Chapter Text
The neon sign of The Pit hummed with a low, electric buzz behind them, casting a flickering violet glow over the wet cobblestones of the Lanes. The heavy steel door hissed shut, muffling the roar of punk-rock and the scent of cheap shimmer-ale, leaving only the cool, sharp bite of the night air.
Vi took an exaggeratedly deep breath, stumbling slightly as his combat boots met the uneven ground. He caught himself by slinging a massive arm around Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her flush against his side.
"Am tellin’ you, Cupcake," Vi chuckled, his voice a gravelly rumble that vibrated right through Caitlyn’s silk blouse. "That Enforcer guy with the mustache? He didn’t stand a chance. I told him, 'Hey, buddy, you want to arrest me, or do you want to tell me where you bought that dead caterpillar on your lip?'"
Caitlyn let out a startled, undignified snort, her head lolling against Vi’s shoulder. The Piltie precision she usually carried had been thoroughly dissolved by three rounds of Zaunite "specialty" shots.
"Vi, that’s... that’s harassment of a junior officer. I should cite you."
"Cite me? You were the one laughing so hard you spilled half your drink on his boots!" Vi nudged her playfully, his thumb tracing the line of her collarbone.
He looked down at her, his vision a little hazy, but his heart feeling dangerously full. He loved this. The way she looked when she wasn't being 'The Detective Junior,' just a girl in a messy waistcoat who thought his terrible jokes were the height of comedy.
They wandered toward the boundary, the air shifting from the sulfurous tang of the Undercity to the crisp, ozonated breeze of the Pilt. As the massive iron arches of the bridge came into view, the moonlight hit the water below, turning the gray mist into silver.
Caitlyn suddenly stopped, pulling out of Vi's grasp.
She swayed on her heels, a mischievous, sharp glint entering her blue eyes. The kind of look that usually meant Vi was about to be in a lot of trouble, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
"You think you’re so tough, Hound," Caitlyn challenged, her voice dropping into a playful, smoky register. She kicked off her high-heeled boots, dangling them from one finger by the straps. "But I bet those big, heavy boots of yours make you slow."
Vi raised a red eyebrow, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face.
"Slow? Is that a challenge, Detective Junior Kiramman?"
"It’s a head start," she whispered.
Before Vi could blink, Caitlyn spun on her heel and took off, her bare feet slapping against the smooth stone of the bridge. She looked back over her shoulder, her midnight hair whipping in the wind, and let out a bright, melodic laugh that echoed off the girders.
"Catch me if you can, Vi!"
"Oh, you are so grounded!" Vi roared, his laughter booming as he took off after her, his heart hammering against his ribs, not from the run, but from the sight of her running toward their future, waiting for him to catch her.
And he did.
But Vi didn’t just catch her.
He practically tackled her into a hug that lifted her bare feet off the stone. They collided with the railing of the bridge, a tangled mess of limbs, gasping breaths, and the kind of giddy laughter that only comes from too much cheap whiskey and even more adrenaline.
"Caught you," Vi rumbled, his face buried in the crook of her neck. He was a heavy, warm weight against her, his arms wrapped around her waist like he was afraid she’d evaporate if he let go. He nuzzled into her skin, his short red hair tickling her jaw. "Can I get my prize now?"
Caitlyn’s head was spinning, the moonlight over the Pilt giving her a wicked case of vertigo, but she didn't care.
She fisted her hands into Vi’s vest, pulling him closer until there wasn't a whisper of air between them.
"Darling, you’re so slow," she panted, her voice dropping into a husky, impatient growl. "Took you... three light poles. I am disappointed, Vi."
"I was savoring the view, Cupcake," Vi murmured, finally pulling back just enough to look at her.
His eyes were soft, hooded, and devastatingly fond. He leaned in, pressing a slow, wet kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the tip of her nose. He was being agonizingly sweet, a cuddly contrast to the raw heat simmering in his gaze.
Caitlyn made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. The Junior Detective had stayed behind at the bar. This version of Caitlyn was flushed, messy, and had zero patience for slow-burning romance.
"Stop being adorable and kiss me properly, you cute idiot," she snapped, though her smirk betrayed her.
She didn't wait for him to comply, reaching up to smash her lips against his.
It was a messy, desperate collision of teeth and tongue.
Vi groaned, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of her thighs, hitching her up so she was pinned firmly against the railing. He felt solid, wild, and entirely hers. The bridge felt like it was swaying, but Vi was an anchor.
"Home," Caitlyn managed to gasp out between kisses that were growing progressively hungrier. "We need to... fuck, Vi, why is the bridge so long? Who built this? I’ll have them fired."
"We're walking, we're walking!" Vi laughed, letting her feet hit the ground, though he didn't actually let go of her.
They made it exactly five feet.
Vi stopped, spinning her around and backing her up against a structural beam. He started trailing kisses down her throat, his hands wandering under the hem of her shirt, his large palms hot against her skin.
"You smell like... like that fancy soap you always use. And gin. I love it."
"Vi! Move your firm ass!" Caitlyn hissed, even as she arched her back into his touch, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "If you don't get me through that door in the next ten minutes, I am going to scream. Move. Walk. Go."
Vi just chuckled, a deep vibration that she felt in her chest. He straightened up, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her hip flush against his.
"Okay, okay. Grumpy Cupcake. Let’s get you home. Will take surely more than ten minutes, unless we run… We’re too far."
“Then let’s make haste!”
They stumbled along, a chaotic zigzag of footsteps. Every time a shadow looked particularly inviting, or the wind caught Caitlyn’s hair just right, Vi would pull her into another lingering, cuddly embrace, murmuring nonsense about how lucky he was.
"I mean it, Cait," Vi mumbled, tripping over his own boots as they finally reached the Pilt side of the bridge. "You’re the best thing in this whole golden city. The best thing in the world. I’m gonna marry you so hard one day."
Caitlyn felt her heart do a clumsy somersault. She looked up at him, at the man who looked at her like she was the sun, and her impatient scowl softened for a split second.
Then, she remembered her feet were cold, and her head was pounding.
"You’re a sap," she muttered, grabbing his tie and yanking him toward the final stretch of the street. "And you’re drunk. Now shut up and get the keys out, because if I have to wait for you to fumble with the lock, I’m breaking the window."
The heavy oak door hadn’t even fully clicked into the latch before Vi had Caitlyn pinned against it, the sound of their colliding breaths filling the quiet entryway. Caitlyn didn't wait, she reached behind her, fumbling blindly for the lock with a frustrated hiss.
"The lock, Vi! The fucking lock!" she growled against his lips, her patience shredded by the friction of his body against hers.
Vi let out a muffled, giddy laugh, his large hands already roaming under the hem of her shirt.
"I got it, I got it, Cupcake… Just…" He managed to flick the deadbolt with a clumsy thumb before redoubling his efforts on her mouth.
They didn't make it five steps toward the bedroom.
The hallway felt miles long, an impossible journey, so they pivoted by sheer instinct toward the velvet sofa in the lounge. It was a chaotic, desperate scramble of limbs.
The undressing was less a seduction and more an excavation.
Caitlyn was a whirlwind of frantic energy, her usual poise replaced by a drunk, singular focus. She yanked at Vi’s shirt, but the fabric caught. He ended up sprawled half-on, half-off the cushions with one sleeve still stubbornly hooked around his elbow and a single sock clinging to his left foot. He didn't care. He was too busy worshipping the line of her throat, his voice a low, honeyed rumble.
"You’re so beautiful, Cait... so perfect."
"Shut up, shut up and help me," Caitlyn muttered, kicking her legs out.
Her trousers were a discarded heap on the rug, and in her haste, her lace panties had only made it as far as one ankle, dangling there like a white flag of surrender she had no intention of waving. Her silk blouse hung open, buttons lost somewhere in the hallway, and her bra had been shoved up, leaving her chest bare and flushed to the cool air of the room.
Vi groaned, his eyes blown wide as he looked at her.
Really looked at her.
The alcohol made his head swim, but the sight of her like this, messy and demanding and entirely focused on him, made his heart swell until it hurt.
He kicked his own pants away, his boxers lowered just enough to be an afterthought as he crawled over her, his weight settling between her thighs. The couch creaked under them, a frantic rhythm starting before they’d even fully settled.
"You're okay?" Vi whispered, his forehead dropping against hers for a fleeting second of grounded, sober clarity.
He was extra cuddly even now, his hand coming up to cup her face with a tenderness that didn't match the heat in his lap.
Caitlyn reached down, her fingers brushing against him. The solid, real evidence of the man he was, and she let out a sharp, needy breath. She arched her back, her bare skin pressing into the velvet of the sofa and the heat of his chest.
"I'm more than okay," she breathed, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him in tight. "Now, if you don't stop talking and start making me forget my own name, Vi, I’m going to bite you."
Vi grinned, that sharp smirk returning to his face.
"Yes, my love."
The velvet of the sofa was cool against Caitlyn’s back, but the heat radiating off Vi was enough to make the air shimmer. Vi was a solid, heavy weight above her, his chest heaving as he stared down at her with a look of glazed, drunk adoration that would have been sweet if his hands weren't currently wandering with such proprietary hunger.
"Cait," he rumbled, his voice thick and gravelly, "you're... you're glowing. Did I tell you that? You’re like... Hextech. So bright."
Caitlyn let out a sharp, frustrated groan, her head falling back against the armrest.
"Oh, for fuck’s sakes, Vi, quit talking," she hissed, her fingers digging into his biceps. "Less poetry, more fucking."
She reached down between them, her palm sliding over the smooth, hot length of him. He was fully, agonizingly hard, pulsing against her touch with a demand that matched her own.
The alcohol had stripped away her Piltie reservations, leaving only a raw, jagged impatience. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, her grip firm and uncompromising, and gave a sharp, downward tug that forced a strangled gasp from his throat.
"Inside. Now," she commanded, her eyes dark and blown wide. "I am not asking, Vi, I am demanding. Get in here before I lose my mind."
Vi’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating until the blue was almost gone.
The room was spinning, and every brush of her skin against his felt magnified, like his nerve endings were on fire. He was clumsy, his movements uncoordinated as he tried to shift his weight, his knee slipping on the velvet cushion before he braced himself.
"Doin' it... Am doin' it," he muttered, a lopsided, breathless grin tugging at his lips even as he groaned.
He guided himself to her entrance, the friction of her wetness against him sending a jolt through his spine that made his toes curl. When he finally pushed forward, sinking into her heat, her hot and greedy pussy, they both let out a simultaneous, ragged cry.
Because of the booze, everything felt heightened. Every slide of skin, every wet sound, every thrum of their hearts. Vi was deep, filling her completely, and Caitlyn arched her back off the sofa, her heels digging into the cushions as she pulled him closer.
"Finally," she breathed, her voice a broken thread. "Fuck, Vi... don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
Vi didn't need telling twice.
He began to move, his rhythm messy and erratic, driven more by instinct than technique. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin as he drove into her, his large hands reaching down to hook under her thighs and pull her even tighter against him.
"You're mine," he whispered against her pulse, his words slurred but fierce. "All mine, Cupcake. Fuck! So welcoming!"
Caitlyn couldn't answer.
She was too busy losing herself in the friction and the heavy, rhythmic thud of his body against hers. She fisted her hands in his hair, pulling his head back so she could see the raw, honest love in his eyes even through the haze of the alcohol.
"I am," she gasped, her hips rising to meet every clumsy, powerful thrust. "Fuck! I'm yours! All yours! Fuck me harder!”
He was buried deep, his cock pulsing against her internal walls as he began to move, his rhythm erratic and heavy.
"Cait... fuck, you’re so tight," Vi groaned, his voice dropping into a gravelly, slurred register.
He braced his forearms on either side of her head, his biceps bulging as he thrust upward. He wasn't being gentle. He was thrusting into her with a blunt, rhythmic force that made the entire couch creak and slide against the floorboards.
Caitlyn didn't want gentle. She was a mess of tangled hair and flushed skin, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back to pull him even deeper.
She reached down between them, her fingers fumbling as she found the place where they joined, the wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting filling the quiet room.
"Don't... don't you dare slow down," she hissed, her teeth nipping at his shoulder. She was impatient, her body wound tight like a spring. "Keep going, Vi. Harder."
Vi let out a low, animalistic growl, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked entirely black.
He hooked his hands under her ass, lifting her hips off the cushions so he could angle himself better. With every messy, driving thrust, he felt himself slipping further into the haze. He could feel the slick heat of her clenching around him, the friction of his shaft against her soaking folds sending jolts of white-hot electricity straight to his brain.
"I’m gonna... fuck, Cait, I’m gonna break something if I go harder," Vi panted, his forehead dropping against hers.
He was sweating, a bead of it dripping from his temple onto her chest, but neither of them cared. He was pushing into her with everything he had, his one socked foot sliding uselessly on the floor as he fought for leverage.
Caitlyn’s breath was coming in sharp, jagged stabs.
She felt the build-up. A heavy, throbbing tension in her lower belly was rapidly reaching a breaking point. She arched her back, her bare breasts rubbing against the rough leather of his vest, her hands migrating down to grip the meat of his thighs, guiding him, demanding more.
"Come inside me, Vi! Fuck! Do it! Give me your cum!"
The command broke him deliciously.
Vi let out a ragged, choked-off shout, his body locking up as he delivered three final, devastatingly deep thrusts. He felt his own climax erupting, a hot, pulsing surge that filled her completely.
Caitlyn followed him instantly, her internal muscles pulsing in a frantic, rhythmic squeeze that drew every last drop from him, milking him until there was nothing left.
She cried out his name as her entire body shuddered under him.
For a long minute, the only sound in the apartment was their labored, synchronized breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Vi collapsed forward, his head buried in the crook of her neck, his heavy, spent body pinning her into the soft cushions.
He was a warm, sweating, exhausted mess, and as the room slowly stopped spinning, he nudged his nose against her skin.
"Love you, Cait," he mumbled, his voice already heavy with the onset of a drunken sleep. "So much."
Caitlyn, still coming down from the high and the haze, let out a shaky, exhausted laugh, her hands coming up to stroke the back of his red head.
"Me too, you big idiot," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. “Me too."
Vi didn’t pull away. He couldn't have even if he’d tried. He remained buried deep inside her, his body a solid, protective weight that felt like home.
"You're... you're still inside me," Caitlyn whispered, a sleepy, lopsided giggle bubbling up from her throat.
“Bothers ya?”
“Not one bit…”
She reached up, her fingers clumsily tracing the tattoo on his neck, her touch light and wandering.
Vi let out a muffled, vibrating hum against her collarbone.
"Mmh. Then am stayin' put. Plus, too much work to move… Gravity is... it’s real strong tonight." He lifted his head just enough to look at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and twinkling with a soft, drunken mischief. "Besides. I like it in here. It's warm."
Caitlyn snorted, the sound distinctly un-Sheriff-like, and swatted at his shoulder.
"You’re a menace. A horizontal, muscled, hot, red-haired menace."
"Your favorite menace," Vi countered, nipping affectionately at her jaw before pulling back to press a series of soft, slow, uncoordinated kisses to her lips.
They tasted like salt and fading adrenaline.
They fell into a fit of quiet giggles, the kind that start over nothing and won't stop because the world feels perfectly small and safe. Every time Vi tried to say something serious about how much he loved her, he’d trip over a word, and they’d start all over again, foreheads pressed together, chests heaving with silent laughter.
Slowly, the giggles drifted into long, contented sighs. Vi’s breathing slowed, becoming a deep, rhythmic thrum against Caitlyn’s skin. His arms remained locked around her, his muscled arms securely wrapped around her, anchoring them together.
"Vi?" Caitlyn murmured, her eyes already drifted shut, her head lolling back into the plush velvet of the sofa.
"Yeah, Cait?"
"Don't... don't you dare move a muscle."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he slurred, his voice barely a breath.