ladieskissing | (no subject)

(no subject)

Today is a beautiful Friday afternoon in late August, and, two months into their relationship, Cait and Vi are going to attempt something they've never done before.

They're going to relax.

Caitlyn's parents allowed for them to spend the weekend at their vacation home, on the outskirts of Piltover -- away from the constant whirring and buzzing of the city, a quiet spot dipped in greenery.

It's perfect weather; that fine seam between summer and autumn where the day still stretches languidly on, the sun bright without blazing, the evening cool without chilling. The woods surrounding the area are as lovely as they've always been, rich warm greens just beginning to foster that golden tint. The lake by the vacation home glints crystalline in the afternoon sun, a shimmering pool of perfect blue.

For once, they won't have to fight anything; chase anything, run from anything. For once, they can just rest.

So why do Caitlyn's nerves feel like a bundle of just-lit Progress Day firecrackers?

Because-- because, obviously, she's got plans. She's a planner, it's what she does. And she'd have to be an idiot not to picture-- rather vividly-- all the ways she and Vi could spend this three-day weekend, alone, in her family's lavish vacation home. It's too precious an opportunity to waste.

Not that she's told Vi as much. No, those vivid images are restricted purely to the inside of her head.

For now.

"Well, make yourself comfortable," she declares as she opens the door, hoisting the luggage inside before clearing the way for Vi. "Are you hungry? I ensured the fridge is fully stocked for our arrival."

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Caitlyn watches Vi stretch like a big cat in the sun, never tiring of the way those defined muscles knit and slacken. A hint of gooseflesh works its way down her arm, following Vi's fluttering fingertips, and when her hand finally settles over her own, she turns her palm to link their fingers.

"Suppose I wouldn't stop you. You certainly are overdue a good, solid rest."

She studies her face; her big, blue eyes. Their faces are close enough that she can feel Vi's breath on her lips.

"Though I would miss you terribly."

"I couldn't be away from you for that long."

Slowly and carefully, Vi shifts a little closer to Cait. She places her lips gently over Cait's, as she's done many times before. As if she's aware the implications of kissing in bed, and is all too conscious of setting a boundary. She kisses Cait with a warmth and a love that does not betray the involuntary thoughts of climbing ontop of her and straddling her waist. She just doesn't want to freak her out.

She breaks the kiss after a few moments, and brushes her cheek with her thumb. "I'm glad I'm here with you."

"Me too, Vi," Cait sighs out, long lashes shuttering over her eyes. She turns her head, pressing a kiss to Vi's palm. After that little-- mishap, if you could call it that-- in the entertainment room, she doesn't want to get too ahead of herself. Vi's kisses are tempered, mellow -- and so Cait reins herself in to match her pace. Exhaling slowly through her nose, she kisses lazily across each finger, tracing the scars and callouses with her lips.

"... You're not really thinking of going to sleep, are you? Sun still out and all."

Vi bites the inside of her lip as Cait kisses her fingers. Each kiss sends little pulses of electricity through her nerves and her jaw tenses in an effort to stay still. She's never told Cait this -- it's not like the opportunity has really come up -- but her hands, despite how their roughness, are very sensitive. Soft, warm touches, gentle lips, it travels directly to her center.

No, she has to stay calm and even. Cait trusted her enough to invite her here alone, she's not going to betray that.

Not harshly, Vi pulls her hand away and uses it to push herself onto her back (hiding her hand under herself to ease the tickles and tingles). "Pff, as if I'd miss the opportunity to beat you at foosball." Her tone is loud, a brick shattering through a very delicate and quiet moment.

Caitlyn can't help but pout, just for a moment, when Vi pulls her hand away. It's hard not to feel like she's hitting all the wrong beats today-- and Cait's been an excellent shot her whole life.

Still, she can't say no to a bit of friendly competition. "Famous last words, Violet," she tuts as she shifts to a sitting position, then pushes up onto her feet. "What does the winner get, hm?"

Vi follows Cait with her eyes, sitting up and propping herself on her hands. "Well, if you win, what do you want?"

Cait contemplates this a moment, biting her lip.

"When we have dinner tonight," she begins, folding her arms over her chest, "I want you to use all the appropriate cutlery. That means the steak knife is for steak, and the fruit knife is for fruit. The salad fork is for salad, and the dessert fork is for dessert. So on and so forth."

She cocks a challenging eyebrow. "And you?"

Vi absolutely can’t help the frown that crosses over her feature. “That’s what you’re picking? That’s not even fun!” She grumbles a bit and shoved her hands into her jacket pocket, a pout on her lips as she looks away, clearly now rethinking what she was going to ask for.

“If I win,” she looks back at Cait, a glint in her eyes. “You eat with your hands.”

Edited 2021-12-08 20:53 (UTC)

"Not fun? Why, it'd be downright delightful for me. Not to mention it'll be helpful preparation for the next time I take you out to dinner." Nobody dared say anything to the young miss Kiramman and her companion, of course, but the looks from the wait staff as Vi tore into the chicken with her bare hands plague Caitlyn to this day.

"Oh, that's so derivative," she scoffs with a roll of her eyes, but accepts this. "You could've gone more ambitious, you know, considering the fact you won't be winning anyway. But very well. Come on." She loops her arm through Vi's, tugging her back towards the game room with an urgency to her step.

Vi doesn't retort. Mainly because in the moment she can't think of anything quippy, but also because she's just excited to play a game and see a new side to Cait.

She knows how competitive Cait can get. She's seen the medals and trophies, the accolades. The title of "Piltover's Finest" is not a casual title for her. Which really just sets a fire in Vi's gut. She has to win.

And win she does. It wasn't easy by any measure. Cait is in excellent form with a strategic mind. She actually started shit-talking, though her voice, out of breath as she was, remained the most distracting thing. So what if Vi once or twice may have held down Cait's pole to stop her from fully twisting it.

Vi leans back with swagger and self-congratulation, even if the win is by just 1 point and she was sweating when Cait was getting close to getting it. "So, what's for dinner?

Caitlym takes that foosball match as seriously as she's ever taken anything. She's not even particularly fond of foosball-- if that old thing didn't have clear sentimental value to her dad, she doubts she ever would've played it-- but Caitlyn Kiramman never backs down from a challenge, and more importantly, she has no desire to eat dinner with her hands.

So how the hell does she miss that last point?

"I don't believe this," she throws her hands down on the sides of the table, before raising one arm to point at Vi. "You cheated! Admit that you cheated."

"Whaaat, me cheat?" Vi teases, enjoying Cait's childlike anger. She looks cute when she's intimidating. Even though she did cheat (only a little) she's not going to admit it. "Don't be so sore, Princess. It's just a game." A game she would've also been angry to lose.

"I am not sore, this is about justice," she harrumphs, lowering her hand to jab Vi in the chest. But she's got no way to prove it, does she, and Vi clearly has no intention of coming clean. Caitlyn's trademark accusatory glare is doing nothing.

"Fine," she relents. "I'll let this one slide. But don't think you'll get away with this a second time."

Vi flinches more exaggeratedly than the jab deserved, but she's laughing and feeling giddy. She shrugs her usual cocky shoulder role. "I'll always get away with it. Man, you were right, I should've asked for something more ambitious." She completely means that to be suggestive, but then the insecurity of moving too quickly with Cait swipes at her confidence and she clears her throat, trying to pivot. "Um, like making you do my laundry."

Edited 2021-12-09 22:02 (UTC)

Caitlyn's eyes widen, her expression brightening instantly. "Oh god, did you bring your clothes? I'll absolutely do your laundry. We have a washing machine here, it'll be just a clock tick. Give them here."

"Fuck!" She exclaims, punching the air next to her in exaggerated frustration. "I keep forgetting you're a total nerd and love cleaning. I take it back! I'll do your laundry, and I won't even sort them by color!" She steps closer to Caitlyn and tugs at her shirt. "I'll mix this one with your delicates! I won't even pair the socks with each other!"

"In your dreams," Cait shoots back, thwapping at Vi's wrist. It's pretty clearly ineffective on purpose. "You'll have to pry this off my cold, dead body!"

"Oh? You don't think I could?" She grabs ahold of the shirt in one hand, pulling at it more strongly, though not harsh enough to ruin it. She smiles up at Cait, challenge playfully shining in her eyes. "I'm a lot stronger than you, you know."

Edited 2021-12-10 00:58 (UTC)

"Oh, I know," Cait hums from low in her throat, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her heart's picking up its pace again, and this time, she won't let the moment slip by.

It's time for her ultimate weapon.

"I just think you're chicken."

Cait says those words and Vi stops mid-move, arm outstretched pulling on Cait's shirt, stance wide. She feels that heat in her ears, the word involuntarily raising her adrenaline. A challenge not easily ignored.

"Oh, you don't even know what you've just done, Kiramman!" She's laughing, but there's a sternness to it, a little bit of indignant anger mixed in at the audacity of being challenged. A few steps forward and she's pinned her against the table.

"What is this shirt, dry clean only? Ha!" Strong arms take hold of Cait's wrists, then maneuver Cait's hands so she's holding both in just one of her own, freeing her other hand to pull the shirt up. It's a technique she often used on Powder for some of their play fights. "I hope you don't like the color, cause it's about to get washed with something pink!"

It's not Cait's exposed abdomen that finally makes her stop; she's seen Cait in a bathing suit before. But she glimpses the bottom of her bra and that brings her back to her sense. The chorus of insecurities springs up -- don't push her too fast, she's never done this before, don't make her uncomfortable -- and Vi tenses and takes a step back, pulling her hands to her sides. "Um..." She was just trying to take her shirt off, how do you pivot from that? "Sorry, I'm just joking, of course."

Yes, Cait cheers inside her head, a wave of pulsing heat surging from her belly to her cheeks. Vi's grip on her is electric, and she submits all too readily, back arching in invitation: Yes, please, yes. At this point, she wouldn't care if Vi tore her blouse in two and rolled it in pig fat.

But in the blink of an eye, she's let go, backing away from her. Again. The heat in Cait's cheeks cools in the face of the realization--

"Oh, my god. You are chicken." She stares a moment, stumped, before raking her hands through her hair with an incredulous laugh. "What? Are you afraid my breasts will come alive and eat you?"

"What? No!" Vi's brow furrows in confusion. She expected maybe some anger or even some embarrassment from Cait. This feels like she's making fun of her somehow. "I'm trying to be respectful, treat you nice. Like a lady and shit!" She rubs at the back of her neck like when she's growing anxious. "I just didn't want to move things too fast for you."

"Too fast for me?" Cait's brow scrunches, arms folding defensively over her chest. "I'm sorry, I don't recall giving you a timeline."

Vi's eyes grow wide under her furrowed brow, confusion just mounting on itself. She's held herself back, she's been so considerate and thoughtful (by her standards). Why is Cait upset?

"Excuse me? You're mad at me?" She shrugs and lifts her arms, gesturing out in frustration. "Game room isn't the least romantic place I've ever had sex, but I would've thought you'd want your first time to be as special as it could be. Like at least when you're ready and not over a lost foosball game!" She swings her arms out and lets them drop at her thighs, like she can't believe she's the one that has to tell her this.

There's numerous points here Cait would like to address-- like how she isn't angry, mostly just confused, and how of course it wouldn't be actually over a lost foosball game, that's merely a preface.

It takes her a second to catch the one, big glaring issue in the middle, there.

"Alright, back up a moment," she takes a step closer, tilting her head to the side. "My what?"