thick mass of her hair gathered in a sloppy bun. She’s wearing trainers with a pair of dark wash straight leg jeans, worn to white around the knees and thighs, and muscle tee, a fanny pack worn as a cross body, with stark black tattoos across her arms and peeking around her neck.

In short, Jayce has brought her the exact type of masc Cait loves to pick up and introduce to her strap collection for a few hours, the asshole.

Vi herself is perfectly lovely, despite the strangeness of their meeting. Her unguarded expression is a little uncertain, but hopeful, and the greeting she gives Cait is friendly. Mostly, Vi looks tired, which Cait finds eminently understandable.

Charmingly, Vi takes her advice and lets Cait order the bagel sandwich for both of them; Jayce gets the quiche because he’s a philistine who hates lox. Vi’s eyes widen at her first bite, and she hides her muffled laugh behind a napkin when Cait smiles at her. Jayce continues to look pleased with himself, and honestly, Cait can’t even be mad about it. Vi is clever and pleasant to talk to and, to be shallow, Cait is looking forward to Vi and her built little body living in her penthouse with her, available for aesthetic appreciation and companionship if nothing else.

Cait checks her watch and actually feels a little tug of regret at having to go back to work. She's already stayed later than she means to because she’s having fun.

“I’m sorry, I do have to head back to the office,” Cait says.

Jayce pouts at her, because he owns his own company and doesn’t understand schedules. Vi just nods, sitting back a little and looking, Cait hopes, a little disappointed to see their lunch end. Cait smiles at her.

“Vi, thank you,” Cait says. “It was lovely to meet you, and I think this is going to be a very fruitful partnership for both of us.”

Jayce practically glows with satisfaction, and Vi grins, broad and sunny and relieved. Cait’s belly gives a little flip at how utterly gorgeous she is.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Vi says, and offers Cait her hand, which Cait takes. Vi’s handshake is firm, warm, with intriguing calluses on her palms.

Later, on one of her scheduled ten-minute breaks, taking a few laps around the floor just to keep her legs from atrophying and making her an even more permanent fixture behind her desk, Cait sticks Vi and Jayce into a group text and fires off a string of messages. There is no reason to make Vi sleep in a squalid little motel another night. Jayce can put his lax schedule and big boy muscles to work getting her packed up and out. Cait’s guest room may be plain, but it’s functionable. Maybe Vi’s lovely presence will fumigate the last of Maddie’s rancid vibes from her home.

“Absolutely not,” is the first thing Cait says later that evening, when Vi pulls up outside Cait’s building in her car, her belongings in the back.

“Hey!” Vi protests, feeling a tug of loyalty towards her little Camry that has kept her on wheels even through the neglect Vi inflicted on it. “She’s not fancy, but she works hard.”

Cait folds her arms, and Vi refuses to be distracted by her amazing tits. “Can it pass inspection?”

Vi winces. “For an extra fifty bucks, sure.”

“Out,” Cait snaps, and Vi is standing on the sidewalk, Cait’s tone having made a decision for her. Her face flushes, it feels oddly like the restaurant –Cait’s surety that Vi would like her favorite order, her open pleasure when Vi did.

Cait smiles the same way now, a hot curl of appreciation. “Thank you, Vi. I’ll give it back to you after the junkyard crushes it into a cube.” Then she shakes her head and laughs. “I understand this is a big change, and I appreciate your willingness with all of it. I promise, I’m not trying to Stepford wife you. I may ask for certain things, but you can always tell me to fuck off.” Cait smiles, and the sweetness of it combined with the swearing makes Vi’s heart give a little flip.

It’s really the only reservation she had going into this. Caitlyn Kiramman is quite simply the hottest woman Vi has ever seen, and that’s going to make living with her very interesting. It’s not like Vi thinks the two of them sleeping together is inevitable just because they’re both into women, and going to be roommates, but they are both young and attractive and honestly, Vi wouldn’t say no to an uncomplicated hook up. They’re not as satisfying as they were when she was eighteen, but it’s been a while, and HIIT workouts can only dispel so much tension.

Then Cait is lifting her suitcase from the trunk, and Vi has to grab her duffel and trot to catch up with miss long-legs.

“You don’t have to worry about it, and I’ll have it towed. We can pick a replacement to be delivered,” Cait says when Vi catches up. “I know Jayce said you lost a lot of your belongings; is there anything you particularly need?”

Vi’s brain skids around Cait talking about buying her a new car like she’s ordering takeout, and reminds herself - rich girl. She shrugs, duffel banging her thigh. “I’m pretty low on clothes, and my laptop got totaled,” she says.

Cait nods thoughtfully, and there’s a warm flash of sympathy in those intense blue eyes. “It’s not the same, but I remember how panicked and upset I was - we all were - when there was a fire in the dorms of my boarding school one year. Everything was burnt or soaked, we were wearing the spare gym outfits the school supplied until our parents could get us means to replace things.”

It isn’t the same, but it is a very pathetic mental image, a bunch of sad, soggy rich girls in borrowed sweatpants, far from home.

They step into the cool, spacious lobby of Cait’s apartment building - enormous arched windows with sheer curtains, lots of brass, and that chrome and black furniture ubiquitous to fancy buildings - and Cait is introducing her to the concierge, a tall, lean woman with the most cultivated customer service voice Vi has ever heard. She gets a keyfob made for Vi on the spot and, after a quick, silent check-in with Cait, passes Vi a new tenant packet that explains the amenities.

The elevator up to Cait’s top floor apartment is fast and silent, and Vi thinks she should be more tense, she should feel out of place here. Instead she can feel her shoulders starting to unknot for the first time in ages. It feels oddly like getting a new job she feels good about, with higher pay and coworkers she clicks with. Maybe because so far, Cait has approached this whole thing like a business deal instead of charity on her part.

Entering into Caitlyn’s apartment, Vi is expecting the kind of decor out of prestige tv about politicians or stockbrokers. Modern, lots of metal and glass, gigantic windows everywhere. Instead, Cait’s apartment is charming. Expensive, to be sure, with the warm blonde parquet floors, the view over the city, and a whole ass terrace visible through the living room windows, but it definitely feels more like a home than Vi was expecting.

“You have a lot of plants,” Vi says, following Cait through the living room with the teal accent wall, a fat and sprawling spider plant trailing offshoots over her shoulder as she passes by it. The visible terrace has patio furniture gathered under a trellis covered in a jungle of greenery.

Cait hums and glances over her shoulder as she leads Vi into a compact guest room with a desk and a tall narrow dresser crowned by a chubby succulent, the bed with a deep green comforter folded down, and a huge impressionist painting of wildflowers on the wall opposite a window looking down onto the sprawl of Piltover.

“My mother said keeping plants alive is a great way to remember that you too are a living thing,” Cait says, slotting Vi’s suitcase in next to the dresser, and watching Vi drop her duffel at the end of the bed.

“Was that a risk?” Vi asks.

Cait smiles. “When you’re nineteen and feel like a robot whose only purpose is to pass the Bar, yes, it’s very helpful.”

Vi doesn’t know shit all about lawyers, but that sounds young, to her. “That young, huh? I can see it.”

Cait laughs, her body language softening as she leans in, and Vi feels a stupid little tug of pleasure at making a pretty girl laugh, at flirting and having someone flirt back. “Guilty. I was an annoyingly precocious child,” she says.

“Well, it seems to have gotten you far,” Vi says, and something dims the warm humor on Cait’s face.

“Let's get dinner,” Cait says. “What do you think of Indian?”

“Sorry to stick you in the den instead of a proper bedroom," Cait says over food. “The second bedroom is my office, and it would be an ordeal to move it at this point. I’m not even sure it would all fit.”

Vi waves her off. “I don’t think I have to point out that all of this is a huge upgrade for me.” Cait gestures concedingly at her with a samosa. “I’m perfectly happy with the room.”

Vi is perfectly happy with all of it so far, really, even the things she thinks she should be resentful of, or find controlling or condescending.

Cait has asked her to quit her jobs - too far to commute from Cait’s highrise anyway - because it would look strange if the fiancee of the Kiramman daughter was working like someone struggling to make ends meet. The contract Vi had read and signed as they waited for dinner to be delivered says Vi will be pulling a salary - not from Caitlyn directly but a side account belonging to her parents - and she is officially Caitlyn’s personal trainer. It’ll be the backstory of how they met. Vi’s new fiancee had insisted on it.

“I won’t have you with a great big unexplained gap in your resume because of me,” she’d said firmly, unboxing the takeout in her small dining room. “You’re already working at a gym, I just drew up a contract as a private client,” she’d waved her fork dismissively. “If you like you can look into a certificate, or further schooling in that field.”

“You’ve been very generous,” Vi says, her tone neutral, throat burning slightly from the lamb vindaloo. If Cait is trying to fuck her over in anyway Vi hasn’t been able to pick up on it, and she has a pretty good radar for that. It’s just that this is so new and so strange. This is not Vi’s world, these aren’t her people. She feels she should be warier than she is.

Cait gives her a serious look. A lot of her looks are serious, and it makes her smiles all the better when they appear. “If this whole quid pro quo arrangement of ours works out I will be getting something incredibly valuable to me, both personally and monetarily. I don’t intend to short you on your end,” she says plainly, then, with a small indrawn breath, continues. “To be frank, you could be the most enthusiastic gold digger in the greater Piltover area, and you would exhaust yourself before making an appreciable dent in mine and my family's finances,” Cait shrugs, watching for Vi’s reaction. “I would like this to be a profitable venture for both of us,” she finishes, and caps her statement off by sliding a slim leather wallet towards Vi.

Vi pushes the glossy platinum card up with her thumb, just far enough to see her name etched on it. “You know, I was expecting it to be black.”

Cait laughs high and light and Vi grins. “Flashy new money nonsense,” Cait says. “The perks aren’t worth the ten thousand dollar initiation fee and the five thousand in annual fees.”

“Jesus Christ," Vi sputters and Cait laughs again, at her this time, which Vi supposes is fair.

Later Vi lays in her new bed, arms behind her head, freshly showered with the basket of new products Cait had prepared for her. She smells like toffee and bergamot, her skin feels soft and her hair is so clean it squeaks. She left the curtains open, and the lights of Piltover’s skyline glitter through the glass. It looks like a scene from a movie and only adds to the unreality of everything happening to her in the last twenty-four hours. Vi pulls in a quick breath against the sudden threat of tears. God, the relief! Even if her relationship with Cait never progresses beyond this slightly awkward new-acquaintance friendliness, Vi can finally relax here, she can take a breath, take some time for herself like Mylo and Claggor are always pushing her to. Shit, maybe she will get certified as a personal trainer. Why not? Thanks to Caitlyn there are possibilities Vi had never considered now open to her.

Chapter Text

Roughly two weeks into cohabitating with her fiancee, Vi ends up on a date with her entirely by accident.

It starts with a bookfair in the commons, an annual event Vi always promises herself she’ll save money for and never does. Well, she’s certainly got money now, and more time than she knows what to do with. Vi goes in the afternoon and she takes her car there - still something she’s having a hard time wrapping her mind around, that Caitlyn bought her a car like she was buying Vi a coffee. It's a deep red little Volkswagen Golf; Vi had refused to drive something as bulky as a Land Runner or anything as flashy as Cait’s Spyder. Cait’s only insistence with her chosen vehicle had been that Vi get one at least two years old, as the engine manufacturer had changed hands then, and the new product wasn’t as good. Vi is still getting used to the immediate response to her foot on the gas and the lack of sudden, stressful noises from her car. She likes the hatchback more than she thought she would. All her gym stuff barely makes a dent; she’s thinking of getting a bike for checking out the trails outside Piltover. She’d loved riding her purple Huffy bike as a kid. She’d thought the chunky tires of the little mountain bike made her the coolest eight year old on the block.

Vi parks a few blocks away from the event and grabs a coffee on the way in. It’s a beautiful day, the commons absolutely packed with booths, and she quickly ends up loaded up with freebies, endless bookmarks, colored tabs, and free copies of books. She picks up some thrillers and sci-fi for Powder, a thick fantasy novel with a cool cover, and a handful of detective stories for herself, and a tote to carry them in, because juggling everything is getting impossible. Then a title catches her eye.

It’s a book Cait had talked about wanting to read but hadn’t made time for yet. A memoir of an Olympian soccer player Cait admired for her fight for pay equality in her sport, her two gold medals, and her really incredible quads. Vi has learned that Cait is very analog with her media. Her personal library spans several rooms in her apartment, and her Blu-ray collection is several drawers deep. Vi lingers, scooting closer to the table out of the flow of traffic, and brushes her fingers over the glossy cover of the paperback. Would it be weird to buy Cait a gift? Would it be weird to buy Cait a gift with her own money?

Vi feels annoyed by her own indecision, and picks up the book. Cait doesn’t seem like the kind of jerk to be offended by a thoughtful gesture, a little weird or not. Vi declines to get it wrapped, but she slips one of her free bookmarks in there for Cait, a little illustration of stars and clouds on a deep navy background. Vi’s stomach gives a stupid little tug of nerves and eagerness and she tries to shrug it off. She is, technically, buying a gift for a pretty girl. It’s not a super personal gift, but it is one where she noted what Cait was interested in, remembered it, and felt compelled to get it for her. As a gift, it’s not outside the bounds of friendship, but the fact that Vi is fretting over it probably means that she is outside the bounds of friendship.

Two weeks is pretty fast, even for her.

Back in her car Vi tosses her purchases onto the passenger seat and sits there for a minute, stretching her legs out, rolling her ankles. It’s not just that Cait is gorgeous, tall and lean and stacked, with long navy hair and the most striking blue eyes Vi has ever seen. If it were just her looks Vi doesn’t think she’d be this unsettled; Cait’s attractiveness would just be a bonus, something for Vi to appreciate and deal with her own feelings about until things settled into either a comfortable working relationship or an actual friendship between them. No, she really likes Caitlyn. They’ve talked for hours over the last few weeks out of necessity, hashing out the details of their relationship: how they met, why they moved in together, why they decided to get engaged. Woven through that has been learning about each other, surface level things like favorite movies, what books they like to read, their favorite foods, and the more serious parts like politics, personal values, the sort of things you would want to know about someone before you married them.

So Vi has told Cait about her life, about her siblings, her parents, her uncle. She did try to keep it casual, but Caitlyn still wore a fine wrinkle of worry between her brows through most of it, her jaw shifting tensely at certain points. Vi moved past those bits quickly. Vi is aware that her life has an amount of death and poverty in it inappropriate for most conversations, and she doesn’t necessarily want the awkward sympathy for things no one had any real control over. In turn she learned about Cait’s family legacy in this city, her ambition, her sense of justice and fairness, and her passion for these things. Mostly Vi has learned that she was very stupid to think that Cait being a big time lawyer meant she was cold or boring.

Cait laughed and her cheeks had flushed pink when, over wine, she’d told Vi how terrible she’d been as a child, constantly outraged at any perceived lack of fairness. How her poor parents had channeled that into debate clubs and student government and volunteering at outreach programs.

“I was very popular with my peers, obviously,” Cait said dryly, seated sideways on the sofa to face Vi, head leaning on her arm on the back of the couch, swirling the dregs of her wine on her glass, the warm light of the living room lamp gilding her hair and making her skin glow.

“Your date to prom was a book, huh?” Vi said, sympathetically, enjoying the curling warmth of making Cait snort-laugh. “It’s okay, mine was an extra shift at my job,” Vi offers.

Cait had lifted her wineglass in a toast to Vi, her sharp gaze softened by the wine, her stern mouth smiling. “Here’s to a pair of misfits, then," she said, and Vi had tapped her glass against Cait’s in agreement. They both ended up pretty good in the end, she thinks.

Turning her gift for Cait over in her hands, Vi considers thunking her head against the steering wheel a few times, but shelves it as too dramatic. So she’s got a little crush. Vi is a whole ass adult, she is capable of dealing with her feelings like one. It’s not even that she thinks Cait would call the whole deal off because Vi caught inconvenient feelings, but Vi is living with her and she would hate to make Cait feel uncomfortable in her own home. This is gonna be a wait-and-see type of situation, Vi thinks. She doesn’t want to sour a good thing by thinking with her pussy.

After Vi drops the car at the apartment garage and drops her purchases on her bed - except for that one book she got for Cait, that just fits in her sling pack - she heads back out. She’s too restless, and given the trend of her thoughts she feels a little too much like an eager dog, waiting to see when Cait will come home.

Vi doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she finds it at a tavern a few blocks away whose sign says “CORNWALLS” in a big boxy sans-serif, but more important is the poster in the window proclaiming free tacos with your drink order all night staring at five PM. It’s five after five, and Vi thinks booze and tacos sound perfect.

Inside, the bar is cool and well lit and way more vibe-y than dive-y, but a bar is a bar. Vi is a little ahead of the rush and the bartender, whose name is Miika and who, like all bartenders, is in a band, is clearly happy to have someone to chat with. Vi starts with a mule, and the fish tacos turn out to be really fucking good. Good enough that when V i gets a text from Cait, curious about where she is, Vi snaps a pic of her half-eaten food and tells Cait to come meet her for free tacos.

Despite genuinely meaning the invite, Vi is a little surprised when Cait takes her up on it. Cait works as many hours as Vi did in her worst spread of jobs, and a lot of their time together has been a few quiet hours in the evenings. More surprising is her outfit, which makes Vi do a legitimate double take.

“Hey!” Cait says, touching her fingers lightly to Vi’s arm as she slides onto a stool next to her. Her face scrubbed clean of her work makeup, clad in leggings and a faded t-shirt, hair gathered back in a low ponytail, and there are faint dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey you, glad you came but uh, I’m going to need an explanation on this,” Vi reaches out and pinches the shoulder seam of Cait’s tee, which proclaims her the winner of the Provincetown Otter Pop Pool Party wet t-shirt contest.

Cait grins. “Jayce won it, actually,” she says, and laughs when Vi sputters on the last of her mule.

“Hold on,” Vi protests, wiping her wrist over her mouth. “He’s the straightest man I’ve ever met.”

“And you know as well as I do that he loves to queen out. Frankly, everyone there absolutely knew he was eye-candy only and did not care as long as they got to get him wet.”

“Amazing,” is all Vi can really say to that, and Cait nods in agreement, leaning her elbows on the bar as Miika comes up to take her drink order.

Cait gets something called a Bees Knees and her plate of tacos and downs both with a speed that’s both alarming and impressive. Finished, Cait leans back with a groan, arching her back until it cracks loudly, then she sighs and her perfect posture slouches.

“Long day?” Vi asks.

“You have no idea,” Cait says, flagging down Miika for a refill. “I understand that in my line of work people are going to lie to me, I just wish they wouldn’t do it so badly.”

Vi makes a noise of sympathy, then as she leans against the bar, the edge of the paperback in her sling pack jabs her. Some kind of feeling jolts through Vi, and after a moment she reaches in to get it, before she gets in her own way.

“Well, maybe this will help,” Vi says, sliding the glossy paperback across the bartop with two fingers.

Cait’s brow furrows, then her eyes widen in surprise and a smile spreads over her face.

“Vi, you shouldn’t have!” Cait exclaims, scooping the book up and flipping through it. “You remembered that I wanted to read this? That’s so sweet, thank you,” she leans over and gives Vi a slightly clumsy sidehug that makes Vi warm all the way down to her toes.

As the bar fills up around them they retreat from their seats at the bar towards the back, where most of the room is taken up by a pair of pool tables, and behind them, a dartboard. Cait’s eyes light up when she sees it, and she slaps her fresh drink and plate of tacos down on a nearby table, and grabs the scuffed wooden box of darts.

“Play me,” Cait says, gleefully.

She proceeds to absolutely kick Vi’s ass. Vi isn’t particularly good at darts, but she’s decently coordinated. It doesn’t help. There’s a scuffed little notepad with a stubby pencil shoved through the loops for scorekeeping, and the numbers she’s putting in there would be embarrassing if Vi wasn’t having such a good time watching Cait sink bullseye after bullseye.

Vi takes her turn, and it’s been three drinks and a lot of tacos, so she’s just happy they all hit the board. One even lands on the inner circle. Cait, chewing the last bite of her taco, offers her a happy fist bump as Vi edges around their table to mark her points.

“Showtime, Calamity Jane,” Vi says, picking up the last of her drink, something deep orange and sweet she’s forgotten the name of.

Cait has to squeeze between Vi and the table behind them to get past, and before Vi can set her drink down and shuffle out her way, Cait takes her firmly by the hips and sidesteps through. Vi freezes up as Cait’s breasts press against her shoulders and her crotch brushes her ass. It’s not that tight a squeeze. Cait releases her with a pat on the hip and takes another sip of her drink, ice rattling, before setting it down and picking up the darts again.

“One sec, let me finish this,” Cait says. “Want to get us another round?”

Vi fetches another round of drinks and plates of tacos and downs half of hers as a cushion against the alcohol in a vain effort to clear her head. So this is a real date. How long has it been a real date? Since Vi texted Cait to come join her? Since she gave her the book? Vi had been prepared to deal with her own feelings, she does not feel particularly prepared to deal with Caitlyn’s feelings. There’s a brief, thrilling, sickening rush of anticipatory nerves. What does it mean? What does Cait want out of this? Is it feelings on her part or is she just interested in some stress relief?

Vi’s gaze slides from the silky fall of Cait’s hair over her strong shoulders, down the impression of the hourglass curve of her waist in her t-shirt to the way her leggings hug her ass and her long legs. She watches as her fiancee, three drinks deep, sinks three bullseyes in a row so clustered the metal darts bump and shift with each addition. Vi feels the reaction of her body and takes a deep pull of her margarita. When was the last time she got laid? It’s been a while, closer to being measured in a year rather than months. Fuck, that’s sad.

Cait turns to Vi with a delighted little spin, a grin on her face as she comes back to the table and Vi to claim her share of the tacos. She hums in pleasure as she licks a smear of sriracha mayo off the side of her hand.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before, thank you for inviting me out, Vi,” Caitlyn says, picking up her new drink, leaning her hip against the table, closer to Vi than she strictly needs to be. This place isn’t loud, for a bar. The music is more ambient than thumping, most of the crowd is in the front where the tables are, financial district types with their suit jackets off and sleeves rolled up, laughing and gesturing with their friends over wings and burgers. A handful of groups are back with Cait and Vi, using the pool tables, or waiting their turns. Cait and her are the only ones at the dart boards.

Vi smiles at her, possibility buoying in her chest. “Thanks for coming. I’m glad you’re having fun, deadeye,” Vi says, nodding at the board and its cluster of bullseyes. Cait giggles, her cheeks flushed.

“Shooting was always my sport. Maybe I’ll show you my trophies some day,” Cait says, watching Vi over the rim of her drink and oh, okay, they’re very definitely flirting now. Vi can’t decide if she wishes she were more sober, or a little more drunk, which is probably a sign she should stop drinking right now.

Vi doesn’t say anything when Cait orders them another round. On her turn at the board she lets Cait give her throwing tips that are absolutely wasted on her when she’s three and a half drinks down. Cait touches her half a dozen more times, manicured fingers on Vi’s wrist, her elbow, the small of her back. Cait stands too close, pulls her shoulders back and whether it’s to emphasize their height difference or emphasize her tits Vi doesn’t know. Both work for her so it doesn’t really matter, does it? Vi tips her head back, softens her shoulders, leans into Cait’s space.

Probably luckily for Cait’s head the next day, a group comes up and asks how long they’ll be after the fourth round, and they decide to cede the space. Vi waves to Miika on the way out and he lifts his chin at her with a grin and a wink, occupied with the beer taps. He definitely thinks she’s getting laid tonight. She won’t be, that’s not really what’s happening, but God, that’s a nice thought.

Their hands brush the whole walk back to the apartment. Back inside, Cait steps into Vi’s space testingly, then pulls her in for a proper hug. This one lingers and Vi cups a hand over the back of Cait’s neck, breathes her in before they part, and Cait thanks Vi again for the fun night. The alcohol flush on her cheeks and the sweet smile on her face looks younger, or maybe she just looks her age without the weight of her usual seriousness. Vi likes it. She’d like to make Cait look this relaxed and happy more often. She absolutely has to go back to her own damn room before she does something dumb that neither of them are ready for.

Alone in the frosted glass and subway tile of Cait’s main bathroom, Vi leans her head against the wall under the hot spray and thinks about what might have happened tonight if she and Cait were strangers who met at that bar. Her tits feel heavy, the piercings hypersensitive when she tugs at them. When she slips her fingers into her pussy she’s soaked, her clit swollen, and Vi muffles a whine against her arm. She should have brought a toy; she feels hollow with wanting, panting in the heat of the shower. Her knees nearly buckle when she comes. God, it really has been too long. Even full and tipsy and tired Vi has to get herself off again after, pumping the one little dildo that survived her old apartment through her cunt, hips lifting off the bed, head pressing back into the pillow as she fucks herself and thinks of Cait’s hands on her.

“Kiramman, I just heard the news! Congrats!” Brian’s voice fills the fourth floor breakroom to the roof and rebounds. The man got his start as Boston tax attorney and he still sounds like one. Apparently many of the clients find him earthy and charming. Caitlyn mostly finds him loud.

She immediately feels a little bad. Out of the hundred and thirty-ish lawyers Brian is one of the least objectionable. He is the prize of the Family Office Services and the group head; apparently all the old money families and the young entrepreneurs love a man they think looks like someone who pulled himself up by his bootstraps. One who came from the rough streets of a Boston highrise, golden dome of the state house visible through his office window. Nevermind that the man went to Harvard Law and his grandfather provided the seed to start his first firm.

She turns from taking her chosen fruit bowl from today’s selection and, seeing her hands are occupied by that and her flat white, Brian clasps her elbow and bicep and sort of jiggles her. Caitlyn is mostly relieved not to be subjected to a hug, and smiles at him with precisely measured warmth.

Brian is, as things go, harmless. His worst habit by far is asking other attorney’s assistants for favors, much to the annoyance of both them and his own excellent assistant, Nora. When Nora sasses him about hassling the other assistants, Brian just raps his big red knuckles on her desk, laughs, and tells her she’s a “good girl” in his big, loud voice. Nora, somehow, continues not to murder him for this, and life in Family Office Services goes on. Maybe it’s the endless collection of fun-sized candies he leaves on her desk, maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome. Whatever it is, Caitlyn thinks he could at least understand that other attorney’s assistants are none of his business.

“Who’s the lucky little woman, do we get to meet her?” Brian continues, still at top, jocular volume, and Caitlyn takes back every scrap of complimentary thought she’s ever had about him. Jesus Christ, he makes it sound like Caitlyn got a new puppy. She smiles wanly.

“Probably not until the holiday party. She’s still settling in, I don’t want to be throwing her to the sharks just yet.”

Brian nods like a restless horse, already distracted. He agrees with her absently, and leaves her with his further congratulations and one more rattling clap on the shoulder. Caitlyn immediately misses him when Marcus and his Supercuts haircut slimes his way into the breakroom behind Brian.

“Kiramman,” Marcus says, resentful as he ever is when he greets Caitlyn. “I heard the good news.”

From his tone, the good news could be that Caitlyn has committed several federal crimes, gotten away with them, and is throwing a party about the fact. A party that Marcus has deliberately not been invited to. Caitlyn takes a sip of her coffee to avoid having to speak actual words to him, simply humming neutrally and nodding at him as she leaves the breakroom.

It took her so long to figure out what Marcus’ problem was with her, and it was so embarrassingly simple when she figured it out. Of course not all attorneys in a firm will get along, and Caitlyn doesn’t know most of the firm by anything more than name, but to be so strongly disliked by one of the Partners right off the bat was strange. And to have it be nothing so much as envy! Nothing but the fact that Marcus had been born into a solidly upper middle class family, and Caitlyn had been born an heiress. It didn’t matter that Marcus had not suffered or struggled any more or less than any other law student, Cait had it easier, her family name was on the sign, her attorney track had been faster, and he resented her for all of it.

Caitlyn, who does try to be aware of the ridiculous amount of privilege she had the luck to be born into, but had worked herself within a hairsbreadth of a nervous breakdown to pass the bar at nineteen, did not have any sympathy for his feelings. If Marcus wanted to spend his life seething about something neither of them had any control over he was welcome to it, Caitlyn refused to make it her problem. Marcus’ position in the firm didn’t help their relationship, Marcus was the head of Litigation and Investigations and took a little too much glee in wiping companies clean of white collar crimes for her tastes.

As she walks to her office, Cait gives into the urge and takes her phone out to text Vi that her coworkers have heard the news, and would like to know how her “little woman” is doing. Her thumb hesitates over the send button. Is that too much? The boundaries are so weird between them, between who they are and who they’re pretending to be. Caitlyn finds herself constantly second guessing them in a way that’s very new to her. She definitely overstepped that night in the bar, but at a certain point it had just been impossible to keep her hands off Vi. Cait had only started to adjust to how hot Vi was, with her pretty face and her built little body, and then she did something so sweet and thoughtful, picking Caitlyn up a book she’d mentioned one time in conversation.

Caitlyn wishes she hadn’t drank that night, if only so she could remember more clearly how Vi had responded. She never pulled away from any of the times Cait touched her, flirted back when Cait flirted, tucked herself sweetly into Cait when they hugged. If Vi were any other girl Cait would have fucked her when they got home.

Cait sighs, sharp and irritable with her own indecision. She adds some scare quotes around ‘little woman’ so Vi knows that’s not how Cait is referring to her, and sends it. Vi is a grown woman who so far, has been clear and direct with her wants and needs, and she hasn’t said anything to Cait about what happened at the bar, about Cait testing her boundaries, her interest. If anything they’ve been closer since then. A notification from her phone thankfully saves Cait from any further fussing about a text message.

Vi’s response is a close up selfie of her pumped bicep and shoulder, some tasteful side boob peeking out of the loose sleeve hole of her muscle shirt, the grey walls of the apartment gym in the background. Cait’s warm appreciation that Vi is enjoying herself and making use of the facilities is secondary to the rush of arousal that takes her right in the belly.

Caitlyn locks her phone quickly as she passes her own assistant, Sky, checking in that she’s already arranged for the spare suit and the pair of nude Ferragamo pumps Cait keeps in the office just in case of emergency have been picked up for cleaning, and that the notes on her next client are in order, and that billing is on track for end of month. There is a meeting on Friday that needs catering but Cait doesn’t check in about that. Sky knows her preferences, and if Cait had to check in with her on tasks as simple as making sure a meeting had food, she wouldn’t be very good at her job and she wouldn't be Cait's assistant.

Shut in her office, Caitlyn reopens her phone to Vi’s response. It’s not even all the muscle on display, though that is lovely, and makes Cait want to sink her teeth into the bulging brachial artery snaking over her bicep and dipping the shaded crease of her armpit with its little fluff of pink hair. It’s the display that really gets to Cait, that Vi has decided the appropriate response to this is not the ‘lol’ Cait had expected, but to artfully display herself for Cait in a way that just barely skirts propriety.

Cait looks again. Vi is not wearing a bra, even though she’s definitely got more than enough tit on her pecs to require one. She mentally adjusts the propriety level of Vi’s response downward. Cait has not been quite as promiscuous as previous habits since the Maddie scare, maybe that’s why Vi is such a temptation to her.

The picture is still open on Cait’s phone. She doesn’t think she can blame this on Maddie, tempting as that is.

Cait knows Vi could have meant this photo as a response to the ‘little’ comment, and that Cait shouldn’t let her hormones run away with her just because Vi is incredibly attractive. She’s also become aware over the last few weeks that Vi has a delightful streak of vanity. She chooses the clothes she’s bought carefully, the slightly shaggy shave she showed up with is now tight, and her makeup skills are better than Cait’s. Cait has very much enjoyed learning that compliments to her appearance are a wonderful way to make Vi perk up, and sometimes, give Cait a little pose.

All her previous poses have involved underwear. Presumably. Cait hadn’t checked. God, she has work to do today.

Caitlyn chews on her lip for a moment, heart reacts to the picture, then saves Vi’s photo before locking her phone and firmly setting it aside.

“I haven’t been kidnapped, Powder,” Vi says again, holding her phone between her shoulder and ear, squeezing a packet of cinnamon almond butter onto some toast, and grabbing a banana off the bunch, hanging on its own little hook-and-stand on Cait’s grey marble counters. Truly amazing how many little devices to spend your money on there are in the world.

“But would you even know if you’ve been kidnapped, sis? Those Pilties are tricky, and you’re kinda naive, no offense,” Powder says, tinny because she’s got Vi on speaker. Vi can hear the rattle of her desk chair’s wheels on her dorm’s vinyl flooring and the machine-gun bursts of Powder’s typing.

“Yeah no, I’m not taking that from someone who tried to get in a stranger's car after she fell for the ‘hey kid, want to see my puppy’ line,” Vi says, dropping her snack on the coffee table before stretching out on Cait’s stupidly comfortable couch. She rubs her well-worked shoulders into the soft linen and the thick, piled up pillows, relishing the ache.

Vi’s already done her morning workout, showered and eaten and now she’s delightfully idle. She might go clothes shopping later, or out to lunch - today is Monday which means Marie, Caitlyn’s private chef is gonna be here soon, with bags from the farmers market, from Lamberts, and Savenors, to cook up a week's worth of food that can be reheated or popped in the oven, and Vi wants to be out of her way. It’s not that Marie isn’t nice, she’s lovely, short and intense with a sleek, dark brown braid as thick as Vi’s wrist. She always has a green smoothie with her, and is terrifyingly fast with a chef’s knife. Marie told Vi she’d spent ten years a sous chef in a Michelin star steakhouse, and now she did a handful of private chef gigs across Piltover as a sort of pre-retirement, more relaxing line of work.

She said this to Vi while minding three different pots, a pan of steaks reverse-searing in the oven, and a mixer all while chopping chives with machine-like regularity. Vi, who has only ever worked in greasy spoons where the cooking was either the microwave, or slapping things on the grilltop, wonders if Marie knows how insane that sounds. Still, as nice as Marie is, Vi hasn’t mastered being idle around other people working just yet, and just like when Anna comes by to clean, she likes to get out of the apartment and Marie’s way after the smalltalk.

Small talk and sometimes, when Marie swings by Sofra on her way in, one of these Za’atar and haloumi twists that Vi would genuinely commit a crime for.

“Okayyy I was literally seven years old and, in my defense he actually really had a puppy in his car, I was not wrong.” Powder’s wheels squeak rhythmically and Vi can picture her sister in her head, little blue space buns in her hair and skinny limbs pulled up, spinning her chair as she defends her childhood actions.

“I had to drag you away from that creep and his creepy dog,” Vi counters fondly. “You bit me.”

“I had strong opinions as a child, you should be proud of my early personality development,” Powder says.

Vi snorts. “Sure. If you get kicked out of college for biting a professor you can’t come live with us.”

Powder’s response is to say “Uuuugh,” into the phone so loud the speakers crackle and Vi winces and pulls the phone away from her ear.

“The Piltie already corrupted you, threatening to put your little sister out of the streets!”

Vi rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear the sound of you losing thousands in scholarships over the sound of my private chef arriving,”

“Dude,” Powder says. “For real?”

“Yeah? Cait works like ninety hours a week, you think she wants to come home and eat my microwaved ramen and protein shakes?”

“A long hard day of suing people,” Powder says, a hint of sneer in her voice and Vi sighs. Powder is going to have to let that knee-jerk class divide bitterness go. Especially with the school she’s going to and the elbows she’ll be rubbing there.

“Cait’s not in Litigation, she’s in Corporate Governance,” she says.

“She’s in who?”

“She makes sure companies follow the rules.” There’s a whole lot more to it than that, but Vi’s knowledge of what lawyers do doesn’t go much deeper than Law & Order marathons yet. She’s willing to learn, but asking anything but shallow questions about her work tends to tense Cait right up. Between that and her serious, firm insistence that the door to the second bedroom was to stay locked, Vi suspects that Cait has dated some people who were too nosy for their own good, and didn’t have a great grasp of confidentiality laws.

“Huh,” Powder offers, after a minute.

Baby steps, Vi thinks. She’s not inflicting Powder on Cait until she’s sure Powder isn’t going to be a complete asshole to her. Pow is a good person, but her opinions are very strong and not always well-considered. She didn’t have to grow up as fast and hard as Vi did, she never had to get a job and learn to deal with people whose lives were alien to her. It’s a big part of why Vi wanted her in the dorms.

“Hey,” Powder says quietly. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about her? The last I heard your dating life was still just your general ‘hey sis I’m hooking up’ status report? Why not tell me stuff was this serious between you guys?”

Vi’s stomach twists unhappily. She doesn’t like lying to her sister at all, nevermind big lies, but it’s not her reputation on the line if Powder blabs. It’s not like it’s just Vi sworn to secrecy either; the only other person who knows about this farce is Jayce. Cait is even lying to her mother about what they’re doing.

“I didn’t realize we were that serious until all that shit with the apartment happened,” Vi says.

“Motherfucker,” Powder interjects. “Caitlyn should sue him to death.”

“Again, not in litigation,” Vi says. “But she did ask a friend of hers who is to look into the guy,” she says over Powder’s preparatory indrawn breath. “She’s a good person, she cares, Pow. The apartment just accelerated things.”

There’s a long beat of silence as Powder considers. Vi lets her. She really doesn’t tell Powder much about her love life, she hardly ever brings anyone to their crappy little apartment, and Powder has been locked in for most of high school. Vi made damn sure she got to do the fun shit like dances and field trips but Pow understood that she was going to need every grant and scholarship she could qualify for to go to the school she wanted, for the engineering major she wanted. So there hadn’t been that many girls in the first place, and Powder hadn’t really cared about any of them.

“Alright,” Powder says. “Maybe you’re not kidnapped. But you can sleep under my bed in my room if your Piltie turns out to be in it for your sweet, sweet organs.”

“I’ll be fine, seriously,” Vi says.

“Whatever. The tuna salad wraps in the cafeteria need me. Love you bye!”

“Bye, Powder,” Vi says on the beep of Powder hanging up on her. Vi drops her phone to her chest with a huff of amusement.

Vi does miss her. That’s her little sister and Vi raised her. Vi raised her. She doesn’t resent it because it’s what she had to do, and she’s so fucking proud of Powder. But Vi’s tank is out of gas. The first week after she moved in with Cait she slept ten hours a night, her body sluggish, nearly feverish, and her brain soft. It was like the collapse of her apartment had been some kind of last straw for her ability to put her head down and work through anything. Vi knows she’ll have to get back on her feet and sort out a career and all that for when their arrangement ends, but for now she’s taking a damn break.

Her new fiancee is deeply competent and driven and frankly, Vi thinks she could and has done worse than let Caitlyn Kiramman run her life for a few months.

The door alarm chimes, announcing Marie’s arrival, and Vi drags herself up off the couch. She can figure out what Powder is really thinking later, right now she’s gonna make nice with Marie, then go see a matinee before Cait gets home.

*****

A few more weeks into co-habitating with her new fiancee, Cait is feeling even better about it than she did initially. Vi is an excellent roommate, and Cait finds she quite likes having someone in her home when she gets home after a long day. How traditional of her, to feel like a fond spouse already, pleased to see Vi relaxing and thriving, asking Cait about her day, telling Cait about hers. Tonight Cait is doing paperwork at home rather than the office, a quiet, early Friday evening, just some case notes, nothing confidential.

Another thing Vi has been lovely about is Cait’s one real house rule: that the second bedroom is to stay locked. If Cait was in there Vi was welcome to knock, but not even Anna, who came in to clean three times a week and kept Cait from living in a dusty hovel of paperwork and takeout containers, was allowed in there among the confidential legal documents. Vi hadn’t asked where the key was, just in case, hadn’t really seemed to care about there being an off-limits area in the apartment at all.

Cait is starting to accept that the Maddie thing was at least half her fault, for not seeing any of the red flags.

Speaking of vast improvements in her choice of live-in companions, at some time in the evening she looks up to see Vi watching at her with something contemplative in her eyes. Cait knows that look, she has used and cultivated that look, and to see it on Vi sends a frisson of delight through her.

She hasn't figured Vi out entirely yet - or rather, she hasn’t figured out what’s allowed with Vi. Is she someone Cait can play with? Vi’s been very open to all Cait’s little flirtations so far, but Cait wants to feel all that carefully sculpted muscle with her hands and her mouth - the woman has a core like a grizzly bear and Cait wants to see how long all that muscle holds her up on Cait’s strap so very badly. She wants to know what Vi’s mouth tastes like, her cunt.

Vi is confident, competent, but that doesn’t always translate into someone who is going to have…dominance issues with the way Cait conducts herself in the bedroom.

She arches an eyebrow, and Vi, who is lovely at reading nonverbal cues, smiles hopefully. “I was thinking - there’s this outdoor concert this weekend - we should be seen together regularly shouldn’t we? Since we’re fiancees now and all.”

Cait even finds Vi’s mild awkwardness charming. God, she really is down bad. She agrees with Vi readily; a casual Saturday concert sounds lovely, as does time with Vi that isn’t just them hanging around the apartment in Cait’s few free hours, slowly getting to know each other, hashing out all the little details of the backstory for their new engagement. The night at the bar had been a lovely change, and Cait is excited about this one as well.

The weather on the day of the concert is spectacular, not too hot, not too cool. Cait, who sometimes feels like her sober dark suits are simply going to become part of her skin, leaps on the opportunity to dress down, in dark, relaxed fit denim and a sleeveless top, with a corduroy shearling jacket over top, and ankle boots. The appreciative head to toe look Vi gives her is warming, exciting.

“Damn, I feel underdressed,” Vi says, not terribly seriously, but just to show appreciation. Cait comes close to her, because she does like making a girl look up at her.

“Oh don’t, this is very handsome,” Cait says, tugging at the collar of her shortsleeve plaid button up, Vi’s jeans are faded to a near-white softness in spots, and Cait wants to rake her nails over the threadbare insides of her thighs. Vi flushes in pleasure, eyes bright, and Cait tugs her out the door before she throws all caution to the wind.

The concert itself is fun, a variety of food trucks are out in abundance, and they wander through them, snacking, chatting, and eventually, sit on the rise of a hill, letting the music wash over them. Cait has spent half their date conducting some little experiments, guiding Vi with a hand on her lower back, offering Vi a bite of her food off her fork, making her lean into Cait’s space to take it.

Vi is sweet, open, utterly stunning with the sun on her pretty face and her thick shoulders straining at the seams of her little button-up. She never twitches away from Cait, uncomfortable, or does any of the little dominance-asserting things that Cait has learned to mean a girl isn’t worth wasting both their times. In fact, Vi leans into every little gesture, soaks it up and looks for more. Vi had reached forward for Cait’s hand as she followed her through a particularly packed section of crowd and laced their fingers together, letting Cait pull her through the squeeze and oh, Caitlyn wanted to ruin and spoil her at the same time.

They’re sitting close together on the hill, with the sun just starting to dip towards the horizon, Vi with her defined arms draped over her knees, her shirt pulled tight across the architecture of her back. Cait reaches out and gently clasps the back of her neck, holding her there for a beat before sliding her hand up to scratch her nails through Vi’s freshly trimmed undercut.

“I love this on you, I could never pull off a shave,” Cait says quietly, watching Vi’s profile.

Vi’s long lashes flutter, and a hot surge of desire takes Caitlyn right in the chest as Vi’s head nods, then drops between her arms, limp as a kitten. Caitlyn is profoundly wet, her heart thrumming. She needs to get them home now. Cait runs her nails from Vi’s scalp to the collar of her shirt, leaving little white trails through the sun-kissed pink of her skin.

“Let's go home,” Cait says.

Vi lurches to her feet, stiff-legged, cheeks flushed, and offers Cait her hand to stand. She pulls Cait to her feet like she weighs nothing, bicep bunching, and Cait loves the thrilling contrast of it, Vi’s powerful body and all that sweet softness that makes Cait want to sink her teeth into her.

They don’t talk a lot on the ride home, the air between them thick with anticipation. Vi sits with her hands on her thighs and Cait wants so badly to tell her to unzip, so Cait can toy with her pussy before they get home.

It’s tempting. She just knows Vi’s reaction would be priceless, but Cait intends to make a meal of her, and she doesn’t dare spoil her appetite for what’s to come.

Chapter Text

Vi’s belly is tight with excitement as Cait lets them into her - their - apartment, they exchange hot glances, then part to their bathrooms. Hands and faces washed, Cait, sans jacket, puts a cool hand on the back of Vi’s neck again and tugs her firmly into a kiss. Briefly the kiss is slow, learning, then Cait’s teeth slide over her top lip and the training wheels fall off.

“Wait,” Cait says firmly, as they stumble into her bedroom, her hot palms sliding over Vi’s ribs, the span of her lats, those short, manicured nails dragging over her skin maddeningly. Vi freezes, uncertain, her hand halfway down Cait’s pants.

“Sorry, you’re fine,” Cait says, with a sweet smile, kissing Vi lightly. “Just - ground rules? We should probably try to be adults about this.”

Vi flushes pink, laughing as she draws her hand back, out of Cait's pants. They really had been pawing at each other like teenagers. “Yeah no, of course.” Taking a step back from Cait is a physical ache, the long lean strength of her, the sweet, fruity smell of her soap and her silky dark hair. She really is the most stunning woman Vi’s ever seen.

Vi is opening her mouth to ask Cait how she likes to be fucked when Cait forstalls her.

“I don’t bottom, at all,” Cait says simply, and Vi’s stomach curls at the lack of apology in it. Then there’s a chilling rush of nerves over her skin. It’s not fear, really. It’s just-

“Okay,” Vi says softly, skin shockingly alive, feeling suddenly ill-fitted into her body.

“Is it?” Cait says, brow lifting. She touches Vi’s cheek, lifts her face, there’s a banked hunger in her eyes, an acquisitiveness. Like Vi is a possession she’d very much like to own for herself.

Vi frantically tries to regulate what her face is doing, what her body is feeling. “No, it is,” she reassures Cait. “I’m not - I’ve bottomed before.”

Vi’s cheeks flush and she feels stupid. She’s old enough and fucked enough girls that this shouldn’t be embarrassing, but Caitlyn unmoors her.

Cait smiles, slow and warm and dangerous and Vi feels terribly transparent before her. Like Cait can see through all the girls who had never asked, just assumed from the way Vi looked that she was dying to boss them around. All the way down to that one night at the club, that devastatingly handsome stud with the tight salt and pepper fade, who had looked Vi’s body up and down over beers, palmed her hip proprietarily and asked Vi: did she want it? If she did, she knew a girl with a room in the back, and she owed the stud a favor. Vi, too drunk to pretend she hadn’t been staring at the weight of the stud’s packer in her soft, frayed jeans, had nodded breathlessly.

Vi had gotten fucked in what was, generously, a coat closet with a little vanity crammed in there, her palms braced on the scratched and chipped particle board, staring at the reflection of her panting mouth and bouncing tits in the dirty mirror, at the stud’s hips working steadily behind her. She’d come harder than she ever had in her life, then dropped to her knees and eaten the stud’s pussy with desperate, messy gratitude.

The woman must have been a tourist, or here on business, because Vi never did learn her name, and had never seen her again, despite her best efforts at haunting that club and trying to find the random blonde the stud had palmed the key to the little room off of. It had taken on the glaze of a dream, something Vi had cooked up, riding a dildo in her own bed, sweating and pathetic.

And now, incredibly, Caitlyn, with that imperious tilt to her smile, is stepping back into Vi’s space, making her tip her head back, making Vi’s breath come short.

“I’ll be gentle,” Cait says playfully, palms hot on Vi’s waist. “You can call me Daddy, if it helps.”

Vi makes a noise that might be a laugh if you squint at it, then Cait is kissing her again. It’s much less frantic than before, Cait’s hands sliding over her waist, her back. Vi slips her hands under Cait’s shirt, sighing at the plush heat of her skin, hesitant, not sure what to do and unsure of her role now, exactly. It’s a little odd, a little nice, to let someone else lead.

Cait breaks their kiss with a hungry little sigh, her hands coming up to undo the buttons of Vi’s top. Vi feels on display, like she’s a present Cait is enjoying the act of unwrapping.

“Your body is incredible,” Cait says, slipping her hands under Vi’s open shirt, spanning Vi’s pec with her hand and pushing her shirt off her shoulder. “Just let me-” Cait leans close and presses her mouth under Vi’s ear, breathing her in. Her low hum of pleasure slides down Vi’s spine.

Cait pulls back, mouth open, eyes dark, and Vi can see the hammer of lust drop over her expression, heavy and compelling, and the thrill of that look is like nothing Vi’s ever felt. Caitlyn wants her so badly. It’s not that Vi doesn’t know she’s hot, but this sort of focussed intensity is new. It feels amazing, and Vi wants more of it. She shrugs the rest of the way out of her top and claps her hands behind her head, flexing, breathless for what Cait might do.

Cait’s smile is hungry, appreciative, she runs her nails over Vi’s biceps, down to her triceps, her other hand going to cradle Vi’s breast.

“Saucy little thing,” Caitlyn says, her thumb brushing Vi’s pierced nipple. “What are these for?” she asks playfully, still running her nails over Vi’s arms and shoulders. “Are you very sensitive?”

Cait tweaks her nipple, watching avidly as Vi shudders, her face hot. She feels caught, on display in a way that is strange and compelling. Vi is proud of her body, she knows it's a draw, and she’s shown off for partners before but it’s never felt like this. She tries to catch Cait’s eyes to get a read on the situation but Cait’s gaze is molten and direct and Vi’s eyes flutter and her gaze drops and she cannot get her brain working well enough to understand why. It’s not shyness, it’s definitely not a lack of interest, her breath is coming short, everything syrupy and drawn out, strung out in long strands from that moment on the Common when Cait had placed her hand on the back of Vi’s neck and squeezed.

“Yeah,” Vi says belatedly, realizing Cait is waiting patiently for her answer. “Yeah, they’re sensitive.”

“Wonderful,” Cait says, and drags the nails of both hands down Vi’s pecs to the softness of her breasts, raising goosebumps and red lines. “Now just relax,” Cait says with a mischievous little smile. “Stay just like this and let Daddy have you.”

Vi’s breath catches. She doesn’t - she’d never liked that. Once or twice girls had called her that during sex and she would finish strapping them then send them home and lose their numbers. Once, when she was in a real particular mood she’d pulled out completely and sent the girl home right then. The girl hadn’t appreciated it; that must have been a fun fight for her neighbors to hear.

It didn’t gross her out, she just didn’t like it. It makes her think of the time in line for the bathroom at a gay bar she’d heard another woman tell her friend butch lesbians were just as fun as men, except they’d treat you right after. It felt a little like the other students' moms at school pick-up referring to her as Powder’s dad, and then Powder making a huge public fuss about it, because she never could stand people being wrong. It felt exhausting.

It doesn’t feel like that with Cait, though. With her authority, her confidence and the very real power she wields in the world, the air of imperiousness that skins over all her social interactions that Vi doesn’t think she’s consciously aware of, it suits her. And from the ease and playfulness she’s addressed it with, Vi is pretty sure more people have called Cait Daddy in bed than used it on her.

Then Vi stops thinking about previous encounters, because Caitlyn is pressing the weight of her breasts up her chest and dipping her head. She teases the barbells with her tongue, sucks on her nipples, and releases them with pop, watching with satisfaction as Vi’s nipples harden, stiff and wet under her attention. When Cait releases her, Vi’s breasts bounce under their own weight and Vi gasps, swaying on her feet. She feels off balance from pleasure, from standing with her arms flexed like this, on display.

Cait kisses her mouth. “Why don’t you lay down? Let me have you all spread out?” Cait says, undoing Vi’s fly, dragging the zipper down what feels like tooth by tooth. She slips her fingers under the waistband of Vi’s briefs, over her hips.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” Vi says, and she’s stepping out of her pants and letting Cait press her back onto her high, thick mattress before she realizes that she’s naked and Cait is still fully dressed save for her boots and jacket. “Hey, wait-” Cait pauses, a knee on the mattress between Vi’s legs. “Can I- I get to touch you, right?”

Cait smiles, and it crinkles her eyes. “Of course. I’ve been thinking about you touching me since we met,” she says, and doesn’t that just knock the breath out of Vi. “I’m just not nearly done with you yet, darling. Are you alright with that?”

Vi has never really been that picky in bed, and if her incredibly hot and interesting fiancee wants to work her over first, then Vi is certainly not going to protest.

“Yeah,” Vi says, smiling back at her, laughing a little, all the ridiculous, amazing changes in her life recently catching up with her for a second, making her giddy.

Cait smiles back at her, just as bright and happy as Vi feels. “You can take my shirt off, if it makes you feel better,” she says, faux-seriously, eyes sparkling.

“You know, I really think that would comfort me,” Vi says, with equal seriousness. Cait’s snorting giggle is muffled by fabric as Vi pushes her hands up under the hem of her shirt and eases the snug, ribbed fabric up over her head along with her bralet.

Her body is better than Vi had imagined, with Cait here and real, her skin soft under Vi’s hands, scattered with moles, a surprising, intriguing amount of muscle definition packed into her long, lean torso, and heavy breasts with tight, brown nipples. She settles warmly against Vi, and Vi arches up into her with a hungry little sigh. Being shirtless with another woman has to be one of the best feelings in the world. Cait’s so soft and her desire is so active, eager, her hands running over Vi’s shoulders, down her arms, raising goosebumps as she runs her smooth nails up the meat of Vi’s sides and over her abs.

“God, look at your body,” Cait says, and Vi flushes with pleasure. “This must have taken so much work, baby.”

There’s something proprietary about Cait’s praise, like Vi had done this all for her and Cait was merely accepting it as her due, and for some reason this makes Vi feel shivery and hot. Even more so than she usually does in bed with a gorgeous woman. Cait grips her hips and encourages her up the bed.

“Can I eat you out? Do you like to be fingered?” Cait asks, an eager smile on her face that Vi can’t help but mirror. She’s been living off hookups for a few years now, as Powder’s college prep picked up, and she’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to be in bed with someone you were friendly with. The thrill of liking each other, and the giggling eagerness to fall into bed together.

“Fuck yeah,” Vi says, flexing deliberately as she sits up briefly to kiss Cait, who grins, plants a hand on her sternum, and pushes her back down flat.

Cait is very good at this, which Vi could have predicted, and maybe it’s just how astoundingly attractive Cait is, but Vi doesn’t think she’s ever been eaten out like this. Cait goes at her like she’s eating a good meal, like she’s going to write a paper on what gets Vi off after. She swirls her tongue through Vi’s pussy, teases her clit with slow, velvety kisses as her fingers fill Vi with steady, deepening strokes.

“Is this good? Tell me what you like, darling, I want to make you come,” Cait says, her mouth and chin glossy, her gaze direct, demanding, it makes Vi’s skin tingle.

“I - fuck - I don’t think you need to worry about that, Cait,” Vi says, then groans and bears down, drawing her knees up as Cait’s fingers fill her. Cait gives her a third, and the slight strain to take it, the fullness, is so good. Vi lets her head fall back as she feels her orgasm building up deep in her belly, rocking her hips with the strokes of Cait’s fingers.

Cait works her through it sweetly, drawing back with a hungry, appreciative sigh and sucking Vi’s cream off her fingers. The pout of Cait’s serious mouth around her messy fingers sends another cramp of arousal through Vi’s stomach.

“You’re incredible,” Vi breathes. “Come up here,” she says, stroking her palm over Cait’s arm, still draped over her stomach. “And get those off, damn,” Vi says, and they both laugh, hands bumping as they peel Cait’s jeans off her.

Cait kneels up over her, kissing Vi deeply, feeding her the tang of her own cunt as Vi’s hands roam her body, over the gorgeous weight of her breasts, the surprising musculature of her back, the tight dip of her waist and the flare of it into her hips.

“Mmm- oh,” Cait moans as Vi rolls her nipples under her thumbs. “Can I ride your abs? I want to come on you so badly and it is really not going to take long,” Cait says with a little laugh.

Vi’s mind gets caught on how Cait got hot enough making Vi come that she’s so close, with a fluttery little rush of pleasure and pride that - embarrassingly - Vi generally associates with results in the gym.

“If that’s what you want, yeah, but - Cait, you gotta let me touch you,” Vi says, trying not to sound desperate, mostly failing.

“Oh yes,” Cait hisses, curving hungrily over Vi, the scorching wet of her cunt coming in full contact with Vi’s flinching abs.

Cait presses one of Vi’s hands to her breast and guides the other down between her legs, over the neatly trimmed midnight fuzz to the slippery softness of her labia and the hard nub of her clit, all the gorgeous female architecture Vi has always found so compelling. A little breath shivers out of her, she wants to make Cait feel as good as she made Vi feel just now, she wants to make her come so badly, to be responsible for her pleasure. And there’s the strange new flavor to her desire that she’s been feeling around Caitlyn, the want to bolster Cait’s power, to indulge that imperious, expectant edge of her, sharpen it against herself. Cait is so sure of everything, Vi wants to soak in it.

Vi feels it now, with the long bare arch of Cait’s body over her, on her, her long pale thighs and the shine of her slick on Vi’s stomach. Cait’s been hiding a fucking sixpack under her dark suits and it flexes as she grinds against Vi, low, breathy moans and soft grunts spilling out of her as Vi works with her rhythm, rubbing her clit in short strokes of her fingers.

“Vi, Vi!” Cait gasps, full body shivers seizing her as she comes, and Vi feels a hot thrill run through her, her whole belly wet with Cait’s orgasm. Cait is so stunning in pleasure.

“Fuck,” Cait blows out a breath and giggles. “You’re incredible, please tell me I can strap you right now. You’re not too sensitive are you?”

Vi’s brain screeches to a halt, and her blood rushes in her ears. She had been a little too giddy and stupid with lust earlier to fully connect Cait saying she was a top, to this, the reality of her wanting to strap on a cock and fuck Vi with it.

“God, yeah,” Vi says, and Cait’s smile is slow and sweet and dangerous.

Cait steps across the room, bare and gorgeous, and takes a reasonably sized shell-pink dildo and a glossy, soft looking leather harness out of a drawer, along with a little bottle of lube and Vi watches her with shameless appreciation. This woman is so hot and they’re starting to be friends and she wants to fuck Vi.

“Have you done this much before?” Cait asks curiously, taking V’s hand and filling her palm with a cool puddle of lube from a little green-labeled bottle. She closes Vi’s hand around the pink strap set into the harness and strokes it, sighing a little, as if she can feel it.

“Yeah,” Vi says breathlessly, recalling that one night, that tiny closet and the hot, greying stud. “I’ve done it alone, too.” There’s a sharp twinge of embarrassment for her previous heated masturbation sessions. Vi had known exactly what floor boards wouldn’t creak under her knees, so she could fuck herself as hard and deep as her cheap dildo could manage.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it, darling, I want to know exactly how you like to be fucked.”

Vi thinks: no one has ever wanted to fuck me enough for me to know that and I’d like you to help me find out, and closes her fingers firmly around the slick strap and draws Cait in to her.

It’s nothing like she’s had before. The stud’s packer had been softer by necessity of design; this one is stiffer, ruder, the head fat enough that Cait hits some resistance. Vi whines when Cait flexes over her, pushing past the clench of her body, opening her up.

“Oh, beautiful girl,” Cait gasps. “I was going to ask if you were alright, but you’re enjoying yourself aren't you?”

Vi nods, not trusting her voice, her breathing stuttering as the slight sting of penetration and mellowing ache of being filled bleeds into pleasure. Cait draws Vi’s legs up around her as she fucks her, steady and attentive. Vi feels pinned, all of Cait's formidable attention on her as Vi struggles not to immediately fall apart on her strap.

“Relax,” Cait says, dipping to kiss her briefly. “I’ve got you, I want to see how much you like having my cock in you.”

Vi, feeling like all of her is gathered around the deep, sweet strokes of Cait’s cock in her, breathes out shudderingly, and, in the privacy of her own head tests it out and thinks, ’yes, Daddy.’

“You can fuck me harder.” Vi manages to sound mostly steady, and the corner of Cait’s mouth kicks up. Vi thinks, as she often has the past few weeks, that she is out-classed and out of her depth and she is so lucky to be here.

“Ah-hah-ah! Oh god, oh fuck, yes,” Vi pants as Cait fucks her right through her orgasm, the thick pressure of her strap undeniable, smoothly altering her strokes to ease the intensity. Vi’s hands slide up and down her arms, her legs hitch up on Cait’s waist as Cait sits up on her knees, holding Vi’s hips. Her eyes are down, on the seam of Vi’s body and her strap, her lip caught in her teeth, radiating satisfaction and pleasure and the words slip out of Vi so comfortably. “Keep fucking me, Daddy.”

It’s an immediate thrill of pleasure and fear, Vi’s body flushing hotter than she’s ever felt before, a fresh flood of wetness around the strap despite the fact that she just came. She always thought saying that was for the person topping, she had never considered how it might feel for the person saying it. Cait’s eyes snap up to hers, and she reaches out to grab Vi’s jaw.

“Say it again.”

Vi gasps, a well opening up in her belly; she feels pathetic, she feels caught. “Fuck me, Daddy,” she says, and then: “Please,” because it feels right, because it floods that swamp of pathetic desire in her even higher. It’s so stupid, she was so stupid to assume that she’d be the one fucking Cait. Vi thought she was good at this, at fucking the girls she brought home, but this is something else entirely.

Over her, Cait’s eyes are nearly black, and she releases Vi’s jaw to drag her nails down, over Vi’s throat, between her tits and across the ridges of her abs.

“That’s a good girl,” Cait says, and the condescension of that thrills Vi. “See how good it feels to let Daddy take care of you?”

Vi cannot respond, as Cait catches her by the hips and her fingers dig into the flesh there as Vi is hoisted up and Cait starts fucking her in earnest. The noises spilling out of Vi are high and shocked and helpless and still not loud enough to cover the steady wet slap of Cait fucking into her soaked pussy. Vi is so wet it’s dripping down her ass, it must be getting all over Cait, as she drives her cock into Vi, and there’s a hot sting to that, that her desperation and pleasure are so obvious, so messy.

“God, look at your soaked little cunt,” Cait gasps. “So pretty and pink for Daddy.”

She moans when Vi cries out at that, at her humiliation, at how the shame only drives her desire harder. She’s fucking Vi so hard and fast, with such focus that Vi thinks, deliciously, maybe I can’t stop her, maybe Cait will just keep using my cunt like this, like it’s her right, maybe all I’ll be able to do is beg and cry about how full my pussy is of her.

“Your cock feels so good, Daddy,” falls out of Vi’s pathetic mouth, broken up by the clap of Cait’s hips against her cunt, and she thrills when she sees how that takes Cait. How it makes her groan and hunch over Vi, her pretty manicured nails biting into Vi’s hips as she grinds out her orgasm with tight brutal strokes.

Vi isn’t freed from her new discovery about herself, from the revelation that the stud wasn’t a fluke, that apparently all she really wants is for someone to fill her pussy up, until she comes again on Cait’s strap, writhing on the bed, over-sensitive and gasping “Daddy! Daddy!” to Cait’s open pleasure. Vi feels the loss sharply when Cait pulls out, after, and whimpers. Cait strokes a proprietary, soothing hand over her soaked pubes and swollen labia, the stiff, throbbing bud of her clit, and Vi considers the gesture both well-earned and appropriate.

They catch their breath there for several long minutes, pressed together, not quite cuddling, not yet talking. Until Vi feels like she can trust her legs to hold her as she stumbles into Cait’s ensuite to pee, and clean herself and look in the mirror after splashing some water on her face. She doesn’t look any different, and that seems wrong. She feels very different. Should she go back to her own room from here? Are they done? Vi doesn’t want to, she’s come twice from Cait’s cock alone and her knees are still wobbly and she’s not sure where this very physical greed is coming from, but she doesn’t want to leave yet. She doesn't want Cait to be done with her yet.

When Vi comes back to bed Cait is still sprawled on her back, one leg propped up, still wearing the strap. Vi always felt she looked a little goofy wearing one, Cait looks…well, she doesn’t look silly. When Vi lays down she presses more deliberately into Cait’s body for a cuddle, and Cait’s arm comes around her, combing her fingers through Vi’s sweat-damp hair, glancing shiveringly over the back of her neck. Vi can’t take her eyes off the wet pink cock curving up from the harness. She glides her palm down Cait’s sweaty torso and slips a finger under the harness.

“You’re very good with that,” Vi says, stupidly, given the two screaming orgasms she just had on it.

“Mm, thank you,” Cait sighs, content. “You’re lovely as well. Have you done that much? You took me so well.” Playful amusement fills her tone when Vi jolts a little at that. At being complimented on how well she takes cock. “Has no one complimented you on that before? That was rude of them.”

Her hand joins Vi’s on the harness, taking her hand and wrapping it around the base of the strap with a little hum, as if just the sight of it is good for her. Vi squeezes it, gives it a little stroke. What she’s feeling now is not the usual emptiness she feels after sex, this is not a hollowness of the spirit, it’s very physical. She has been full of Cait’s cock, and now she’s empty, and she doesn’t care for the latter.

“Have you sucked strap before?” Cait asks, and her hand is so soft on the back of Vi’s neck, manicured, moisturized, inevitable. Vi is already slipping down her body, kissing her gorgeous breasts, her tight stomach, her eyes on the cock curving up from Cait’s harness, still soaked from her pussy.

“Um, not from this side?” Vi says. She’s trying to keep her tone light, like maybe Cait won’t notice that Vi is already moving to do what she hasn’t yet been asked to do.

“Oh?” Cait says, and there’s a definite thread of amusement in her voice, like it’s funny that anyone had thought Vi should be the one getting her dick sucked. Right now, even through the burn in her cheeks and the squirm in her belly, Vi agrees. It was stupid, why had she never asked for this, never pushed back and asked to - asked for what she really wanted? A few girls have done this for Vi, and she’d never gotten it. It was a nice gesture but it wasn’t like she could feel anything from it. She’s understanding that she’s not like Cait, who came against the base of strap just from fucking Vi, who makes little noises of pleasure just to see Vi touch her cock.

Then Vi isn’t thinking at all, because soft silicone is parting her lips, pressing on her tongue, tasting like nothing in particular under the musk of her own cunt. Vi had been a little anxious that it would be too real to her, repellent, but there’s nothing life-like about it. It’s just Cait’s possession; something they have in common now with the contract signed, Vi thinks, semi-hysterically, as she follows Cait’s instructions to relax her jaw, stick her tongue out over her teeth, yes like that, there’s a good girl. Her cunt throbs tenderly and her head swims and so much has changed for her recently she feels an enormous sense of possibility, of freedom.

“Oh, darling, you're a natural,” Cait says, and Vi flushes with pleasure. Maybe Cait is toying with her, maybe she’s also right, and it doesn’t matter what Vi has always done with other girls because she’s here now, her cunt still tender from being fucked, trying to figure out how to suck a strap without drooling everywhere.

Cait rocks her hips up deliberately, making Vi gag and that, too, is head swimmingly hot, it feels like Cait over her before, bullying past the initial resistance of Vi’s cunt to show her how good Cait could make her feel. Her mouth makes a loud, wet noise on the strap and Vi shudders in shocked arousal. She feels messy, desperate, a hot coil of humiliation in her guts directly related how how much she likes doing this, how it feels almost as good as Cait fucking her cunt.

“Don’t overthink it, just relax, your mouth is so good for Daddy. You’re doing wonderfully.” Vi moans, overheated, as thick ribbons of spit slide down the shaft. “Oh, there you go, that’s so pretty, Vi,” Cait coos, her fine hand curling around the base, stroking what Vi can’t yet take.

Vi loses track of time, loses track of everything but the friction of Cait’s cock in her mouth, her guiding hand in Vi’s hair, the tight throb of her cunt. When Cait pulls her off Vi whines, then coughs.

“Daddy?” She asks hoarsely, worried she did something wrong. The air of the room is cold in her empty mouth, her chin is covered in her own drool, dripping down her neck.

“Just checking on you, baby,” Cait cups her face, wipes her thumb through the wet mess on Vi’s chin. “You’ve been down on Daddy’s cock for a while now. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Vi’s breath shudders out of her. She doesn’t know how to answer, she doesn’t know how long she’s been curled next to Cait, mouth full and head empty. Her mind is a hot fog of desperate arousal. She wants Cait’s strap back in her mouth, she wants to be fucked again.

“Can I come while I suck your cock?” she blurts out, then winces a little, looking up at Cait.

Cait smiles so sweetly that Vi relaxes immediately. “Of course, sweet girl, you’re being so good for Daddy, you deserve to feel good too. Let me see…” She glances around, a little furrow between her eyes. At least one of them can still think.

Vi doesn’t immediately respond, and Cait’s eyes snap back to her. The “Thank you, Daddy,” slips out of her mouth automatically, and she is rewarded with Cait’s warm smile.

Cait takes a big, square pillow from the bed, white, unadorned, probably worth more than Vi’s former car, and places it on the floor between her feet where she sits on the edge of the bed. The strap is heavy and wet between her thighs and even Vi’s stupid, soft brain doesn’t need instruction. Humiliated relief sears through her as she sinks to her knees, any pressure welcome to soothe the urgent ache of her cunt. She glances up to see Cait smiling at her fondly, holding her cock, waiting, Vi sinks her mouth back down on it with a thin, needy whimper, her hips already working against the soft cotton.

Vi blinks to clear the tears from her eyes, only to have them spring back as the head of Cait’s cock slides down her throat again, the shaft pressing her tongue down. Vi’s throat spasms, her body shudders, her out-of-reach orgasm a brutal ache all through her hips and belly. She pulls off Cait’s cock, choking, gasping, and Cait steadies her shoulder, cock absolutely dripping with thick saliva. Vi’s saliva. When had she learned to deep throat it? The pillow is soaked under her, the drool coating her chin has spread to her throat and chest.

“How-” Vi coughs, swallows. “How did I get here?

“You asked if you could come sucking my cock,” Cait says, and she sounds like it’s funny, like Vi’s a little stupid, having to have her own actions explained to her. Vi blinks the wetness from her eyes again, gazing up at her. “You haven't come though, baby, even though you’re getting so good at taking Daddy.” Vi glances down helplessly at the spit-soaked strap hanging over the wet gloss of Cait’s cunt, her hips are still working uselessly over the drenched pillow.

“I want to be fucked,” she blurts in frustration, then remembers her manners. “Thank you, Daddy, but it’s not enough.”

“Oh, darling, it’s okay.” She squeezes Vi’s hand. “Do you want to pick a cock to ride on while you suck?”

Vi’s mind catches on the gentle, cajoling, condescending tone, on the fact that Cait did not give her the option of no longer sucking her cock. Vi nods rapidly, swallowing. Cait tugs her up, turns her on her numb, wobbly legs and points her at a lovely two-tone mid century dresser.

“Top left drawer has the ones with suction cups, go ahead, pick what you like,” Cait says, giving Vi a gentle nudge.

Vi stumbles towards it on watery knees, she is so wet with sex. There’s sweat across her shoulders and on her lower back and under her arms and breasts, she can feel her own slick dribbling down her thighs, her neck and chest are coated with her own cock-induced drool. The contents of the drawer are intimidating, deeply exciting. Vi grabs the first one that makes her clit throb with want.

Cait has kicked the ruined pillow aside and raises an eyebrow at Vi’s choice: deep purple with a heavy curve. She reaches out and runs a manicured nail over it.

“If you make yourself sore with that that’s not going to stop me from fucking you,” she says with a smile.

Vi’s breath heaves in and out of her, and she drops to her knees and slaps the cock down to stick the suction end solidly to the floor, kneeling over it, and sinking down. The curve does exactly what she knew it would, dragging along the front wall of her cunt, slick and nearly frictionless with how wet she is, and Vi cries out gratefully.

“Oh, beautiful girl, fuck yourself just like that,” Cait coos, guiding Vi’s empty mouth back down on her cock. “But if you stop sucking Daddy’s cock as nicely as you have been, I’ll take it away.”

Any response Vi might make is lost to the weight of Daddy’s strap filling her mouth. She comes so fast, strung out between the cock gliding through her cunt and the one filling her throat. Cait murmurs praise over her, saying things Vi has only glanced over in her most frantic masturbatory fantasies. Cait tells Vi she’s beautiful, that she’s being such a good girl, that her obvious desperation is lovely. Cait threads a hand in Vi’s hair as she sucks mindlessly on Cait’s cock, her nose pressed to Cait’s belly, no resistance at all left in her throat.

“You perfect little hole, oh, you pretty, cock-drunk little pet,” Cait gasps as Vi comes again, bouncing on her dildo. “God, get up, get up, I’m going fuck your cunt again. Do you want that? Do you want Daddy’s cock in your cunt again? Did you miss me?”

Vi pants and gulps air. “Daddy, Daddy, yes,” she slurs as Cait pushes her down over the bed. The purple dildo bounces on the mattress next to her face and Vi stares at it as Cait grabs her jaw hard. Vi’s mouth is already opening, she understands, she understands what she is and what her role is. Her sore cunt clenches around nothing, more slick dribbling out of her abused hole and down her thighs.

Vi wails and sputters around the dildo that tastes of her own cunt, nursing it helplessly as Cait sinks back into her, gripping Vi by the wrists, hauling her back by them, her hips slapping against Vi’s ass. The sound of Cait’s cock in her cunt is so loud, sloppy, Vi’s last orgasm is fast and weak, she huffs and whines her way through it around her mouthful. Cait is panting and cursing, glowing with sweat as she masturbates against the base of the strap, grinding into Vi’s cunt as Vi creams helplessly around her strap.

Later, cleaned up and in bed, listening to Cait breathe deep and slow next to her, Vi realizes that Cait had watched Vi check out completely while sucking her cock and chosen to keep fucking Vi’s vacant mouth. The reality of it rolls through her in a brutal wave, and Vi has to slip her hand beneath the sheets, put her fingers gently to her swollen, stinging clit, and get herself off one last time before she can fall asleep.

The next morning is, in all honestly, far less awkward than it has any right to be. Partially because they’re both so dehydrated that the resultant hangovers find them both collapsed on the couch together, shellshocked and sipping Pedialyte.

“Well,” Cait says, dropping her phone on the cushions, having ordered a small mountain of breakfast food. “Suffice to say we’re sexually compatible,” and Vi cracks up, then winces, because dear God, her jaw is sore.

“Oh no, your poor mouth,” Cait gasps through her own laughter, one hand pressed tenderly to her abs. “I can,” Cait gestures to her own jaw, a complex expression scrunching her face. “I give a good masseter massage, if you want? It’ll help, I promise.”

Vi sits for a minute in this funny awkwardness of offering the intimacy of a facial massage after they spent hours trying to crawl inside each other's skin last night. A facial massage Vi needs because she’s spent part of those hours sucking strap like she needed it to live.

“That sounds amazing,” Vi says, honestly, and Cait’s face lights up with pleasure as Vi lays back with her head in Cait’s lap. She hopes Cait really is as good as she says, so Vi has a chance at actually chewing their coming breakfast, but after last night she thinks that if Cait says she’s good at something, she’s most likely goddamn stellar at it.

Cait is, of course, and by the time their food arrives at the door Vi no longer feels like her jaw will crack apart and fall to the floor if she moves it wrong. Plus she’s slugged back enough Pedialyte and Tylenol to make the throbbing headache retreat. They demolish the food, working through rolled eggs, rice, fat little pancakes filled with red bean paste, and glazed pork belly ends, with miso soup and house made rolls. Cait also has natto, something Vi declines to try after getting a whiff of the smell and a look at the texture.

Fortified, they retreat to the couch with coffee, and Cait puts a movie on. They make it about ten minutes in, before Cait turns to Vi.

“Are you okay with what happened last night between us?” she asks, and Vi has never been asked anything in such a perfectly neutral tone since the last time she was in therapy. “Not that I thought you didn’t enjoy yourself last night, but I know things can feel different in daylight.”

“I liked it, I still like it,” Vi says. She isn’t sure where else to go from there. Her sex life hasn’t been adventurous, she doesn’t have a metric for this.

Cait is watching her, legs tucked up, cradling her coffee. Vi is feeling a little flayed open before her, and it’s not entirely a bad feeling. Cait tilts her head and rolls her mug between her palms.

“Well, what do you usually like? How do your girls usually fuck you?”

Vi ducks her head, a chuckle rolling out of her, heat curling through her. She can see the direction this conversation could go, with Cait asking how Vi likes certain things, and Vi largely unable to answer with anything but ‘I don’t know’.

“Sorry, no,” she says, smiling at Cait and shaking her head. “One time. Before last night I’d been fucked once, and it was a hook up in a literal closet.” Cait’s surprised expression scrunches into a sympathetic moue. “So, I liked everything you did with me last night. I like you. And I want to see how I’d like whatever else you want to do with me.”

Cait just looks at her for a moment, measuring and hot, and Vi’s heart thumps in anticipation. Cait leans over and slowly and deliberately sets her coffee mug down on the table.

“Come here, I want to kiss you again,” Cait says, Vi fumbles her coffee mug onto the table and shifts over her on the couch, reluctant to put her full weight on Cait until she knocks Vi’s knee out from under her. “There you go, baby,” Cait says, her nails running shiveringly over Vi’s shoulders.

Cait slides her hands down Vi’s back as they kiss lazily, figuring each other out without the fever of lust, hands wandering, bodies shifting together just shy of humping. Eventually Vi breaks away, breathing hard, lips buzzing and tender.

“My jaw hurts, Daddy,” she says, and it comes out sweet, breathy, her throat tight with nerves and anticipation.

“Poor baby,” Cait murmurs, her hands coming up to cradle Vi’s face. “Were you too greedy last night? You did so well sucking Daddy’s cock, I couldn’t bear to stop you.” Vi shudders in delight and Cait pats her cheek.

“Well, if I have to give your mouth a break then I want those pretty pierced tits. Sit up for Daddy, hold your shirt up - not off,” Cait says sharply as Vi starts to pull the shirt over her head.

This is worse, or better – Vi’s getting those all mixed up lately. She is more than shirtless, she’s on display, offering her tits up to Cait for as long as she feels like playing with them. Cait’s thigh nudges up between hers, making Vi extra aware that she’s soaking her boxers.

“There’s a good girl,” Cait says off-handed, most of her attention on Vi’s chest. She cradles Vi’s breasts, strokes thumbs over the nipples and their piercings, weighs them in her palms. “Oh I love these, they were such a nice surprise last night and I didn’t get to do enough with them.” She sucks one nipple briefly then releases it with a pop and looks up into Vi’s eyes.

“I’m going to hurt you now, and I’m not going to stop until you tell me to, or I get bored.” She looks back down at Vi’s tits briefly. “I’m not likely to get bored soon.”

Vi breathes out. “Yes, Daddy.”

Chapter Text

Sevika eyes Vi warily over their lunch, through the small talk of how everyone is doing, and only over coffee do her big shoulders relax and her busted knuckles unclench. Vi hasn’t been very concerned with Sevika’s opinion for years, but Powder has a lingering fondness for the woman who had been Vander’s favorite bouncer, the woman he’d left the Last Drop to, so Vi maintains the relationship. Besides, she’s kind of hoping that if she can make a good impression of Cait on Sevika, some of that approval will trickle down to Powder who, despite her denials, is definitely still salty about Caitlyn in general.

“You’re looking good, kid,” Sevika finally says, leaning back in her chair.

Vi agrees. She’s been eating right, getting enough sleep, her wardrobe isn’t a hundred percent thrifted anymore and actually fits her, and her skin care and soap aren’t whatever is on the deepest sale, so she’s stopped getting spots and dry, itchy patches. Her dentist even said she’s stopped grinding her teeth in her sleep. Best of all, she’s getting her pussy absolutely destroyed by the hottest woman she’s ever met on the daily. Vi’s not sure how her life could get better. Cait working fewer hours, maybe.

“You’re an adult. Sort of.” Sevika continues and Vi rolls her eyes; Sevika ignores this. “But I gotta admit I was worried about this new relationship. If I let some rich Piltie lawyer mess with you, your uncle would drag himself out of the dirt to kick my ass.”

Vi snorts, partially because what does Sevika mean, ‘let’? Sevika has never helped them, other than watching Powder sometimes. Vi doesn’t blame her for it – everyone in their neighborhood had it hard, and she had things handled on her own – but she doesn’t credit the woman anything either.

It’s really starting to bother Vi that everyone’s reaction to the news of Cait’s and her’s engagement is to assume that Cait is somehow taking advantage of Vi. Like Vi couldn’t possibly have pulled her or been pulled by her on her own merit. They’re both young, hot lesbians living in the same city. Shit, that’s basically a guarantee they’ll at least date at some point in their lives. Not to be full of herself but Vi is definitely hot enough that she could have at least gotten Cait’s attention.

Vi can only imagine the uproar if those people had any idea of what Cait did with Vi.

She wipes her hands, picks up her phone. Her lock screen is a picture of Cait on a rare lazy weekend, sunbathing on her terrace. Her skin glows against the white lounge chair, all her plants not quite hiding the incredible view of the city. Her sharp, amused blue eyes watch Vi over the top of her sunglasses. Vi holds the photo up to Sevika, whose dark brows shoot up as she whistles low.

“Ho-lee shit. You hit the lottery, you little fuck.”

“Goddamn right, I did,” Vi says, draining the last of her little cup of cappuccino. “I’ve been fighting for every little scrap forever, Sevika. Now Powder’s grown up, on her own two feet, and the hot girl I'm dating is offering me the chance to put it all down? I’m gonna be the best fucking fiancee she’s ever seen. I’ll housewife the shit out of her.”

At least for a little while. But Sevika doesn’t know that part of it and also doesn’t need to.

Sevika barks a laugh. “So she domesticated your ugly ass? Got you wearing an apron around the house?" Vi snorts.

“She's old money loaded, there’s staff. I just do whatever while she’s at work.”

Then when Daddy’s home Vi is her willing and eager hole, but Sevika doesn’t need to know that, either. Vi kind of wishes she did have someone to tell about the things she’s doing, the things Cait is doing to her. It’s still quite exciting to her, all these new things about herself she’s been reveling in, the things that Cait is unearthing so easily.

After Vi took the picture she just showed Sevika, Cait had tugged Vi into her lap and stripped off the little crop top she was wearing.

“We’re on the top floor, Vi,” Cait said, tossing Vi’s shirt aside, well out of her reach, when Vi’s arms had drawn up to cover herself hesitantly. “No one can see these but me. Now come here, gorgeous.”

Vi had leaned over Cait, offered herself up, and her nerves hadn’t disappeared, but they had transmuted, they’d become part of the pleasure of Cait’s hands and mouth on her body. So what if someone, somehow saw them? What could happen that would materially affect her life now? What would happen that Cait couldn’t handle for her? If someone saw all the work Vi had put into her body, if they saw her stunning fiancee appreciating that? Cait played with Vi’s tits until the piercings ached, until the whole of her breasts felt swollen and sensitive. She raked her nails slowly and deliberately over Vi’s sides, raising layers of welts, slapped her tits red and stinging until Vi was breathing hard and shaky, right on the edge of tears.

Then Cait reached into the tote she’d brought out to the terrace with her earlier.

“You seriously brought a strap out here?” Vi said, sniffling a little, when the short, thick cock was handed to her. One of those that sat internally, a little bullet vibe tucked against the user.

“Of course I did,” Cait said, shifting under her, stretching out. “I know what Daddy’s little slut likes. Now put it on me, I want your mouth.”

Vi had slipped the cock into her fiancee and slid down to settle between Cait’s legs, the sun on her shoulders and her mouth full. Cait gave a contented sigh, one of her long legs braced on the tiles so she can rock her hips up into Vi’s mouth, both hands in Vi’s hair. A short moan slipped out of Vi; she loved to be held like this, cradled by Cait while she sucked her strap.

“God, Vi, you love Daddy’s cock so much. I love watching you suck me, hearing you,” Cait rocked her hips up and Vi choked, hearing that thick, gulping noise out of herself, and her cunt throbbed. “Mmm, just like that, show off for Daddy,” Cait moaned, and Vi squeezed her thighs together and swallowed until her nose was pressed to Cait’s belly.

Vi had sounded good with her throat full; she sounded like she was Cait’s, like Vi was made for her pleasure. After she came twice against the bullet vibe, Cait had taken Vi back inside and told her to keep her hands behind her back. Daddy wanted to see what all that muscle could do. Vi bounced helplessly on her cock, soaking her belly and the harness while Cait watched her, hands stroking proprietarily over her thighs and abs while Vi had shown off the strength in her core, bending to kiss Cait’s mouth as she rode her. Then Cait had braced her heels on the bed and pounded into Vi’s cunt until she was wailing and barely upright, begging Daddy for mercy she didn’t want.

Later, with Sevika having been reassured that Caitlyn hasn’t locked Vi in a tower with plans to harvest her organs, and Vi both pleasantly full and buzzed on a good lunch and a very strong cappuccino, she decides to do some shopping. It’; something that still feels indulgent. It’s not that she’s never gone shopping in the middle of the day – she’s run errands between shifts at her jobs before – but this is a universe away from that. Her wallet is as good as bottomless, and she’s completely idle, with nothing to do that she doesn’t want to. The amount of free time suddenly available to her had made her anxious at first. After her initial exhaustion had ebbed she’d had difficulty sleeping in, she kept jerking awake thinking she was late for a shift, or needed to drop Powder off or pick her up from something.

Caitlyn’s appetites - their shared appetites - had helped a lot there. It was much easier to sleep in after she’d been woken up pre-dawn by Cait’s fingers or tongue or strap in her because Daddy wanted a quick fuck before she went off to work. It was reassuring, in a way that put a squirm of embarrassment in Vi’s belly, but she sleeps like a log after Cait leaves her limp in their bed, half awake, wet and aching.

Vi ducks into a fancy activewear store, because her current gym leggings have been threatening to blow out at the crotch for weeks now, and she finds these gym shorts. They’re cotton, with a satiny finish on the outside, and so hilariously tiny that Vi has to grab a pair to try on. She ends up laughing out loud in the changing room. They’re just as bad as she thought, they don’t even cover the bottom of her ass cheeks. If she was wearing anything other than bikini cut underwear today they’d be showing. What the fuck kind of exercise are these even meant for?

Her first thought is to text a pic to Jayce and tell him she’s found a new workout set for him, but there's way too much of her on display. Vi would have to apologize to Mel if she sent her husband a picture of this much of her ass.

She does have another option though.

She snaps a few angles of the stupid scrap of red fabric, picks the one that makes her look the most like she does all her sweating in the bedroom, and sends it to Cait

“new workout fit y/n? lol”

Vi hasn’t even wiggled out of the shorts when Cait’s response dings on her phone

“buy more. diff colors”

Then an out of focus picture of an Asian guy with a haircut too cheap for his dark suit, angled like it was taken from Cait’s lap. Vi has yet to meet Marcus personally, but boy has she heard about him.

“meetings stupid show daddy your pussy”

Vi laughs and her cheeks flush, she’s already putting a sneaker up on the bench and tugging the tiny crotch of the shorts and her underwear aside to awkwardly angle her phone and snap a pic. Then another couple, her abs with her tits pushed together below her pulled up shirt, her ass again, her cunt again with two of her fingers spreading her labia to show Daddy her hole. Like a too-hot bath, she eases into the idea of this, of the fact that she is enjoying it, that she is in fact doing more than Cait asked because it turns her on. Vi wants to, she wants Caitlyn’s approval, her appreciation. She wants to see if this will change the way Cait fucks her tonight.

Vi’s checking out, making small talk while trying to ignore how wet she is, buying herself a rainbow of slutty little shorts and a couple compression tops that are literally too soft to resist, when her phone buzzes. Vi knows who it is, and smiles vacantly at the nice clerk, pays, and ducks away quickly to check her texts.

“be wearing those when daddy comes home”

“4 pm going back in after dinner”

Vi not only wears them, she goes for a couple mile run in the sterile, climate controlled gym in Cait’s building. It’s three in the afternoon so no one else is in there, and Vi has to grapple with her mild disappointment over that. She’s never been much for outside validation, and she’s not sure why she wants people to see her, with the body she built, in her stupid, expensive shorts, idle in the middle of a weekday. No where to be but where Caitlyn wants her. Where Daddy wants her. Vi stumbles, almost eats shit on the treadmill, and grimly yanks her mind back on track.

It feels like an accomplishment, like triumph, that when Cait gets home she can’t keep her hands off Vi, getting Vi’s sweat all over her expensive, sober work suit, digging her nails into Vi’s ass while Vi sucks her tongue and moans. Cait has Vi kneel over her face on the bed, the shorts pulled to the side, eating Vi out with lazy, luxuriant swirls of her tongue. Occasionally Cait’s hand will crack down on her ass, making Vi cry out. Cait dips her fingers into Vi’s pussy, businesslike, stretching her more than actually fingering her.

“Those pictures were such a lovely surprise, baby,” Cait says, licking around Vi’s clit with a pleased hum. “Did you enjoy acting like a shameless little kept slut in that changing room?” She asks, hand slapping down on Vi’s ass again and gripping, hard and appreciative.

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi gasps, because she really did, it was such a thrill to her, to make turning Cait on the point of her day, to luxuriate in the simple fact that she’s stumbled into this somehow, a reality where she is Daddy’s little kept slut, no matter how the contract and the ring and their fiction dressed it up. Vi is another one of Cait’s expensive toys.

After Cait has satisfied herself with eating Vi’s pussy, she fucks her over the edge of the bed with the stupid shorts still on, and, particularly thrilling for Vi, holds Vi’s wrists pinned to the small of her back.

Cait groans when the strap sinks in, head tipped back. “God, your body is amazing. Wear these out tomorrow? It’s going to be a long day and I want pictures of Daddy’s little slut showing everyone how lucky I am.”

Vi, whines and bites the comforter, head spinning, adjusting. “What do- mm- what do I get out of doing that?”

Cait laughs, low and fond and it fizzes up Vi’s spine. “Exactly what you got out of showing me your pussy and tits in a changing room today.”

The next morning Vi considers Cait’s request. She knows she doesn’t have to do it, Cait is not some domineering master who will, Vi doesn't even know. Spank her? She does that anyway. Not much of a punishment when Vi likes it so much. Vi just wants to do it, for the reasons Cait said, for the same reason she likes it when people see her in the apartment’s gym in the middle of the day, idle, spoiled, hot.

The Apple store, she thinks. The best she could do for Powder when she sent her off to school was a Chromebook. She can definitely do better now.

It’s weird and awkward at first, going out wearing so little. Vi feels exposed, inappropriate in a way she never does. The couple double-takes she gets feel searing, and make her want to punch someone. That’s as embarrassing as the exposure; she thought she outgrew that knee-jerk violent shit ages ago. She’s decompressing - sulking - in a coffee shop around the block from the Apple store when she gets her head on right.

A group of girls pass the big front window, talking and gesturing. They’re a bit younger than her, a few years into college she thinks. A brunette on the edge of the pack, with a purple Kool-aid dye job fringing her choppy bob, notices Vi perched at the bar seating behind the big window. Instead of a quick look away in embarrassment, this time the double-take Vi gets is paired with lingering once over and a grin before someone elbows the purple-bobbed girl and she ducks, giggling, into the pack of her friends as they pass.

The angry, defensive tension drains out of Vi’s and she chuckles before throwing back the last of her matcha. It’s not just the appreciation, though that’s always nice. Half those girls were dressed as skimpily as Vi is. It’s the middle of summer and Piltover is sticky with heat shimmering off the pavement; crop tops and short shorts are practically a uniform. Vi’s top is a lemon yellow crop, loose and boxy, mostly decoration for the black bralet under it; she’s definitely legally decent, at least. Her motivations aren’t visible, just her ass. She snaps a pic of herself on the stool, her bare, splayed thighs and sends it to Cait.

She’s getting better at being herself lately, but Vi still sometimes forgets she’s not actually a thirty-five year-old mother.

She pitches her cup in the trash and heads for the white, sterile unpleasantness of the Apple store. It’s cold in there after the sweltering heat outside but the bearded sales guy not only doesn’t bat an eye at her outfit, he visibly lights up when she tells him what she’s looking to buy.

It’s not the price tag that gets Vi. She looked this stuff up beforehand and knew what this was going to cost her. It’s carrying them around after. Buying a four thousand dollar laptop, plus a phone and some airpods is fine apparently, but the idea of dropping them accidentally? Pants-shitting.

Cait’s given her the card of a courier she uses all the time, and Vi feels a lot better with her gift basket - she’d shoved in a few gift cards and bags of Pow’s favorite snacks - in professional hands. She bums around town for a while, gets lunch, picks up some snacks for herself and Cait too. She ducks into a bike shop, and then right back out when she realizes this is a thing she needs to do actual research on. She also snaps a handful of selfies throughout the day, one particularly good one in the full length mirror of a shop.

When Cait comes home she catches Vi by the hair and kisses her deeply, then, hand still in her hair, drags her to the bedroom, both of them laughing, staggering and stumbling as they try to keep kissing the whole time, in the bedroom she shimmies her dark, sleek work skirt up over her hips and sits on Vi’s face. Cait moans and gasps over her, hips rolling, stockings scratching her cheeks, smothering Vi. It’s close and dark under the folds of her skirt, face pressed to Cait’s cunt, Vi’s head empty of everything but her reactions. Cait tastes so good, the soft slickness of her pussy giving under Vi’s tongue. When Vi sucks softly at her clit Cait’s thighs tremble around her head and a high noise breaks out of her. It tickles Vi a little, how sensitive Cait is when she’s such a mean fuck. Vi soothes around her stiff little clit with the flat of her tongue.

“Your mouth is perfect,” Cait says, hand reaching back, sliding over Vi’s body. “Make me come, I have a present for you, darling.” Vi moans and applies herself.

When Cait is satisfied she gets off Vi on shaky legs, sheds her work clothes, disappears into the ensuite and comes out with a warm, damp washcloth and cleans Vi’s face where she’s still sprawled on the bed. Cait leans over Vi and kisses her soft and sweet.

“Did you have a good day?” She asks, and Vi nods, basking in Cait’s attention.

“I did some shopping, met a friend,” Vi says, magnanimously giving Sevika an unearned upgrade. She’d also missed Cait; it’s nearly dark out and she’d wondered if Cait would be home before Vi went to bed. Cait makes no move to undress Vi, or get any toys, and Vi’s brain comes back on line by degrees. Cait is not going to make her come right now, she meant it about the present.

Cait smiles warmly at her. “I’m glad, and I saw what you sent, that ass of yours is incredible.” She squeezes the meat of Vi’s thighs and slides her hands up Vi’s body to her shoulders. “And that new upper body routine is definitely working, you looked wonderful, I’m so proud you’re all mine”

A delicious shiver goes through Vi’s whole body.

Cait leaves Vi fully dressed and slips her robe on, then leads her out of the room. Vi follows, her whole body a low buzz of arousal, the inside of her mouth still sticky with come. There’s a matte blue package on the coffee table that Cait picks it up with a delighted, mischievous smile on her face. Vi thinks bodes very well for her, and follows and tucks herself into Cait’s side as caity brings it to the living room and settles on the couch.

This dildo Cait takes out of the box looks high tech. The only thing Vi can think of to compare it to is a brand new cell phone, and she’s not going to say that, because it sounds dumb as hell. It’s heavy in Vi’s hands, heavier than it looks like it should be, sleek and the telltale blue of Hextech, with just a suggestion of a head and big enough that Cait could definitely make her cry with it. She can’t wait.

Vi runs her hand up it, gripping the part where it curves up and back into the user. “I’ve heard of these. This is one of the fancy ones you can feel?”

“Among other things,” Cait says, watching Vi’s hands on her new cock proprietarily.

“Ominous,” Vi says, feeling a hot surge of anticipation and cuddling closer. “So have you used one before? What does it feel like? Getting fucked? Like having a dick?”

Cait frowns, head tilting, her fingers scratching through Vi’s hair. “Yes, and it’s not quite like penetration? I feel it inside and outside, sort of? It’s a bit odd, but very good.”

“So not like a dick?”

Cait rolls her eyes, a little grin on her face, clearly just as pleased and eager as Vi is. “Vi, how on earth would I know?”

“I don’t know! Ask Jayce to shove one up his ass or something.”

Cait makes a face of pure disgust that’s pretty hilarious. “I’d have to burn it, and these things take far too long to make just to waste one for puerile curiosity.” Cait shifts around on the couch, putting her feet on the floor, Vi eyes the endless length of her smooth, strong legs.

Cait flicks her fingers at the floor between her legs, tugging at the tie of her robe. “Go wash it, then bring it here, I want your mouth again.”

Her task is done, Vi kneels between her legs and looks up at Cait. Her cunt is still wet from Vi’s attentions, her lean, strong body bare under the robe.

“Put that on me, let me show you what Daddy got for her good girl.”

Cait sucks in a sharp breath, then sighs out when Vi slips the strap into her. It fits like it was molded to her, hugging her mound, arching up between her thighs. Vi wants it and she’s really not picky where. Cait seizes the cock by the base with one hand and Vi’s chin in the other.

“Open up, give me a kiss.”

The heavy head rubs along Vi’s tongue. There’s something about the way it feels, it’s not buzzing like a vibe but there’s an almost-hum, a sense of internal technology.

“Oooh,” Cait sighs, head falling back a little, still watching her cock fill Vi’s mouth through slitted eyes, “Oh there’s Daddy’s sweet mouth, suck now - ah - oh, good girl, you’re worth every penny aren’t you? Can you taste me yet?”

Vi’s brow furrows, she doesn’t understand, already growing stupid, her body sinking into sweetness, then she tastes it. Daddy’s cunt slick, smearing across her tongue, the back of her throat, leaking from the head of her cock. Vi makes a muffled, shocked moan, knowing better than to try and take her mouth away. Cait’s smile is a wicked slice, fond, brutal.

“That’s right, darling, drink up,” she says, and guides the rest of her cock down Vi’s throat.

“Oh,” Vi pants helplessly against Cait’s hip after, gulping, the hexstrap painting her cheek with her own spit and Daddy’s come. “Holy fuck.”

Cait hums in satisfaction, robe open and glowing lightly with sweat, cock arching wetly between her thighs. She's so hot it’s almost hard to look at her. As she takes Vi’s jaw in hand and smiles down at her, Vi is already softening, mouth opening, her body so ready, so understanding of what her role is.

Cait spits on her offered tongue, then pushes her cock back in, the cock that’s leaking her slick and cream all over Vi’s tongue, a direct line to Daddy’s cunt. Vi is giving the sloppiest strap blow job of her life, too turned on to regulate her breathing, to control her drool, to do anything but let Cait use her.

“Messy,” Cait says coolly, thumb swiping at the corner of her mouth, and Vi whimpers, gazing up at her dumbly.

“Oh, Daddy’s poor dick-drunk baby,” Cait coos sympathetically, taking a fistful of her hair and Vi squeezes her eyes shut on the vicious, dizzying rush of arousal.

“I’m going to fill your sloppy mouth up, Daddy wants to see her load on your tongue before you swallow it.”

Vi whines affirmatively, her head utterly empty except for a hot haze of pleasure. Daddy can do whatever she wants with her holes. She uses the handful of her hair, working Vi’s mouth over the head of her cock, cunt slick filling Vi’s mouth, dribbling from the corners as she gulps it down, chokes on the blunt head, and tries to swallow that too and gets yanked back. The fine, long fingers of Cait’s other hand are wrapped around the rest of the strap’s blue bulk, stroking herself with Vi’s drool, her head flung back on the couch, panting. Vi’s cunt is an agonizing, empty throb. She hasn’t come yet tonight.

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Don’t you dare swallow it,” Cait gasps.

Vi wouldn’t, couldn’t even consider it at this point, Daddy told her not to, and Vi’s whole body is a hot desperate ache for her. She has to squeeze her eyes shut with a whine when Cait’s come fills her mouth. Vi has always loved using her mouth on girls, making them come on her tongue. This is something else, all of it filling her mouth at once.

“Show me,” Cait says, still catching her breath.

Vi opens her mouth, flattens her tongue, and feels some of Cait’s come slip down to pool between her teeth and bottom lip.

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s so pretty,” Cait cradles her jaw gently, thumb on her chin. “There you go, swallow now.”

Vi does, her throat bobbing hungrily, dizzy with lust. “Thank you, Daddy,” she says, and sways back towards the gentle blue glow of the hexstrap, pressing soft kisses to the base. “Will you fuck me now?” She can’t keep the trembling eagerness out of her voice, she loves how Cait fucks her anyway, and this? She needs to feel Cait come in her. She needs to come.

“Oh?” Cait says, that gentle amusement in her voice, that condescending lilt that makes Vi insane. That tone that says Vi is just a silly little thing, a pet to be indulged. “Didn’t I just do that? You’ll have to be more specific, darling.”

Vi shudders with delight and lust and hot, stinging embarrassment. “I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy.” She rests her cheek on Cait’s thigh and gazes up at her, stunning and imperious and capable of making Vi feel such wonderful things. “I want to feel you come inside.”

Cait’s smile spreads in slow delight. “How could I ever say no to you? Come on, up, into the bedroom.” Vi is already moving, shaking out her stiff knees.

Cait follows more sedately, hanging her robe up, watching as Vi settles on the bed, slips a pillow under her own ass. Vi is well past the point of pretending she is not constantly, desperately eager for Cait’s attention. Generally, not just right now. She spreads her knees, and reaches down to spread her labia, displaying herself completely for Cait.

“Come fill your pussy up, Daddy.”

Vi can’t control the soft, needy noises spilling out of her as Cait sinks into her, both of them watching the tip press her open and slip in. Cait’s soft groan, the way she works the first few inches through Vi’s cunt like she just can’t help herself sends heat roaring through her. Cait can feel her now, more than she could before. Her Daddy already fucks Vi so good, she can’t wait to see what this brings out in her.

Cait fills her in slow, steady strokes, Vi lets her head fall back, kneading at her breasts, legs around Cait’s waist as the pressure, the sweet ache, fills her.

“Daddy,” she sighs. “Your cock feels so good.” She clenches around the dildo, and Cait’s breath catches. “Can you feel that? Do I feel good, Daddy?”

Daddy’s hand slides over her hips, across her stomach, catches one of her nipples and twists it cruelly. Vi moans, high and wavering, thighs tightening around Daddy’s waist, humping her sloppy wet cunt against the base of the strap.

“Fishing for compliments already?” Cait asks, a breathless thread in her voice that Vi put there. “Do you want Daddy to tell you how hot and tight your sweet little pussy feels?” She twists Vi’s other nipple and Vi whines in delight at the hurt. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Daddy!” Vi cries, and Cait slaps her tits a few times, the piercings heavy and tender on her chest and Vi whimpers.

“God I could fuck you forever,” Cait says. “You’re so soft inside, you get so wet for Daddy, look at you, soaking me, soaking my bed, you’re dripping off my cock and I’ve barely started fucking you. You’re so desperate for Daddy’s cock aren’t you?” Vi shudders under her, her pussy gripping the bulk of the dildo in her.

“Yes, Daddy,” she says.

“Oh, darling, is that all you can say? Already?” Cait’s voice drips with false sympathy and Vi nods, her humiliation already riding the edge of fear. “Daddy’s empty-headed, cock-hungry little slut,” Cait says affectionately, and Vi moans, shuddering, tears stinging her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy!” she cries out, and her voice breaks on it.

“Fuck, yes, say it,” Cait snaps, her shoulders bunched, leaning over Vi, driving into her with short deep thrusts. “Beg for it.”

Vi can’t take a full breath through the anticipation and pleasure. “A-aah! Daddy! Please, please, Daddy! Come in me, I need to feel it, don’t stop!” That hot, thrilling humiliation is right up against the hard edge of something like terror in her, and Vi has fully given in to it. “Come in me, come in me, come in me!”

“Ohh fuck, fuck, take it,” Cait hisses, dragging a hard hand through Vi’s hair, pulling her head back, splaying her out more.

In hindsight Vi’s shocked she can even feel the load Cait puts in her, considering how drenched she is. In the moment, the pulse of it, the new, extra wetness and the flash of it filling her mouth previously sends her crashing into orgasm. Vi rocks frantically into her thrusts, crying ”Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” as she’s filled, as she spills over. Her head falls back, her hands sliding over the sensitized skin of her breasts, her ribs, her belly and she rasps for air as the words fall out of her.

“Thank you, Daddy, oh fuck, thank you. Please give me more.”

Vi gets two more that night, thanks Daddy for it profusely and incoherently, and before Cait lets her go clean up, she holds her swollen labia apart so Cait can use Vi’s phone to snap a handful of pictures of her fucked open cunt, leaking come. For when her good girl misses her, Daddy says, stroking her tear-streaked cheek, and Vi feels luminous with satisfaction.

Vi is woken up pre-dawn the next morning, her brain fuzzy, her body hot and weighted down. She groans into her pillow as the pressure resolves itself into Cait draped over her back, hand already between Vi’s legs, spreading her open, fingers slipping into Vi’s fucked out cunt.

“Daddy,” Vi slurs, feeling three steps behind her own body, “it hurts.”

Cait hums and sinks her teeth into the meat of Vi’s shoulder, below her trapezius, two fingers pumping steadily in Vi’s cunt.

“I just can’t help myself with you,” Cait says in the dark, her breath cool on the back of Vi’s neck as Vi writhes under her, “you feel so good.” Her fingers curl exploratorily in Vi’s cunt and Vi sobs, half awake, open and raw.

Cait’s weight lifts off her back as she sits up, back between Vi’s legs to get both hands between her thighs, fingertips stroking delicately over Vi’s stinging clit. Vi pants humidly, her hot cheek pressed to the pillow.

“I don’t know if I can come again,” Vi says.

“I want you to,” Cait says, leaning over her, her soft breasts and her silky hair brushing Vi’s back where the bite mark still sits, a hot, aching anchor.

“Fuck,” Vi whines, pathetically wallowing in the hot weight of lust in her belly. She gets her arms under her and presses up on her elbows, head hanging, aching nipples brushing the sheets. “I need more, I need - please, Cait, Daddy-”

“I’ve got you, darling,” Cait says, and her soft mouth brushes across Vi’s skin before her teeth sink in again.

Vi cries out, her aching pussy clenching down on Cait’s fingers. It’s not quite as good as getting her tits tortured, but it lights the same fire in her belly, and sets all her nerves singing. Her body gives it up shockingly quick, her sore muscles fluttering around Cait’s fingers, her shoulders burning and clit heavy and stinging. Vi drops flat to the bed with a shaky moan. Cait kisses her shoulders, her neck, her cheeks, then slips her long body to the side to press into Vi, taking her face between her hands and kissing her mouth as Vi pants and shivers out her overstimulation.

Vi cuddles into her, sliding a clumsy arm around Cait’s waist, stroking her side, palming her ass. “Sit on my face?” she mumbles, when Cait leaves her mouth alone for a minute.

“Oh, you’re going to make me late for work,” Cait says, kissing her again, already pressing Vi back.

Cait is gratifyingly soaked when she presses her pussy to Vi’s face and Vi glides her palms up and down Cait’s smooth thighs as she drags her tongue through Cait’s slick folds and sucks soft kisses onto her clit.

Cait ducks through the shower again after and Vi slips almost immediately back into a doze, sore, face sticky, all her limbs heavy with sleepy pleasure. She comes a little more awake when Cait comes out and cleans her face and her pussy for her, already all dressed and made up except for her shoes.

“Don’t wait up tonight, okay?” she says softly, and Vi pouts and grumbles, but nods.

“Wake me up again next morning, if you want to,” Vi says and Cait ruffles her hair.

“Insatiable,” she teases, and Vi grins, broad and goofy, happiness bubbling in her chest.

“Daddy’s girl,” Vi corrects, then laughs when Cait groans and says ‘no, no I’m leaving, stop that’ and gets up, gently pressing Vi’s head back into the pillow.

Vi sprawls there, listening as the whisper of Cait’s stocking feet on the floor turns into the click of her heels, and the door opens, the faint clunk and beep of the lock, feeling lassitude creep back along her limbs. Outside the window the leading edge of the sun has barely lightened the horizon, the whole day spreading out before her. Vi feels a little tug of longing. It feels silly to miss Cait when she just left, but it feels equally silly to pretend Vi doesn’t want Cait to stay, that she doesn’t want Cait around all the time.

As much as Vi would really like someone to talk about the changes to her sex life, she thinks what she really needs is someone to talk to about the unfortunate fact that she’s falling for her fiancee.

Chapter Text

A few hours later Vi flounders up out of dead sleep to smack her ringing phone silent, then groans when she sees Powder’s contact picture beaming up at her. Vi fumbles her phone off the nightstand and answers it with a mostly incoherent “Hello?”

“Day drunk already? You really are embracing that trophy wife lifestyle.”

Vi, her head pounding and mildly nauseated from exhaustion, is just awake enough to not say “I got fucked stupid three hours ago, asshole, what do you want,” to her little sister.

“Fuck off, Pow-pow, you woke me up,” Vi says, flopping into her back, scrubbing at her crusty eyes.

“I love that for you - and for me I love this fucking gift basket. Holy shit sis! I thought the courier was pranking me at first, like she was a cop stripper or something.”

Vi stares blankly at the ceiling, tries to figure out how that tracks, and quickly gives up.

“Yeah, well, Cait suggested I get you something with some horsepower, so thank her for the idea.”

Powder is quiet for a beat.

“I’m gonna kiss your fiancee.”

“Do not.” Vi says, cringing.

“This means a lot, Vi, really,” Powder says, suddenly quiet and Vi’s heart goes gooey.

“You deserve it, kiddo,” Vi says, sincerely. “You worked really hard.”

“Is it bad that I still feel really weird about all the money this stuff represents?”

Vi folds her free arm under her head, “No, that’s pretty normal. This isn’t anything we could ever afford, before. I’ve had to adjust too. Shit, one of the first things Cait did when we- when I moved in was buy me a new car.”

“Oh no, not your death trap,” Powder snarks. She’s been sensitive about Vi’s old Camry since she happened to be in it when the muffler fell off on the freeway, no matter how many times Vi explained the difference between things that were loud and things that were dangerous. “What helped you?”

“Cait did,” Vi says honestly. “She was raised with it, she comes from some old ass wealth and she just never thinks about money. At all. I could have bought you another ten thousand in computer shit and Cait just would have been excited to hear what you were going to do with it. She always wants to hear about Jayce’s engineering stuff too.”

“Oh god please don’t,” Pow says all in one rushed breath. “I think I would have a panic attack and try to order one of those installable safe rooms on ebay. But okay. Okay.” Powder is quiet for a long minute.

“I want to like your finance, I promise, Vi. I’m not being a jerk for no reason. It's just a lot,” she says. And Vi really, honestly doesn’t get it, but Powder is trying, and she trusts her sister to come around eventually.

“I know, Pow,” she says.

“I could text her- about my projects and all the stuff I’m making? Do you think she’d like that?”

Vi smiles at that, full of a sweet, light pleasure edged with sadness - she hopes if Powder and Cait do become friends it survives her and Cait’s eventual ‘breakup’.

“Yeah, I bet she would.”

Powder fills her in on more things - her friends, her classes, the teachers she likes and doesn’t, and as happy as it makes her, a sad, sour tug lingers in Vi’s belly. Powder is the last of her siblings to go out in the world and make something of herself. What is Vi doing?

“Oh! Don’t forget, Claggor’s out of the boonies for a few days so he’ll be giving you a call. Don’t miss his dispatches from the outback, or you’ll make him sad.”

Claggor has been working on a huge solar project in the middle of fucking nowhere, Texas, for the past year, surrounded by drive-through towns that have more cows than people. Except for the few days a month where he drives out to somewhere bougie enough to have a Walmart he’s only been able to communicate via email, and even that’s been spotty. Vi’s stomach swoops. Mylo had just sent her very excitable and mildly inappropriate congratulatory text from the depths of second-year med school, and Powder is Powder, but Claggor is steady, dependable, sensible. Out of all her siblings he’s going to have the most questions about Vi’s current situation.

“I’d never, how else will I learn about all the cool cows?”

“We miss so much, ensconced in our edifices of steel and glass, concrete…pigeon shit,” Powder says wistfully.

“Nice SAT word.”

“Fuck you,” Powder says cheerfully, “I love you, your rich girl has conditional acceptance, and I have Physics 151. Later!”

After Powder hangs up, Vi manages to fall back asleep for a few hours, and feels marginally less like death when she wakes up for the third time.

She shoves down her pre-workout protein bar and a Celsius, does her workout - leg day - and then staggers back up their apartment to wince and curse her way through foam rolling her hamstrings and stretching. She takes a long, hot shower and makes a cappuccino in the Breville she finally just sacked up and asked Marie to show her how to use properly last week while she makes breakfast. The sour sadness continues to linger in Vi, dulling any enthusiasm, making her feel small and out of place. She ends up smushing herself into the corner of the couch, under the tendrils of Cait’s over enthusiastic spider plant and the streaky waterfall of pothos leaves, putting on the tv to and scrolling mindlessly, flipping through apps like a tiger pacing her cage until Claggor’s incoming call nearly makes her drop her phone on her face.

“You got married without telling me?”

Vi’s stomach twists even as she grins like an idiot at her phone, her oldest brother’s voice crackling over the line.

“Hi, Claggor, how’s the cows?”

There’s a low hum of conversation rolling through rooftop dining area, the breeze blowing through the water feature is cooling in the shade of the awning, and the kabobs are really fucking good. Cait hears the cocktails are also excellent, but she has to go back to work after this, and while one drink wouldn’t be out of line, she feels weird about day drinking when it isn’t for a networking event.

“You know my caution isn’t entirely socioeconomic, dear, but I do have to raise it,” Cassandra says, setting her napkin down and sitting back with her cocktail. “This all happened quite fast,” she continues, crossing her legs in her cream linen pantsuit.

Caitlyn doesn’t sigh, not at her mother, but she is very tired of defending her romantic choices. Even though they really aren’t her romantic choices. As if Caitlyn wouldn’t have taken her shot if she happened to meet Vi in anything approaching normal circumstances. But her mother isn’t wrong, on either count. Cait’s father had been from a working class family, he’d been working his way through pre-med when he met Cait’s mom, and Cait did just drop a secret relationship and a fiancee on her barely two months ago.

“I know, mother,” Cait concedes. “If you hadn’t sprung this lunch on me I’d have brought Vi with me, and she could have soothed your worries herself.” Cait wishes she had, Vi is incredibly charming, one of those rare people who genuinely cares about others simply because she’s interested in them, and Cait loves watching Vi charm anyone they cross paths with.

Caitlyn would be lying if there wasn’t a heavy shade of possessiveness over that pleasure. A certain smugness that makes her feel like a dragon with a hoard. It’s the same feeling that rises in her when Jayce texts her that her ring on Vi’s finger has broken yet another lesbian heart at the gym.

“Could Vi not make it?” Cassandra asks, in a tone that makes Cait’s eyes narrow, her mother holds up a quelling hand. “Just a question, dear, she isn’t working currently, as you said.”

“She also isn’t trailing after me on a leash, mother,” Caitlyn says. Not that Vi wouldn’t likely enjoy that, but Caitlyn has always found excessive bedroom accessories to be more trouble than they’re worth. “Vi has her own life.”

“It was just curiosity, dear,” Cassandra says mildly, parrying, and Caitlyn makes a neutral noise, then suppresses a chuckle. A BigLaw lawyer and a former Senator walk into a bar. You would think they would be able to shake off the masks a bit, but for both of them their work face is a little too close to their real face, neither of them can put it down entirely. Past partners have told Caitlyn it makes her astoundingly annoying in an argument.

“I’m defensive,” Cait offers. “I know. It's just that we’ve been getting so many reactions just assuming one of us is taking advantage of the other in some way. It’s wearing very thin.”

This part is entirely honest. Cait has picked up women from exclusive clubs and random coffee shops and that one candy shop downtown that sells the giant gummy bears her dad likes. She’s never asked them their net income before fucking them. As if there’s any world where she wouldn’t have taken a shot at Vi. As for the money, well, someone ought to have some fun with all the funds Cait has. It’s not like she has the time to do so herself right now.

Cassandra nods graciously, sipping her cocktail, she looks relaxed. She looks wonderful, frankly; retirement has been treating her very well.

“I do trust you, Caitlyn,” her mother says, the ‘but’ still hanging in the air, unvoiced. Since Cassandra hasn’t met Vi, and has nothing solid to hang her suspicions on other than the very rapid escalation of their relationship.

“Tell you what, Mom,” Cait says, glancing at her watch. “I’ll speak with Vi tomorrow and we’ll all meet for dinner this week, how’s that?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow. “Not tonight? How late are you working today, Caitlyn?”

For the first time in her life Caitlyn is very happy to have the conversation turn to her work habits.

The phone call with Claggor makes Vi feel a little better. Contrary to her worries he hadn’t grilled her on Cait, he’d just been happy for her, for them. He called Vi a catch. He thought Cait was lucky to have her, he’d been enthusiastic when Vi said she’d been splurging, that she’d gotten Powder some electronics, and upgraded her gym stuff.

“Jesus Vi, you damn well deserve it, I know there wasn’t any way out of - everything, but -” Claggor trails off, and Vi sighs.

It had been a shitshow; a couple of teens, two barely-adults, and every adult support in their life dead. Vi never blamed anyone for it.

“We all turned out okay, Clagg,” she said, and he agreed.

She’d gotten an update on the job - and the cows - and now that he has a signal, she gets a bunch of photos of some really gorgeous desert. And Vi sends him a few shots of the view of Piltover from Cait's apartment, the jungle of her terrace in high summer before they say goodbye. Claggor extracts a promise that Vi will make him her best man, or maid of honor, or whatever, he’ll even get ordained and marry them himself, but she’s gotta let him do something for the wedding. Vi promises, the pool of regret in her stomach almost entirely swallowed by love.

After they disconnect Vi lies there on the couch, the TV murmuring in the background - a Forensic Files marathon - her phone on her chest. She really is lucky. Her little family are doing so well for themselves, and now she’s being set up to do well for herself. What business does she have sulking, when Cait has already encouraged her to look into going to school, for a trade certificate, anything she likes? She’s got some nerve moping around because her arrangement with Cait is a friends with benefits situationship and not a real relationship.

Vi’s going to start looking at college courses, she decides. Better that she keep herself busy, if the alternative is her moping around in a fucking, all-expenses paid penthouse apartment with her new friend, a hot woman who fucks her brains out.

Besides, Vi thinks with tender caution, there’s nothing that says she can’t just ask if Cait wants to make this whole thing real. Not now, it’s too soon, and it feels manipulative to ask Cait about that when they still need to keep up appearances for Cait to get Partner. It’s too important to Cait, and Vi wouldn't do that to her.

Vi’s eaten dinner and has half a dozen tabs of different courses open on her laptop when her phone rings again. It's a Facetime from Cait, and Vi answers with a thrill in her belly.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Cait smiles at her, terribly pretty in her rumpled suit, her hair a little dull and the bags under her eyes more pronounced than usual. Vi aches a little to have her home, to take care of her. Not in a sexual way, just a solid dinner and a hot bath, a reasonable bedtime.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how you were. It felt weird to ignore you for the whole day,” Cait says, and Vi’s dumb soft heart squeezes.

She tells Cait about Powder - which makes Cait laugh - and Claggor, which makes her eyes crinkle fondly.

“Tell your brother to talk to Jayce if he wants to get ordained, Jayce did it when Obergefell was ruled on.”

“Oh my god,” Vi laughs. “Has he actually-”

“Married some gays? Three of them. He cries every time.”

Vi shakes her head, the earlier feeling of immense luck and gratitude from earlier returning. “I love that guy,” she says, her heart overfull. She is surrounded by such good people.

Vi asks Cait about work, the gentle, non prying questions that don’t make Caitlyn nervous, and Cait gives her more than she usually does - nothing confidential of course - and it’s all very dry but Vi likes hearing about it, she likes how clearly satisfying it is for Cait to dig into a case and put it all together.

They stay on the call together for over an hour, long enough for Vi to shyly admit her earlier moody insecurities as Cait walks Vi through watering her plants for her.

“I’ve been looking at college courses but I don’t really know where to start, you know?” Vi says, misting a spiky purple succulent. “I never really thought that far ahead for myself. The finish line was always setting Powder up for success as well as I could and then sending her off to college,” she admits in mild embarrassment.

Cait’s smile is soft and sympathetic. “You took on an astounding weight on your shoulders, Vi,” she says. This kind of talk usually makes Vi uncomfortable, but she’s heard Cait talk about attending law school at an age when most kids were barely into high school. She’s even seen the pictures of a radiant, exhausted young Caitlyn, her thin body swallowed in an Ionian University sweatshirt. For two people whose lives shouldn’t be at all similar, Vi thinks they’re more alike than they’re different.

“It’s understandable that your personal goals got subsumed for a while,” Cait says, leaning slightly out of frame to check something on her second monitor, the light of her desk lamp highlighting the long line of her neck into her rumpled collar, and Vi misses her in a very physical way. “But nothing’s stopping you now,” Cait turns her attention back to Vi with a bright smile. “Go for a gen ed course, that’ll get you back in the swing of school and give you time to decide on a specialty. And,” she adds sternly. “You will not be paying for college out of your salary. This is on me.”

Vi grins, “Oh? Is that an order?”

On the screen Cait leans her chin on her hand, the same little smile on her face when she torments Vi. “Do you need it to be, Vi? Daddy’s orders, then, my baby doesn’t pay for anything.”

Vi shudders, her cunt wet, her face burning. “Jesus, fuck me, Cait,” she laughs, rubbing her hand over her face, smearing wet soil on her cheek.

“In the morning, if you’re lucky,” Cait says, clearly very pleased with herself. “But for now I have work to do. Good night, Vi.”

“Good night, Daddy,” Vi says, and listens to her laugh until Cait ends the call.

It’s nearly two when Cait finally gets home, her body hovering in that space between wired and spent. She sheds her clothes in the dark, pees in her own bathroom, brushes her teeth and washes off the last of the makeup the wipes she used at work didn’t get. Her bedroom is cool - a huge draw to her in this apartment was how enthusiastic the central air was - and Vi is so warm and solid when Cait cuddles up against her broad back. Cait feels the tension in her scalp and behind her eyes easing as she breathes in the smell of her laundry soap and Vi’s body.

She’d been so wired on the way home she’d considered waking Vi up for some fun, but now, actually in her bed, Cait can feel it all draining out of her. She’s too tired to make it any good, and she can’t really bear to wake Vi anyway. All the dense muscle of her body is so soft and warm and she barely stirs at Cait’s intrusion, grunting softly and pressing back into her before sighing and going limp again.

Emotion takes Cait right in the throat, a terrible despair that - should this all work out in their favor - Vi will move on and Cait will be back to hookups and an empty bed. She shuts her eyes, pressing her face into Vi’s hair and letting the choking swamp of feelings pass through her. It’s late and she’s tapped; her emotions have always been exaggerated and harder to handle at times like these. As always, Cait needs to work on being grateful for what she has currently. Ambition has bitten her in the ass before, she should be happy she gets to enjoy Vi for these months, treat her, provide for her. Cait breathes deep and steady and measured for a few minutes, then carefully tucks an arm around Vi’s waist and goes to sleep.

Cait wakes up before Vi, of course. An unfortunate side effect of getting up early so often, your body will comply with your schedule no matter when you actually went to bed. Cait squints at her phone, groans, and deliberately cuddles back into Vi’s warmth. It’s Saturday, she worked until one yesterday, she’s sleeping in.

Cait wakes up a satisfactory number of hours later to Vi gently rubbing her side, and the rich smell of coffee filling her bedroom.

“Hey, I know you don’t like to sleep past ten,” Vi says, smiling and gorgeous, all the bulk of her contained in a plain white tee, holding a steaming cup. “I made you a flat white, and I went to Athan’s, there’s spanakopita in the kitchen and it’s still warm.”

Cait’s heart swells and her sleep-dumb brain bypasses all good sense and what comes out of her mouth is “Oh my god, I’m so glad I’m marrying you.”

Thank God Vi only laughs, her big, warm palm still stroking Cait’s side. Gratitude in the moment, Cait reminds herself, and wiggles her way out of her blankets to claim her coffee, milkier and sweeter than Vi likes it, and takes a deep pull of it, resting against Vi’s shoulder. Such a strong woman, Cait thinks, basking in the flex of muscle under her cheek, the thick arm around her, as the cobwebs clear from her head.

The spanakopita is as delicious as it always is, and Vi even picked up some of their candied orange peels covered in dark chocolate, after that and a shower Cat almost feels human again.

Fortified, Cait comes up behind Vi on the couch, paging through the Zaun High School website, trying to find where to request her transcripts, and slips her hands over those gorgeous shoulders, sliding one into the neck of her shirt.

“Finish that later, come back to bed,” Cait says, kissing her neck. She drops her damp towel on Vi’s head as she turns to go, walking naked to the bedroom and smiling as she hears Vi scrambling up behind her.

In the cool brightness of their bedroom Cait straddles that lovely broad body and braces a hand by Vi’s head. She’s already doe-eyed, her mouth soft and parting for whatever Cait might want to do with it. She’s so stunning, so strong and capable and yet full of this giving softness that Cait has never managed to cultivate in herself, and always had to seek in others. Cait sighs, aching, considering what to do with her girl.

She slides two fingers past Vi’s lips, lets her suck them, fucks her mouth with them until that pretty mouth gets messy and there’s a glaze settling over her eyes. Cait doesn’t have a high opinion of most of Vi’s past partners, but God bless the ones who encouraged her oral fixation. Daddy’s girl is never happier than when her mouth is being used.

“I’m obsessed with you,” Cait says, pulling her fingers out and ignoring Vi’s protesting whimper. “I’ll be in a meeting and all I can think about is your mouth on my cunt, your sweet pussy wrapped around my cock.” She opens Vi’s mouth, spits into it and rubs it into her tongue while Vi moans in gratitude. “I want to keep you under my desk on a little pet bed, a treat to have whenever I like.”

It’s a stupid fantasy, Cait would truly never get any work done again ever in her life, but it’s Cait’s dumb, indulgent fantasy, and the idea of muting Marcus’s stupid, droning voice on Teams and pushing Vi’s face into her pussy has gotten her through several could-have-been-an-email meetings.

Vi’s eyes squeeze shut and her face flushes. “Daddy,” she whimpers. Cait kisses her cheek, then slides back, slotting their thighs together and sitting up, grinding her bare pussy against Vi’s boxers, the fabric immediately drenched. Cait shifts Vi’s knee over her hip then runs her hand over her own body. She feels plush and soft from the shower and the way Vi stares makes her feel like a goddess. Those big palms slide over her hips and she slaps one lightly.

“Hands to yourself,” Cait says, and a giggle bubbles out of her when Vi gives her a look of utter betrayal.

“Daddy, please,” Vi says, big strong body of hers pinned under Cait, her scarred mouth wet and soft, and her big grey eyes luminous.

“Beautiful girl,” Cait says, kneading at her breasts, gazing down at Vi, needy and pathetic and sweet under her. “I’m going to come on you. Behave enough and I’ll give you what you want after.”

Vi nods eagerly, her hands twisting in the sheets, tendons standing out on the backs and Cait lets her head fall back, grinding her cunt against Vi’s. Wonderful ideas of how to hurt Vi if she can’t control herself and how to hurt her if she can already blooming in her mind.

It’s a Sunday afternoon and Cait has been all hers all day and Vi is giddy from it. They didn’t get out of bed until nearly ten, figured out that sixty-nineing wasn’t really worth the effort unless it was as a competition to see who broke first, then Vi sprawled out over Caitlyn like a weighted blanket while she told Vi stories from the past week at her insane Twilight Zone of an office. Vi has had coworkers who did industrial amounts of weed in the walk-ins who were better at pretending to be normal than Cait’s coworkers. Lunch was popcorn in front of a movie, and the debate on if going out to dinner is worth the effort of putting on real clothes has moved on to career prospects Vi might consider, to professional connections Cait has, to Hextech, and one particular product they produce.

Cait explains how the proprietary tech in the hexstrap interfaces with the user - to the best of her non-scientist ability - as Vi turns it in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the tip, and the little slit opening there.

“Okay, I followed maybe a third of that, but thank you,” Vi says, tipping her head back against Cait’s shoulder and getting an indulgent smile that sends a curl of warmth through her. “I still want to know what it's like for you, though.”

“Here, if you’re so curious,” Cait says, and before Vi knows it, Cait is sliding out from behind her, pressing her back and taking the hexstrap from her. “Why don’t we try you out?”

Vi lifts up to let Cait slide sweatpants off her ass, uncertainty threading through her excitement. She doesn’t particularly want to fuck Cait, an insane thing for her to think, considering Vi’s pussy only gets about one day off a week. She thinks she might enjoy Cait making Vi fuck her, taking Vi, but -

“Oh look at you,” Cait holds up glossy fingers. “Wet already?

“A beautiful woman is undressing me,” Vi says, and Cait giggles, bright and sweet, and God, Vi’s insane about her. Sure, the apartment is gorgeous, the money’s nice, but Caitlyn is the real draw, she’s the reason Vi unpacked her suitcase and settled in to stay.

“Here, suck,” Cait says, presenting Vi with the wrong end of the hexstrap. Vi, despite her unease at the reversal of positions, opens her mouth, soaks the end in her spit. Because if there’s anything she trusts Cait with, it’s her body.

When Cait presses the hexstrap into her Vi hisses in a breath and has to squeeze her eyes shut as her body experiences the most sensationally confusing handful of seconds of her life. When everything snaps back into place it’s still weird, she can feel Cait’s hand on her, on the strap, and it’s - she doesn’t know. It doesn’t exactly feel like a part of her, but she can definitely feel it. Jesus, that’s weird.

“Woof,” she says when her head stops spinning, “you weren’t kidding about the rush.”

“All settled?” Cait asks, and pinches the head of the strap. Vi yelps and curls up off the bed.

“Be nice!” she says urgently, though that certainly isn’t what she wants. The sensation is new and more overwhelming for it, and then there’s the visual. Cait always looks rather powerful wearing one of these – Vi looks goofy.

“Why? It’s my cock, isn’t it?” Cait asks, and Vi shudders, her thighs squeezing together. “My little toy,” Cait continues, and Vi tips her head up for a kiss, reaching for Cait, clinging to her.

“My messy girl,” Cait tsks. “Look how sensitive you are,” She dabs her fingers on the head of the hexstrap and they come away glossy. Vi pouts, betrayed by her own pussy and a toy.

Cait spits on her palm and fists the hexstrap, her voice a warm lash, her touch hot and baffling.

“Thank God you aren’t in charge of this.” Cait says, pumping the cock as Vi’s hips jump and she moans. “Look at you leak. Are you really going to come already? Just from a hand job?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi whimpers, feeling the stupidity sliding over her, her slick bubbling out of the tip of her cock, dripping down the shaft.

She moans outright when Cait brushes her hair aside, and lowers her head to delicately suck the tip.

“Mmm, God I love the way your pussy tastes, I’m so glad you can only handle a cock when it’s Daddy’s.”

Vi whimpers incoherently, arching up under Cait’s hands. “Daddy, Daddy, you’re so good, oh, please.”

“Look at you,” Cait giggles, and her tone makes Vi’s skin prickle. “You sweet girl, you thought you were going to stud with me?” Cait asks, toying with Vi’s cock, circling her fingers around the tip and sending shivers down Vi’s spine. “When was the last time you had a single thought in your head that wasn’t about Daddy pumping another load into your holes?”

“Daddy!” Vi cries out, her whole body flushing hot, tears stinging her eyes, humping up into Daddy’s hand as she brings her hand up to the tip and stroking fast, sloppy and slick from what Vi’s leaking.

“I know, baby,” Cait coos in her ear. “Let go, let it happen. Come, and Daddy will sit on your face.”

Cait keeps her word, but she leaves the hexstrap on Vi. Rubbing her wet cunt over Vi’s tongue as she toys with the hexstrap, stroking it, slapping it while Vi squeals and shudders under her, clinging to her thighs, spilling helplessly over her belly and Daddy’s hand. Wet-eyed and grateful when Cait takes mercy on her and takes the cock away, putting it back where it belongs, attached to her, and inside Vi.

Vi spreads her legs and lifts them, wrapping her arms around Cait’s neck. She strokes her strong shoulders, feeling all of that lean muscle flex as she drives into Vi’s cunt, splitting her open, hollowing her out. Vi’s cunt aches, her abs tremble, her thighs cling to Cait’s driving hips and she feels so helpless, so good in this helplessness she chose, that she asks for. Vi lets her head fall back, arches her spine, rocking into her Daddy’s thrusts, into her beautiful cock opening Vi’s guts up.

“Daddy, yes!” she cries, stroking Cait’s shoulders, her braced arms. “I only want it like this, Daddy, I only want it in me.”

Cait grunts, and her shoulders bunch under Vi’s hands as she shifts her weight on one arm, reaching down to grab Vi’s ass and haul her up. Vi’s stomach crunches, her legs slide higher on Cait’s waist and the angle changes and Vi cries out.

“Fuck!” she howls, clutching at her Daddy. “Yesyesyes, ruin my cunt, Daddy, it’s yours, it’s all yours, Daddy, please!”

Daddy comes in her with a short, guttural cry, and Vi feels a dizzying rush of triumph, moaning and whimpering, her hands running all over Daddy’s flexing back as she doesn’t stop, brutal thrusts churning the load she pumped into Vi’s cunt into froth spilling it out of her so it trickles cooly down her ass. Vi rasps for air, her cunt muscles fluttering weakly, pounded lax, her mind utterly checked out, nothing in her world but Daddy’s fucking her.

“Fuck,” Daddy groans, head dropping, her teeth sinking burningly into Vi’s shoulder, another gift. “You’re so perfect, you sweet thing, I’m going to keep you just like this forever,” Daddy says, voice drawn out, desperate, and Vi can’t imagine anything better.

Vi checks her phone again, restless, even though she knows she has no new messages except for the last short text saying Cait is headed home. They’ve been back and forth all day, Cait’s current case is stalled out for reasons Cait can’t explain in anything any clearer than vague metaphor, and her frustration is palpable even through text.

When Cait comes in she’s quiet, jaw hard, dark circles pronounced, and Vi sees her mood and feels herself respond in this new way her body and her feelings are learning. She knows it’s normal to want to make your partner feel better after a long hard day, but she thinks it’s probably less normal to get wet about your partner being in a grim mood, because you know you’re going to get your back blown out about it.

She takes Cait’s briefcase at the door, kisses her softly on the cheek, feeling their slight height difference much more with her in bare feet and Cait still in her heels.

“Hey, Daddy,” Vi says, soft and sweet, biting her lip. “Hard day?”

“Mm, tiring,” Cait says, voice rough like she’s been using it all day, like maybe no one’s been listening. Vi wants to give Daddy her power back, stroke her bruised ego, make her feel powerful again. Cait’s eyes are distant when she looks at Vi, she touches Vi’s cheek, brushes a thumb over the corner of her mouth before moving lower, weighing a breast in her manicured hand, testing Vi’s hip in the grip of her palm.

“I’m going to shower. Be a good girl and wait for Daddy in the kitchen. Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi says, and Cait’s already walking away, leaving Vi hot with embarrassed anticipation and already wet.

Vi’s leaning against the counter, unsure about sitting on anything in her bare ass, unsure if that matters since Cait is going to fuck her in here anyway when Cait comes in. She’s wearing that plush robe, the distant, cold frustration still in her eyes as she walks past Vi to the fridge, picks out one of her imported beers and pops the top.

“Get on your knees,” Cait says, taking a long pull, and Vi’s already dropping, her knees spread, her back arched, hands going to the tie of Cait’s robe, looking up for permission. Cait nods shortly. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

She’s wearing the hexstrap under the robe and Vi makes a hungry, pleased noise. “Yes, Daddy, thank you, Daddy.”

Cait takes another sip of her beer, and Vi nuzzles her face into Cait’s belly, breathing in the sweet florals of her soap, the musk of her cunt. Cait grunts in annoyance, mouth still on the bottle, so Vi stops fucking around and swallows her Daddy’s cock. She keeps her eyes on Daddy as she works it, letting her hear when Vi gags, when she moans, the sloppy noises as spit and slick drips down her chin. Cait sighs and rolls her shoulders back, stretches her neck out and rubs it,her hips rocking steadily, taking out her tension in Vi’s throat. It thrills Vi to no end; she’s soaked, her clit is a tight throb. She could live here, her head empty of anything but Cait.

When Daddy pulls out abruptly after her second orgasm with a hiss of sensitivity, the head of her strap bounces, slapping against Vi’s cheek, right at the corner of her mouth. Vi gasps, clenches on nothing, slick dribbling down her leg. Daddy gets another beer, tossing the cap and the bottle opener on the counter then pauses.

“Thirsty?” she asks, titling the bottle so Vi can see the Ionian label.

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi says thickly, and Daddy lays the head of the strap on her tongue, and lowers the bottle to tip the beer over her cock and down Vi’s throat. Cait groans and shudders and Vi gulps eagerly, floating somewhere beyond humiliation.

Vi only spills a little, dribbling cold over her tits and down her belly. “Good,” Cait says, absently, setting the empty bottle aside. She strokes Vi’s face, then bounces her wet cock against Vi’s cheek a few times, testing, before her hand cracks across Vi’s cheek.

The blow is more stinging than hard but it still rocks Vi’s face against the strap. She moans, mouthing at it, gazing up at Cait.

“Thank you, Daddy,”

“Get up. Over the counter, ass in the air,” Daddy says, and Vi is stumbling up off her numb knees before she’s finished speaking. The marble counter is cool and soothing on her overheated body. Daddy puts a hand on her ass, spreading her, inspecting the drenched mess of her cunt. The hand vanishes and then the tip of the hexstrap presses into her, then in. Vi cries out, the penetration shocking when it’s all she can feel of her Daddy, not even a hand on her, just the thick cock opening her up.

“Ohhh, Daddy, you feel so good,” Vi sighs, rubbing her cheek on the counter.

Daddy fucks her quick and steady, gripping the counter and groaning quietly, barely pausing when she comes and Vi realizes with a thrill that Daddy isn’t going to try and make her come, even though she knows Vi can rarely come just from internal clitoral stimulation. Daddy’s just going to keep coming in her until she’s done. Vi can come as well or she can’t, but that’s not Daddy’s concern tonight.

Cait puts three loads in her and Vi comes twice towards the end, the second time fast on the heels of the first, shivering and gasping from post-orgasm sensitivity. On Daddy’s last orgasm she presses herself to Vi’s back, arms around her waist, a shocking amount of contact after so long with just her cock in Vi. She grinds against her, groaning, sinking her teeth into Vi’s shoulder as she spills into her and Vi gasps and pleads.

“Oh, God, oh fuck, fill me up, fill me up! Daddy, please!”

“Mm, fuck, you’re perfect,” Daddy sighs, pressing a kiss to the bite mark she left in Vi’s skin. “Clench that sloppy pussy up so Daddy can pull out without making a mess.”

Vi tries, but it’s hard, she’s been fucked so soft and open, Daddy left so much slick and cream in her every time she came. A sharp slap jolts her ass and Vi squeals.

“I said hold it in. Use your hands if you have to, but you better have enough left when you get to the bedroom or you won’t get the present I have for you.”

VI looks up at her Daddy as she stands, turning carefully, using both hands to try to keep the mess in her pussy inside it, even as it drips through her fingers. Cait looks tired more than mad now, and Vi waits, her mind feels soft and slow, no longer sure how to do anything but take Caitlyn’s cock.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cait sighs, cupping her cheek, then kissing it lightly, sympathetic to Vi’s plight, but unmoved. “Go on, you can do it, hold all that come in for Daddy.”

Vi does her best, and it must be good enough because when Cait bends her over to check she praises Vi, and cleans up the sticky mess on her thighs and fingers before sliding something soft up her thighs. They turn out to be boyshorts in white lace, no solid fabric on them, clearly showing the pink her pubes and her swollen cunt lips, still struggling to hold in what she was given.

“There, baby, you look so pretty,” Daddy says, stroking her fingers over Vi’s hips. “I’m going to put you in these every time I fill my pretty girl’s cunt up. So Daddy can see the mess she made of you.”

“Oh,” Vi says, wide-eyed, humiliation a searing, icy weight in her belly. She wraps her arms around Daddy’s neck and Cait strokes Vi’s hair. “Thank you, Daddy, I love them.”

“Sleep now, it’s late,” Cait says, nudging her back. “I’ll wake you up nice, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Vi wakes up moaning and panting, teetering on the edge of coming, her body and brain slow and heavy with fuzz before the world snaps into focus. Cait, between her legs, arms wrapped under her thighs, sucking her cunt through the white lace of the - fuck - the fucking lingerie Vi’s Daddy put on her after putting three loads in her, five if she counts the ones in her mouth. The remembered arousal is devastating, and VI comes with a rough cry, clutching at the sheets and Cait’s wrist.

“Good morning, Vi,” Cait says, cheerful at - Vi turns her head, struggling to focus her eyes - five-thirty AM. Disgusting.

“Holy fuck, Cait,” Vi wheezes, and Cait ignores her, going right back to licking Vi’s cunt, this time tugging the lace aside with a finger. Vi whines loudly and is ignored again. Dismissed, Vi stares at the ceiling, her face hot, pressed down under the memory of herself last night. So eager to be a good hole, so dick-drunk and stupid when she got what she wanted. Every time Cait comes home with some new humiliation she’s chosen to bestow on Vi it always ends with Vi coming her brains out. Vi is starting to suspect there’s a pattern there, she thinks hysterically.

Then she stops thinking, because Cait is pushing her tongue into her, three fingers slapping rapidly on Vi’s clit and Vi squeals and writhes in Cait’s grip.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, unnnh-God! Daddy!”

Cait lets up on her poor cunt briefly, her smug face glossy with Vi’s come. “Your pussy looks so good in Daddy’s gift. I’m getting you more.”

As she lowers her face back to Vi’s cunt, Vi wonders if she means the lingerie, or the come, or both.

Chapter Text

Cait doesn’t invite Vi along for after work drinks because it’s more of a work event than a social one and, to quote: “Only one of us should be homicidally bored.” Vi is perfectly happy with that as she’s been to these meetups before. The bars are always nice and it’s not the worst thing in the world, being on Cait’s arm, chatting with the other eyecandy that came along. The amusement of being, well, herself, in that sort of space wears off fast, though. As cool as the other wives and girlfriends are, Vi does not particularly want to stand around while a bar full of lawyers speak over her head.

Instead, Vi does her usual routine, and spends the whole day simmering in anticipation. Cait will likely come home tipsy, and a Cait with a few drinks in her is a Cait who can’t keep her hands off Vi even more than usual. Vi wants to be ready, available, when Cait comes home.

She isn’t always – neither of them are. Sometimes Cait comes home with a migraine that makes her dizzy and nauseated, sometimes she’s so tired it’s a struggle for her to even eat; sometimes Vi gets into her feelings, or she’s dug into an assignment and doesn’t want to stop. It’s been weirdly nice, the nights they aren’t all over each other, and it feeds that little hope in Vi’s chest, that they really do like each other enough, are compatible enough, that this could become real.

As if it's somehow fake right now. Vi has been in relationships with disinterested, inauthentic people before, she’s been a disinterested person in a relationship, and the way she and Cait are is very real. The dates, the evenings at home, none of it is pageantry. Even meeting Cait’s mom - something that left Cait sweaty-palmed, but Vi had genuinely enjoyed - Vi hadn’t been concerned with selling anything believably. Cassandra was a trip, sharp and funny and clearly looking to protect her daughter. The ring on her finger may not be sincere, but Vi didn’t have to fake being crazy about Cait.

The reality of what she’s preparing herself for has Vi giggling to herself in the shower, stopping to lean her head against the deep green tiles. Her life is ridiculous, her life is great. She had the kind of routine day she would have considered a luxury vacation a few months ago, and her very busy, very rich, and very gorgeous fiancee is going to come home from work and fuck her better than anyone ever has before.

The idea occurs to her halfway through, when she’s wondering if her pubes could use a trim yet as she rinses off.

Would Cait like her pussy shaved?

Cait hasn’t been shy of telling Vi what she likes to see her in, how she likes Vi’s hair, what eyeshadow colors she thinks look particularly good. Vi has been happy to indulge her, more than happy in fact – she loves showing off for Cait – but she’s never expressed any preference for how Vi keeps her body hair.

Cait does a lot of what she calls maintenance on herself, though. There’s a gym in her building the firm employees get free classes at so she does pilates a few times a week, runs on her lunch hour most days. Hair appointments every four to six weeks, manicures every two weeks, pedicures every four, dermaplaning and eyebrow threading. Cait had looked embarrassed, a rare emotion for her, when she told Vi what all her appointments were for. Explaining how this sort of thing was expected, that Cait wasn’t even on the more extreme ends of this particular female arms race, since she refused to get injectables or spray tan and didn’t dye her hair.

Vi, whose jobs have never run in any of the kind of ladder-climbing, high-powdered circles Cait’s whole career had been in, but who has had enough different jobs that required different faces to understand codeswitching, was not about to judge Cait for conforming to the culture of a career that was important to her. So she’d just listened and after, showed Caitlyn her fitness tracker with all her nutrition macros, how she adjusted her diet and workout routines to fit her monthly hormone cycle, how closely controlled her fitness and diet were to build the body she wanted. That even when they were flat broke it had been her one personal indulgence, the thing that kept her sane. Cait’s worried brow had relaxed, and she’d invited Vi to come along to her pedicure appointment. Vi was a regular at those now, she may not care that much about her toenails, but like most rich people things, there were some pretty sweet side perks, like aromatherapy, massages and fancy drinks. And her toes really did look nice.

So in that spirit, Vi, who has, out of sheer lack of caring, never shaved anything but her head, finds herself leaning halfway out her shower like a wet idiot, on her phone, googling how to shave your pussy without accidentally slicing your clit off. She thinks she does pretty well. It takes forfuckingever, but there’s no more hair and also no blood when she’s done and she’s not sure what other measure of success there is in this case.

Her crotch looks a little strange, vulnerable, maybe. New. Even the water running over the freshly bared skin feels intense, and Vi shivers at the thought of Cait coming on her, imagining the slippery heat of her slick on the sensitive skin. She finishes rinsing quickly and ducks out of the shower, drying and lotioning and getting severely distracted again rubbing cream into the shaved skin.

“Fucking hell,” Vi mutters, already feeling the hot shift of wetness between her legs. “Settle down, girl.”

Her phone buzzes from the nightstand and Vi flops on her back to reach for it.

“daddy’s home in 30 baby”

Well there goes any chance of her body settling down. Vi drums her fingers, staring at her side of the closet, considering what to wear. She pulls open her underwear drawer and her attention goes immediately to the source of her usual post-creampie humiliation, the pairs of little white lace boyshorts. The thought of that fine lace on her bare skin makes her shiver. Would putting them on herself, before Cait even touches her, make Cait feel some kind of way? Would it change the way she fucks Vi? Vi finds that she really wants to know, and slips them on, then pulls a pair of grey sweats on over them. If she has to both see and feel them she’s not gonna make it til Cait gets home.

She throws Cait’s robe on over top, silky and comfortable, both so she doesn't freeze in the AC, and because it makes her hot to wear Cait’s things, but the size differences between them makes that tricky.

Apparently it does just as much for Cait, because her slightly glassy eyes light up when she sees Vi, and promptly presses her back down the hall, into the living room and down onto the couch.

“Look at you, did you miss Daddy?” Cait coos, her breath sharply medicinal with gin, and her hands hot and greedy.

“Always, Daddy,” Vi says, which is just honest. Cait works so many hours, fake fiancee or no, Vi really does wish she got to see her more.

“My sweet thing,” Cait says fondly, the dark gloss of her hair spilling over her shoulder as she straddles Vi, one hand planted on her shoulder, supporting her weight, holding Vi pinned, her other hand wandering down Vi’s throat to her tits. Cait teases her nipples hard, then pinches them, pulls them to make Vi’s tits bounce when Cait releases them. Vi whimpers, hurting and wet and restless, her bare cunt sopping in her little shorts.

“Stay still,” Cait orders absently, when Vi squirms under her one too many times, giving her a sharp slap across her cheek to punctuate it.

“You’re hurting me, Daddy,” Vi whimpers, feeling the swell of humiliation, wallowing in it deliciously.

“Ohh, poor baby,” Cait says, false sympathy dripping from her voice. “Doesn’t that just make Daddy’s good pussy wet? Tell me,” she adds, a tinge of desperation staining her tone, her pretty nails digging sharply into the meat of Vi’s tit.

“Yes, Daddy!” Vi gasps, clutching at Cait’s thighs over the fine slippery fabric of her work pants. Her nerves a hectic jangle of stinging pleasure, she can feel her own wetness dribbling down her ass. She feels like she’s going to pass out before Cait even gets her dick in her. “You’re so good to me, Daddy,” she whimpers, and watching Cait shudder over her, crystal blue eyes dark, mouth soft and hungry.

“Mm, fuck,” Cait moans, her long lean body shifting over Vi to bring her crotch down on Vi’s thigh, her hips rolling, the heat of her coming through two pairs of pants. Vi whimpers under her as she rubs herself along Vi’s thigh, flexes to give Cait a better ride, staring at her in wonder.

“Don’t you want to fuck your good pussy, Daddy?” Vi asks, strained with desperation, tortured by the soft scratch of the lace and the vision of Cait over her, her brows drawn down with pleasure as she uses Vi to get off.

“Do I?” Cait says, her head rolling a little, her small smile wicked. She spits on Vi’s tits, slaps them sharply, and Vi moans. “Daddy’s busy right now, baby,” she catches Vi’s chin with her free hand and when Vi offers her tongue, spits again into Vi’s open mouth.

“Yes, Daddy, give me more,” Vi whines and Cait giggles.

“Earn it,” she says.

“Daddy, Daddy please,” Vi pleads, her hands on Cait’s hips, her body arching under her. Hysterical horny nonsense coming out of her mouth in a pitiful stream, telling Caitlyn how good she is, how no one has ever fucked Vi so well, how Vi’s Daddy can do anything she wants to her body and Vi will thank her for it. All of it deeply sincere.

By the time Cait comes, Vi's torso is streaked pink with nail marks, her tits red from the slapping, and her pussy has left a dark damp stain on her sweatpants. Cait barely takes a second to get her breath back before she’s pulling Vi up and dragging her into the bedroom, shedding her thoroughly rumpled work suit and Vi’s stolen robe on the glossy parquet floors. Delighted anticipation roars through Vi when Cait takes the hextrap out. Sometimes, if Vi is very desperate for it, Cait will only let her have standard dildos, or none at all, mocking Vi for her tears and pleading. As good as that is, Vi shaved with the deliberate desire to see and feel Cait come on her bare pussy, and she doesn’t want to be teased tonight. At least not like that. Cait kisses Vi deeply then draws back, her expression rich with pleasure.

“Get on your knees, darling,” Cait says, pinching Vi’s chin and giving her a little shake. “If you want your pussy filled up then earn it. You’ll get just as many loads in that slutty cunt of yours as you can swallow.”

Vi gets a little dizzy from the rush of pure arousal, and drops to her knees with a thump.

Cait takes her throat roughly while Vi whines and chokes and gulps it down, gazing up at her Daddy adoringly as Cait has her, hands in her hair, hips working. Vi’s throat feels loose and wet even when Cait makes her swallow until her nose is pressed to her mound. Her throat making wet chokes and clicks, spit sliding down her chin, dripping from Daddy’s cock. Nothing exists outside the friction Cait makes in her body, the pit of hunger in her guts, the empty ache in her cunt.

Cait’s hands tighten in her hair, pulling Vi off her cock with a loud sucking slurp. Trails of creamy saliva connect her to the hexstrap and Vi heaves for breath and blinks her eyes clear of tears. The back of Cait’s hand strokes tenderly over her cheek, and her thumb strokes down the tear tracks on her cheek.

“Daddy?” Vi says, her voice cracking.

“How many was that, baby?” Daddy says, her voice warm and indulgent. She knows Vi doesn’t know.

“I can take more,” Vi says immediately, feeling the sting of her failure. She knew she was supposed to keep count.

“Oh I know, you big strong girl,” Daddy says, cupping Vi’s face, leaning down over her. Her hair sticking slightly to her sweaty skin, heavy breasts hanging, she’s so gorgeous Vi trembles from it. “You’d suck Daddy’s cock all night just to earn one load in that tight little pussy, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi gasps, leaning against Cait’s grip, too full of her need to please to think.

“Ah-ah,” Cait tsks. “Don’t pout, I’m giving you want, take those off and get up on the bed.”

Vi has forgotten, or she has lost the capacity to remember. She doesn’t take off the lace shorts because she doesn’t take those off herself, Cait does. She so eager to get fucked and filled her mind skips right over them and what is - or isn’t - under them until Cait’s sharp indrawn breath, loud in the quiet room.

“Oh, Vi, look at you,” Cait says as Vi makes room for Cait between her legs. Cait kneels between thighs, running her palms down the inside of Vi’s thighs, spreading her wider. “Did you do this for me?” Cait asks, smiling, her eyes sparkling.

“I wanted to see if you liked it, Daddy,” Vi says, bringing her arms up over her head, spreading herself out fully for Cait.

Cait’s smile spreads in delight. “You were thinking about me!” she says, and trails a finger over her lace-covered bare mound and down her slit. “Oh, look how drenched you are, you’ve ruined your panties. What a pretty, greedy cunt I have.”

Cait crawls up over Vi and kisses her deep and messy, a knee digging into the inside of her thigh keeping Vi pinned open, a hand squeezing her breast roughly, traveling up to her throat and gripping. Vi gasps weakly, overjoyed.

“You’re wonderful,” Cait says tenderly, fingers just giving the barest squeeze over Vi’s drumming pulse. “You lovely thing, oh, you perfect slut,” Cait sits back with a hungry sigh, peeling the sodden lace down Vi’s legs and tossing them aside. When she leans down and runs her tongue up Vi’s slit and bare mound Vi cries out, and her whole body jolts.

Cait giggles, licking her again, teasing Vi’s swollen clit with her tongue, sucking the slick off her labia. Noisy and messy in her appreciation while Vi squirms under her, overwhelmed with sensation and so desperate to come she thinks she might cry.

She’s breathing hard and uneven when Cait pulls back, wiping her wrist over her mouth then licking the extra off her arm. Vi sees the considering look in Cait’s eyes and has just enough function left to draw in a bracing breath before Cait’s palm cracks down on her bare cunt.

“Daddy!” Vi shrieks, her sobs bubbling over as she arches up, spreads her thighs wider until the thick tendon in the inside arches out of the muscle. Daddy gives her three more slaps, each worse than the last on the stinging, sensitive skin of her bare cunt.

“Perfect,” Cait sighs, the hexstrap bobbing between her thighs, a string of slick shining from tip down to the sheets. “Mm, oh I wish I hadn’t drank,” Cait says, sliding a pillow under Vi’s hips and giving her a brief kiss. “Daddy’s going to put as many loads in your perfect cunt as I can, because you’re just so good to me and you deserve it.”

Vi nods frantically, still heaving for breath around her tears, too overwhelmed to speak. She whimpers as the head of the hexstrap presses against her, then fills her, almost more relief than pleasure. It takes her a minute to register what Cait says next.

“I want you to let it grow out, though, darling. I like seeing you all matted down with my come, okay?” Cait says fondly.

Vi struggles to respond, all of her attention focussed on the thick cock filling her, on Cait’s promises. She nods again, a delicious swirl of gratitude and humiliation curling through her belly. Cait smiles, and starts to fuck her.

It takes barely any time for Vi to come, noisy and clutching the sheets. Cait has to lean on Vi’s hips and put her weight behind her shoulders to keep Vi from bucking right off the strap. It’s like a deep cramp finally releasing, a brutal pleasure so intense it shakes her close to that sharp edge of fear Cait unearths in her so easily. Cait keeps her pinned and her quick, deep, businesslike thrusts don’t falter and Vi comes again almost immediately, gasping and yelping. This one is easier despite the intensity, and Cait still doesn’t stop fucking into her as Vi goes loose and limp under her.

“Daddy, yes,” Vi says, her voice syrupy and soft in her used throat, her hands stroking up Cait’s flexed arms as her Daddy works her gorgeous cock through Vi. This is one of her favorite parts, in the trough between waves, getting to watch Cait get lost in Vi’s body, in the glide of her cock in Vi’s cunt. “Just like that, fuck your good pussy. Are you going to come in me? I want it.”

Cait grunts, one of those surprisingly deep ones that makes her sound just as brutal as she is, then gasps and to Vi’s shock, pulls out. She strips the head of her cock fast and hard and with sharp, high noise stripes Vi’s bare cunt with her come.

“Oh, Daddy,” Vi whimpers, feeling the heat of it, the trickle of it down her bare lips. “Thank you.”

Cait’s breathing is sharp as she milks the last pulses out to dribble onto the mess of Vi’s cunt, staring down. “God, fuck, darling, you’re incredible,” Cait says, her voice edged with laughter and she lifts her head like it’s heavier than usual, glancing around before her eyes settle on Vi’s phone, still sitting on the nightstand.

“I want to remember this,” Daddy says, leaning back to capture both Vi’s come-covered bare cunt, and the wet hexstrap nudged up against her pussy. Vi can only whimper in response, her face painfully flushed as she watches Cait snap more pictures.

The phone gets set aside but not forgotten when Cait slides her cock back into Vi. Vi doesn’t realize exactly how much Cait records until the next morning when she’s finally crawled out of their bed, sore and dehydrated and deeply pleased with the world. Coming out of the bathroom on a cloud of fragrant steam, the sight of her phone hits her like a bucket of cold water.

There’s the first series of photos, of course. Angles of her bare, come-streaked cunt, dripping onto the threatening bulk of the hexstrap. Several of her stuffed full, pussy lips spread around the shaft, a couple must be from later because she’s full of enough come that it’s bubbling out around the strap. The AC is as enthusiastic as ever but Vi is still feeling as over-heated as if she’s still under the shower’s spray. She drops the towel and flops back on the bed. There are videos; she doesn’t remember Cait taking video.

The first is about forty seconds of Cait fucking her, her eager cunt taking the strap, the froth of previous loads bubbling out around it. The sloppy sucking sounds coming from her cunt and the off-camera sound of her rhythmic whimpers, her soft squeals and whines of ‘Daddy’ sending heat rushing up her cheeks and down her neck. The camera jostles and there’s the crack of a slap, she’s not sure if it was her face or her tits, Cait’s pretty equal with her attention, and Vi’s just happy to slapped around. Her own voice moans, asks eagerly for another. She sounds pathetic, she sounds like a stupid little slut whose only purpose is to serve the strap in her.

She’s wet again but Vi thinks she might die if she tries to make herself come today. The next video makes Vi drop her phone to the bed and cover her face with her hands.

“Jesus shitting Christ,” she mutters to the ceiling.

It’s longer, shot down the length of Cait’s torso, just endless sweaty skin, dotted with moles, the hexstrap jutting out from her hips, dripping with her come and Vi’s.

“Alright, darling, come clean Daddy up,” Cait’s voice says, rough and tired and fond. Vi’s face burns as she watches herself come into frame, streaked with tears and a soft, eager expression on her face Vi wasn’t aware she could make. She watches herself kiss the tip of the hexstrap like it’s her favorite thing in the world, licking up and swallowing their combined cream before glancing up mischievously and deepthroating the whole thing. The camera shakes as Cait hisses sharply, oversensitive, and hauls Vi off by the hair.

“You greedy slut!” Cait laughs, palm cracking across V’s cheek and Vi grins up at her, mouth come-smeared, unrepentant, and expression that gets wiped away when Cait slaps the hexstrap against Vi’s red cheek, then across her mouth which falls open, tongue presented, and the video ends.

Vi has no idea if Cait managed to put another load in her after that, or just slapped her around a bit. Does it matter? Vi would have enjoyed either, she’d have begged for either. Either the sweet humiliation of getting cockslapped, or the triumph of goading Cait into another round. Fuck.

Her phone buzzes and Vi starts and drops it directly on her face. It’s Cait, of course. She often checks in with Vi in the mornings, but always does so after a particularly intense night.

“up yet? i didn’t break you did i”

Vi smiles and her thumb hovers over the skull emoji, then she hesitates. She's still wet. The ache of arousal hasn’t gone away, just deepened, and Christ, what this woman does to her. It's like being eighteen again without the horror of actually being in your teens.

Instead she drops her phone on the bed and goes to the low dresser Cait keeps the dicks and various other toys in. Specifically, the special occasion drawer, where Cait keeps the toys that are a little too intense for everyday use. Next to a thick, curved glass one covered in a swirl of ridges Cait had to physically hold her down to fuck her with, is a novelty dildo, hunter green, with the Kiramman crest - because Cait’s family has a crest - emblazoned on the base, and comically oversized. Fortunately Vi’s always been an overachiever.

It takes her about twenty minutes and an orgasm to get the whole thing in, after which she has to lay there in their rumpled bed, breathing fast, little tremors running through her muscles. She fumbles for her phone and draws one leg up on the bed. It’s awkward to take a decent photo like this, she has to do a sustained crunch, and flexing like that with her cunt stuffed full makes her moan and sweat and laugh at herself.

The photos look great, the bare skin of her shaved pussy still more startling to her than the fat, monogrammed base of the dildo spreading it. She thinks even if Cait had liked it shaved, Vi would grow it back. The appeal really is more in doing it for Cait, rather than the actual look of it.

“morning daddy, your hole misses you,” Vi sends along with the best of the pictures.

The plan, such as it is, is to wait for Cait’s reaction, but Vi always underestimates the effect teasing Cait, performing for her, has on her. So when Cait does text back, Vi is enthusiastically fucking herself with the dildo, squirming and gasping over just just how big the damn thing is.

It’s a video call, Vi would have expected nothing less, and she’s grinning when she answers. The windows in the wall behind Cait are that weird shade that means her office is in privacy mode, doors locked, windows tinted. Cait had demonstrated the feature for her a while ago, and Vi still thought it was hilarious, like something from a spy movie. Useful, though.

“Hey, Daddy,” Vi says, breathless.

“Show me,” Cait says. “I’m not interested in your pretty face right now.”

Pride surges in Vi, and she shows Cait what she asked to see.

“You look awfully smug, pet,” Cait says. “But if you want to impress me you’ll have to grab the purple one next to it.”

Vi pouts at Cait’s image, leaned back in her chair with her jacket off, her gaze hot and direct. “Go on,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t that why you so thoroughly interrupted my day? Don’t you want to impress Daddy?”

Very unfair of Cait to make it a challenge. Vi props the phone up on a pillow and eases the monogrammed dildo out of herself with a whimper. Cait’s murmur of “oh, very pretty” makes her face flush, and her legs are a little unsteady when she walks to the drawer.

Back in the camera frame Vi settles gingerly on her knees, holding the requested purple dildo. It’s not a novelty toy, it’s just huge and mean as hell.

“This one hurts me, Daddy,” Vi says, spreading her knees, and arranging it under her, fat head nudged up against her open hole. They’ve used it a few times before, but it’s a one and done for Vi. The thought of using it alone, with Cait only watching makes her stomach clench up.

“I know it’s going to hurt a little, sweet girl,” Cait says, leaning her chin on her hand. “And I want to hear it. Daddy wants to hear how brave you are for her.” Vi’s already sinking down before she finishes speaking, arching her back to make her v-lines more prominent.

Vi only gets past the head before she wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into here - something great, as usual, Cait always gets her in the best trouble - and she shudders and rubs around her clit. On the little screen Cait’s eyes flick down her body.

“Only that much? I don’t have all day, and I know you can do better,” she says, and Vi rides the thrill of humiliation and challenge down another inch or two.

“Daddy, it’s big,” she says, her lip wobbling, and she can feel herself tearing up. “But I can take it, I can be good.”

“I know you can, darling, I’ve fucked you with it before,” Cait says, shifting in her chair. “I’m hoping this one might satisfy you and I can get some work done.”

V moans and works herself down further. “Please, I miss you, Daddy,” she says helplessly.

“I can see that. Go on, only a few more inches to take,” Cait says, and Vi sits her overstuffed cunt down on the base with a shaky moan, thighs trembling, panting, triumphant.

“Beautiful. That's Daddy’s good little slut,“ Cait says warmly, and Vi glows with pleasure, her aching cunt clenching. “Look,” she says, holding her fingers up to the screen and tilting them so Vi can see the shine. “Look what you do to me when you’re so good for Daddy.”

“Oh, thank you, Daddy,” Vi says, hips hitching, grinding on the massive dildo, her whole body hot and prickling. At least until Cait says “Stop,” firmly and Vi freezes.

“Take it out, clean it and put it away,” Cait says, head tipped back, her hand once again out of sight and Vi moans in protest. “Don’t complain, didn’t you get fucked enough last night? I love the initiative darling but only Daddy gets to play with Daddy’s toy.”

Vi’s face burns and she whimpers and shakes as she eases the dildo out of herself, watching as Cait plays with herself. Aching with the humiliation that this game they play is doing more for her than any single orgasm could. Throbbing, wet cunt empty, she lays the dildo on the sheets in front of her, like she needs to provide proof. Cait bites her lip and arches in her chair, eyes shutting briefly, and Vi whines like a dog left on the wrong side of the door.

“Daddy,” she says, miserably.

On the little screen Cait sighs contentedly, eyes opening. “That’s my good girl. I’ll take care of you when I get home, have a good day, dear.”

Vi flops back on the bed when Cait hangs up on her, then groans and gets up to clean up again, and puts some pants on. If she stays in bed she’s going to touch herself - the thought of Cait touching herself in her fancy office because of Vi - and Cait told her not to. Called her pussy Daddy’s toy, and said she’d take care of Vi if she was good. Vi yanks on her pants quickly and stomps out of the bedroom. Take care of her like a pet, like one of her plants. If Cait is late tonight Vi is going to have a damn tantrum.

Cait is not late that night, and Vi is having a lazy day the morning after because frankly she’s not sure her legs work right anymore when Powder calls.

“I wanna do paintball to celebrate finals,” she says when Vi answers. “With all of us and your rich girl and your goofy gym bro.”

“Hi, Powder,” Vi says, “I’m doing well, how’s school?”

“Murdering me to death with essay questions, so don’t sass me, sis,” Powder says, and Vi laughs.

“Like I can handle this, obviously, it’s being handled,” Powder continues, a jittering quality in her ramble that lets Vi know her sister is under-rested and over-caffeinated. “But after? I am going to need to decompress. I’m going to need to shoot people. Legally.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” Vi says dryly. “Cait’s a pretty good shot, are you sure you wanna do this?”

“It’s just paintball, how good can she be?”

“You may have hypnotized my sister with your Piltie magic, Kiramman, but this is war,” Powder says menacingly. She’s trying to cock her paintball gun threateningly, but they don’t really do that. Vi also thinks she might be trying for some kind of gruff, Di Nero-esque gruffness but with Powder’s skinny little vocal chords it just comes out as extra vocal fry.

“Powder, chill,” Claggor says, and at the same time Cait says, “I believe they call it dickmatizing,” with perfect calm. Powder freezes, Mylo cackles, and Claggor gives Cait a mildly impressed look.

“I told you to behave, Pow,” Vi says mildly, ignoring the way her ears feel hot.

“Auegh,” Powder says, and stomps away towards the door to the field while Mylo keeps cackling until Claggor whacks him on the back a few times.

“Ready, soldier?” Cait asks Jayce, who sighs deeply, and pulls his big clunky goggles down, tugs at the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“You’re gonna owe me for this,” Jayce says, and Cait pats his arm consolingly.

She had insisted on unfair teams, on her and Jayce against Vi and her siblings. While her siblings seemed to just think it was nice of the rich girl to pay for this and hand them a win, Vi has seen Cait’s trophies, she’s been to the range with her and seen her shoot. They are so so fucked.

“Your fiancee is a demon,” Powder says, slumped against Vi’s shoulder, sweaty and bedraggled and her hair still paint-spattered.

“I warned you,” Vi says, sitting gingerly.

Vi hadn’t been sure, before, what the point of Jayce was in Cait’s plan. It had quickly become clear that while Jayce had acted like a meat shield - bless the guy he tried but he was way too big to be an effective sneak - Cait had sniped the shit out of all of them. She’d herded them, until Vi had looked up, realized they were all bunched in a corner, and that was their flag coming down, Jayce cheering and lobbing a paint grenade towards their cover. They got so completely owned even the employees were cheering and hollering for Cait towards the end. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t so hot. It was embarrassing, and that just made it hotter.

Vi winces and shifts on her seat again. This is a good paintball place, the package had provided jumpsuits and goggles with the equipment but none of that helped when Vi was getting shot in the ass every five minutes. She was definitely bruised and Cait was definitely going to spank her later and Vi couldn’t wait to cry about it. An afternoon of watching her fiancee snipe anything that moved had been more than enough foreplay.

“Dude,” Mylo says. “Like no offence, but that was super hot of her.”

Claggor sighs enormously, and Vi kicks Mylo in the ankle, just on principle. He’s correct, but he didn’t have to say it.

Cait comes out, casual and glowing a little, having washed off some of the sweat. There hasn’t been a speck of paint on her, just dirt and pine needles and the sweat of a massacre.

“Are you guys hungry? Do you have anywhere you go to eat that’s special, sentimental?” Cait asks curiously, stretching her arms.

“We went to dives before. They were not special, unless you rank by health code violations and money laundering,” Powder says, still slumped against Vi.

“Some of them weren't bad,” Vi says.

“I will give you the pierogi place that got shut down for money laundering. But that diner where we saw cockroaches in front of house?” Powder says.

Cait's whole body cringes and Vi shudders. They'd left mid-order after seeing that scuttling across the ready order counter. If the infestation was so bad the roaches were up front in daylight Vi never wanted to see the back. Pierogi Palace getting got had been a real bummer though.

“We’re going to Zaftigs,” Jayce says firmly. “I got shot so many times for you today, Sprout, I need latkes.”

The latkes are the size of hockey pucks, and Powder eats two, then a whole crock of panko encrusted mac and cheese, and half her slice of cheesecake before dropping into a carb induced coma on Claggor’s shoulder. Vi sits pressed against Cait, shoulder to thigh, basking in the crosstalk as she nerds out with Mylo over guns, and Jayce has a conversation with Claggor about solar power that is a mile over Vi’s head, and feels so purely content she could cry.

This may be an odd little family but it’s her family, and Cait and even Jayce feel like such a part of it. Vi has been so focussed on wondering if what she has with Cait feels real, and that feels silly now. It is real, Cait sitting here with her family is real, her odd little relationship with Powder, that had Cait enthusiastically taking time out of her schedule to plan and pay for this whole shindig was real. Cait’s hand on her thigh is real, her laughing at Mylo’s dumb jokes, and Jayce mildly squishing her as he leans over the table in scientific enthusiasm. Maybe Cait and Vi will only be friends after all this is over, but Vi can’t help but think: this is what being married must feel like.

Powder is basking in post-final bliss and the bruises on Vi’s ass are mostly gone when Cait comes out of her office and presses herself to Vi’s back. “I love this little top on you,” Cait says, her warm palms sliding up Vi’s sides. “Are you showing off for Daddy?”

Vi is wearing the remains of one of Powder’s old Happy Bunny t-shirts, with the very faded reclining yellow rabbit over the ‘innocent ‘til proven guilty’ text. When Powder had gotten sick of it Vi had stolen it, cropped it and cut out the sleeves and neck to make it fit and has used it as a work out and pajama shirt since. More a house shirt now, she’s bulked since then and the best that can be said about the shirt currently is it covers her nipples. But it’s soft, and it wasn’t like they’d had extra money for bum around the house clothes.

Vi, who has been doing the very exciting activity of staring blankly into her protein powder, hoping inspiration for making her smoothies taste better will magically appear to her, grins as Cait’s hands slip up under the thin excuse for a top. She keeps this top around now, when she does have money for clothes, because she looks incredibly slutty in it, especially when paired, as it is now, with the tiny shorts Cait likes so much. So yes, yes, she is showing off for Daddy.

She arches her back, pressing her ass into the cradle of Cait’s hips as Cait squeezes her tits.

“I can see your piercings from across the room through this,” Cait says, pinching them, rolling the barbells. “I love it. My pretty girl walking around, showing off Daddy’s lovely titties.”

Vi’s breath shudders out of her. “Do you like them, Daddy? ”Her face burns, remembering Cait’s fond indulgence, telling her how she wanted Vi to keep Daddy’s pussy groomed. “I could - you can pick what I wear in them, if you like.”

“Oh, can I?” Cait says, her tone suggesting she had always assumed it was her choice all along, and that she simply hadn’t bothered yet. “I’ll have to think about how I want you decorated, then.” She rolls Vi’s nipples in her fingers and a little moan escapes Vi on her next breath.

“So reactive,” Cait murmurs, chin tucked over Vi’s shoulder. “Was no one paying attention to these pretty things before Daddy?”

“Not like you do, Daddy,” Vi says, rolling her ass back against Cait’s crotch, which is only honesty. Some people had touched her breasts, some had ignored them, but Vi was never really the focus during sex, before Cait. Or maybe she was, but it had been about what she could do for or to them, not about what they could do for her. And Vi had thought she’d been okay with that. Stupid, she thinks, as one of Cait’s hands slips under the waistband of her shorts.

Vi actually forgets her offer about the piercings until a few days later when Cait comes home earlier than usual, with a little box and a very pleased smile.

“Come here,” she says, sitting on the couch, patting her thigh. Adding, “Take your shirt off for Daddy,” as Vi settles on her knees across her lap, and Cait picks at the matte black ribbon on the box. Vi’s breath catches when she gets it open, and Cait’s smile is full and satisfied.

“There we are, hold this for me, baby,” Cait says, placing the box in Vi’s hand. Vi holds it carefully, cheeks hot.

Cait efficiently undoes the simple, stainless barbells Vi has worn since she first got her tits pierced, and drops them in the box. Then she takes out the new ones, and slips them onto Vi’s nipples, then takes the box from Vi and sets it aside.

“Oh!” Cait says, when she’s done, cradling Vi’s tits and pressing them together, “they look even prettier on you than I thought they would. What do you think?”

Vi’s face is hot as she stares down at her tits, at the new rings through her nipples. They’re held on by barbells, like the old ones, but that’s the only similarity. The metal is glossy millennial gold, the gems in the hearts framing her nipples are a clear, delicate pink. Cait bounces her tits in her palms lightly and Vi sucks in a breath. They’re heavier than what she wore before.

“They’re so pretty, Daddy,” Vi says quietly.

“Then they suit you perfectly, don’t they?” Cait says, kissing Vi slow and sweet, brushing her thumbs lightly over Vi’s nipples until they swell, get tender and Vi has to break the kiss to catch her breath.

Cait kisses down her neck, over her chest, and Vi arches her back and rises on her knees, easing their height difference so Cait doesn’t have to strain her neck to get her mouth on Vi’s tits.

Cait sucks at her aching nipples with a pleased moan, running her tongue over the new jewelry, pulling back to admire them while Vi breathes heavily above her, over-heated.

“Bedroom, now, Daddy needs to fuck you in these.”

Vi scrambles up, soaked, eager, and sees Cait toss the box with her old piercings in the trash as she follows Vi upstairs.

Cait gets the hexstrap, which delights Vi, and the lube they use sometimes, and puts Vi on her back in the middle of the bed and straddles her, knees nearly in Vi’s armpits, which mildly confuses Vi. Daddy doesn’t usually fuck her mouth like this, too shallow.

Then Cait squirts a thick line of Sliquid between her tits and Vi yelps because it’s fucking cold, and a shiver of realization runs down her spine.

“Daddy?” She says tentatively, hoping that - she doesn’t know what she’s hoping.

Daddy pushes the hexstrap through the mess on Vi’s chest, her eyes gleaming, fixed on Vi’s, before they flick down to the new jewelry she put there.

“Push Daddy’s pretty titties together for me,” Cait says, and Vi obeys.

The lube is cool but warming fast, the glossy head of the hexstrap peeking out from the flesh of her tits with every thrust of Daddy’s hips is a shocking humiliation every time, and Vi is already frictionlessly wet.

“Ohhh look at you,” Cait croons sweetly, pinching Vi’s nipples hard, tugging at them until her tits bounce when she lets them go. “Daddy’s pretty girl and Daddy’s pretty tits.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Vi breathes, still staring at her chest.

The hexstrap makes soft sucking noises as it pushes through the tunnel of Vi’s breasts, the head already leaking and Vi’s mouth waters. She wants to taste Cait’s cunt, she wants the slow, hot, shivering overwhelming humiliation of this new way Daddy has found to fuck her to stop.

“Please Daddy, I want to taste your cunt, please let me suck it.”

“Later, baby,” Daddy says, pausing to slap the head of her cock on her tits, Vi’s sensitized nipples stinging, biting her lip on a groan. Daddy’s face is flushed as she watches lube and slick spatter Vi’s tits and neck and Vi feels her lip wobble dangerously. "Don't pout, Daddy’s enjoying her gift. Don't you think you look pretty like this?”

“I do, Daddy,” Vi gasps, eyes wet as she looks up at Cait, flushed and powerful and stunning, still tormenting Vi’s nipples as she fucks her.

That's the whole problem; the rings, the cock pumping between her decorated tits, it’s almost as bad as the white lace shorts Daddy puts on her after she’s filled Vi with more come than she can possibly hold in. Even with the muscle of Vi’s chest and shoulders packed around them Daddy's gift makes her tits look delicate, decorative, the tits of a pretty young thing whose only purpose it is to please her Daddy.

“Fuck yes you do, Daddy’s perfect girl,” Cait rasps, and she’s close, the head of the hexstrap dribbling steadily, lube and slick slipping down to pool in Vi’s collarbones. Vi can’t catch her breath. She knows what happens next, even if she can’t quite touch the reality of it happening with her mind. Daddy thrusts against her aching tits with a low cry and three hot stripes of cream and slick spatter across Vi’s face. A high, harsh whine tears out of Vi, her cunt throbbing, her heart thundering in her ears as Cait lurches back, moaning, face hard with pleasure, stripping her cock hard and fast and spilling the last of her orgasm across Vi’s tits.

Cait leans over her, catching her breath, her eyes wide and hot and wet as she strokes Vi’s hot face gently, catching the streaks of her come and feeding it to Vi. Vi takes it clumsily, such a tangle of humiliation and arousal that her face feels numb.

“That’s my gorgeous girl,” Cait says, kissing Vi’s filthy mouth tenderly. “You look so good, all pretty for me, covered in my come.” She digs her fingers into Vi’s hair and kisses her more deeply, still riding her slick cock against Vi’s belly. Vi shakes under Cait, clutching at her.

“Daddy - Cait, please,” Vi says, her voice unsteady, still shockingly affected by what just happened.

Cait kisses her hot cheeks gently, stroking the shorn side of her head as she settles against Vi gathering her in, soothing her.

“That was very beautiful, and you did so well,” Cait says, cradling Vi’s face, gently wiping away her tears. “Are you alright darling?” Vi nods, not trusting her voice, still holding Cait close.

“Good,” Cait says warmly. “You’re such a pretty girl, do you feel good?”

Vi considers, then nods. She does, she just feels overwhelmed. Cait is so much, everything she does to Vi is so much, Vi struggles, sometimes, with the reality of what she likes and how much she likes it.

“Good,” Cait says again, endlessly patient with her. “Do you want to come, darling?”

“Yes please, Daddy,” Vi says immediately, relieved that she gets to.

“Mm, legs up - there you go,” Cait says, fond and indulgent as Vi wraps her legs around Cait’s waist.

Vi is frictionlessly wet, Cait slides in so easily that she sucks in a breath and closes her eyes, pressed deep.

“Oh, you really did enjoy that, didn’t you?” Cait says, and Vi nods frantically. “God your cunt is soaking me, you beautiful girl, oh you’re such a slut for Daddy, aren’t you? I could do anything to you, you’re just gagging for it.”

“Just you, Daddy,” Vi gasps, more tears spilling over as Cait rocks in her slow and sweet. “Just like that, fuck me just like that, your cock feels so good. I want you to come in me, I want to suck it after, Cait, please.” Vi’s body is a feverish clench, she needs to come so badly. She needs to do something, anything for Cait that measures up to even a fraction of what Cait does for her.

“Just me,” Cait says tenderly, leaning down to kiss her.