Chapter Text
Vi wakes to a gentle scratch of fingers along his scalp. They card through his hair, tousling the red strands. It’s almost enough to lull him back to sleep, but the light filtering through the window tells him it’s time to wake up and start the day.
Beneath the layers of blankets, Caitlyn’s legs entwine with his own. Her embrace is warm and comforting.
Slowly, Vi turns in Caitlyn’s hold, careful not to displace her hands, prepared with a greeting and a good morning kiss.
He pauses. Takes in Caitlyn’s features.
She’s staring off into the distance, looking somewhere between the window and the corner of the room. Her eyes are unfocused and unblinking, lost in thought. Her fingers keep moving absently though Vi’s hair.
Vi waits, watching for a reaction, a realisation that he’s awake. When it doesn’t come, he presses his lips, dry from sleep, to the soft skin of Caitlyn’s shoulder.
Blinking herself back to reality, Caitlyn glances down, a barely-there smile toying at her lips. Her fingers cease their movements.
“Morning, love.”
“Mor–” Vi’s voice breaks, throat hoarse and raspy after a night of disuse, “Morning.”
He rolls into Caitlyn’s side, an arm slinging across his stomach.
“Whatcha thinking about so hard this early in the morning?”
Caitlyn flicks an eyebrow and deadpans, “It’s almost eleven.”
Vi’s mouth falls open in a soft oh, the word trailing off into a sheepish grin. “This late in the morning, then.”
Caitlyn stops to consider.
“I was thinking about your birthday,” she muses, “it’s in a few weeks.”
“Ah.”
Right.
Vi doesn’t think much about his birthday. When he was younger, Vander would make an effort to celebrate both his and his siblings' special day. Each December, without fail, he’d begin planning weeks in advance. Vander didn’t rely on an X on the calendar to mark the day, he just… remembered.
After years in prison, of days blending together, Vi lost track of time. Survival became more important. He had to quickly adapt to his surroundings. It was only when his birthday had passed that he remembered it, sometimes weeks, months following the day.
He screws his eyes tight in an attempt to wash away the memories.
Caitlyn resumes playing with his hair. Vi’s shoulders fall with the contact, relaxing as Caitlyn distracts him from thoughts of Stillwater.
Gentle fingers twist the steel hoop in his ear.
“Is there anything you want?”
Vi hums, considering. He turns into the touch that falls to rest along his jaw.
Caitlyn always makes an effort, carving out time for Vi and Vi alone. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Times when Vi feels antsy, Piltover becoming too familiar.
Usually they use it as an excuse to get out of the city for a couple of days, travel somewhere new.
Last year, they visited the Kiramman family cabin for a whole week. Caitlyn made the suggestion and Vi went along with it. He didn’t realise how much he would value being in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by greenery, a wide lake and the mountains.
Vi can almost feel the heat of the log fire warming his skin. The whisper of hisses from the kindling. The sharp smell of the smoke that took days to wash out of their clothes and hair.
Moments of their last evening together flash through Vi’s mind, bits and pieces, fragmented by fluttering eyelids and breathy moans tapering off into silence. Caitlyn breaking him apart inch by inch until he shuddered to a finish, his trembling limbs not strong enough to keep him upright. Vi could do little else but watch as Caitlyn came from the toy she’d secretly packed away.
“You,” he mumbles, “just want you—”
Vi stops.
Everything inside him plummets as he realises what he just said, just admitted to.
He wants to blame his sleep-addled mind, or Caitlyn’s fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, helping tear down his walls, or the memory of the most relaxing week of his life.
Anything but his own want and desire.
He clears his throat.
“Want you–want to spend the day with you,” he corrects. Heat rises on his neck, creeping its way up to his cheeks. He refuses to look anywhere near Caitlyn; can’t catch his mistake, the pink flush, if he doesn’t look at her.
But of course Caitlyn sees right through him, like he’s made of glass.
“Is there…anything in particular you want to do? ‘With’ me?”
The question brings Vi's mind back to that moment when Caitlyn came, the toy covering her clit, whirrs drowning out the crackle of the fire—
—arousal glistening her entrance, spread by two fingers teasing.
Her body bowing off the bed, whimpers replacing words.
Hand falling away to grasp at the sheets, toes curled.
Knees coming together, trapping the toy against herself.
Breathless, gasping for air.
Fighting the urge to not hide or change the subject entirely, Vi summons the courage from somewhere to ask:
“The thing—can you use the thing?”
Great, he groans internally, clear as day.
Coward.
“Ah! The thing.” Caitlyn snaps her fingers, taking Vi’s vague question and understanding immediately.
Of course Caitlyn understands. Caitlyn always knows what he wants without him having to ask—
“What thing, love?” Caitlyn asks softly, turning to meet Vi’s eyes.
Fuck.
Vi takes a shuddering breath, balling his hands into fists.
Asking isn’t his strong point, he knows this.
But this is Caitlyn.
Caitlyn, who has shared the majority of Vi’s firsts—
—the only ones worth remembering.
Caitlyn, who Vi trusts more than any person in Runeterra, who would never judge him for his desires, for voicing those desires and asking for what he wants.
“Take your time.”
Caitlyn speaks into the crown of his head, nuzzling closer to press a kiss into the thick of his hair.
Vi melts into the touch.
Deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
“Can we use—you. Can you use your vibrator? On me?”
Vi knows he is red in the face; the warmth emanates from his skin. His heart pounds in his chest, heavy from the weight of the question. If his hands weren’t balled into fists, they would be shaking.
Caitlyn answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world:
“Of course, love,” she says, “Anything you want.”
She brings her hands to Vi’s nape, twirling strands of hair around a finger.
”Thank you for asking.”
Between that late morning and his birthday, they discuss at length the best way to approach it.
How to make sure Vi isn’t too far out of his comfort zone.
Safewords, and the like.
Vi trusts Caitlyn to make this good for him.
For both of them.
The room is painted gold.
The evening sun streams through the slits in the blinds, half closed to give some semblance of privacy.
Vi hovers in the doorway, shifting on his feet, nerves settling in the pit of his stomach—
—the good and the bad kind.
Caitlyn flits about the room, checking things, fluffing the pillows, repositioning them to a comfortable height.
She’s nervous too, Vi can tell.
Wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants and a black bralette, Caitlyn looks ready to spend the afternoon cuddling, maybe take a nap in bed—
Not like she’s about to debauch Vi completely.
Chucking the vibrator on the bed, she crawls to the centre of the mattress and leans against the headboard, nestled into the small mountain of pillows they’ve amassed. She pats the space between her legs, inviting Vi to join her.
The bed dips under the weight of her thighs, tipping the vibrator into her side.
Vi chose this one because it's Caitlyn’s favourite.
Not that Caitlyn has a ranking of toys, but Vi has noticed how her whines are a bit breathier, how she always comes a bit quicker when using this one.
With a final deep breath, Vi makes his way over to Caitlyn, settling in between her thighs.
A finger pokes his side.
“Lean back. I can take it.”
Vi bends into the touch, ticklish. Then, slowly, he lays back into Caitlyn, careful not to add too much pressure too fast. His hands settle on the soft cotton covering Caitlyn’s thighs, bunched up in the fabric, grounding him as he shifts to get comfortable.
Caitlyn’s chin rests on his shoulder, her finger tracing circles along the tattoos on his leg. Vi breathes out a pleased sigh at the contact.
A trio of soft kisses make their way across his collarbone.
Caitlyn’s thumb grazes over scarred knuckles. Vi’s hands unfurl at the touch.
“Ready?”
Vi nods once, his voice caught in his throat.
“I need to hear you, love.”
Hesitation grips at him, the little confidence he had falling away.
“It’s okay.” Caitlyn’s fingers continue the patterns on his thigh, through the soft hairs. “It’s just us, you and me.”
I can do this.
It’s Caitlyn.
He trusts Caitlyn.
Vi takes a breath to steady himself.
“Yes. Ready.”
And a quieter:
“Please.”
Caitlyn smiles into his shoulder, presses a kiss to inked skin. “Good boy. Can I take these off?” She tugs lightly at the elastic waistband of Vi’s boxers.
Vi lifts his hips, dragging the material down and off his legs in one swift motion, tossing them to the corner of the room.
A huff of a breath hits his neck.
“Eager.”
Caitlyn is laughing at him.
Vi is too desperate to care.
Caitlyn hooks a foot under his calf and guides his legs apart.
“I’ll go over the rules one last time. Alright?”
“Okay.”
“Keep your hands by your sides. You can touch me, not yourself—
Vi sandwiches his hands between his thighs and Caitlyn’s.
“—and don’t get in the way of what I’m doing. If you need me to stop, say the word…”
Caitlyn trails off, prompting a response.
“Red.” Vi’s hips twitch off the mattress, seeking some form of contact. “Cait, please.”
He’s already needy and they’ve barely started. They’ve spent weeks building up to this moment. All day, Vi’s thoughts have pointed to right now, having Caitlyn’s hands on him.
“So polite. So Good.” Caitlyn plants a kiss behind his ear, just shy of his piercings. She hums into the shaved side of his hair. “Patience, my love.”
Screw patience, Vi wants to say.
Doesn’t.
Because Caitlyn said he was good.
He’s trying to be good.
Caitlyn trails her fingers along his skin. Light, caressing touches along his collarbone, short fingernails barely grazing his chest.
Vi fights the goosebumps threatening to rise on his skin, loses, and releases the shiver zipping up his spine.
“Sensitive.”
Vi doesn’t know if Caitlyn meant to say the word aloud. It’s barely a whisper, spoken within a single breath.
Caitlyn leans forward, mouthing at his shoulder, just shy of his binder. She takes her hand, fingertips trailing down over his chest, over the fabric. He rises into the touch, searching for more. Finds nothing, the material too thick to feel any sort of contact.
“Can I-you, can you…”
A pause.
Start again.
“Wanna feel you, Cait, can’t—“
Caitlyn stops her movements.
“Do you want this off, too?”
“Please,” he sighs.
They get it off together, pulling it up and over his head.
He sucks in a breath and chokes down a moan as Caitlyn repeats the motion, nails meeting skin this time.
She returns to his shoulder, lips pressed against him.
Opens her mouth.
Bites down.
A sharp pain shoots through him.
Not at all unpleasant.
Both too much, and not enough at the same time.
Caitlyn’s other hand settles against his inner thigh, trailing touches across soft hairs. Teasing, but likely not meant to be. Caitlyn touches because she likes the contact. Has told Vi so in the past.
But Vi wants.
God, does he want.
His hips cant up and off the bed, ever so slightly, no more than a twitch of muscle.
Enough for Caitlyn to notice.
“Stay still, love.” The petting ceases, the hand at his arm falling away. “Let me have my fun, I’ll give you what you need.”
Vi can’t stop the honest-to-God whine that escapes him, can’t fight his own desperation.
“Cait, need—”
“Tell me what you need.”
Nimble fingers find his other shoulder, nails biting into him with a similar kind of pain-pleasure he's becoming addicted to, sure to leave a mark.
Vi tilts his head back onto Caitlyn’s shoulder, staring at the ceiling.
He sucks in a breath. Exhales, shakily.
The bedroom has grown dimmer, sun hiding behind some of the taller buildings to the west of Piltover.
The bedsheets twist in his fist, wrinkling under his hold.
A car drives by outside, engine drowning out Vi’s heavy pants. The evidence remains, obvious in how his chest rises and falls, how his lips part but no words come out.
“Vi,” Caitlyn coaxes, “What do you need?”
“Touch me—need you to touch me.”
Caitlyn rewards him with the lightest of touches, two fingers spreading his folds, middle finger finding his clit.
Vi whimpers, feeling sensitive at the sudden contact, despite asking—no, begging—for it in the first place.
“God, you’re wet, darling.” Caitlyn traces a finger around his entrance, gathering his slick and drawing a line through his lips, back to his clit. “Got yourself worked up waiting for me to touch you, hm ?”
Caitlyn slowly builds up a rhythm, finger swiping across Vi’s clit. Another joins the first as her pace quickens.
Vi’s hands bunch into the fabric of the bed sheets, scarred skin twisting through navy blue. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a warning to not rip a hole, but his thoughts are consumed with more, faster—
— and an urgent need to come.
Moving away from his arm, Caitlyn lets her free hand roam lower, across.
Vi shivers at the mixed sensations—slow, teasing patterns drawn across his stomach, hips, thighs—versus the insistent strokes against his clit.
Caitlyn continues her path, coming to a stop between Vi’s legs. She grazes over his entrance with the tips of her fingers, shocking a gasp from him.
“...dripping all over the bed. You’re making quite the mess of yourself.”
Heat floods Vi’s face, splotches of red painting his chest.
He clenches around nothing, chasing the phantom touch of Caitlyn’s fingers.
“Cait—inside, wanna feel you.”
Caitlyn turns to bury her nose in his hair, nuzzling faintly before humming to herself in mock consideration.
When she doesn’t make any signs of moving, Vi shifts his hips down, edging himself closer to where he needs.
Caitlyn shifts her hand, palm flat on his thigh.
“Behave.”
Vi stills. Twitches involuntarily. Stills again.
After a beat, Caitlyn’s fingers take their place.
On Vi’s next stutter, they push in. A groan tears itself from his throat.
Two fingers crook, finding that spot inside Vi on the third curl.
His vision blurs out of focus, his pulse beating in his ears.
Pumping in and out, Caitlyn continues her dizzying barrage of pleasure, her rhythm stuttering more than once as she tries to keep her pace.
Vi chokes down a groan.
“Close–fuck—g’na come.”
The warning renews Caitlyn’s vigour, her fingers work in tandem, curling inside him, swiping over his clit. The sound of Vi’s arousal is clearly audible in the room, drowning out the sound of his short panting breaths, his mindless babbling, a continuous whispered stream of pleasepleaseplease.
Caitlyn leans in, lips pressing to his ear.
“Come.”
One word is all it takes—a single command—for Vi’s peak to hit him all at once.
Static fills his ears, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding together in an effort to keep quiet.
Not too loud.
He lets go.
With a slack jaw, lips parting in a silent gasp, Vi grips the bedsheets between his fingers, toes digging in almost painfully. His hips stutter off the bed, chasing the pleasure from Caitlyn’s skillful hands as they continue to fuck him through his orgasm, moving with him, staying where he needs them.
He starts to come down, but Caitlyn’s pace doesn’t slow. Fingers stay inside him, keep rubbing circles on his clit.
Vi almost twists away in oversensitivity. Remembers the agreement they had at the beginning, the promise to not get in Caitlyn’s way. He stills, trying to be good, but a whine bubbles in his throat. A warning.
Caitlyn’s fingers still on his clit.
“Too much?”
Vi hums a confirmation, watching with rapt attention as Caitlyn removes her fingers, unable to look away from how they stick together, webbed by translucent strings.
Caitlyn wipes them on the sheets, staining navy blue fabric with Vi’s release.
Then she pats around the bed blindly, searching for something. When she finds it, Vi hears a quiet whisper of an ah-hah, warm breath tickling his throat.
Soft vibrations fill the room as Caitlyn clicks the vibrator on to the first setting.
“Vi. Can you give me another?”
Vi’s hips continue to twitch with aftershocks, his body refusing to still. He swallows the moan threatening to slip out, breathing out a quiet yes instead, his lips parting around a silent fuck.
Caitlyn raises the toy to his inner thigh, pressing the head at the crease, kissing it to his skin.
For all the times Vi has used this toy on Caitlyn, has watched Caitlyn use it on herself, Vi hadn’t been prepared for how overwhelming something so little could feel.
He sucks in a breath. Screws his eyes shut. The cotton between his fingers wrinkles as he scrunches the fabric into his fist. He throws his head into the space between Caitlyn’s neck and shoulder, making it his home.
Caitlyn focuses her attention on the particularly sensitive area where his muscles twitch, making air pulse around Vi.
Fingertips find their way to his neck, tracing up and along his jawline. Wet fingertips. Either from his arousal or Caitlyn’s saliva, Vi doesn’t know. Both thoughts make his head spin.
Caitlyn tilts him, angles in a way she wants, and grazes lightly at his jaw, teeth bared. The combination of light stinging pain and gentle vibrations makes Vi’s head fuzzy, confuses his senses in the most delicious way imaginable.
He doesn’t know if he wants to press further into the contact or twist away from it. Neither sources of pleasure are enough to bring him close, to tip him over the edge.
Caitlyn drops her hands, removing all touch.
Vi doesn’t whine—he doesn’t.
But he’s close.
When Caitlyn switches sides, focuses the toy on the opposite thigh, Vi is prepared this time. Only a slight jolt at the contact.
“More,” Vi mewls, beyond shame. “Need more.”
Caitlyn’s free hand settles at the apex of Vi’s thigh—the one now without any contact.
“More?” she echoes, “Where?”
The pad of her finger brushes the damp, coarse hair at Vi’s entrance.
“Here?”
“Yes. God, fuck me.”
Caitlyn retracts her finger, moves to grip at Vi’s outer thigh. Her fingernails scratch lightly, ticklish more than anything else.
Stops.
Switches to make circular motions into the muscle with her thumb, soothing the pain of her nails against his skin. The same motions she was making on Vi’s clit as he came down from his orgasm.
Menace.
Caitlyn hums to herself, considering.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Vi strains with the effort of holding himself still, trusting himself and his pleasure to Caitlyn, knowing she’ll make this good for him, but fuck—
—the waiting may kill him first.
Caitlyn continues her teasing. Moves away from Vi’s thigh. She turns off the toy, keeping it in one hand as the other draws up to Vi’s stomach.
Goosebumps rise on Vi’s skin at the light, barely-there caresses along his abdomen. He shivers under the contact, muscles twitching, trying to jump away from the touch.
Finally—finally—Caitlyn brings a hand back down between his thighs.
With two fingers, she parts Vi’s lips.
Vi sighs. One part nerves, one part relief.
Caitlyn positions the toy over his clit, unmoving.
“Ready, love?” she whispers.
Vi nods, once.
“I need you to say it.”
“Y-yeah.”
It’s shaky, cracked out between a breath.
But it’s all Caitlyn needs.
Testing the waters, Caitlyn presses the on button, starting at the lowest speed.
Vi lurches at the vibrations, back bending off the bed. Both too much and not enough in the wake of his first orgasm.
“Stay still for me, my love.”
“Trying.” A low, needy groan drags itself from Vi’s throat. “‘s a lot, feels good—”
Caitlyn cuts off his rambling, raising the toy from his clit.
“Do you need help keeping still?”
Oh fuck.
“P-please.”
Caitlyn settles a hand on his hip. Strong enough to stop any involuntary movements. Weak enough that Vi can move out of her hold if he wants to, needs to.
“That’s my good boy.”
Vi chokes out a sob as the vibrator finds its place over, around, on his clit once more.
Caitlyn doesn’t give him time to adjust, clicks the vibrations to the next setting. The toy whirs louder now, vibrations stronger.
Only the second setting, Vi’s subconscious helpfully reminds him.
His knees move to close. He’s sensitive, twitching. Wanting to get away from the pleasure and closer at the same time. Caitlyn is quicker, a hand shooting out to grasp at his thigh, keeping him parted.
“Is it too much?” Caitlyn’s thumb strokes across Vi’s thigh.
Vi shakes his head.
“Not enough?”
Caitlyn adjusts her hand, tilting the toy back, forth. Trying to find the right angle.
Vi squirms, helping. Searching for the position that will—
“Oh–fuck. Cait, right there, right—”
Caitlyn sends the intensity up two more notches, slides her hand back to Vi’s hip so he doesn’t stir any further.
Vi scrambles to grab onto something, anything. If he keeps clawing at the sheets he’ll tear through the fabric. He settles on his own legs, nails digging into his skin.
In his frantic panic at the change of speed, he presses up and into the head of the toy, the vibrations directly on the sensitive bead.
Sweat pearls on his skin, heat radiating off him in waves. His hairline is damp with it, the spaces between his fingers, in the dip of his stomach. His hands slip over his thighs, trying to get a grip, can’t.
It’s wet between his thighs, with his own slick or perspiration, he can’t tell.
“Are you close?”
Yes.
No.
Fuck.
Vi doesn’t know
Caitlyn must sense his hesitation.
“What can I do? This is all for you, Vi, whatever you want.”
He flutters. Clenches around nothing. The ghost of Caitlyn’s fingers are still crooking, pressing into him.
“Inside, want—”
“Do you want my cock?” Caitlyn interrupts.
Vi claws at his thigh, hard enough to leave marks.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can’t just say shit like that.”
Caitlyn giggles. Giggles.
Ridiculous.
“Is that a yes?”
“Is that a—yes. It’s a yes.”
Caitlyn drops the vibrator to the bed, still buzzing off to the side. It’s louder now that it’s not pressed against Vi. The head glistens clear with arousal under the light of the lamp.
Twisting her body, Caitlyn jostles Vi, rustling around to find what she’s looking for. The drawer of the nightstand slides opens.
Vi takes himself in, stares down at the scratches on his legs, imprints of where his nails were biting into skin. Red blotches spatter across his lower body, legs entangled with Caitlyn’s own. The rest of him probably isn’t faring any better.
The room should be shrouded in darkness at this hour, but at some point Caitlyn had flicked on a lamp, casting a dim glow over them.
He runs a shaky hand through his hair, damp and clinging to his forehead.
The drawer scrapes shut. Caitlyn takes her original position back on the bed.
Vi makes a point to not look at the dildo she's holding. Too intimidating right now.
Caitlyn takes the vibrator in her other hand, lowers the vibration at the press of her thumb and brings it back to Vi’s clit.
A tremble racks Vi’s body.
It’s not enough. Fuck. The shift in position. The change in speed.
It takes a couple tries to get the head situated in the same place as before, Caitlyn’s hands growing tired, Vi’s wetness coating the toy, clinging to his skin, making the glide slippery.
When he looks for Caitlyn's other hand, Vi finds an empty spot on the bed instead.
A wet pop whips his head around. He turns to see Caitlyn lewdly sucking on the dildo, silicone covered in saliva.
Shit. God. Fuck.
Caitlyn wets the length with her tongue. Her eyes haze over a little, unfocused as she concentrates.
Once she deems it slick enough, Caitlyn brings the toy to Vi’s entrance and pauses.
Vi scrunches his eyes shut, forces the rest of his body to relax.
The tip of the dildo nudges him, warmed from Caitlyn’s mouth. Vi’s hands move on their own, gripping in the cotton of Caitlyn’s sweatpants.
“Careful,” Caitlyn warns, “What’s your colour, darling?”
Vi swallows, mouth dry.
“Green,” he breaths, “Green, so fucking green.”
“So good for me.”
Caitlyn holds the vibrator steady in her left hand, eases the dildo inside Vi with the right.
Vi opens around it, nails digging into Caitlyn’s thigh, mouth parted in a silent gasp.
His stomach rolls in waves, trying to fuck his hips up into the vibrator, down onto the dildo.
Caitlyn moves the dildo in small increments, withdrawing slightly, and back in, coating the silicone in Vi’s slick.
Once fully seated, Caitlyn ceases his movements, the head of the dildo directly pressing to the soft spot inside Vi—the spot that sends fiery sparks shooting behind his eyelids.
Without the distraction of being entered, the suction on his clit makes Vi’s head spin. He can do little else but groan, hope that Caitlyn gets the message to move.
A click sounds in the room and the dildo vibrates to life.
Unwavering attention from both sides.
Vi jolts off the bed.
Caitlyn lets him.
“Fuckfuckfuck. Oh, shit. Ah haah—”
His moans echo in the room, nails clawing harder.
No matter how he moves, he’s pressing into some kind of pleasure.
Caitlyn holds the vibrator flat on his clit, begins to thrust the dildo in and out.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
“Cait—please. You gotta, fuck, you g—move. More.”
All coherency is lost.
Thankfully, Caitlyn understands his pleas. Her pace quickens with each press.
Stretching him. Filling him.
Above the buzzing of the toys, over his own heavy breathing—his begging—Vi can just about hear Caitlyn’s whispered praise:
“That’s it.”
“—wanna hear you.”
“—sound so good, whimpering my name.”
“...you’re okay, it’s just me.”
“I’m—haah—close,” Vi manages around a strangled moan. It’s the only warning he can bite out before his ears fill with static, drowning out the world beyond the bedroom.
Vi’s hips roll into Caitlyn’s hand, wanting more more more. With both feet planted into the mattress, Vi thrusts up, chasing the pleasure. His thighs shake with the effort.
As he comes, everything is silent. The buzzing, his own breathy gasps for air, Caitlyn’s words of encouragement. Vi hears none of it.
Instead, he focuses on the solidity of Caitlyn behind him, how soft her sweatpants are as he grips the fabric in his hands. The smell of Caitlyn’s perfume, something fruity and sweet, mixed with Vi’s own tang.
His heart thumps heavy in his chest, erratic and unwilling to slow.
Balmy skin convulses in aftershocks.
Blinking the room back into focus, Vi realises the vibrator has been turned off. Caitlyn scratches along his thighs, now back on the plush mattress.
The static in his ears fade and goosebumps rise on his legs, sensitive to the grounding touch.
“There you are, my love,” Caitlyn says, chin resting on his shoulder, “Good?”
“Mmmm,” Vi hums, the movement tickling his lips, “Very.”
It takes a few moments for him to regain enough strength to attempt to turn in Caitlyn’s arms, needing to see her, touch her, kiss her.
He doesn’t get very far, the dildo still inside him sending a zing of oversensitivity through his entire being.
“Sorry, let me just—” Caitlyn eases the toy from Vi, as delicately as possible. The wet sound of the dildo causes Vi to twitch away, mortification making itself known.
Evidence of his release is spread across the toy, purple silicone shining under the light.
“You made quite the mess, love,” Caitlyn says, turning the toy in her hand, inspecting it.
If it was physically possible to blush any more, he would have.
Then Caitlyn takes the toy to her mouth, slipping the head between her lips, making a show of sucking it clean.
Vi watches, entranced.
With near black eyes, Caitlyn doesn’t look away, keeps her gaze steady. Her tongue licks a stripe up the length of the toy, a single string of saliva connecting her to the tip.
Vi can’t take it any longer, needs to move, to reach out and touch. Leaning forward on his knees, he threads a hand through Caitlyn’s hair, wilder than it was when they first started, the other settling in the curve of her waist.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, d’you know that?” The words are spoken against Caitlyn’s lips, only just brushing.
It’s Caitlyn who moves first, bringing them together. Vi can taste himself on her tongue, groans into her mouth.
His hand grips tighter in Caitlyn’s hair, enough to drag a gasp of want from her.
“Let me take care of you.”
Hesitation floods Caitlyn’s features, a deep furrow in her eyebrows.
Before she can offer a rebuttal, Vi speaks again.
“ Please. You did so well taking care of me, let me do the same for you.”
He’s nodding, encouraging Caitlyn to give herself over to her own pleasure.
When Caitlyn nods back, Vi offers a gentle squeeze of thanks, praise, something. He doesn’t exactly know, but it helps Caitlyn relax back into the pillows, holding herself up by only her elbows.
Vi sits between her thighs, only then realising she’s still wearing her sweatpants.
“Can I take th–”
He’s interrupted by Caitlyn scrambling to rid herself of her pants, almost like the fabric simply existing is offensive to her.
“Underwear too? Someone’s eager.” Vi laughs, trying to conceal his smirk.
“What can I say? Feeling you writhe against me, whimpering my name…” Caitlyn pauses, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d be eager, too.”
Vi’s jaw snaps shut, cockiness evaporating.
Moving to lie on his stomach, he spreads Caitlyn’s thighs, glances up to make sure she’s still watching her.
She is.
Vi kisses once, twice along Caitlyn’s thighs, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, edging closer to her centre.
“Haven’t touched you yet, but look at you,” Vi marvels, “this wet already.”
He licks through the slick on Caitlyn’s folds, tongue flattened against the heat, the wetness, the taste of her, and sucks her clit into her mouth.
The quick succession causes Caitlyn to fall back into the mattress, unable to hold her own weight any longer. As he moves, she tangles her fingers through Vi’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face, inadvertently giving Vi a clearer view.
He draws away to Caitlyn’s other thigh.
He bites, enough to leave a bruise come morning. Caitlyn tries to bring him back to her clit, tugging lightly at his hair.
“What do you need, pretty girl?” Another bite, followed by a placating kiss over the mark.
Caitlyn’s hips cant up, searching for Vi’s mouth.
“You, just—shit, your mouth.”
Vi hides his smile in her thigh. Caitlyn isn’t usually one to swear, avoids it as much as possible. She must be teetering on the edge if she’s cursing this early.
“Alright, I’ve got you.”
Vi takes Caitlyn’s clit between his lips again, focusing his attention on the swollen bud. Caitlyn writhes under him, entrance fluttering around nothing.
She’s close.
Pulling herself up, Caitlyn settles on her elbows again, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, trying to keep her noises at bay.
Vi dips his tongue into her opening, dragging a needy groan from her throat. Licking back up through her lips, spreading her wetness. Vi pulls back long enough to murmur:
“Look so pretty, grinding on my tongue.”
Caitlyn’s hand tightens in his hair.
“Ohmygod.”
Vi mumbles out a questioning mm? The vibrations enough to send a visible shudder through Caitlyn.
It doesn’t take long for her to reach her peak, her fingers wound tightly in Vi’s hair, words of praise falling from her lips.
“Shit, so good. You’re so good to me, for me, Vi—right–ah, right there—”
When she comes, Caitlyn’s thighs twitch and pulse around Vi’s ears, desperately trying to clamp shut.
Vi keeps her spread, mouthing her through her orgasm.
Caitlyn whines out a high, desperate God, almost like a prayer, followed closely by a laugh. It spills out of her.
Her hand strokes through Vi’s hair as she comes back down to earth.
Vi rests his cheek against Caitlyn’s leg, presses wet lips to her thigh, a thumb stroking her hip. He smiles up at her, dopey and hiding absolutely none of the giddiness he feels.
“God, huh? I prefer Vi.”
Caitlyn swats at his shoulder, falling back into the bed with a lopsided grin on her face.
“Oh, shush.”
The bathroom door clicks shut, bringing Vi out of a light sleep.
Feet pattering across the floor, Caitlyn sets the freshly cleaned toys into the bedside drawer with a dull clunk.
“Tired, love?” she asks, lifting the covers and slipping underneath. It’s an innocent question, laced with a hint of pride.
Vi mumbles around a yes, coming out more like a hum than an actual word. His eyes are heavy, struggling to stay open.
Caitlyn mirrors Vi’s position from her side of the bed, one hand tucked between her head and the pillow.
“Was that…” she trails off. Vi forces his eyes open, making it clear he’s listening.
He finds Caitlyn’s gaze in the dim light of the room, focused on a spot on the bed, a concentrated furrow between her brows.
When she doesn’t continue, Vi finds her other hand beneath the duvet. The touch sends a small jolt out of Caitlyn. She goes stock still before bringing back her attention.
Go on, I’m listening.
“Was that good…for you?”
A laugh threatens to bubble out of Vi.
“Cait, I came twice,” he manages.
Caitlyn rubs Vi’s fingers between her own. A nervous habit. She traces over the scars littering his skin to the ridges of his knuckles and down to his wrist, circling the jutting bone.
“Just checking.” Caitlyn’s voice is little more than a whisper, riddled with self-consciousness.
“Cait.”
Vi waits for eye contact, holding it before continuing. “It was more than good for me.”
“Yeah?”
Vi stills Caitlyn’s hand, hooks their fingers together. Vi exposes them to the air, above the duvet, and brings Caitlyn’s hand to his lips.
“Yeah.” As he speaks, his lips brush over Caitlyn’s skin. “I promise.”
Vi punctuates his promise with a soft kiss, nothing more than a press of lips against knuckles.
Caitlyn melts under the touch, softening with the promise.
She doesn’t speak again until their hands return to the warmth under the duvet.
“Good.” Caitlyn slides closer to Vi, drapes an arm around her waist, nestles into her side.
“Happy birthday, darling.”