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Capture their essence
07.11.2024

She has completely lost track of which round of auditions this is. The third? Or perhaps the fifth? Yet as her eyes roam to study the line of models in front of her, none of them are what she is looking for. They all look so… similar. Even after instructing them to strike a pose, studying each of them closely, it is clear that this round is another bust.

Although she feels a little bad for, once again, dismissing every single one of the models that have been sent in, it isn’t enough to make Caitlyn change her mind.

She watches as the row of models nod at her politely before filing out of the room quietly, and hides her face into her hands as soon as the door shuts behind the last one. The sigh she releases is a heavy one, sounding incredibly loud in the now empty space. Time is ticking, and the deadline is getting intimidatingly close.

At the sound of the door opening and closing again Caitlyn uncovers her face to see her assistant—Jayce—walk in, carrying two cups with steam coming off them.

“I noticed another line of dejected faces just now,” he says while placing one of the cups on the desk in front of her, “should I ask the casting director to send another round of models?”

Caitlyn grabs the cup of tea, holding it close to her face, her brows knit, staring at the large, framed photograph opposite her. “Please send them my apologies,” she says, letting out a sigh before taking a careful sip of her tea, which is a mistake; it’s still too hot to drink properly. “Not certain they’ll send in any models that look vastly different from the ones I just saw.”

“Right,” Jayce mutters, audibly shuffling his feet. “Anyway, you’re needed at the shoot.”

The photo shoot that is currently happening is a smaller one. Not as important as the one she still needs to find a model for but no less significant for the overall spread. It is crucial that everything goes well, as she is the one responsible in the end. She cannot mess this up.

Taking her time, she takes a cautious sip of her tea, her shoulders relaxing somewhat at the familiar and soothing flavor. “Lead the way.” She gets up in one smooth motion, keeping her cup perfectly level the entire time. Even as she walks to follow Jayce out of the office, her heels clacking on the smooth and polished floor, the tea in her cup merely ripples with the movement.

As soon as she steps outside, and into the large space where the photo shoot is taking place, a cacophony of various sounds and flashes assault her senses. Jayce hands her a small case without prompting, already open for her to take out the specialized ear plugs. After years of working together it has become part of their routine; he can tell when she needs something often before she has the chance to even ask for it. Once both of the plugs are in place the noise is reduced significantly, though she is able to hear Jayce loud and clear.

“Whenever you’re ready, go on over to offer direction to the photographer and model.” After stowing the small case Jayce holds out his hand to take Caitlyn’s cup, which she hands to him after taking another generous sip.

With every step her heels clack on the concrete floor, which kind of makes her wish she’d brought a pair of comfortable trainers to wear. She goes over to stand beside the photographer, who pauses their work for a moment to acknowledge her. Glancing at the laptop screen where the previous shots are displayed, Caitlyn studies them—they aren’t bad, but they are not what she envisioned either. This simply won’t do.

“These are too clean,” she states, taking in the model’s make-up and hair. None of it is what she is going for, it’s too ‘perfect’. “Jayce, do you have my—?” Before she can even finish speaking her assistant has handed over her notebook. “Thank you.” She takes it and walks off to find Viktor.

“Miss Kiramman,” Viktor greets her, polite as ever, “what can I do for you?”

Seeing him reaching for his cane, Caitlyn quickly sits down in the chair opposite him. “Your work is lovely, as always,” she begins, tucking a few errant strands of hair behind her ear before opening her notebook where the attached ribbon is tucked between the pages.

Viktor grins knowingly. “But?”

“But,” Caitlyn echoes as she turns the notebook, the covered pages facing Viktor, “it does not match what I envisioned.” She watches as he studies the sketches, appreciating the way she finds him shifting into focus. “I need it to be bolder, not clean or refined.” She startles when his eyes suddenly meet her own, nearly causing her to drop the book, relieved when he breaks eye contact just as quickly.

Viktor hums, then nods determinedly. “I can certainly do that,” he replies, “just send Serena over and I will get to work.”

Finally, they have the shots that are needed, allowing them to wrap up. Caitlyn watches from her chair while Viktor goes through the process of putting away all the make-up and cleaning the various brushes and sponges. At the same time, Sky returns all the hair products back into the metal carry-case, a rubber broom leaning against the wall beside her.

The low hum of movement and footsteps is comforting in a way, a sign that everyone has worked hard and is ready to head home for the evening.

Which is when the realization that Caitlyn is running out of time and options amplifies tenfold. There is a pressure building inside her head, close to her temples, indicating an oncoming headache. Of course this is also exactly when the casting director finds her, approaching her at a quick pace.

“Veronique.” Caitlyn sits up a little straighter, ignoring the way her back complains. Nothing a warm bath can’t fix once she gets home.

“Miss Kiramman,” Veronique greets her, looking around to find a stool to sit on. “Mr. Talis informed me that none of today’s models passed the audition.”

Caitlyn grimaces, quick to force her expression into a neutral one despite the energy it costs her to do so. “Correct,” she confirms. “Because none of them are what I’m looking for.” From her peripheral vision she catches Jayce and Viktor talking while slowly making their way over to her. Having Jayce close by helps put her at ease a bit, knowing he’ll smoothly step in if needed.

Veronique hums, looking down at the clipboard in her hands. “I see.” A few more moments go by where neither of them speak, and Veronique leafs through the sheets of paper on her clipboard. “In that case, perhaps you can tell me what exactly you are looking for?”

“It's just…” Caitlyn releases a drawn out sigh, raking a hand through her hair with frustration, the hair tie that held it up dropping on the floor. “Don't get me wrong, all these models—these people are absolutely gorgeous, but they… are all kind of the same?” Veronique nods, seemingly without judgment, encouraging her to continue. “They are all too refined, too perfect-looking. I need someone who's… different. Rougher around the edges, if that makes any sense.” She turns to face the two men as they reach her, quirking a brow when Viktor clears his throat.

“Have you tried looking for anyone outside of Piltover?” he asks, to which Caitlyn turns back to look at Veronique.

“Well, no,” the casting director says, “we work with Piltovan and Topside model agencies—”

“Perhaps consider looking for someone in the Undercity,” Viktor suggests, interrupting Veronique mid-sentence.

Jayce places a hand on Viktor’s arm, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious, Vik. The Undercity? Really?”

At this Viktor shrugs. “Why not? You do realize I am from the Undercity, yes?” The silence that follows is quite telling, and Caitlyn is unable to hold back a chuckle. “Miss Kiramman,” he continues, undeterred and with a smile. “If it is alright with you I might be able to help you find what you are looking for.”

Now three pairs of eyes focus on her, and Caitlyn sits impossibly straighter. “Please,” she says—practically pleading, “frankly I do not care where they are from, as long as they have what it takes.”

“But—Miss Kiramman,” Veronique stammers, rushing to stand after Caitlyn gets up to discuss things with Viktor. “We don’t have contracts with—”

“Then draft up a temporary contract,” she says, “send it to me by the end of tomorrow.” For the first time today her shoulders relax, although the aching sensation between them remains; the bathtub at home is calling her name. “Great work, everyone!” she calls out, “let us go home. I will see you all in the morning.”

As soon as Caitlyn steps into the tub, she hums appreciatively at the hot water soaking her feet and legs up to her shins. Lowering herself and immersing her body into the hot water, she lies back until the water touches her chin. The sigh she releases is drawn out until it feels as if there’s no oxygen left in her lungs. It’s good to be home.

The sound of string instruments from a speaker fills the space of her bathroom, making her forget about everything outside the walls of her home for a little while. Her muscles finally relax; there is nothing for her to do but soak and listen to the music.

Once her phone goes off—letting her know it is time to get out of the tub—she twists the knob to drain the water, gets up and grabs the soft, fluffy towel off the rack and wraps it around herself. With quick motions she dries herself off, applies body lotion, and changes into her undies and home-wear.

While she had originally planned to sit down with a book and a cup of tea after dinner, it is nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes open long enough to not read the same sentence repeatedly. Perhaps it’s for the best; the next few days of work are going to be intense. She needs all the energy and sleep she can get.

Unwilling to waste a perfectly good cup of tea, Caitlyn drinks it all in one go, places the cup in the dishwasher, and heads off to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.

Barely fifteen minutes later she is in bed, under the covers and her weighted blanket. There is a gentle, cool breeze coming through the open window, with the occasional cyclist passing by on the street below. Her bedroom is dark and quiet, the weighted blanket offering enough of a sense of safety that sleep comes nearly instantaneously.

Although meetings are far from Caitlyn’s favorite activity, today she is somewhat grateful for them, because the hours fly by without too many issues arising.

Before she knows it, she’s having lunch with Jayce and Viktor, with Mel joining briefly towards the end—to discuss the upcoming shoot. The pastries Mel has brought along don’t last long, leaving behind only a small smattering of crumbs.

Before the end of the day, as instructed, Veronique sends the draft for a temporary contract. A few minor adjustments later, she receives the final version that is approved to be sent to Viktor—giving him several hours today to hopefully find someone to model. If there weren’t so much at stake, Caitlyn might have been able to truly relax and not worry about it. She trusts Viktor, but she can’t help being nervous—handing over any kind of control is incredibly difficult and intimidating.

A rapping sound on her office’s door startles Caitlyn out of her thoughts, and she nearly knocks over her cup in the process. “Bollocks,” she hisses under her breath. “Come in.” She looks up to find Jayce in the door opening, watching her expectantly. “Yes?”

He walks inside without closing the door behind him. “Almost ready to go home and rest up for the big day tomorrow?”

Instead of verbalizing her confusion Caitlyn looks up at the clock; it is indeed time to go home. “Right,” she mutters, “yes, just a moment.” After quickly downing the rest of her tea, gathering her bag and coat, she takes the cup with her as she follows Jayce outside. After a quick rinse she sets the cup beside the sink of the kitchenette in the break room, dons her coat, and walks towards the elevator with her assistant.

The only words they exchange are about the photo shoot the next day, until they part ways once they arrive in the building’s parking garage.

“See you tomorrow, boss!” Jayce calls over as he makes his way to his car.

Caitlyn snorts while shaking her head, then responds with: “Good night, Jayce.”

Unlike the previous evening, she has enough energy left to sit down with a book after dinner. However, same as last time she is unable to focus properly. No matter how hard she tries, she keeps reading the same sentence over and over again.

With a frustrated huff she closes the book and places it on the coffee table, then drinks her tea before it has the opportunity to go cold. Despite her best efforts she can’t stop thinking—mostly worrying, really—about tomorrow. There is so much that can go awry, so many things to keep track of.

The temptation to contact Viktor and ask him if he has managed to find a model yet is incredibly strong, but she doesn’t give in. She trusts him. He knows how important this shoot is—not just to her. Mel’s collection is absolutely exquisite, and Caitlyn wants to do her hard work justice. Failing simply isn’t an option.

To get her mind off things she goes ahead and cleans the kitchen, not stopping until the stove practically sparkles and the counter top is cleared of everything save for the necessities such as the electric kettle.

After a quick, hot shower and her before-bed routine Caitlyn gets into bed and under the blankets, the heaviness of her weighted blanket helping her fall asleep before her mind has the chance to start reeling again.

Donned in an outfit that makes her feel confident and in control—black, loose-fitting cargo pants with comfortable, low-heeled boots, a long, black cardigan and a deep blue silk scarf—Caitlyn walks into her office, ready to start the day. Moments after her coat is hung up and she is about to take a seat, Jayce walks in after three quick raps against her door. She can’t help but smile upon seeing the cup of steaming hot tea he carries with him.

“Morning,” he greets her, setting the cup and dish on her desk, its handle facing her. “How do you feel?” he asks, and Caitlyn knows this question to be a genuine one.

“Nervous,” she answers truthfully, “today is going to be … a lot.” Jayce nods. Humming in agreement. “Please tell me there have been no calls from anyone expected in the studio today.” Her entire body sighs with relief when her assistant informs her that nobody has called in sick or reported an emergency. “Any news from Viktor?” She looks up just in time to catch the brief flicker of… something on Jayce’s face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

He clears his throat while putting his hands behind his back, his stance not entirely firm. “There is no need for worry,” he assures, which has the exact opposite effect on Caitlyn.

“Jayce.” She sighs into her tea, creating ripples on the golden brown liquid in her cup. “Just tell me he’s found someone?”

“He has.”

That is enough, for now, to somewhat settle Caitlyn’s nerves.

They go about discussing today’s—rather packed—schedule, her outline and notes, and ensuring that everyone will have time for lunch. Caitlyn finishes the remainder of her tea, then gets up to head into the studio along with Jayce.

Showtime.

It is still dark and quiet; she and Jayce are the first ones to arrive in the large space. There is a lot of work to be done before they can well and truly get started, but it is nice to bask in the calm and quiet for a few moments until other people start to trickle in.

As the light comes on Caitlyn blinks several times to let her eyes adjust to the brightness, finding comfort in the knowledge that this light is only necessary during prep. Once everyone is ready and in place for the actual shoot to start it will just be the lights necessary for the photographer to do their work, and those by the door to the hallway in the back of the room.

“Good morning, Miss Kiramman,” one after another people greet her upon entering. She answers each and every one with a polite nod, small smile and a wave. While Jayce gets her tea and ensures everyone has what they need in order to do their jobs, Caitlyn goes through her outline and notes with the photographer and their assistants to discuss the lighting, backdrop, poses, down to the smallest details. Usually she’d be the one with the camera in hand, but with her leading this entire project there was no other choice but to delegate it to someone else.

After concluding the walk-through, Caitlyn watches as everyone sets up for the day, including Viktor. Not once does he look in her direction, completely focused on setting out all the hair styling and make-up products. Just when she is about to get up and head over to him, Jayce appears beside her.

“There is a minor issue—” (cold dread seeps into Caitlyn’s system, her jaw tensing and nails digging into the palms of her hands) “—with the backdrop you picked for today’s shoot,” Jayce informs her, his voice low enough for only her to hear. However, before she can respond, he continues: “It seems like it wasn’t stored properly, there are creases that will make the editing process a lot more difficult and time-consuming.”

It takes Caitlyn several moments to gather her thoughts and take a deep breath. “What about the back-up?” Her fingers start twitching, desperate for something to occupy them. Due to the lack of any other option she ends up tapping her fingertips to the pads of her thumbs: index fingers, middle, ring fingers, then her pinkies, and repeat.

“Well,” Jayce says, a somewhat cautious tone in his voice, “there’s only one of that specific backdrop.”

“And it will be impossible to fix in time,” Caitlyn figures, receiving an affirming hum from her assistant. “Call around to see if there’s a supplier who might have a similar one in stock.” It is thanks only to her thorough planning for nearly every possible contingency that she manages to prevent herself from getting overwhelmed. It is something she wants to avoid at all costs today.

Upon turning her head to look at Viktor, she finds his station fully prepped and ready, but the man himself is nowhere to be found. Even Sky doesn’t seem to be around. However, the opportunity to locate him is robbed from her when Mel enters her peripheral vision, along with two people who are pulling racks full of clothes behind them while following the designer’s footsteps.

“Good morning,” Mel greets, wearing a radiant smile. Her make-up is looking flawless as always, gold flecks making her cheekbones sparkle, the broad gold bands on her bottom lip and beneath her eyes alluring. Mel’s dreadlocks are pinned up beautifully, making her look utterly regal.

“Mel,” Caitlyn replies, the corners of her lips curving into a smile without much effort. “You know where to go?” she asks after rising to her feet, grateful for the minimal height difference between them.

“But of course.” Mel looks around, then faces Caitlyn again with one of her brows raised. “Has the model arrived yet? I need to know if there are any last-minute alterations I need to make.”

Even though Caitlyn should have anticipated the question, she freezes up; she doesn’t have an answer like she should. “Viktor should be bringing the model in shortly,” she ends up saying, which isn’t a complete lie—hopefully.

Mel nods, seemingly satisfied. “Excellent, send them my way once they do.” Then she directs the two others to follow her, with the filled clothing racks in tow.

Thank goodness Jayce returns to her with good news: the supplier where the backdrop came from has one in storage and is able to deliver it within the hour. Now all that they’re waiting on is the model…

Once the backdrop is delivered—Caitlyn thanks the man profusely, promising him she’ll pay him the following day along with the rush fee—she watches as the photographer’s assistants go about installing it. There is a satisfying click as the roll locks into place, followed by the sound of the thick material being pulled down.

From the corner of her eye Caitlyn catches movement, causing her to turn in order to get a better look. Viktor is now at his station, with Sky next to him, moving behind the chair to pull it out invitingly. This prompts Caitlyn to turn around even further, eyes landing on the door in the back just as it swings open to reveal a person wearing tight, faded cargo pants, a leather jacket, combat boots, and a black and pink motorcycle helmet.

There is not a single doubt in Caitlyn’s mind that this must be the model Viktor found, because they don’t look like anyone she’s ever seen. Not even because of the clothes, but because of their gait—the way they carry themself is distinctly un-Piltovan-like—and she’d be lying if she’d claim not to be at least a little intrigued.

She isn’t quite as prepared as she thought, because when the person removes the helmet to reveal magenta-pink hair and a side cut, she feels her jaw slacking. Viktor had not been kidding around—the model is precisely what she’s been looking for. This is confirmed even further when the person shrugs off the leather jacket and slings it over one of their tattooed shoulders, hanging off a single finger by the little loop inside the back of the collar. There’s another tattoo on the side of their neck, and a small one underneath their left eye.

Caitlyn swallows with effort when the model lets out a low whistle while looking around the space before saying: “So, this is it, huh?”

Realizing that she is staring, Caitlyn gets to her feet and makes her way over to properly introduce herself, reminding herself to keep her breathing even. It doesn’t exactly help that she can feel multiple pairs of eyes on her, putting her in the metaphorical spotlight. The moment the person’s eyes meet her own she freezes, her skin prickles all over and her heart stutters. A beat passes, then another, before she is finally able to break eye contact—the tension in her body easing almost instantly. As Caitlyn continues walking, the distance between her and the model shrinking with every step, one thing becomes abundantly clear: she is in trouble.

With an appropriate distance between them, Caitlyn stops and forces her lips to form a smile while lifting her arm, holding out a hand towards the model. “Hello, you must be the model,” she says, internally sighing with relief as her voice comes out steady—poised. However, her hand is left hanging, and when she glances up to quickly meet the model’s—gray-blue, she realizes now—eyes, which are focused on her outstretched hand, a scarred brow lifted.

“Yeah, heard there might be a gig for me here with decent pay,” they say, sporting a smirk that makes Caitlyn’s mouth feel a bit dry. “Vi.” Still they don’t take Caitlyn’s hand. “But you can call me whatever you like, Cupcake.”

It is said quietly enough to where Cait wonders if anyone else has been able to hear it. “What?”

“I think you heard me,” Vi says with a pleased, smug expression, “so you’re into handshakes?”

Before Caitlyn can stop herself she answers: “Not particularly.” Finally she lowers her arm, tapping her fingertips together again without fully realizing.

“I can work with that.” Vi takes a step back, then bows down far enough to where it offers Caitlyn an almost unobscured view of their—tattooed—upper back and shoulder blades. “So, where d’you want me, Cupcake?” they ask upon standing upright once more.

Caitlyn’s mind is still too occupied with processing what she just saw that it doesn’t process the words that just left Vi’s mouth. Her entire face feels unbearably warm; she can even feel the tips of her ears glowing. She is most definitely in trouble.

Vi drags a hand through their hair, the movement utterly casual, cocking their head as they continue to look at Caitlyn. “Wait, you are the one in charge, right?”

That question finally pulls Caitlyn out of her reverie, her face only growing hotter with the realization she is in a large space full of people she is supposed to direct. “Yes,” she says, her voice less even than she’d hoped, “I am. Miss Kiramman, or Caitlyn.”

“Well, Miss Kiramman,” Vi says with an amused grin, “where d’you want me?”

Anywhere, Caitlyn thinks, her eyes widening at the thought. Judging by the way Vi’s expression doesn’t change it is safe to assume she hasn’t accidentally said the word out loud. Straightening herself to her full height, Caitlyn clears her throat and nods once. “Right, head over to Viktor and Sky,” she says, gesturing towards the duo by the make-up and hair station, “I will inform Mel that you are here so she can take your measurements, for last-minute alterations.”

With a wink that affects Caitlyn more than she’d like to admit, Vi nods. “Sure thing.” Then she watches as they saunter off into the direction where Viktor and Sky are waiting for them, and Caitlyn struggles to tear her eyes away from their lower backside.

“Hey, sprout.”

A rather undignified sound, something resembling a squeak, leaves her as she whips her head around to come face to face with her assistant, whose grin is both smug and wide. “Don’t call me that while we’re at work,” she says under her breath, looking around to ensure nobody else heard the silly nickname.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you responded to me the first two times.”

She blinks at him, confused, then realization kicks in. “Sorry about that,” she mutters, a little sheepishly, “anyway, I should get Mel, so she can take Vi’s measurements.” Without waiting for a response she starts moving, taking big strides in order to exit the space and save herself from any further embarrassment.

There is no need to knock, as the door to Mel’s temporary work space is wide open, so instead Caitlyn clears her throat; earning the designer’s attention. “The model has arrived,” she announces. She can feel Mel, as well as the two assistants watching her, and does her best to keep her facial expression neutral.

Mel hums, grabs a measuring tape and gestures for the other two to follow. “Well, Mystic and Raven, you heard the boss. Best get to work then, shall we?” Mel doesn’t struggle to keep up with Caitlyn like some people; her strides are graceful and seemingly match Caitlyn’s with relative ease. “So, they must be quite the model, hmm?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean,” Mel replies, her voice lowering to a whisper as she leans closer, “—is that your cheeks are rather flushed, dear.” Just when Caitlyn is about to protest, Mel flashes her a reassuring smile. “No need to worry, I can keep a secret, Miss Kiramman.”

They walk into the large studio space and directly head into the direction where Vi is still in the chair at the make-up and hair station. Others are nursing coffees and other hot beverages as they wait for the moment they can get to work, which won’t be until Vi is ready for the shoot.

Viktor looks up with a smile, stepping aside for Caitlyn, Mel, Raven and Mystic. “They are all yours, for the next five minutes.”

“Thank you, Viktor,” Mel says, “that will be plenty. Should not take that long, we are quite efficient.” She hands over the measure tape, exchanging it for a small notebook and pen. “Could you please stand up for us…?”

“Vi,” Vi fills in.

“Nice to meet you, Vi,” Mel replies. “You can call me Mel. Mystic and Raven here will work together to take your measurements, is that alright with you?”

Vi looks over at Caitlyn instead, grins, then nods. “Whatever you need,” they say, still looking at Caitlyn. They continue to look at her while having their measurements taken, lifting their arms when asked, spreading their legs when instructed to.

“Viktor?” Caitlyn asks, forcing herself to look away from Vi; she has a job to do, after all. He appears right beside her with a curious hum. “Can you make it more dramatic? Don’t shy away from having it look messy,” she says while focusing on Vi’s hair and make-up. The black around their eyes is a good start but still looks too clean for her liking. “Make them look—” she thinks for a moment, not taking her eyes off the scar in one of Vi’s brows, fascinated by it, “—like an angry oil slick.” To prevent herself from seeing Vi’s reaction, Caitlyn turns to face Viktor, whose mouth is curved into what seems to be a smirk of some sort.

“Of course, I can make that happen,” he answers with a look that Caitlyn can’t quite decipher. “Do not let me keep you, Miss Kiramman.”

There is no reason for her to stay here, as everyone knows what to do. Hovering around won’t be contributing to a comfortable work-environment, yet it is extremely difficult to get herself to leave. As if sensing her inner turmoil, Jayce approaches and catches her attention, gesturing with his head for her to follow him. “Alright, I will come back later to check in on the progress. Mel, let me know if you need additional hands?”

Mel looks up from the little notebook and flashes her a reassuring smile. “Doubt that will be necessary, but thank you, Miss Kira—Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn can’t help but smile at the correction, relieved to have one less person call her ‘Miss Kiramman’ all day. She doesn’t dare look in Vi’s direction again, opting instead for a mere nod before stepping aside to follow her assistant.

“You seem to approve of the model,” Jayce muses, “can’t remember the last time you looked at someone like that.”

“Like what, Jayce?” Caitlyn turns her head to shoot him a pointed look, but she should have remembered that it hasn’t affected him in years. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

“So, I’m right.”

“I did not say that.”

Jayce chuckles, completely undeterred by Caitlyn’s expression. “Oh, you don’t need to.” He stops her as they reach the door in the back, walking ahead to hold the door open for her. “Your face says it all.”

Caitlyn steps into the hallway and crosses her arms, waiting for Jayce to explain why they’re here, but instead of telling her, he starts walking again. They climb the stairs to the first floor, then continue on to the second. “Where are we going? I have to be in there to—” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, her question is answered; they’re heading to the top floor.

Jayce pushes the door open and holds it until Caitlyn steps outside; into the sunlight. There are wildflowers nearly everywhere, save for the tiled path and the few spots where park benches have been placed. The sound of traffic down below is muted enough that you have to strain in order to hear it, overpowered by the sound of birds and insects flitting around the rooftop garden. An instant sense of calm trickles in, making her take a deep breath while relaxing the muscles in her body.

“Better?” Jayce asks with a smile, a genuine one.

Caitlyn closes her eyes as she inhales deeply, releasing the breath through her mouth a few seconds later. She can smell the various flowers around them, feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, and hear the buzzing of bumble bees—grounding her. “Yes,” she finally answers upon opening her eyes again, “thank you, Jayce.”

He shrugs. “That’s just part of my job.”

“That is not what I meant, you knob.” Both of them laugh, the last bit of tension leaving Caitlyn’s body. “But we should head back—”

“For what?” Jayce asks, “you do realize that there’s not much for you to do there right now, right? Everything’s under control and going smoothly. Trust your team.”

He is right and Caitlyn knows it, yet she is unable to figure out what she is supposed to do now. Sitting still while everyone else is working feels… wrong. “Then what do you propose we do?” Instead of answering her, Jayce simply takes a seat on the nearby bench, patting the space beside him twice before resting his arm atop the backrest. Caitlyn looks around, but it’s just the two of them currently—not including the birds and insects. After another moment of hesitation she relents and perches down beside him, her hands splayed out on either side of her. When she turns her head to look at Jayce she notices that he has since closed his eyes, head tilted back somewhat; seemingly just basking in the sunlight.

Instead of doing the same, Caitlyn lets her eyes roam over the greenery around them, almost forgetting that they are on the rooftop. There is a sense of serenity that drapes over her like a comfortable blanket. For once she allows herself to just be and forget about her responsibilities, even if just for a few minutes. But as she closes her eyes and Vi’s face appears she can feel her heart skip before it starts to beat a bit faster. Sure, they are attractive, but that’s all this is.

Jayce lets out a relaxed-sounding sigh, releasing more sounds as he stretches out his arms and gets up to his feet, like he’s reaching for the sun. “Doesn’t it feel like you’re completely recharged?”

Squinting against the bright light of the sun, Caitlyn lifts a hand to shield her eyes before rolling them at him. “I guess I am feeling a bit less tense.”

“There we go!” he cheers triumphantly, “I’ll consider that a win in my book.” He completely ignores Caitlyn rolling her eyes at him, as well as the mirthless glare. “Come on, let’s make sure you get back with an empty bladder and some food in you before we head back in.”

After Jayce practically drags Caitlyn to a nearby lunchroom and insists she eat something more than just tea, they step out with a small baguette sandwich and smoothie each. Despite Caitlyn’s protests Jayce refuses to hand over the paper bag until they make it back into the building.

Caitlyn fights the urge to kick Jayce underneath the table to wipe the smug expression off his face, knowing better than to resort to violence in public. “Would you stop looking at me like that?” she mutters after swallowing another bite of her generously topped sandwich, grabbing the paper napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth to get rid of crumbs.

Rather than giving her a verbal response, Jayce chuckles and lifts his hands up in surrender. “Just glad you’re getting a proper meal in.”

“You make it sound as if I never do.”

Jayce shrugs, toying with the last bite of his sandwich. “Not often enough.”

“Well, thankfully I have you to remind me,” Caitlyn responds, unable to hide a little smile. She too finishes the last bit of her sandwich and drains the rest of her smoothie shortly after. “But we should really head back into the studio now.”

While still chewing, Jayce nods, wipes his hands on a paper napkin and starts gathering the wrappers and cups into the paper bag to dispose of. “After you,” he says after swallowing, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

Caitlyn has situated herself at the standing desk where the laptop is, watching the photos roll in as the photographer takes one after the other shot. However, her attention is mostly on the model in front of the camera; Vi. There is simply no denying the fact that they are attractive, almost infuriatingly so. The full-length sleeves of the black crop top shirt hug their arms like a second skin, leaving their abdomen exposed—and it is beyond obvious that they work out regularly. The confidence they exude as they follow the photographer’s instructions and take on one pose after another is impossible to look away from. There is a fluidity in the way they move that has Caitlyn utterly mesmerized. That is, until their eyes suddenly find hers, followed by a wink that has her cheeks grow rather warm.

Her eyes lower to break the eye contact, but it doesn’t help much; the glossy pants Vi is wearing are practically skin tight and don’t leave much up to the imagination. They hang low on their hips, revealing a patch of hair leading down from their navel, its color matching that of the rest of Vi’s hair.

When a glass suddenly appears in front of her, Caitlyn doesn’t even look at it; she simply takes it and downs its contents in one go. With the back of her hand she wipes away a droplet that threatens to trickle down her chin, and of course that is exactly when she finds Vi looking at her instead of at the camera lens. Shit.

The next outfit is even more of a challenge; Vi is wearing a black blazer with golden embroidery on the shoulders and lapels, matching pants, combat boots, and nothing else. Although the blazer sits in such a way it shows a large part of their chest, it doesn’t reveal too much. It is enough for Caitlyn to struggle with keeping her mind focused on her actual job, which is… to look at the photos and make sure they match the vision in her head. Focus!

Whether she looks at the screen or over it, Vi is looking directly at her—teasing her. Clearly they know they are attractive, and are likely able to tell Caitlyn is aware of it too. Why else would they continue to look at her instead of into the camera?

“Are these good, or do you need different poses?” the photographer who has suddenly materialized beside her asks.

Caitlyn startles and nearly knocks the empty glass off the desk in the process. “Different poses?” Even before she finishes speaking the words she shakes her head, internally scolding herself. “No, these are wonderful, you are truly capturing the vision I’m going for,” she says hastily, carefully moving the empty glass a bit further to the back of the standing desk—out of the danger zone. “Go ahead and get yourself something to drink while the model gets changed into the next outfit.” While the photographer sets down the camera beside the laptop, Caitlyn announces that everyone else should take ten, too—not taking her eyes off the screen in front of her.

“Like what you see?”

This time Caitlyn manages to keep her limbs in check, though the breath she sucks in is clearly audible. “The photos look great, yes,” she answers, her voice more clipped than intended. She sighs and straightens her back, still not trusting herself enough to look at Vi. “You should get changed,” she mutters, “please make sure to drink something too.” From the periphery of her vision she takes notice of Vi not making any move to do so, and instead leans in closer to her.

“I wasn’t talking about the pictures, Cupcake.” Vi’s voice is low and—goodness, they smell really nice. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“What? No! Why would you—?” Caitlyn makes the mistake of turning her head to look at Vi, witnessing just how close they are. Her breath catches in her throat while her whole body buzzes; they are close enough that she can see the constellation of freckles on the bridge of their nose. Suddenly it’s hard to remember how to swallow—or think at all, for that matter.

Vi doesn’t touch her, but they are close enough that their breath makes the loose strands of Caitlyn’s hair move. “In all seriousness, I have no intentions of doing so. But I can’t deny that I really like seeing you blush. Makes you look real cute.”

How Caitlyn manages to stay upright is a complete mystery to her, considering how weak and unsteady her legs feel. There is a strange though not unpleasant sensation in her stomach. A fluttering feeling in her chest where her heart is located.

Whatever tension there is between the two of them, it is broken by Mel’s voice.

“Ah, there you are,” Mel says, and Caitlyn swears she can hear the smile in her voice. “Come on, let us get you into the next outfit.”

Before leaving her, Vi winks and takes a step back, passing by her like—like what, exactly? Caitlyn isn’t sure, but somehow she doesn’t feel exactly relieved for the interruption. She shakes her head, trying to regain her focus and pay attention to the photos on the laptop screen. The black around Vi’s eyes is a stark contrast to the gray-blue of their irises, especially as they stare directly into the camera. A shiver shoots up Caitlyn’s spine, which she desperately tries to ignore. She can’t stop staring at the expanse of Vi’s chest, the scarred skin looking warm—

In an attempt to keep herself from slamming the laptop’s lid shut, Caitlyn takes a step back and closes her eyes while flapping her hands beside her body. “Calm down, Cait,” she tells herself, “this is work, focus!” She looks around to find Jayce; he is talking with Viktor and Sky at the make-up and hair station. As soon as he notices her watching him, however, he doesn’t hesitate to come rushing over.

“More water?” he offers, and Caitlyn nods. “Do you need to take a few moments to yourself? I can tell everyone we’re taking the lunch break early.”

This time Caitlyn shakes her head. “No, I will be alright. Let’s stick to the schedule as planned.” She watches Jayce take the empty glass off the desk and rush off to fill it, relieved to find the studio quiet, as most people are making the most of their ten minute break.

Instead of returning with just a glass of water, Jayce makes his way back to Caitlyn with an entire pitcher of water along with it. As soon as he hands her the glass she drinks from it, though she is careful not to empty its contents all at once this time.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Even before he finishes speaking, Caitlyn shakes her head resolutely. “There is nothing to talk about, Jayce.”

“Right,” he taunts, drawing out the word. “You might be able to fool the others, Cait, but not me.” Jayce leans an elbow on the desk, crossing his legs and putting his weight on just one of them. “I guess I can understand,” he continues, “they look nothing like anyone from Topside—have this edge to them—and it is quite obvious that they’re flirting with you.” Caitlyn’s hands still, as does her mind. “We’re all professionals here, Cait. Nothing wrong with a bit of flirting—”

Although Caitlyn is vaguely aware Jayce is still talking, the rest of his words don’t register, her mind is still stuck on the ‘quite obvious that they’re flirting with you’ part. A sudden, loud crashing sound of shattering glass pulls Caitlyn out of her stupor. When she looks down she finds herself surrounded by numerous, tiny shards of broken glass, along with a puddle of clear liquid. She can’t remember picking up the glass of water, or dropping it for that matter, yet the undeniable proof is scattered across the floor and on her boots.

“Bollocks,” she hisses, taking a large step back in order to step out of the mess she caused, shaking off the shards on her boots. “Jayce, can you ask for—?”

“Already on it!” he calls over his shoulder, momentarily leaving Caitlyn alone with the pieces of broken glass on the ground. Her cheeks are hot and the palms of her hands are getting clammy, which leads her to wipe them on the fabric of her pants frantically. She isn’t sure what to do here, surely it is highly inappropriate for her to flirt with someone working for her—temporary contract or not.

Before Caitlyn’s thoughts can spiral any further Jayce returns with a broom and dustbin, as well as a dry mop, getting to work right away on sweeping up the glass shards. “Are you okay?” he asks without looking up. Caitlyn nods, then clears her throat and tells him that she is fine. “Good,” he says while getting back up to his full height, “sorry, I’ll drop the subject. Didn’t mean to—”

“Jayce,” Caitlyn interrupts, “are you completely certain?”

Several seconds pass where neither of them speaks, the silence suspended between them. “Certain about what?” he asks, and there’s nothing but patience in his words.

While her fingers flex repeatedly Caitlyn swallows, then takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm both her mind and heart. “That they’re… flirting?” Her voice is so quiet, she wonders if Jayce has even heard her. A violent shock goes through her when she is pulled into an embrace by strong arms, but she relaxes into it as soon as she realizes it’s Jayce. She is very selective when it comes to people she allows to touch her in such a manner, he is one of the very few she tolerates with something so intimate as a hug, let alone an embrace.

“Cait,” Jayce mutters softly—warmly, “I would never play around about something like that. Not with you. Yes, I am completely certain.”

“Oh.” She’s not quite sure what else to say, and thankfully she doesn’t have to.

They stand there like that for another beat or two, then Jayce places his large hands on her shoulders, looking at her without expecting her to do the same. Though when she briefly lets her eyes flick up she catches him smiling at her, in a way he has done countless times before. Not as her assistant, but as a close friend—like an older brother, despite her being an only child.

“You deserve it, you know?” he tells her, “whatever that might be—that’s up to you.”

There is no room for further discussion, as the door in the back swings open and staff starts to trickle back inside, ready to get back to work.

“Thank you, Jayce,” Caitlyn says with a small but genuine smile. “I will take what you said into consideration.”

He grins and picks up the cleaning supplies, starting to walk backwards as he replies: “That’s all I ask for. You’ve got this!”

With the newly acquired knowledge Caitlyn pays closer attention to the way Vi’s gaze seems to continuously gravitate to her. Not just the glances and the way the corners of their mouth curve upward as they do, but the way their entire body moves once they know she’s looking at them rather than at the screen in front of her. Particularly when she looks up to find them looking at her again and they suck in one side of their bottom lip, trapping it under their—slightly crooked—teeth. Once more she can feel her cheeks warm in response, accompanied by a tingling sensation in her lower abdomen.

As the pitcher goes empty, Jayce replaces it with a full one without comment, just an encouraging smile Caitlyn doesn’t react to—too occupied with the way Vi’s eyes linger on her. Despite that, they seem to follow the photographer’s instructions effortlessly.

Suddenly Vi walks off, causing Caitlyn to blink rapidly out of confusion. But it is paired with a sense of frustration; she has lost track of what exactly is going on, which isn’t like her at all. Thankfully Jayce seems to take notice, because he appears beside her and leans in close.

“Outfit change.”

What would she do without him? “Right,” she mutters, straightening her back and planting both feet down firmly, “thank you.” However, she doesn’t get the chance to fully relax; there is a banging sound followed by loud, stomping footsteps. Caitlyn whirls around to see what is going on and comes face to face with a clearly displeased Vi. Their brows are furrowed—a deep crease in between them—and their nose scrunched up—which is more attractive than should be considered legal—and their lips set in such a way that Caitlyn all but expects them to snarl.

Once they reach Caitlyn, barely an arm’s length between the two of them, they cross their arms defiantly. “I ain't wearing a dress,” Vi declares, their voice firm, “not even when I'm being paid for it.”

Oh. Caitlyn isn’t entirely sure what exactly she expected, but it is safe to say that this wasn’t it. In response to the sudden, unexpected dilemma she grits her teeth, hastily searching through the mental filing cabinets in her mind; trying to figure out a solution. There is simply no time to find another model at such short notice—and there’s a deadline she’s working with that doesn’t allow any further big delays—but there are three dresses in Mel’s collection that cannot be left out.

She quickly looks around the space at all of the currently present staff for anyone who might be able to fulfill that role. Her heart sinks when she realizes none of them would suit next to Vi, who refuses to wear a dress—and Caitlyn isn't going to demand them to.

Following the sound of quick but even footsteps Mel joins the two of them and turns to Vi, offering a genuine apology. “It was not my intention to cause upset,” she assures, “but I am not entirely sure what I may have said that caused it.”

Turning to face Mel, Caitlyn releases a sigh while subtly tapping her fingertips together nervously. “Vi cannot wear a dress, but there is no time to try and find a model who can.” As the pressure she feels from having to make sure this shoot goes well becomes heavier and heavier she is unable to keep her stimming inconspicuous any longer. Before she can properly process it her hands are in front of her chest, fingers splayed wide, waving and flapping rapidly in place.

“Alright, Caitlyn,” Mel says, her voice steady—soothing. “I can look for something else—”

“No, no, no,” Caitlyn mutters in a rush, shaking her head resolutely, causing more strands of hair to escape the hair tie and sway around her face with the rapid movement. “I cannot mess this up, if I do, then…” A strong wave of emotion crashes through her, overwhelming her to the point her fingers hit each other with every flapping motion of her hands. Too much, too much, too much.

Vi is looking around confused, caught off guard by the response, seemingly unsure what to do.

“I understand,” Mel says, her voice still perfectly steady, calming. “No changes.” A pause. “Jayce, can you collect her bag?”

When something touches her arm Caitlyn flinches, only to find that it's her bag, offered by a smiling Jayce. Without speaking she grabs onto it and reaches inside until her fingers find the familiar texture of the stim toy—helping her brain calm down a little bit. She doesn’t think about how she might look silly with a brush intended for cleaning vegetables in her hands, or that people might be watching her.

“Do you need anything else right now?” Jayce asks. It takes a bit for Caitlyn to process the words, but once she does, she shrugs, then shakes her head.

“Not sure,” Caitlyn replies quietly, her eyes focused on her fingers. “Just a few moments should be fine, I think.”

“Uh, what's going on?"

At the sudden sound of another voice Caitlyn stiffens, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes hard into the soft silicone bristles. Thankfully both Mel and Jayce pick up on it, saving her from having to explain herself right now in a large space surrounded by countless people.

“It is a bit hard and time-consuming to explain, but one of us will later,” Mel answers kindly.

“Just give her a few minutes,” Jayce adds, “want me to get you something to drink?”

There are more words—conversation—but Caitlyn is unable to follow any of it, and lets herself be guided to sit down on something soft. When her headphones appear in her lap, offered to her by a familiar hand with dark hairs on the back of it, she takes it and slides it in place—covering her ears and shutting out the world around her.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

2. The show must go on

Once it doesn't feel like everything is too much anymore Caitlyn takes a deep breath while busying her fingers with the stim toy. The repetitive motion is soothing, as is the familiar, pleasant texture against the pads of her fingertips. When she feels ready she removes her headphones and stores them in her bag, along with the flexible, silicone brush. She briefly glances up to find Mel and Jayce in quiet conversation, then gets to her feet and wipes her hands off on her pants.

While Jayce takes Caitlyn’s bag from her and heads off to return it to its spot by the standing desk, Mel turns to face her, then says: “Alright, so I may have an idea.”

The way Mel says it makes Caitlyn narrow her eyes, finding the corners of Mel's lips curled up to form a devious smile she is rather familiar with by now. “Care to share what exactly that idea is?” She takes another deep breath, trying to brace herself for whatever comes out of Mel's mouth next.

“You could wear the dresses.”

Caitlyn blinks, waits, and waits, but Mel doesn't laugh. None of the signs that tell her Mel is joking follow the outrageous statement. “You are being… serious…?”

“Of course I am,” Mel answers, "Caitlyn, you know your vision better than anyone. You are here, you can pull off any and all dresses without trying, and I think you two will look great together.”

Although Mel is right about Caitlyn and her vision, she is usually the one behind the camera, when she’s not leading the entire project, not in front of the camera. On top of that, having to stand close to Vi in front of a photo camera while wearing Mel’s designs, surrounded by dozens of people, and having incredibly bright lights pointed at her… “Mel, I don’t know…” she mutters, staring at her hands. But what other choice does she have? “What if I am not any good at—?”

“I am going to stop you right there,” Mel interrupts, her voice stern, “you are Caitlyn Kiramman. As far as I know you excel at pretty much everything you set your heart to.” Mel has both of her hands on her hips, a fierce look in her eyes that Caitlyn catches when briefly glancing up at her. “Plus, I know those dresses will fit you perfectly, since you were so kind to help out in the early stages of my collection.”

Only now that Mel mentions it, Caitlyn recalls trying on early versions of some of the dresses Mel had been working on. “I suppose we don’t exactly have another option, do we?” she mutters, then releases a deep sigh, and braces herself. Standing tall, with her shoulders back and head held high, she nods once. She has a project that needs to be a success, no matter what it takes. “Alright, best not waste any more time, then.”

After taking another deep breath Caitlyn glances at Mel, who nods at her encouragingly, and finally she looks at her reflection in the floor length mirror. Seeing one of Mel’s finished designs on her body is a bit strange, like she’s a different person, almost. One thing is certain: the dress is absolutely gorgeous. The way the gold fabric ripples and flows with every movement is somewhat mesmerizing, partially due to the fact she can barely feel it against her skin.

“You look stunning, darling,” Mel exclaims as she circles Caitlyn, adjusting the dress in a few places before clapping her hands together. “It will look wonderful with the outfit Vi is currently wearing.”

There is a lump in Caitlyn’s throat due to the nerves, so instead she settles for a mere nod in response. Thankfully there is no need for shoes with this dress, as its length hides her feet entirely. “Alright,” she finally manages to get out, “no need to keep everyone waiting any longer, I suppose.

A quick stop by Viktor’s station and Caitlyn is truly ready; walking over to the backdrop with careful steps; tripping over the dress’ fabric is the last thing she wants.

“Holy shit.”

It’s kind of ridiculous how much Caitlyn’s heart jolts at the sound of Vi’s voice muttering no more than two words. But two words are enough to momentarily make her mind go utterly blank, which is preposterous, yet here she is. Her head snaps up until her eyes meet those of Vi, looking almost silver in the bright lights. She takes note of the way Vi’s jaw is slacked, their mouth hanging open—releasing a surge of panic inside of her body.

“Damn,” Vi says, the corners of their mouth pulling upward to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Caitlyn is unable to look away from their lips, her cheeks growing warm to the point she is convinced they closely resemble the color of Vi’s hair. They are still wearing the same outfit, part of their chest visible between the blazer’s lapels, and Caitlyn swallows as her eyes descend to admire the bare skin.

The photographer clears their throat, then instructs the two of them to pose. Caitlyn had never planned for two models, so all she can do is trust the photographer and follow the instructions, which is easier said than done—especially while standing so close to someone so attractive.

“You look incredible,” Vi whispers as they step closer, “just remember to breathe.”

Until now Caitlyn wasn’t even aware that she’d been holding her breath, but as she does her lungs prickle. Looking into the camera lens isn’t as difficult as making eye contact, which is an enormous relief. She does her best to pose as told, though her brain seems to struggle with figuring out some of them.

“Relax your shoulders, hand on your stomach and turn your head as if you’re about to face me, but you don’t actually have to look at me if you don’t want to,” Vi explains without touching her.

Surprisingly enough Caitlyn is able to execute the pose flawlessly this time, leading her to simply follow Vi’s instructions from then on.

Vi leans in even closer after the photographer tells them something Caitlyn misses entirely. “I’ve gotta put my hands on your hips. Are you okay with that?” they murmur.

Even before Vi finishes speaking Caitlyn nods, sharply sucking in a breath to prepare for the inevitable overstimulation. However, once Vi’s hands find her hips all she feels is warmth. Warm palms. The press of fingertips. Vi didn’t have to ask, as it was a direction after all, but they did anyway. That knowledge settles on Caitlyn’s cheeks in a bright, hot heat. A bubbly feeling rapidly develops in her gut. Even as she’s being told to drape an arm around Vi’s neck she doesn’t freeze up; for once, there is no discomfort at the contact or closeness to a practical stranger.

“Alright, I think we’ve got what we need for this one!” the photographer calls out, “time for the next outfits.”

Caitlyn blinks dazedly, then retracts her arm and steps back—realizing her mistake a second too late. Suddenly she’s falling, her heart lurching in her chest at the anticipation of collapsing onto the floor. The impact is a lot more gentle, and upon opening her eyes—blinking against the brightness—she becomes aware of why exactly that is. Vi’s face is directly above hers, an arm wrapped around her with a splayed hand between her shoulder blades. It is almost as if time has stopped completely, leaving her—both of them—suspended in this moment where Caitlyn’s body is entirely supported by Vi’s arm.

“Shit, are you okay?” Vi asks her. Caitlyn blinks a few times, her eyes focusing on the constellation of freckles on the bridge of their nose. “That was close…” they murmur, quiet enough for only her to hear.

“I—” Caitlyn tries to say, but no sound comes out. She becomes aware of the fact that her hands are on Vi’s shoulders, clinging onto them like a lifeline. Swallowing, Caitlyn nods, trying to respond verbally a second time. “I think so, yes. Thank you.” Still, Vi doesn’t let go and neither does she.

That is, until someone close by clears their throat. That someone turns out to be Jayce. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a schedule to keep,” he says, and Caitlyn can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Right,” Vi says, helping Caitlyn back onto her feet. “You sure you’re okay?” they ask.

“Quite,” she assures with a small smile tugging at her lips, trying her best to ignore the way her heart hammers in her chest. “Best we get changed,” she says, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“See you in a bit, Cupcake,” Vi replies, winking at her as they saunter off towards the room where Mystic and Raven are waiting for them. Caitlyn simply blinks, staring after them with rosy cheeks and a warm, fluttering sensation in her chest.

“Need help?” Jayce asks, suddenly very close, causing Caitlyn to flinch and nearly lose her balance all over again—twisting his arm in the process. “Ow! Cait!”

“Serves you right,” she says before letting go of him, “I am perfectly capable of walking myself, thank you very much.”

Once she’s changed into the second dress, Caitlyn makes her way back with quick, large strides, slowing down as she sees Vi’s outfit. Both of them are wearing black, ribbed turtlenecks, as it turns out. Although where Caitlyn’s is a short sleeved dress that reaches to her mid-thighs, Vi’s is a sleeveless top—no, a bodysuit, with loose-fitting, low-rise pants. She isn’t sure whether to look at Vi’s bare, tattooed arms or their exposed hips, because both are difficult to tear her eyes away from.

“Miss Kiramman?” the photographer calls, pulling her out of her daze. “Is something the matter?”

Caitlyn shakes her head and continues making her way over to where Vi is. “No, everything is quite alright.” She can’t help but stare at the ink on those muscular arms, fascinated by the design, curious how far it goes…

There is no time to think about much, as the photographer gets back to work the moment Caitlyn reaches Vi in front of the camera. It feels a little awkward at first but Vi is excellent at putting her at ease, guiding her through the various poses like they have done this a million times before—which she realizes is probably the case. The way they move, seamlessly transitioning from one pose to the next, seemingly knowing precisely which angle works best… It is genuinely a form of art.

Upon being directed to put the palm of her hand flat against Vi’s chest Caitlyn hesitates, glancing up quickly only to find them smiling at her.

“It’s okay,” they murmur, encouraging her, “I don’t mind.”

When she places her hand on their sternum her blood rushes through her ears to the point she can barely hear anything. She can feel their heart beating beneath her hand, a fast but steady rhythm that is strangely both exhilarating and soothing. They lift an arm until their hand is hovering close to her cheek, not letting it touch her—and something inside her bursts. The fact that they don’t touch her even when instructed to is something small, yet it rocks her to her very core. Then her cheek meets the warm, calloused palm of Vi’s hand—and she doesn’t get overwhelmed or overstimulated. Her eyes fixate on the freckles below Vi’s eyes—those that aren’t covered by the black smears of make-up—and the world fades into nothingness as she feels Vi’s heart beneath her hand and fingers.

The moment seems to stretch on and on, but Caitlyn doesn’t mind, not in the slightest. In fact, she’s quite content to stay like this for a lot longer. Disappointingly enough, however, the photographer has different plans.

“You holding up alright?” Vi whispers softly before retracting their hand from her cheek, not making a move to remove her hand from their chest.

Caitlyn isn’t quite sure how to answer that question, as she doesn’t even know it herself. Her legs feel unsteady and she doesn’t dare move, afraid she might make an utter fool of herself if she tries. “I… yes…” Upon realizing that her hand is still on their chest she yanks it back hastily. “Apologies,” she mutters and somehow she finds herself moving—her legs carrying her back to where Mel is undoubtedly waiting for her.

Getting changed thankfully goes well, which is partially due to the fact she is currently functioning on autopilot, more or less. She doesn’t really register the dress she gets into, nor the shoes. It’s all a bit of a blur until there’s a few knocks on the door and Jayce steps into the room, stopping right in front of her.

“Hey, Sprout,” he greets her, his expression soft. Once more he isn’t her assistant, but a friend—almost like a brother. “I got you a snack and some tea.”

Only now, as she looks down at his hands, does she notice the fancy cup and a small packet of biscuits in his hands. Wordlessly she accepts the tea and takes a cautious sip, humming with delight, taking the biscuit Jayce hands her before dipping it into the liquid and nibbling on it. Her shoulders relax a bit, as does her heartbeat it seems. Not long after she finishes the tea and the biscuits she nods, checks to make sure there aren’t any crumbs on the black bandage dress, and prepares herself to return to the set. However, before she can take a single step Jayce holds up a hand.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” He exchanges a quick glance with Mel, which Caitlyn doesn’t miss, then turns back to face her again. “Or someone?”

Caitlyn catches the emphasis on that one word as well, though she barely knows how to explain what had happened to herself—let alone out loud to someone else. Yet she still tries, just to get it off her chest. “We touched,” she mutters, “and I… it wasn’t overwhelming the way it usually is.” Several moments go by where none of them speak, and it’s too much. “Say something, would you?”

Jayce clears his throat, the sound a bit too loud for comfort. “Well, that would be a good sign, would it not?” Mel answers in Jayce’s stead.

Caitlyn shrugs, she supposes it is, but it has never happened before. “I suppose.” With that she decides to simply get back out there to make sure they can finish the work on time, as none of the employees are fans of working overtime. “There is no time for this. Mel, there are only two more outfits after this one, correct?”

Mel nods while moving some hangers on the clothing rack. “Indeed,” she confirms.

“Excellent, let us get back to it, then.”

Although the heels of her boots make every step she takes audible, Vi is facing away from her, seemingly in conversation with Viktor. It offers Caitlyn a nearly unobscured view of the tattoos sprawling across their arms and neck. A bandage top interrupting the design on their back, the inked skin stretching as they lift their arms to set their hands on their hips, and Caitlyn is in awe with the clear display of strength before her. Only when Viktor sees Caitlyn, nodding in greeting along with a small smile before stepping aside, does Vi turn around. There’s also a tattoo on the side of their neck, the muscles between their neck and shoulders flexing to the point it is nearly obscene. Or perhaps that’s simply due to the fact Caitlyn suddenly feels very, very warm.

Once they’re in front of each other she becomes aware of the additional height difference due to her heeled ankle boots, and it takes a lot of determination to keep herself from staring down at their… everything, really.

“Hi,” Caitlyn says, sounding thoroughly pathetic. She lifts a hand in order to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, but remembers just in time that it’s supposed to frame her face for this outfit—leaving her hand awkwardly hovering halfway.

“Fuck me—I mean, uh… hey, yourself?” The snorting sound Caitlyn releases in response is wholly undignified, as is the giggle fit that follows, but she is incapable of holding it in. “Shit, sorry,” Vi says, a chuckle audible in their voice, “I just… you look great.”

Unable to stop herself, Caitlyn lifts her eyes up until they land on Vi’s face, genuinely unprepared for what she finds there; Vi’s cheeks have taken on a pink hue not too far off the color of their hair. They are… blushing…? “As do you,” she returns, her voice barely above a whisper.

The rude interruption of hands clapping together in order to get their attention startles Caitlyn to such a degree she stumbles into Vi, whose quick reflexes make them catch her steadily. “Sorry, folks, but if I don’t stick to the schedule I’ll get in trouble with my boss!” the photographer says. Caitlyn can’t see them due to the bright lights shining in her face, but she has no doubt they’re wearing a rather smug expression.

“That’d be you?” Vi grins when Caitlyn nods, then whispers: “Wonder what that’s like.”

Caitlyn doesn’t get the chance to ask what Vi means—what they’re referring to—although the implication has her cheeks flaming and her heart racing high in her chest.

While she is instructed to remain upright on her feet, Vi positions themself on the floor beside her as if they just fell, reaching up towards her with a hand. Next Caitlyn is told to look down at them and take their hand—which she does after a pregnant pause. There’s a small shock that courses up her arm, like an electrical current, but strangely not unpleasant. She wonders if they feel it too.

After several more poses they head back to get changed into the next outfit, and once more Vi’s ensemble affects Caitlyn more than she dares to admit. The button-up shirt has similar golden details on the shoulders to that of the blazer they wore earlier, partially tucked into their pants with several of the buttons undone. To make matters worse they are wearing a tie that is very tempting for Caitlyn to grab onto, however, she resists the urge. Though it seems like her outfit—an asymmetrical, low-cut blazer with nothing underneath, paired with glossy, black dress pants—has quite the effect on them, too.

“Mm, gotta love a woman in uniform,” Vi mutters after leaning in close, “damn, Cupcake.”

A shiver runs through her at the close proximity of their bodies, her breath wavering slightly. “Usually mine are not… this revealing,” she replies, her voice more steady than she feels right now. She doesn’t miss the way Vi’s eyes trail down, lingering on the exposed part of her chest. Despite her best attempts she can feel her skin flush at the attention—at being perceived by someone so attractive. She watches Vi’s lips form a grin, but a verbal reaction stays out as they’re told how to pose for the first few photos.

Caitlyn looks down at Vi’s mouth while taking a hold of the tie around their neck, pulling it taut.

“Yes, exactly like that! Vi, can you put your hands on her hips?”

When Vi quietly asks, “Can I?” Caitlyn nods once, doing her best not to react to the warmth of the touch even through the fabric. However, she cannot ignore the way her pulse quickens and her breath hitches when Vi’s fingertips press a little harder, or how she finds herself wishing there isn’t any fabric to prevent skin to skin contact.

Suddenly the warmth of Vi’s hands disappears from her waist, leaving her blinking with confusion. She lets go of the tie and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear her mind a bit.

“Here, allow me?” Vi murmurs, their hands hovering over Caitlyn’s—waiting for permission. When Caitlyn nods they turn around and gently guide her hands to drape over their shoulders, instructing her to make herself tall and face in the photographer’s direction with a commanding expression. “They want you to look like… well, like you’re in charge,” Vi explains as they glance back at her, wink, and turn to face the direction of the photo camera.

Caitlyn can do that, certainly; she’s in charge of this project after all. Posture. Shoulders back, head up. With another deep breath she secures the figurative mask, focusing on radiating determined confidence and control.

The moment the photographer claps and informs them it is time for their last outfit change, Caitlyn releases a heavy sigh of relief.

“You’ve been doing great,” Vi compliments her, their lips parting as they smile. “You sure this is your first time?”

It takes Caitlyn a moment to realize Vi is referring to modeling, rather than— “With thanks to you,” she replies, interrupting her own thoughts, “as you are rather skilled at guiding me,” she continues, not answering the question. “Usually I am behind the camera.”

“No shit?” Vi releases an airy chuckle that does strange things to Caitlyn’s stomach. “Hmm, well, Miss Kiramman,” Vi muses, “if you ever wanna do a more… intimate shoot, you’ve got my number.” They wink, then turn and head off to get changed into their final outfit for today’s photo shoot.

Well then…

There is a lone chair at the center of the backdrop, and for some reason the sight of it causes a shiver to travel up Caitlyn’s spine. Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s wearing a warm, hooded jumper bodysuit, though it leaves part of her hips exposed—the leggings hanging low on her hip bones. The strings are gold and long enough that the ends reach down to her midriff, matching the decorative embroidery on the ankle boots.

As it turns out, Vi is wearing an almost identical outfit, though whereas Caitlyn’s wearing skin-tight leggings, Vi is wearing dark, slim-fitting jeans—which hang equally low on their hips. Unlike Caitlyn’s hood, which is down, Vi’s is covering most of their hair; only the very ends peek out, draped over their shoulder, brushing against their collarbone.

Caitlyn swallows with effort before taking a seat on the wooden chair as instructed, doing her level best not to start stimming with everyone’s eyes focused on her. As Vi steps closer to her she bites down her lip, which does nothing to ease the whirlwind in her abdomen and chest. Especially when she looks up to find Vi’s cheeks free of the black, smeared make-up—reduced to an exaggerated smokey eye, leaving their freckles and tattoo unobscured. The overwhelming desire to reach out and let her fingertips caress the freckled skin is nearly impossible to resist, but Caitlyn reminds herself that this is work. Nothing more, nothing less.

It gets worse when the photographer tells her to spread her legs wide, then instructs Vi to straddle her lap, their back facing the camera and hands posted on the chair’s backrest. Next she is supposed to place her hands on Vi’s hips, only the tips of her pointer fingers touching the bare skin there.

Vi moves in close enough to where Caitlyn feels their warm breath brush against the side of her neck, her pulse quickening along with her breathing, making her start to feel a bit lightheaded. They are so close it is maddening.

“I need more,” the photographer calls out, “Vi, bare your teeth and get closer. Miss Kiramman, tug on their hoodie. Yes, excellent. Now, Vi, press your teeth to her neck.”

Vi’s mouth is practically against her neck and Caitlyn has to gather all of her willpower to hold back a pathetic whimpering sound as her mind screams for Vi to put their mouth to her neck as instructed.

“Are you okay?” Vi asks, their voice low, “I don’t have to, y’know? We can say ‘no’ and find a different way to do this.”

Caitlyn shakes her head so gently it barely moves, but Vi feels the motion. “I…” She takes a deep, steadying breath before adding: “don’t mind…”

A second passes before Vi responds. “You sure?” The tone in their voice is genuine, which makes the warmth in Caitlyn’s chest and stomach flourish even more.

“Certain,” she answers truthfully, not even a hint of doubt in all of her body. As Vi’s teeth graze against the sensitive skin of her neck—the touch light as a feather, really—Caitlyn’s fingertips press hard into their hips, all of her muscles tensing while her mind is left reeling. How she manages to keep her facial expression relatively neutral is beyond her, truly.

“Vi, turn your head a bit more. Miss Kiramman, tilt your head a bit back and to the side.”

Her breathing hitches as Vi’s teeth press into her neck a bit more, and her heart is beating fast enough that it’s practically buzzing. All she can think is that she wants them to lean into it more, to feel their mouth fully and find out how their tongue feels against her skin. The camera clicks and clicks while the warmth in her lower abdomen intensifies, and she becomes all too aware of the sensation between her thighs; her underwear is growing increasingly damp.

When Vi leans back and looks down at her, Caitlyn’s eyes flick up to meet theirs. Their pupils are dilated to where their irises are reduced to mere thin rings, and she fears she might drown in them. The prickling sensation builds and builds until it becomes too intense and she has to look away.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” Caitlyn interrupts them, shaking her head, “don’t you dare apologize.” Her voice is stern and thick with… well, there is no denying it now; arousal.

Once again the moment is rather rudely broken by the photographer telling them to shift into a different position. Whatever they say is utterly lost on Caitlyn, though thankfully Vi has been paying attention, it seems.

“Just stay like this,” they whisper as they get up from her lap, causing Caitlyn to shiver at the loss of their body heat. “Rest your elbows on the back of the chair.” She does as told, earning an approving nod from Vi. “Good, now I’m supposed to rest my head in your lap with my arms wrapped around your back and the outside of your thigh. That okay with you?”

Promptly Vi gets into position at her nod, sliding down to sit on the floor in between her parted legs. The side of their head rests on her upper thigh until their face is close to her crotch, which is just splendid, absolutely marvelous. Perfectly normal.

Everything turns into a hazy blur, sounds muffled like as if she is under water—perhaps she is legitimately drowning. The only thing that she remains acutely aware of is the warmth on her lower back and upper thighs from Vi’s face and hands along with the building heat in her abdomen. She is in trouble, deep trouble.

It is quite a miracle when her heart remains inside her chest as the tension is broken by the sudden, loud noise of clapping around them. The bright lights suddenly turn off without prior warning, leaving her blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to get her eyes to adjust, and Vi lifts their head to look up at her.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I just might have to steal this one,” they say while getting to their feet and wrapping their fingers around the edge of the hood. “It’s fucking comfy.” Their grin is full of mischief and Caitlyn fights the urge to get to her feet, cup their face into her hands and kiss them right then and there.

The sound of heels clicking on the concrete floor comes closer as someone approaches the two of them, causing Caitlyn to hastily press her legs together. “You could simply ask,” Mel says. Caitlyn whips her head around to find the designer looking at them from the edge of the set with a rather smug smile—directed at her. “No need to resort to criminality.” Caitlyn can feel her cheeks grow hotter under Mel’s gaze, somehow convinced Mel is able to see right through her. “How about we can discuss it after you both have changed back into your own clothes, does that sound alright?”

“Actually, Mel,” Caitlyn interjects, her voice far more steady than she feels, “I will take care of it. Just send me the invoice, there’s something I have to discuss with Vi regarding the contract.” She is well aware that Mel is far too intelligent to buy the excuse for even a second, yet the designer nods with a radiant smile.

With her hands on her hips she turns to regard Vi before turning back to face Caitlyn. “Well, in that case,” Mel says decisively, “I will ensure Jayce and I wrap up everything over here while you go and do that.”

Caitlyn quickly changes back into her own clothes, checks herself in the mirror—tying her hair back up into a ponytail—then steps outside; Vi is already waiting for her. They are holding a paper bag in one hand, their helmet in the other, watching the people in the studio as they go about packing up for the day. Once they take notice of her, they turn to face her fully. Their grin makes her stomach feel like it is doing flips and sets her cheeks ablaze, among other things.

“Alright, lead the way, Miss Kiramman,” they say, making a sweeping gesture with their hand holding the paper bag.

Right. Caitlyn clears her throat, tucks a few strands of loosened hair behind her ear and nods. “I just need to gather a few things at my office,” she says, “follow me.” She nearly stumbles when she hears Vi mutter: “Don’t mind if I do.”

They both make it to her office without incident and in very little time, and once the door closes behind them Caitlyn can feel the tension building. Her bag is sitting atop her desk, along with a folder of important paperwork she had asked Jayce to get ready for her to take home.

While she makes her way over to her desk, Vi looks around with their helmet tucked underneath an arm, whistling as they take in her office. “Nice place.”

Caitlyn blinks as she reaches for the folder, about to put it into her bag. “Thank you?” She looks up in time to find Vi wearing an amused expression. “Vi, I—” Goodness, she is nervous. “I wasn’t truthful earlier, about having to discuss things regarding the contract with you,” she confesses, unable to so much as look at them.

“I kinda figured.”

Oh. “You did?” Vi shrugs before nodding. “I don’t…” Caitlyn sighs, closes her eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. “If I somehow misunderstood the signs, please tell me, but—” The sound of footsteps coming closer causes her to stop talking, her heart beating a little faster now. Vi’s boots enter her vision, followed by their legs until her eyes land directly onto the belt around their lower waist—or so she tells herself.

“You’re nervous,” they say. A statement, not a question. Caitlyn swallows thickly. “But you don’t have to be, Cupcake. I promise that you didn’t misunderstand,” they continue, “I’m down for whatever you wanna do.”

A beat passes, then another. Caitlyn’s eyes flick up to their freckled cheekbones, utterly mesmerized. “Alright,” she breathes, nodding slowly. As Vi takes another step, neatly closing the distance between the two of them, she sucks in a breath, feeling the warmth in her abdomen flare. Their body heat radiates against her, their scent making her heady. They are close enough now that all she has to do in order to let her lips meet theirs is to lean in a little, tempted to do precisely that as their warm breath caresses her skin.

There’s an insistent gnawing in the depths of her mind, however, demanding her full attention. That is when she becomes aware of where she is. “Just not here,” she says, doing her level best to ignore how strange her voice sounds to her right now. “This project is really important to me, I cannot mess this up.” She stares as Vi’s lips part, the corners curving upward before the tip of their tongue darts out to wet them.

“No need to explain,” Vi assures, “my intention isn’t to ruin you. Not that way, at least.”

Her mind is reeling as she tries to process everything; the implication of Vi’s words, where to go, how to get there.

“I’m good with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

It’s a very impulsive decision, and perhaps not a wise one, but Caitlyn can’t bring herself to care enough not to give in right now. “Follow me,” she says, grabs her bag and heads for the door, hearing Vi follow close behind her.

The drive home has never before seemed so long, nor challenging. Every few seconds she glances in her rearview mirror, finding Vi right behind her on their motorcycle every time. Thankfully she has the route home memorized to the point she’d likely be able to get there even in her sleep. There is a brief moment of worry when Vi is no longer behind her, only to watch them catch up with her in the mirror. She can even hear the engine of their motorcycle as they take the turn to the right and pass two cars in order to get behind hers once more. Perhaps it’s silly, but it puts a smile on her face she simply cannot suppress.

Upon arrival she parks her car underneath the carport, leaving plenty of space for Vi to park their motorcycle, turns off the engine and exits the car with her bag and keys in hand. She watches them as they dismount and remove their helmet, working a hand through their hair before regarding her.

“Nice place,” Vi says while taking in the exterior of Caitlyn’s home. “Would love to see what the inside looks like.”

The comment catches Caitlyn so off guard she nearly drops her keys, the warm sensation in her lower abdomen from earlier making a reappearance. “Oh, do you now?”

Vi nods, grinning as they approach her with the paper bag containing the hoodie bodysuit in one hand and their helmet in the other. “Yeah, if that’s alright with you, of course.” Their voice has dropped an octave, and Caitlyn can feel her mouth go a bit dry while the dampness between her thighs increases. “I’m not one to go anywhere uninvited.”

Finally Caitlyn manages to insert the key into the front door’s lock, twisting it until she hears the familiar click of it unlocking. She pushes the door open, hangs her keys on the hook of the key rack, takes off her boots, and sets her bag down before turning around to face Vi. She pushes the door closed behind them and asks: “Would you like anything to drink?” Even before they answer she grabs her bag and walks down the hallway, into the open living space of the single floor home where she places her bag on the end of the dinner table.

“Water’s fine,” Vi answers shortly before they follow Caitlyn into the kitchen on socked feet. They accept the glass Caitlyn hands them, downing its contents in one go before handing it back to her. “Thanks.”

With Vi’s eyes on her, Caitlyn takes the empty glass and blindly sets it on the counter while emptying her own and blurting out: “I really want to kiss you.” Her eyes widen at the realization, but before she can even consider apologizing or backtracking, Vi steps closer, setting their hands on the edge of the kitchen counter; boxing her in.

“Well, Cupcake,” Vi murmurs as they lean in closer, staring at Caitlyn’s mouth, “I won’t stop you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

3. Captured by your touch

Although logically Caitlyn knows that her heart is still in the same spot in her chest, it feels like it has climbed up to take residence in her throat. Her skin tingles in anticipation of touch, cheeks so warm it is nearly unbearable.

“Just so you know,” Vi whispers close to her ear now, “you can touch me pretty much wherever you please. But I’ll only touch you where you tell me to, does that sound okay?”

“Quite,” Caitlyn answers as she rests her hands on Vi’s sides beneath the unzipped leather jacket, watching them lean back until their faces—and their mouths—are close enough that she can feel their warm breath brush against her skin. Her eyes flutter shut while her stomach is doing flips again, heart thundering as her lips brush against theirs. She can feel the little dip in their upper lip and releases a breath that sounds awfully similar to a whimper.

The entire time Vi doesn’t move, genuinely letting her take the lead, waiting patiently. The anticipatory tension between them is palpable and steals the breath from Caitlyn’s lungs, her entire body screaming for her to close the last bit of distance between them. That alone—Vi waiting for her patiently—is enough to take away the remainder of her nerves; she kisses them. Her hands wrap around their waist; pulling them closer until their body is flush against her own, and Caitlyn swears she’s soaring. It is overwhelming how good their lips feel against her own, paired with the warmth of their body.

Without interrupting the kiss, Caitlyn retracts her hands from their waist in order to guide their hands; placing them on her hips. “Too many clothes,” she sighs as their lips follow the curve of her jaw, swallowing hard when she can feel them nod. Their hands travel up until their fingers brush against the sides of her breasts beneath her cardigan, then she feels the silk scarf around her neck come undone before soundlessly fluttering to the tiled kitchen floor.

“Is here okay?” they ask, their voice low and somewhat husky; sending shivers up Caitlyn’s spine. “Or d’you wanna move this somewhere more… comfortable?”

Granted, it is quite the challenge to make out her thoughts with Vi’s mouth to the side of her neck and hands cupping her breasts over her shirt, but the kitchen counter is indeed not exactly the epitome of comfort. “Yes,” she answers, her voice no more than an extremely breathy whisper. It takes her a little by surprise when Vi chuckles, though the sound releases a flurry of flutters in her chest. “What?”

They lower their hands again until they find purchase on her hips. “‘Yes’ to which one?”

“Oh,” Caitlyn mutters, feeling her cheeks burn even hotter. “I suppose the sofa might be more suitable.” She takes a step forward as Vi backs away, their hands not leaving her hips. “Perhaps we should have some water on hand,” she mumbles, brows pinching as she tries to think. “Actually,” she says, biting her lip as she stares down at Vi’s hands, “would you mind doing that? I…” She swallows, nervously tucking a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear before tapping her fingertips together. “I just need to gather a few things, if that is alright?” It feels unbearably hot in here, even though the heat isn’t on right now.

“Of course, but first,” Vi answers, their voice calm and even—steady, “just take a few breaths for me? We’ll do this at your pace, yeah?”

Caitlyn’s fingertips stop moving, and her eyes flick up to meet theirs. Their brows are relaxed, the corners of their lips curved up the slightest bit. She does as asked; breathing in deeply before exhaling through her mouth slowly a few times. Her mind feels less chaotic and she is able to return the subtle smile at them. “Thank you,” she whispers, “I will be right back.”

With her bladder emptied, special earplugs in place and her hair tied back more properly, Caitlyn heads back into the living space. They
a
re looking at the large framed art—
an art nouveau painting of two women in a field of flowers, embracing each other intimately—
on the wall opposite the sofa.
They must hear her, as they t
urn around to smile at her so casually it brings back the heat in Caitlyn’s cheeks near instantaneously.

“There you are,” they say before approaching her, reaching out a hand towards her invitingly, “you feeling okay?”

“Vi,” Caitlyn says, taking Vi’s hand and pulling them close, “please just kiss me?” And not even a second later they do exactly that, following suit as Caitlyn guides the two of them to the L-shaped sofa. Hesitant to break the kiss, Caitlyn shrugs off her cardigan, tossing it onto the other end of the sectional unceremoniously, ready to let her lips meet Vi’s again when they take half a step back. She openly stares as they do the same; shrugging off their leather jacket and tossing it to the side, causing the muscles in their biceps and shoulders to flex with it. Swallowing with a little bit of effort Caitlyn lets her fingers land on Vi’s arms, the pads of her fingertips caressing their warm, muscular skin. Goosebumps erupt beneath her fingers, and Caitlyn can’t hold back a soft giggle, delighted by the undeniable effect her touch has on them. “You can touch me,” she breathes, her eyes still on Vi’s arms as her fingers continue their ascent, “if you would like to, I mean.”

Vi’s hands return to their earlier spot on her hips, fingers curling around the hem of her shirt tentatively. “Yeah?” they ask, and Caitlyn nods. “Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, Caitlyn.”

The way her name sounds, and rolls off their tongue sends an anticipatory spark rushing beneath her skin while her shirt is being lifted along with their hands, revealing more of her skin little by little. She inhales sharply when Vi’s slightly calloused fingertips brush against the voluptuous skin of her belly, shivering at the feather light sensation. It still amazes her that she isn’t getting overstimulated or overwhelmed, but is not about to question it when their hands feel so pleasant on her skin. Her breath hitches when the very tips of their fingers brush along the underside of her breasts, the warm tension in her abdomen growing stronger.

“Damn,” Vi gasps, “no bra?” Their eyes briefly flick up to Caitlyn’s face, the corner of their bottom lip sucked inside only to be released ever so slowly.

“Figured it would make things a bit… easier,” Caitlyn answers, biting down the corner of her lower lip. Vi’s eyes meet her own and she takes note of how large their pupils are, reducing their irises to mere slivers. Their fingers continue to tug at the hem of her shirt, then carefully remove it entirely; leaving her naked from the waist up. As they take her in she blows a strand of hair out of her face, delighted by how their jaw slackens while admiring her torso; especially her chest.

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful…” they murmur, letting their fingertips follow down the edge of her collarbones. “Not just saying that ‘cause I get to see your tits, by the way.”

She is wholly unprepared for the comment and snorts so hard it nearly hurts, that’s definitely one way to break the tension. “Well, suppose I am glad they have your approval,” she says with a chuckle, only to release a soft moan as their fingertips feather along the edge of her pebbled areolas. Her nipples continue to stiffen, goosebumps spreading all over her chest until she is unable to suppress a shiver.

While Vi’s fingers brush against hard nipples, they mutter: “Oh, absolutely.” Taking both of them between thumbs and forefingers, they quickly glance up to look at Caitlyn and earn an encouraging nod. They apply the slightest bit of pressure, squeezing lightly, coaxing a sound out of Caitlyn that is not quite a gasp, but not exactly a whine either. They take their time playing with them, rolling the hardened nipples between their fingertips, squeezing, even giving them a gentle tug. “This okay?” they ask, their voice a bit husky.

“More than okay,” Caitlyn sighs, unable to keep her eyes from closing any longer. Her hands cling to their hips for balance, as her entire body feels light and somewhat unsteady. It becomes even worse when she feels Vi’s lips find purchase to the side of her neck, though the kiss is gentle—tentative. Squeezing Vi’s hips she spurs them on, tilting her head to the side a little in order to offer them better access to her neck. When their teeth graze across her skin Caitlyn’s breath hitches, her fingers grasping at the fabric of their tank top while a shiver shoots through her just below her skin. It feels even better than it did earlier during the photoshoot, perhaps because this time there is no need to keep her expression in check. Her knees start to wobble when Vi’s teeth press down, albeit not hard, nearly causing her to lose her balance. Thankfully their grip on her prevents her from truly collapsing, and when their mouth disappears from her neck Caitlyn is unable to swallow the pathetic whimper that climbs up her throat.

A chuckle erupts from Vi’s mouth before they whisper, “Let’s get you settled down, hmm?” Caitlyn can only nod and comply as they guide her down onto the sofa behind her. “Comfortable?” Vi asks, and once again Caitlyn can only nod, words eluding her. “So, where were we?” Their voice is low and husky, their breath hot as they straddle Caitlyn’s lap and once more bring their mouth to the side of her neck.

The moment their lips brush against the sensitive skin, Caitlyn’s eyelids flutter, then squeeze shut altogether as she feels Vi’s teeth bite down. It’s a pleasant sort of pain she struggles to describe, her mind blanketed by a hazy sort of fog that makes it rather difficult to produce any coherent thoughts. One thing is clear, however: she doesn’t want Vi to stop doing it. The fabric of their top suddenly feels too rough and scratchy against her fingertips, causing her to pull them back as if burned.

Their teeth and lips disappear from her neck in an instant. “Shit, did I—?” Vi looks down to where Caitlyn’s hands were just a moment ago, then silvery gray irises flick back to her face. “What is it?” Their voice is calmer now, almost soothing.

Caitlyn swallows, rubbing the inside of her hands against the soft and smooth fabric of the sofa. “Texture,” she manages to answer, “bad texture.” Barely three seconds later Vi’s abdomen are exposed as they discard the garment in one swift motion.
Oh.

Although Vi sports a grin, it doesn’t radiate confidence like it had done previously.
“
Does that solve it?” Their cheeks are flushed, the freckles scattered along the bridge of their nose and cheekbones nearly indistinguishable beneath the rosy hue.

Her movements are slow when Caitlyn raises her arms, her breath slightly uneven as she brings her fingertips closer to Vi’s now exposed skin. Even before she touches them she can feel the warmth radiate off of them, a little static shock startling her when the pads of her fingers finally brush the defined muscles of Vi’s abdomen. Their skin is incredibly soft, especially when her fingertips trace a
n old,
healed scar, slightly paler than the rest of their skin. “So soft…” she mutters, her lips stretching into a smile. She barely registers it when she leans in closer, though she doesn’t miss the way Vi sucks in a breath as her lips find purchase above their navel. “Soft and warm…” Planting one after the other kiss to their stomach, Caitlyn’s hands travel sideways, her fingers resting on their lower back, her thumbs resting against their hipbones.

“Yeah?”

Caitlyn answers with an insistent nod, reveling in the sensation of Vi’s large hands resting atop her shoulders, holding her close. Caitlyn’s lips ascend until they are nestled on Vi’s chest, which is where she falters, not entirely certain whether she should avoid touch there or not. The chest binder’s texture is similarly soft, smooth enough that she barely took notice of it, despite it being black. She looks up when Vi’s fingers gently take hold of her chin, the touch almost tender.

“Like I said earlier, Caitlyn,” they say with a smile that makes Caitlyn’s chest feel warm and fuzzy, “you can touch me anywhere you please. I mean it.” Then they lean back a little bit and proceed to remove the chest binder, tossing it to join the rest of their discarded clothes.

A pleasant shiver shoots through Caitlyn upon discovering that both of Vi’s nipples are pierced, each sporting a jet black circular barbell with spikes at the ends. Even before she can worry any further whether or not it is alright for her to touch them, Vi leans in again, bringing their chest close to her face once more. Releasing a soft sigh, Caitlyn lets her lips skim the skin of their small breasts, delighting in the way goosebumps erupt in response to the contact. Likewise she takes immense pleasure in the sounds that come from Vi as the tip of her tongue meets one of their pierced nipples, experimentally and curious. The moan she earns upon closing her lips around the pebbled peak sends a thrill through her, encouraging her to proceed without further hesitation. She earns another when she lets her teeth gently press down and gives it the lightest of tugs.

“Fuck, Cait…” Vi’s voice is several octaves lower, the grip on her shoulders tightening, nails pressing into her skin. Caitlyn doesn’t mind; it is a pleasant kind of pain. She lets her tongue play with the open metal ring, coaxing one after the other moan from their throat, though she can feel it in their chest. Meanwhile, her hands follow the waistband of their pants until her fingers find the belt buckle at the front. Only after Vi’s hands squeeze her shoulder encouragingly does Caitlyn let her fingers unfasten the belt and the buttons come undone, simultaneously sucking at their nipple before releasing it with a soft, wet pop.

Caitlyn looks up, meeting their eyes for a brief moment, her heart stuttering slightly upon noticing the way their pupils are dilated to such a degree there’s only a thin ring of blue-gray visible around it. Vi’s hands let go of her shoulders before getting off the sofa and onto their feet with a grin that steals the breath from her lungs. She is unable to do anything but stare as their thumbs hook behind the fabric of their pants’ waistband, pushing it down to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs and well-defined, muscular thighs. Caitlyn is practically salivating at the sight of a happy trail
de
scending from their navel into their underwear, sparking the ember that is lodged in her lower abdomen. She barely registers that Vi is speaking to her, too lost in the incredible view before her.

“What?”

Their laugh is light and full of mirth, then a hand cups her chin, a thumb gently stroking her jaw. “Allow me to help you out of yours?” they ask, and even before they finish speaking, Caitlyn nods.

It’s a bit of a clumsy affair, as they struggle a bit with the belt, but it does nothing to tarnish the mood. Caitlyn’s arms wrap around their neck as she lifts her hips to allow them to pull down her pants. Her breath wavers as her buttocks meet the sofa once more and Vi crouches down in front of it, kissing her thighs—paying special attention to the numerous stretch marks there—
her
knees and shins as they pull down the fabric until it finally comes off entirely; instantly discarded and forgotten. But instead of getting back up to straddle Caitlyn’s lap once more, Vi remains where they are, looking up at her with an expression that causes her entire body to grow hotter. Even as their lips leave behind kiss after kiss, starting at her ankles, their eyes never seem to leave her face. Although it makes her skin prickle, it’s different from how it usually does; not the unpleasant kind that leads her to feel overwhelmed and overstimulated. Her fingernails dig into the sofa’s fabric while attempting to keep her legs from trembling, but once Vi’s mouth reaches her inner thighs she is unable to keep her hips from twitching with anticipation.

“Fuck me, Cupcake,” Vi murmurs, “you’re so fucking stunning…”

It takes all of Caitlyn’s willpower to keep her eyes from closing as Vi’s mouth continues to ascend, peppering kisses along her hips. She bites down her bottom lip when she feels Vi’s own planting kisses all over her belly, which is not anywhere near as toned as theirs. Yet they seem to not mind in the slightest, as they ensure to not leave a single spot left unkissed. A shiver runs up her spine when one of their hands finds purchase on her hip, the other reaching up to her chest. Before they can ask her, Caitlyn says, somewhat hoarsely: “Please, Vi.”

Only pausing briefly to flash her a grateful, excited smile, Vi closes their lips around Caitlyn’s left nipple, their hand cupping her right breast. Despite Vi’s hands being anything but small, her breasts still nearly spill over between their fingers.

Caitlyn throws her head back, letting it lean atop the backrest of her sofa as Vi’s warm mouth envelops her tan nipple, their tongue swirling around the stiffened peak as their forefinger and thumb take hold of the other. Despite the fact she usually doesn’t tend to be quite as vocal, she is unable to keep herself from moaning at their ministrations, her nails scratching at the fabric underneath. Feeling the warmth of Vi’s abdomen pressing against her between her thighs does nothing but make it even harder for her to suppress the sounds that climb out of her. She probably sounds utterly pathetic, releasing nothing but
‘ahh’,
gasps and moans, though her mind is
far
too hazy to pay it any mind.

When Vi’s teeth and fingers tug at Caitlyn’s nipples simultaneously, she is practically keening, her back arching and pressing her chest closer to them. Every muscle in her upper body seems to be alight, and all she can think is:
more, more, more…

Just then Vi eases the tension, causing Caitlyn’s back to slump. “Please, Vi,” she breathes, clearing her throat before repeating herself. “Kiss me?”

Vi does so without hesitation, despite the slightly awkward angle that cannot be very kind on their knees and back. However, if they mind, they don’t show it. They kiss her with fervor, tongue parting her lips before moving against her tongue at an almost feverish pace that Caitlyn matches seamlessly.

Without breaking the contact between their mouths, Caitlyn wraps her arms around Vi’s back and nudges them closer, desperate to feel their body pressed against her own. They comply and climb onto her lap much like before, cupping the side of her face with one hand while the other massages her breast with such reverence it nearly leaves her breathless.

When their mouths do part, both of them are practically gasping for air, chests heaving and faces flushed. Vi looks down at Caitlyn’s chest, their hands now cupping a breast each. “Pardon my language,” they say, not sounding remotely apologetic, “but you have a fantastic pair of tits.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Caitlyn blushes while a giggle escapes her, which earns her a delighted grin from Vi in return.

“To be clear, I’m completely serious. I kinda just… wanna put my face between them—”

“What is stopping you?” Caitlyn interrupts with a playful smirk, taking pleasure in the way Vi’s eyes widen a fraction. “I certainly will not keep you from doing it, just ‘to be clear’,” she continues, parroting part of their earlier words.

Even before Caitlyn can consider saying anything else, Vi indulges and presses their face against her sternum, squeezing her breasts to squish against their cheeks. An airy, delighted giggle bubbles up in Caitlyn’s throat, and she does nothing to prevent it from escaping. One of her hands goes to rest against Vi’s muscular, tattooed back, while the other makes its way into their hair. Judging by the way they hum into her chest they approve of this, encouraging her to proceed and take hold of their hair at the crown of their head. She doesn’t quite dare tugging, so instead she cradles their head, keeping their face pressed between her breasts. Through half-lidded eyes she looks down, admiring the dark ink sprawling over their back in a very intriguing and intricate design of cogs, smoke and other things she can’t quite figure out with her mind in its haze-filled state. She is utterly captivated by the muscles rippling beneath the inked skin as Vi’s hands knead her breasts.

Regardless of how much she’d like to continue admiring their back, she is incapable of keeping her eyes from closing as their tongue presses against her sternum. Nor is she able to suppress a whine in response to their teeth gently scraping across her skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. The dampness between her thighs is rapidly increasing, as is the warm tension in her lower abdomen, begging for attention.

“Vi…” she mutters, the name barely audible due to the sound of their combined semi-labored breathing.

“Hmm?” Vi hums in response, not moving from where their face is nestled between her breasts, obviously rather content to stay there. However, when Caitlyn softly clears her throat they reluctantly lean back to look at her. “What’s up, Cupcake?”

As words get jumbled in her mind, impossible to be put into a coherent sentence, Caitlyn instead gently takes their hands and guides them both down until they rest at the junction where her hips meet her upper thighs. She swallows, then bites down her lip as Vi nods and scoots back a little, placing one knee in the space between her parted legs.

“Gladly,” Vi whispers after leaning closer until their lips are by her ear, “I’ll start off with just fingers and take it from there, yeah?” Caitlyn nods. “Guide me if you need me to slow down or move?” Once more Caitlyn nods, grateful they make it possible for her to answer without words. “Again, I’ll follow your lead. You decide. Just tap me three times, anywhere, and I’ll stop to check in. Sound good?” When Caitlyn hums, Vi presses a kiss below her ear while sliding one hand down to caress the damp fabric of her underwear.

Her breath falters when their fingers apply the slightest bit of pressure near where her clit is, the indirect contact enough to coax a needy whine out of her. Despite her hazy mind, Caitlyn manages to let her hands find purchase atop Vi’s muscular thighs, ensuring they won’t be interrupting the movement of their hands between her legs. She doesn’t mean to press her nails down quite so hard when their fingers rub against her, but she is unable to hold back.

“I don’t mind,” Vi assures, their voice low and husky, warm breath tickling the little hairs around Caitlyn’s ear. “You can scratch too, if that’ll help.” Meanwhile their fingers start moving in slow circles, stimulating her clit through the damp cotton. “Shit, you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

All she can do is nod fervently, because she
is
incredibly wet. There is no doubt that her sofa will require a deep-cleaning afterwards with just how soaked she is. Especially with how Vi continues to whisper into her ear, intensifying her arousal with every word they utter.

“You okay with me getting rid of these undies?” Before Caitlyn can nod in response, they continue: “Hope you’re not too attached to them.”

The sound of seams popping followed by that of ripping fabric should not turn Caitlyn on as much as it does. It causes her grip on their thighs to tighten while a low and drawn out moan floats into the room over Vi’s shoulder.

It’s as if lightning strikes her when Vi’s fingertips feather along the very edges of her labia, without soggy fabric in between to prevent direct contact. Her back hollows and her mouth meets Vi’s shoulder, sucking down hard on the slope between their neck and shoulder in response to the barely-there touch between her legs. Sparks rush through her as Vi’s fingertips ghost over the hood of her already quite swollen clit, aching to be touched, begging for stimulation.

“You sound amazing, y’know that?”

Whether or not it is a rhetorical question Caitlyn isn’t quite certain, but she is unable to offer a proper answer either way, as Vi’s fingers start to slide up and down with increasing pressure. Her breath chokes out of her as the pads of Vi’s fingertips rest against her clitoral hood and begin to move in small, slow circles. Her sightless vision is riddled with flashes of various colors she can
taste,
one moan after another muffled by Vi’s hot skin beneath her mouth.

“Feel amazing, too,” they murmur, pressing a hot, wet kiss against the side of her neck. “I really want to fuck you, if that’s okay?”

Caitlyn hums approvingly, fingertips squeezing hard into their thighs while she nods ever so slightly, not wanting to chase off their lips from her neck. It isn’t her intention to bite them, yet when two of their fingers enter her, Caitlyn’s teeth sink into their shoulder, a muffled moan vibrating against their skin. A series of pleasant shivers reverberate through her body as Vi’s fingers fill her so wonderfully, sending a flash of white-hot heat up her spine as their fingertips curl and hit a certain spot she often struggles to reach by herself. That is when she knows she is in danger, or more accurately; her sofa is in serious danger. However, she fails to bring herself to care. All she cares about is for Vi to repeat it, over and over again. Her hips jerk, thrusting up to meet the movement of Vi’s fingers.

“Janna, you feel good, Caitlyn…” Vi whispers close to her ear, sending even more shivers through her body. “So beautiful, too…” Their fingers uncurl, retract, until just the very tips of their fingers are still inside, then they push them back in before curling them once more. They get into a relatively steady rhythm that elicits one after the other moan, whine, sigh and whimper from her. “Don’t hold back, ‘kay? I want you to let go, let me take care of you.”

Something about those words sparks a warmth in Caitlyn’s chest that goes beyond Vi fingering her, but even if Caitlyn wants to, she is unable to solve the puzzle in her head. Instead her mind is wholly consumed with Vi; their fingers inside her, their mouth against the side of her neck, not to mention the sound of their voice and their scent. They are rather intoxicating to say the least in the best way possible.

It doesn’t take very long before Caitlyn can feel her muscles tense, the coil in the very core of her lower abdomen getting ready to spring and send a wave of tingling heat throughout her body. Her breathing is ragged, skin sweaty and hot while her mind attempts to warn her to hold back.

After planting a soft kiss on the edge of her jaw, Vi murmurs, “Come for me?” It is a request rather than a demand, yet somehow it feels like she can’t deny them regardless of how loud her mind tells them not to let go. “I can tell you’re getting close,” they continue, “fuck, Cait… I want to feel you come for me.”

As their fingers curl, brushing against her g-spot repeatedly, Caitlyn can feel herself slipping, unable to control the oncoming wave even if she’d try. With her nails digging into their thighs and her teeth biting down on their shoulder, muffling a litany of
expletives and
moans, the coil springs and floods her with a strong wave of warmth. White spots dance in her sightless vision as her entire body tenses, muscles beginning to tremble and spasm moments later, a whimpering cry vibrating against Vi’s shoulder as she tips over the edge, coming undone around their fingers. She vaguely registers the movement of their fingers slowing down, helping her ride out the orgasm while warm liquid trickles down their wrist and arm.

“Fuck me…” they breathe, “fuck, Cait, that’s so hot… There ya go, that’s it.” Their voice sounds muffled, like Caitlyn’s underwater, barely able to make out the words while clinging onto them like a lifeline. When Vi’s fingers slip out of her, she isn’t entirely sure, but she vaguely registers them bringing their fingers to their mouth and enveloping them with their lips and tongue. Something about that coaxes another low moan from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as her legs shake with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Once Caitlyn resurfaces she is slightly disoriented for a moment, though the warmth and weight of Vi on her lap grounds her. They grin before lifting a glass of water to show her. “Open up,” they say, their tone light and comforting. Caitlyn’s brain hasn’t regained the capacity to think clearly yet and thus complies. Blessedly cold water trickles into
her
parched mouth, soothing the dry feeling in
her
throat as she swallows several mouthfuls of the liquid.

When Vi removes the rim of the glass from her lips it is about half full, quickly drained in full as they down the remaining water in a few thirsty gulps.
The glass is set down somewhere she can’t see, glass clinking against glass.

“Welcome back,” they say with a lighthearted chuckle, resting their head on their hand, elbow pressed into the backrest of the sofa. Caitlyn hums, not quite able to form words just yet. “You doin’ okay?” Vi asks, to which she smiles and nods, the movement slow but insistent.

When Caitlyn starts to shiver Vi pushes themself off the backrest to instead press their upper body against hers, offering their warmth to her. It doesn’t take very long for the shivers to lessen, but even then Vi’s torso remains in place. They sit there like that for a little while, neither of them bothered by the quiet that settles over them.

Before speaking, Caitlyn swallows and takes a deep breath. “That was… really wonderful,” she mutters, her voice a little gravely still. Vi sits up a little, putting some distance between their upper bodies as they look at her with a grin.

“Yeah?” they ask, to which she nods. “I gotta say I agree.”

“Now would you allow me to return the favor?” Caitlyn asks, feeling a little silly as her cheeks grow hot, undoubtedly taking on a hue closely resembling their hair. Her fingers roam absentmindedly along their biceps, tracing the lines there, humming appreciatively when they flex and make the lines become even more defined beneath her fingertips. Only when she looks up at their face does she take notice of the blush settled on their cheeks, and all she can think is that it looks both utterly adorable and sexy on them.

Tucking a few loose strands of Caitlyn’s hair behind her ear, Vi nods, then answers: “Yeah, if you’d like. But no pressure.”

“I do,” Caitlyn insists, “very much so.” Their lips meet again in a searing kiss that leaves her breathless, but doesn’t prevent her hands from following down the muscles in their arms and onto their sides. She smiles into the kiss upon feeling goosebumps form beneath her fingertips, proceeding their descend until they reach the waistband of their boxer briefs, hooking underneath before tugging at it playfully. Letting go of it causes the elastic band to snap back into place, eliciting a soft moan from Vi’s mouth into her own.

“Teasing much?”

“Is that alright?” she asks.

Vi sucks in the corner of their bottom lip while nodding, their hands cupping either side of her face gently, as if they’re afraid she might break. “More than alright,” they answer, “I don’t mind taking our time.” Their eyes flick down to her mouth, which is when they slowly release their lower lip. “Just lemme know when you want me to take these off,” they whisper before leaning back in to reunite their lips in another deep kiss.

With Vi’s reassurance, Caitlyn lets one hand find its way down to between their thighs, the other meanwhile caressing the coarse hairs of their happy trail, the edges of her nails lightly dragging across the skin underneath. She is unable to suppress a delighted grin as she can feel them shiver beneath her touch, a sense of accomplishment settling in her chest. Even more so when she coaxes a low moan from them as her thumb rubs against the wet spot of their underwear with the barest bit of pressure. She sucks in a breath when Vi’s hips jerk forward, pressing themself into her touch, chasing her fingers. Caitlyn answers by moving her hand onto their thigh, earning a groan that sends a spark up her spine.

“Shit, you’re a mean one,” they growl, though the words are followed by a chuckle. “Can’t say I hate it.” Their hands leave Caitlyn’s face to settle atop the sofa’s backrest, audibly gripping at the fabric.

Both amused and intrigued, Caitlyn glances up at their eyes only to find them closed, their brows furrowed and lip once more trapped under their teeth. “You are so very handsome,” she murmurs truthfully, mesmerized by the microscopic changes in their facial expression as her fingers return to the position at the center of their crotch. She finds herself captivated by Vi’s body and the way it responds to her; their hips chasing her fingers’ touch with a sense of desperation. Several times Caitlyn moves her fingers, leaving them to whine softly with disappointment, only to earn a very excited moan as she continues to brush her fingers against them.

Once she is confident she has a relatively decent sense of what works and doesn’t work for them, she moves both her hands to take hold of their underwear’s waistband and tug at it. “Off,” she whispers, not quite demanding. Yet, Vi rushes to climb off her lap and is all but ready to shove down the offending garment until Caitlyn shakes her head. “Slowly?”

“Fuck, right. Yeah, sure,” they rasp, taking a deep breath before complying. Their thumbs hook behind the elastic around their hips, tugging at it until it slowly lowers, revealing more of their happy trail little by little.

Caitlyn’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention, biting down her lip with flushed cheeks. However, as the underwear is only halfway down their thighs she shakes her head with a sigh. “Forget it,” she says, letting out a soft laugh before adding: “off, now.” Barely two seconds later the black fabric hits the floor with a dull
plop
and is kicked aside carelessly,
after getting stuck around one of their ankles which leads both of them to giggle amusedly.

“Thank fuck,” they sigh with a relieved chuckle, “I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep doing that.” Setting a hand beside Caitlyn’s shoulder against the backrest, Vi leans down to capture her lips in another kiss, not yet getting back onto the couch. “Where d’you want me?” they ask after breaking the contact between their mouths, patiently waiting for Caitlyn’s verdict before moving.

Instead of answering verbally, however, Caitlyn reaches over and rests her hands against the backs of their knees, giving a gentle nudge as to not tickle them. Vi follows her wordless instruction and lifts one foot off the floor, letting her hand guide them until their knee is situated beside her mid-thigh. When Vi is about to lower themself onto her lap, Caitlyn shakes her head with a little smile, instantly causing them to pause. “Stay like that,” she tells them before taking each of their wrists and placing their large hands onto her shoulders for balance. Ignoring the curious look they give her, Caitlyn places her hands on their sides and leans in until her lips find purchase against their sternum. While she lets her mouth find its way to one of their pierced nipples, her right hand lowers until it settles between their parted thighs, her fingers quickly coated by their slick. She may have been wet, but Vi is practically
dripping;
Caitlyn breathes them in, exhaling an appreciative hum against their hard nipple inside her mouth. It barely takes her any time to find their
protruding,
large, swollen clit.

“Shit,” she gasps, unable to stop herself from biting down into the skin around their nipple in response to the discovery. “So glad to finally get my hands on you,” she murmurs after letting go of the skin surrounding their nipple.

The sound Vi releases is a mix between a sharp gasp and moan, their fingers pressing into Caitlyn’s shoulders hard enough to potentially leave bruises behind. “Glad to hear the f—feeling’s mutual,” they reply, their voice husky and low.

Not wasting another moment on words, Caitlyn wraps her lips around their other nipple—as she is rather fond of symmetry—and starts stroking the long clit with her thumb and forefinger, earning one after the other delicious moan from Vi’s throat. She basks in their scent, tasting the colors they radiate, feeling herself grow rather wet all over again as her fingers and mouth pleasure them. She cannot bring herself to care that she might wake up with bruises and marks in the morning, savoring every second of Vi and their body pressed against hers. The fingers of her free hand reposition onto one of their buttocks and give it a firm squeeze, earning a sound that she cannot describe as anything other than a growl. A shiver runs up and down her spine, sparks buzzing beneath her skin until she tingles all over.

“Cait…” Their voice spears through her reverie, causing her movements to stop instantly. “Please fuck me…” they say—no, beg.

For a brief moment their eyes meet, and Caitlyn finds herself utterly mesmerized by the sight. Their brows are lifted in a subtle furrow, bottom lip bite-swollen and cheeks tinted such a dark hue it
practically
matches the color of their hair. This time it takes longer before her skin starts to prickle and she is required to look away in order to break the direct eye contact. To compensate, she studies their freckles, the gentle slope of their nose and the ring in one nostril, down to the small notch in their upper lip. The photographer in her is desperate to capture each and every gorgeous detail, and show them how she sees them. Handsome, strong, and currently so very vulnerable that it causes a tugging sensation in her chest.

“It… feels really good,” they say, their voice no more than a throaty—almost gravely—whisper, “but I’m gonna need a little… more.”

Not entirely certain she understands what they mean by that, she shoots them a questioning look. The soft chuckle that rumbles out of them in response ignites the warmth in her torso, causing her mind to blank for a moment.

“Don’t go easy or gentle on me, Miss Kiramman,” Vi clarifies before sucking in one side of their bottom lip, trapping it beneath their slightly crooked teeth.

Both the sight and the words shoot straight to her core, leaving her breathless while her heart thunders in her chest. Something about the way they address her, much like earlier when Vi
first
walked into the studio, does
things
to her.

“Alright,” she manages to say in response, her grip on their butt cheek growing more firm until the edges of her nails dig into the supple flesh. With slick fingers she continues to stroke them, applying a bit more pressure; eliciting an instant low groan that makes the hairs on her arms and legs stand on end. She is completely in awe with Vi and the way their muscles ripple beneath skin, their voice fills the space and how devastatingly handsome they are.

“Harder?”

Although Caitlyn finds herself a little surprised by this, she squeezes a little more with every stroke. Taking their nipple back into her mouth she bites down less than gently, unable to suppress a moan of her own when one of Vi’s hands makes its way into her tied up hair and takes hold of it—not quite tugging. She feels as if she’s drowning in them, and she’s never been so willing to be wholly submerged
and swallowed by the sea
. Another moan vibrates against their hard nipple when Vi’s hips jerk forward, causing her fingers to slip and sli
de
inside of them.

Just as Caitlyn is about to retract her fingers, Vi gasps, “No, wait.”

She does, though her teeth don’t let up the pressure on their nipple, the tip of her tongue flicking against the very tip of their nipple repeatedly. Feeling their eyes on her, Caitlyn finally lets go of the stiff peak—a thin thread of saliva suspended between it and her lips—and chances to look up to meet their eyes. Their irises seem even darker now than before, a gray
so dark
that
it
promises a storm.

“Add another?”

Licking her lips while admiring Vi’s freckles and the tattoo below their eye, Caitlyn smiles, adding another finger as requested. “Is this alright?” she asks once three of her fingers are inside them all the way to her knuckles, not moving them yet.

Nodding fervently, brows pinched and grip tightening on her hair and shoulder, Vi grunts: “Fuck—yeah, very.” Their hips twitch, wordlessly begging her to fuck them in earnest, which Caitlyn is more than happy to do.

While she starts to slowly thrust her fingers repeatedly, Caitlyn’s teeth scrape across the expanse of Vi’s stomach, her tongue dragging along to leave behind wet trails. Every now and then she leans back—eliciting a disappointed whine from them in response—before blowing against it, mesmerized at the sight of goosebumps erupting afterward. When Vi presses their body forward she nips at their skin playfully, amused by the hiss it elicits.

“Can you… add another?” Vi asks, their voice deep and gravely.

Just when she is about to ask if they are certain, Caitlyn stops herself.
I
nstead she asks: “All four of them?” Only when they nod insistently, does she add another finger, unable to keep herself from shivering with delight at the sensation of their warmth enveloping the majority of her hand.

After a few experimentally, slow thrusts, Caitlyn begins to gradually move them a little faster, nearly losing herself in every single sound coming from Vi’s mouth as they
take her fingers so well.

It takes a little while, but finally Caitlyn finds a rhythm that seems to work for them, her fingers thrusting hard—but not necessarily fast—into them and biting down on their abdomen at the exact same time. With her free hand she claws at their lower back and butt cheek, guaranteed to leave angry pink lines behind. The sound of their voice is nearly hypnotic, making her mind feel blissfully calm and empty, capable of only registering their sounds, their heat around her fingers and their grip on her hair and shoulder.

“Are you close?” she asks before pressing a gentle kiss right above their navel, curling her fingertips to coax another delightful low and throaty moan out of them. Although she doesn’t miss the way they nod, she wants to hear them say it. “Vi?”

“Y—yeah,” they grunt, their head thrown back, “so fuckin’ close…” They shudder when Caitlyn catches a droplet of sweat that trickles down their stomach with her tongue. “Shit, Caitlyn, I’m gonna—” they pant, interrupted by an almost guttural moan as Caitlyn curls her fingers after a particularly powerful thrust.

Caitlyn stares unabashedly, her eyes wide and full of awe as she watches Vi come undone before her. Their hips jerk choppily, along with their clit, their grip growing even tighter, and Caitlyn savors every single bit of it while slowly moving her fingers to help them ride out their orgasm. She is enamored by the sheen of sweat that has settled on their skin in various places, and the way some of their hair is plastered to their forehead because of it. Even the smudged remnant of eye make-up looks good on them, it almost isn’t fair how breathtakingly gorgeous Vi is. No wonder they’re a model.

Caitlyn sees it coming,
sees
Vi collapsing against her after she carefully removes her fingers.
It
still knocks the air out of her lungs, resulting in a soft giggle
spilling from her lips,
a sense of peace blanketing her.