Archive of Our Own

Caitlyn’s feet hurt. She wanted to go home. She wanted to slip into her nightgown, light a candle, and read her mystery novels in bed. She wanted to stretch out and relax, not worrying about her posture or her dancing skills or whom the Queen would name the Diamond of the season.

None of this was of real interest to her, and yet her brain was burdened with the knowledge of high society politics. Her face was cursed with a beauty unmatched by any other dubutante. And her name—well, that Kiramman name carried with it a formidable reputation and a rather handsome dowry.

It had been a surprise to none that though Caitlyn wanted nothing more than to be forgotten in the obscurity of spinsterhood, her mother had still managed to force her into making a debut. A particularly late debut. But a debut nonetheless.

“I’m nearly three and twenty. I doubt any gentleman will even bother looking my way,” she had said as her maids dressed her up in her finest gown.

It was a vision of pale blue silk, embroidered at the bust with delicate threads of pearls. A crinoline dress with short, ruffled sleeves and a modest neckline that revealed the Kiramman crest pendant that hung from her golden necklace. The skirt was wide, long, and flowing with each step—giving her the appearance of an angel gliding through the ballroom. Her hands, of course, wore long white satin gloves with delicate ribbons at the top. Her blue hair was done up, swept into an intricate arrangement of curls and twists, adorned with a silver, thin tiara.

And this was the thing about Caitlyn. She always looked so elegant and poised, a beauty that transcended age or tradition. So, when she took her first step into that ballroom, she was immediately proven terribly wrong.

Every eligible suitor of the ton had been waiting anxiously for her debut. Like mountain lions eager to pounce.

It was utterly exhausting. Her dance card was full, her head ached, and her feet were begging for a respite. And still, it was only the first half of the night.

“Do not look so despondent, darling,” Cassandra whispered to her as she handed her a glass of red wine. “It has been a splendid evening thus far. By this rate, you’re on your way to being named the Diamond before the ball concludes.”

Caitlyn faked a smile, taking a sip of wine. She looked around the room, trying to find someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t intent on trapping her into a far too hasty engagement.

She considered speaking with the other debutantes, but her previous attempts of the night had already proven unsuccessful. It turned out that being popular amongst the gentlemen made her quite the opposite amongst the women.

She spotted Jayce across the way, talking with other suitors. She wanted quite badly to go up to him. To beg him to help her sneak away—even if only for a temporary moment of peace, but such a thing would be far too scandalous.

Jayce, who was several years her senior, had never acted untoward with Caitlyn. On the contrary, he was like an older brother to her and she to him a younger sister. But people of the ton knew that they were close, and so there were already rumors swirling about before the season had even officially begun.

“You must not be seen together,” Cassandra had advised her. “Unless you’re hoping to become Lady Talis.”

Caitlyn had felt her stomach turn at the mere suggestion of it.

And so, the night went on. Lonely, despite the constant conversation. Bored in spite of all the unbearable attention.

She danced, she drank, she faked laughs. All the suitors, of course, grew positively smitten and charmed—each one secure in the knowledge that they were the exception to Caitlyn’s indifference.

It would be a long night indeed.

Caitlyn popped a bonbon into her mouth, needing that rush of sugar to help her through the remainder of the night. And as she went in for another, her fingers brushed against an ungloved hand.

The hand retreated at once.

“Apologies,” a voice said.

Caitlyn turned to see who it belonged to. A suitor by the looks of it, but not one Caitlyn had yet gotten the displeasure of meeting. No, this one had fiery pink hair and soft blue eyes and a scar on their upper lip that she would have remembered.

For the first time that night, she wished she could see past a mask. Because, of course, the first ball of the season just so happened to be a masquerade ball.

Caitlyn’s own mask was blue with an intricate pattern of embroidered pearls, matching her dress. It fit snugly over her nose, covering just above her eyebrows. Beautiful, but conservative, as Cassandra thought it important for everyone to still be able to recognize her as a member of the Kiramman household.

This suitor before her, however, was impossible to place. The mask was black, covering half of their face, revealing only eyes and nose and mouth—the last of which was showing her a smile. Crooked and charming.

Caitlyn felt something stir inside her. Something she’d never felt before. A sort of intrigue, perhaps. An extreme sense of curiosity. The innate desire to know more of the person standing before her.

She eyed them up and down. Their coat was a deep crimson, like the wine that Caitlyn could still taste on her tongue. It was cut sharply, fitting broad shoulders with delicate precision. Beneath it was a crisp white shirt with a high and frilly collar. Their cravat, however, was messy. A loose knot that needed fixing. Caitlyn fought the urge to do so. But not the urge to point it out.

“You should retie your cravat,” she said. “You’ll struggle to impress the debutantes otherwise. Not to mention their mamas.”

The suitor looked down at themselves, and by the time they’d looked back up, Caitlyn had stepped away.

Vi was not one for high society. She was born in a stable, worked in a stable, and would likely die in a stable. She knew her way around horses better than she knew her way around members of the ton.

She liked it this way. She liked the hard work and the rewards that came with it—mainly, freedom. Freedom to dress as she’d like, in trousers and men’s shirts and suspenders, work boots in place of heels. She liked keeping her hair short, wild and unruly. She liked walking the streets of London unchaperoned, just her and the moon and the incessant English rain.

Above all, perhaps, she loved knowing she’d never have to marry. It was an option, of course, and many maids’ sons had offered. But it was never a necessity. She had two calloused hands, strong arms, and a pair of working legs. She could provide for herself.

So, life was hard, but it was easy. Easy because nobody paid any mind to the stable boy who wasn’t really a boy. Even with her voice being much higher than most men’s, it didn’t make a difference when no one was there to listen to it.

Her sister, Powder, on the other hand, longed for a place in high society. She often dreamt of a prince who’d come and whisk her away, fantasies driven by the desire to break free, to see the world, to get a taste of a life beyond what little the universe had given them.

And, of course, Vi understood. She knew what it was like to want impossible things.

She’d seen enough gentlemen with their ladies, arm in arm on a promenade. She’d seen them bestoying debutantes with flowers, lavishing them with gifts. She’d seen them holding carriage doors open or kissing the backs of hands or saying “I’m in love with you.” She’d seen them marry beautiful women.

So, yes, Vi was extremely well aware of what it felt like to be envious of a life that would never be hers.

She empathized with Powder to the point, it seemed, of insanity. Because somehow she became convinced of a plan so absolutely scandalous that it would surely cost them both their jobs—perhaps even their heads—if they were to be discovered.

“It’s a masquerade ball!” Powder had argued. “No one will know we don’t belong.”

“And you expect me to wear a dress?” Vi had said as she stabbed a pitchfork into a stack of hay. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, actually...”

And then, Powder had grabbed Vi’s arm and pulled her out of the stables and into the small maids’ house across the way.

Here is where she first saw it—laid out on a small bed: a proper gentleman’s outfit. Shoes and slacks and shirt and jacket. Even a cravat.

Vi’s eyes had gone wide. “Where did you get this?”

But the details of it didn’t matter. She had already been convinced. Feeling it in her hands, imagining herself in it—so dapper and proper and handsome. So very, very Vi.

Vi looked around for Powder, only to find her dancing with one of the suitors. Vi was impressed. Powder had been practicing her dancing for what seemed like ages now. It was nice to see her put that practice to good use. And she looked happy, too, which should have made Vi happy as well. Instead, she wondered if perhaps the night had been a mistake. If they’d go back to their modest lives and her sister would be all too cognizant of how much she truly lacked in this world. Of how shitty of a hand she had been dealt.

Vi sighed, tearing her eyes away, her gaze landing on the blue haired woman who’d just spoken to her by the bonbon pyramids. She longed to speak to her again. To show her just how well she’d tied her cravat this time. To ask her to find other flaws in her attire. A stray hair perhaps, an ill-fitted jacket, an unpolished shoe. Anything, really. Just to have those blue eyes on her again. Just to hear her melodic voice once more.

She was awestruck and starstruck, and she knew how stupid it was. She felt no better than the men who had spent all night chasing after her. Dogs, the lot of them. And yet, among them, this lovely debutante’s future husband. How very, very bleak.

Vi popped a bonbon into her mouth, then forced herself to look away.

Caitlyn found herself cornered, struggling to keep up with the conversation. It was three men against her, all simultaneously bidding for her attention. A complete and utter nightmare.

They towered over her, all white smiles and combed beards. It was all such fake pleasantries, when she knew for a fact that two of them were distasteful towards their housestaff and the third was an absolute rake.

Still, they pretended to be gentlemen. Pretended to have something to offer Caitlyn, as if it weren’t them who were vying for the status of marrying a Kiramman.

They spoke of things that bored her. Asked her questions she did not know the answers to. Demanded dances. So many dances.

Just one more dance, Ms. Kiramman.

Please save me a dance, Ms. Kiramman.

Ms. Kiramman, Ms. Kiramman, Ms. Kiramman…

With each word they spoke, they stole air out of the room. Then, it even seemed, straight from her very lungs. Until she was feeling rather faint—lightheaded and dizzy. The room narrowed, forming a dark tunnel in her vision.

She grew hot. Parched. She wanted a drink, she wanted fresh air. She wanted these men to back off and let her breathe.

Her knees wobbled and a hand grabbed onto her elbow. She tried to yank her arm back, but it was futile. She was being dragged away. Into another dance, surely. Oh, another dreadful dance.

Caitlyn gasped as the cold air hit her face. She blinked, feeling the heat start radiating off her body and into the night instead. Her flushed face cooled, her heartbeat began to settle.

“Sorry,” Vi said. “You looked like you needed an escape. And I know, uh, that I’m supposed to write my name on your dance card, but…It seemed like an emergency.”

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said sincerely, catching her breath.

Vi smiled softly. “I’ll leave you alone now,” she said. “I know it isn’t seemly being unchaperoned while with a gentleman.”

Caitlyn furrowed her brow and cocked her head.

“You are not a gentleman, though,” she noted. “Are you?”

Vi blinked. “Miss, I…”

“Your voice,” she said. “It’s… delicate.”

Vi cleared her throat. “I…”

“And, goodness, your cravat is in a worse state than it was before!”

This time Caitlyn did reach out, undoing the messy knot, before tying it herself. The proper way. She stuck her tongue out in concentration—barely noticing the way Vi stiffened, cheeks slowly flushing pink, and breath growing shaky at this sudden closeness.

“There,” she said. “Now you at least look like a gentleman, though you may not sound like one.”

“Thank you.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Are you…?” She stopped herself. “Forgive me. I am forgetting myself. It’s this ball. It’s got me all flustered. I do not mean to question your manhood. I beg you, do not take offense.”

Vi shook her head. “It’s all right.”

“I suppose I should get back.”

“Must be so much fun for you,” Vi said. “From what I’ve seen tonight, you are sure to be this season’s Diamond. You’ll have your pick of all the suitors.”

Caitlyn laughed, short and sarcastic. “My pick of all the suitors… May as well ask me to pick by which poison I’m to succumb to,” she sighed. “It’s poison all the same, is it not?”

“Are they that awful?”

“Oh, dreadful,” Caitlyn said. “But even if they weren’t, I… I’ve simply never…” She looked away—up at the moon, full and radiant.

“You’ve never what?”

“I’m spilling all my secrets to you,” she said. “It’s rather unfair, isn’t it? When I don’t know anything about you. Beyond, of course, the fact that you do not know how to tie a cravat to save your life.”

Vi laughed—and it was soft. Almost nice.

“You’ve caught me,” she said. “I’m not a gentleman.”

“Well, what are you?” Caitlyn asked. “Or, at the very least, what shall I call you?”

“Vi. Short for Violet.”

“Violet. So you are a woman, then? I suppose it is a costume party.”

Vi shrugged. “I’m not one for dresses either way.”

“What are you for, then?”

Vi hesitated, thinking, I’m one for stables. For horses. For work that goes unseen. For a life that goes unnoticed.

What she said instead was, “Walks.”

“Walks?”

“Nightly walks in gorgeous gardens,” she declared, extending an arm towards Caitlyn. “Surely it isn’t all that scandalous for two women to spend time alone together, is it?”

“It is when one is dressed as a man,” Caitlyn said, but held onto Vi’s arm all the same. Because, truth be told, it was much better than stepping back into the ballroom.

Yes, Vi was not a suitor at all. Not a gentleman. Not even a man. And Caitlyn found herself thinking that she much preferred it that way.

They strolled through the Bridgerton gardens together, following a winding, pebbled path. Cicadas sang in the night, crickets chirped, and the sound of restless creatures filled the air.

“You know, if there are snakes, I expect you to protect me,” Caitlyn said, half jokingly.

“I’ve dealt with snakes,” Vi assured her. “Spiders. Rats. Even an unnaturally aggressive pigeon once.”

Caitlyn laughed. “And where have you encountered these creatures, may I ask?”

“You may ask,” Vi said. “But I believe it’s your turn to share a secret.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she conceded. “What do you wish to know?”

“Let’s start easy. What’s your name?” Caitlyn stopped in her tracks. “H-have I offended you?

“My name?” she asked incredulously. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I… My name is Caitlyn Kiramman.”

Vi’s eyebrows shot up. She was familiar with the name Kiramman. Everyone in the whole of London was. Suddenly, she felt a little bit uneasy. So over her head and out of her depth.

“Oh…” she said quietly.

“Is that… disappointing?” But it was Caitlyn who sounded disappointed.

“No, it’s just…” Vi didn’t know how to put it into words. “You’re not what I expected a Kiramman to be. You’re much less…”

“Uptight?” Caitlyn suggested. “Yes, well, I can be, I suppose. It’s been ingrained in me to be proper against all circumstances. A bit of uptightness is required.”

“Is this proper?” Vi asked. “You’ve just been whisked away from your debut by a…” She trailed off.

“Yes, tell me, Vi. By a what, exactly?”

Vi considered being honest. She wanted to be honest, despite everything inside her telling her to keep her walls up. Maybe it was the look that Caitlyn gave her—sharp blue eyes that grew softer the longer the night went on. Or maybe it was her hand. Those delicate fingers that curled around Vi’s bicep, as if she really were a gentleman. As if this were a proper promenade. As if they stood some sort of chance at being friends. At being anything.

“I’m not a Kiramman,” Vi said.

And Caitlyn smiled. “I should hope not.”

It made Vi pause, wondering what that meant exactly, but decided to let it go. Decided not to linger on things that could never be.

“I’m not… of the ton, I should say.”

“You’re from the Americas,” Caitlyn said. “Yes, I can tell from your accent. Is your family visiting for the season? Have you perhaps got an older brother eager to steal away a debutante?”

Vi laughed. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

“Why dress as a suitor, though?” Caitlyn asked herself out loud. “No, something is not adding up.”

“Are you a detective by night, Ms. Kiramman?” Vi joked.

“I wish I could be a detective,” Caitlyn sighed. “Not very ladylike. Though, I suppose, in a sense that’s what Lady Whistledown is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that she is.”

“You’d make it in, you know?” she said. “If she knew about this.” She waved a hand over Vi’s outfit. “The entire ton would go mad. Your true identity would come to light. And then, I’d know all of your secrets, Vi.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Sell me out to Lady Whistledown?”

Caitlyn paused, pretending to think, but she knew already what she would say.

“No, I think I’d rather keep you,” she said. “A secret to add to my collection.”

“Thank you, Ms. Kiramman.”

Caitlyn groaned. “Oh, I’m so tired of hearing that. Please, call me Caitlyn. If we are to be friends, let us drop the formalities and honorifics.”

“Friends?” Vi asked, a mix of excitement and nerves curling up her chest.

“I don’t have quite that many friends,” Caitlyn admitted. “But you intrigue me. And I enjoy feeling intrigued.”

This made Vi laugh. “I’m happy to be of service, then. I hope my mystery doesn’t come to bore you.”

“Oh, it won’t,” Caitlyn assured her. “Because I’m going to figure you out.”

They reached a small greenhouse at the end of the path. Vi opened the glass door, letting Caitlyn step inside. It was warm—a nice reprieve from the cool spring air.

“It’s rather unattended,” Vi noted, looking around. “Hardly any plants.”

“Oh, you’re a botanist,” Caitlyn exclaimed playfully. “Yes, you get your hands quite dirty, don’t you?”

Vi chuckled nervously. “I’m not a bad gardener.”

“And yet you try to court me with no flowers?” she asked. “How very inattentive.”

Vi couldn’t help but smile, a warm feeling in her stomach, bubbling up to her chest.

“Am I trying to court you, Caitlyn?”

“You tell me.”

“I believe it’s your turn again for a secret,” Vi said instead. “You’re bad at this game.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who’s bad at asking questions.”

“Fine. Why are you so uninterested in this season’s suitors?”

“I assure you I’d be equally uninterested in next season’s as well. Or any season for that matter.”

“It’s marriage that doesn’t interest you?”

“Marriage is grand. For the man, that is. As a woman, what am I but a prisoner? Even more than I am now.”

Vi nodded, understanding what she meant. But still, she said, “And what of love?”

“Love?”

“Is a woman still a prisoner, if she is in love?”

“Yes. A happy prisoner, but a prisoner all the same.”

“Is a happy prisoner a prisoner at all?”

Caitlyn groaned. “You’re a bloody philosopher now, are you?”

Vi laughed. “I’m just trying to understand you.”

“It’s all quite simple, really,” she said. “I’m a spinster.”

“It’s your debut! You are too young to be a spinster,” Vi said. “And far too beautiful.”

Oh, she wished she hadn't’ve said that—her smile dropping as she looked away.

“It’s your turn for a secret,” Caitlyn said, her voice now softer.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you ever wish you were a man? Is that why you’ve dressed the part tonight?”

“No,” Vi said. Then quickly added, “I mean, yes and no. But mostly no.”

“Care to elaborate?”

How could Vi elaborate? How could Vi explain the thing she’d always known intrinsically? The thing that had no name?

“I don’t feel as though I am a man in these clothes,” she started. “I am simply me. In a way I’m not in dresses or skirts. I’m… I do not wish to be a man. I wish to have the things that men are allowed to have.”

Caitlyn nodded. “And men have…”

“A life,” Vi supplied. “Property. Money. Freedom. So much freedom.”

“That isn’t all that men have, though, is it?”

Vi swallowed. “No. It isn’t.”

“I believe it’s your turn to ask a question.”

Vi took a deep breath. “Would you prefer it if I were a man?”

“Yes and no,” Caitlyn answered. “But mostly no.”

“Mostly no,” Vi repeated.

“If society allowed for you to live as you pleased… With property and wealth and whatever else…” Caitlyn started to ask.

“Society would never,” Vi interrupted.

“But if it did,” Caitlyn went on. “If you could have it all. The money and the freedom and the… The debutante to court…” Vi held her breath. “Would you still be here with me now? In this greenhouse, in the middle of the night?”

“Where else would I be?”

“There are plenty of available women in that ballroom, are there not?”

“There is only one Diamond.”

“I haven’t been named the Diamond.”

“Come on, Caitlyn,” Vi said. “You’d be the Diamond at any ball. Any season. I don’t need the Queen to tell me that.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her chest, a rush of nervousness flowing through her. She felt rather hot again, as she did being cornered in the ballroom. Though, this was different. This was altogether wrought with excitement. She felt it everywhere in her body—from her flushed cheeks to her belly to the space between her legs. It frightened and intrigued her all at once.

“You said I was courting you,” Vi said. “But I cannot court you, Caitlyn. Nor would I if I could.” Caitlyn felt her stomach drop, but then Vi added, “I would have nothing to offer you.”

“You offer me great company already.”

Vi found it to be quite a pleasing compliment.

“I’m happy to hear that,” she said. Then, when Caitlyn raises her eyebrows, as if to ask, and me? Vi assured her, “You are the highlight of my night.”

It made Caitlyn smile. And had Vi ever seen such a beautiful smile before? With that front tooth gap? That twinkle in her eye?

“I’d never considered it,” she said. “Had you?”

“Considered what?”

Caitlyn waved her hand. “Oh, you know. Women courting women.”

Vi flushed pink and had to look away, because she had, in fact, considered it. Late at night, staring up at stars and renaming constellations, she dreamt of other worlds. Ones where women did more than only court other women. Ones where they married, ones where they fell in love.

“Would be rather absurd, wouldn’t it?” Caitlyn went on. “But, I suppose, the best things in life always are.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Music, for example,” Caitlyn said. “Is it not odd how one can be moved by sounds?”

“When I was young, I used to love balls for the music,” Vi reminisced. “I would wake up in the middle of the night just to go sit by the ballroom door and listen in.”

“I did as well!” Caitlyn excitedly exclaimed. “I have such fond memories of sitting on the stairwell and listening to music. I’d close my eyes and picture the dancing. Sometimes I’d even bring my dolls with me and make them follow all the steps.”

It endeared Vi so, imagining a tiny Caitlyn Kiramman curled up at the top of a master staircase.

“Do you know what else is absurd?” Vi said. “Animals. They are the most absurd of all. If you’ve ever stopped to look at them. The things they do. The things that they must think.” She sighed. “But what would we do without them? What would we eat? How would we dress ourselves?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Have you any pets, Vi?”

“I… I spend time with horses. A dog. A few cats.”

“Yet you do not call them pets?”

“I call them friends, I suppose,” Vi said with a half shrug. “Is that ridiculous?”

“No. It is a relief, in fact.”

“A relief?”

“I was beginning to worry you only appreciated animals for what they offer us,” she explained. “For what we force them to sacrifice.”

“No, no…” Vi said, stepping closer. “I am very fond of animals. I only… Well, to be honest, Caitlyn, I figured you’d be one for a more practical example.”

“Are practicality and compassion mutually exclusive?” Caitlyn challenged.

“If I have offended you—”

“You have,” she interrupted. “Though, not in the way you think. I do not mind if you’ve made your assumptions of me. I’ve already made quite a few about you. But I would quite appreciate it if you spoke your truth, rather than whatever string of words you believe will best impress me. Trust me, I have had enough of that for one night.”

Vi nodded. “I understand. My truth is I love animals. I always have. I’ve grown up around them, caring for them. They are absurd, yes. Of course they are. Why does a dog chase its tail? Why does a horse fear a mouse? But they’re wonderful companions.”

“Beautiful creatures, as well,” Caitlyn said. “My family has hunting dogs, though they are quite tame. Loveable to a critical degree. But it is wild animals, as well, wouldn’t you agree? I read about them, when permitted. About these beasts that live across the world with fangs the size of one’s entire hand. It’s truly unbelievable.”

And so, they went back and forth naming things in life that were absurd yet marvelous, reveling in the fact that they had much more in common than they had originally realized. The same interests, similar experiences. The conversation itself struck Vi as absurd, knowing how vastly different their lives really were—at least from the outside looking in.

Eventually, the conversation landed on poetry, which naturally lent itself to transition to literature as a whole

“I love to read,” Vi said. “Poems, biographies, almanacs. All of it. But my favorites have always been novels.”

Caitlyn eyes suddenly lit up. “Have you spoken to Eloise Bridgerton?”

Vi could almost laugh.

“She has a vast library of books,” Caitlyn explained. “We must find her at the ball. I’m positive she would lend us some. She is always in search of other literary-driven minds.”

Vi hesitated. “Cait…”

“You’re right. You mustn’t speak to anyone else. As forward-thinking as Eloise is, I do not know how she’d react to you impersonating a gentleman.”

Impersonating nobility, more-like, Vi thought to herself, but let out a sigh of relief all the same.

“I shall speak with her another day,” Caitlyn promised. “And when you and I meet next, perhaps we can read together.”

“Together?”

“Out loud,” Caitlyn said. “I have lovely apple trees at home. We can sit beneath the shade, taking turns reading to one another. Oh, doesn’t it sound like such a lovely idea?”

Vi’s heart hurt a bit. “Yes,” she said. “But, Caitlyn, it would not be proper.”

Caitlyn seemed to deflate, catching up a bit that Vi was, in fact, unlike any other woman of the ton.

“Right,” she said. “But could we not simply pretend? Only for tonight, let us pretend we can do all the lovely things we wish. Wear suits and read books and run away from masquerade balls and…”

“And court each other?” Vi supplied, though her heart felt as if it would beat straight out of her chest as she said it.

Caitlyn paused. Swallowed. Then said, cheeks slightly pink, “And court each other.”

“I would like that,” Vi agreed. “I would love to pretend with you.”

So, they pretended.

First, they pretended to meet again—as if for the very first time. Vi plucked a dead flower from the ground, but presented it with a flourish nonetheless.

Then, Caitlyn taught Vi how to dance. A proper dance. It took several tries, multiple stepped-on toes, and a gaggle of giggles—until at last, Vi got all the steps right.

“That was marvelous!” Caitlyn praised her.

“I have an excellent teacher.”

“You have a patient teacher,” she teased. “Now let’s go again.”

They did perfectly a second time. Even a third.

And when they finished, they were exhausted. Panting and laughing, still in their final position—with Vi behind her, an arm around Caitlyn’s waist and the other by her shoulder. Hands touching, faces mere inches apart.

“I can see now how dancing with all those suitors has exhausted you,” Vi said softly, right against her ear. It sent chills down Caitlyn’s spine.

She turned to her, noses nearly brushing.

“Must you remind me of them?” she whispered.

“I only remind you because that is all that I can think about right now,” Vi admitted. “One of them will get to dance with you like this. He will get to make you laugh.” It pained her to even say it. “He will get to do all the things that I cannot.”

“I wish for you to do them anyway,” Caitlyn found herself saying, leaning close until their foreheads touched. With her back still on Vi’s chest, she could feel it move up and down with each jagged breath.

“Caitlyn…” Vi breathed out, the word coming out almost as a whimper. A submission.

Caitlyn stepped forward, away from Vi, then spun back around.

“It’s your turn to ask me a question,” she said suddenly.

But what Vi said next was not a question, but a demand. A plea.

“Take off your mask,” she said. “Let me see you.”

“Be a gentleman,” Caitlyn said. “Take it off for me.”

And so, Vi did. With shaky hands and shaky breaths. She reached out and carefully undid Caitlyn’s blue mask, letting it fall to the side, revealing the rest of her face. She took her in all at once, struck at once by how utterly gorgeous she looked. Somehow even more than before.

“May I?” Caitlyn asked, hands now hovering over Vi’s mask. Vi nodded, despite herself, then let her take the mask away. Caitlyn did so with a gasp, eyes hungry—devouring her. “You’re…”

Vi ran a hand through her own hair, ruffling it up so that it was in its naturally tousled state. If you’re going to see me, she thought. See the real me.

Caitlyn wanted to touch her. She wanted to trace her nose, her jaw, her cheekbones. She wanted to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. She wanted to feel the scars. She wanted it all. All at once, more than she’d ever wanted anything else before—with such an ardent desire that it paralyzed her.

“You’re gorgeous, Caitlyn,” Vi said.

“And you’re rather handsome,” Caitlyn replied. “Despite not being a gentleman, you somehow pull it off quite nicely. But it does make me wonder…”

Her eyes trailed down to Vi’s clothes, before jumping right back up to her face, embarrassed.

Vi chuckled softly, taking off her jacket and throwing it to the side. Next came the cravat that Caitlyn had so nicely tied up for her.

Caitlyn watched patiently, eyes following Vi’s hands as she took pieces of clothing off—one by one. Until she was left with an unbuttoned shirt and suspenders hanging off the sides of her slacks. She could see her undershirt like this—could see the gentle swell of her breasts.

Caitlyn felt her heartbeat quicken, knowing this was wrong. Whatever they were doing. Wherever they were headed. This was wrong.

Still, Caitlyn’s hands moved on their own accord, reaching up into her hair undoing the many pins that held her updo together. Until at last, her blue locks came cascading down onto her shoulders.

“Fuck,” Vi said softly, then quickly added, “I’m sorry. It’s just… Fuck, Caitlyn. You really are so beautiful.

Caitlyn opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly from outside, there came a not-so distant, “Caitlyn!!!”

“Shit,” she cursed. “That’s my mother looking for me.”

“Fuck.”

“Quick! You’ve got to hide.”

The problem, however, was that this greenhouse truly had been unattended. There was not a single plant to hide behind or table to crawl under. So Vi shrugged, looking around with straight panic written all over her face.

And all at once, an idea occurred to Caitlyn, who was now quickly lifting up her skirts.

“In my dress,” she said.

“Cait…”

“Make haste!”

And haste was indeed made.

Vi scrambled to the ground, crawling under Caitlyn’s skirts and hiding between her legs—just as Lady Kiramman walked into the greenhouse.

“Mother!” Caitlyn exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?” Cassandra asked. Gentlemen are asking for you. And why in heaven's name have you let your hair down?”

“I needed some fresh air,” she said. “And there was a bee.”

Vi furrowed her brow. A bee?

“A bee?”

“Yes. A rather large one at that. It got in my hair, and in my attempt to get it out, well…” She shrugged.

“We mustn’t let the party see you in such a state of disarray,” Cassandra sighed. “Perhaps it is best to call the carriage.”

“No!” Caitlyn nearly shouted. “That is to say, I’m quite enjoying my time here tonight.”

“You… are?” Cassandra asked, narrow-eyed and incredulous.

“Y-yes! The suitors are… quite wonderful.”

Even Vi could tell how much it hurt her to say it.

“Then why are you in this greenhouse rather than with them?”

“As I said, I needed some air,” she said. “A respite. I have been dancing all night long, Mother. I promise to return soon. Truly.”

“I’m surprised you’re this eager to stay, considering all that nonsense you’ve been saying about spinsterhood,” Cassandra said. “Is it possible my daughter has finally found an interest in someone?”

Caitlyn swallowed. “Y-yes, actually.”

Her legs shifted, inadvertently pressing right up against Vi, who was dealing with a battle of her own. It was warm here under Caitlyn’s skirt—hot, even. And with every breath she took, she could smell her. Wet in ways Vi knew well enough herself to understand what they meant.

“Very well then,” Cassandra said at last. “Please try your best to fix your hair. Then return to the ball. I’ll keep the gentlemen at bay in the meantime. They’ve been quite enjoying all the stories I’ve shared of your embroidery skills.”

Vi tried very hard not to laugh.

“Splendid!”

And then they were alone again.

“I am so sorry,” Caitlyn said, lifting up her skirt again and letting Vi crawl out from underneath. “I am absolutely mortified.”

“It’s all right,” she said, springing back up to her feet. “It… wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience.” Caitlyn blushed profusely, so Vi quickly added, “Hearing you and your mother talk, I mean. The… the acting. The lying. It was funny.”

Caitlyn paused, before she said, “It… wasn’t all lying.”

“Oh.”

“I should be heading back soon.”

“Yes, of course. I can’t imagine your mother’s embroidery stories are all that thrilling.”

“That will quite suffice!” Caitlyn laughed. “I assure you, my embroidery is quite exceptional.”

Vi laughed with her. And, fuck, it was so easy. Whatever this was. It felt so natural, so addictive. She found she didn’t want the night to end. Didn’t want to say goodbye. Didn’t want to go knowing that they would never see each other again.

“None of those men deserve you,” she said.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Vi gave her a soft smile. “I just do.”

There was a pause—laced with scandal, heavy with impulsivity.

“Will you grant me one final secret?” Caitlyn asked.

Vi didn’t have to think. “Yes.”

Caitlyn stepped forward, hands on Vi’s chest—moving up to rest on her shoulders, circling around her neck, playing with the ends of her hair.

“Have you taken an interest in anyone tonight?”

Vi let go of a breath. “Caitlyn…”

“Please. Do not fret,” she said. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

Vi answered the only way she knew how. The boldest way. She reached out and pulled Caitlyn’s face in. She crashed their lips together. She kissed her, fast and hard and sweet.

“Vi,” Caitlyn breathed into her mouth, then quickly wrapped her arms further around her, pulling her in closer for another kiss—this time far more desperate, with tongues and teeth and whimpers. Sounds none of them knew they were even capable of making.

They stumbled backwards until Caitlyn’s back met the glass of the greenhouse wall. Her hands pushed into Vi’s unbuttoned shirt. Then further still, pulling up her undershirt to feel the abs that lay underneath.

“Shit,” Vi whimpered, feeling the heat of Caitlyn’s touch on her bare skin.

She forced herself to back away.

“Is something wrong?” Caitlyn asked.

“I have one more secret,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I’m not nobility. My parents were a maid and a footman.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m a stable hand. I work for Lord Talis,” she explained. “I tend to his horses, mostly, but also do some handiwork on the property. I have no money to my name. I have barely a name at all.”

The words rushed out of her as if on fire. A confession that could ruin her life. But wasn’t she about to ruin Caitlyn’s?

However, Caitlyn already knew Vi wasn’t nobility. She was no fool. She saw it in the way Vi talked, the way Vi held herself, the way Vi looked at Caitlyn.

“I’m sorry,” Vi said finally, taking another step back.

But Cairlyn pulled her right back in, foreheads touching again. She brushed their noses together, she leaned in for a kiss.

“I don’t care,” she said against her lips. “The prince of Piltover could be at tonight’s ball waiting to ask for my hand in marriage, and I’d still rather be here, in this forgotten greenhouse with you.”

Vi kissed her again, pushing her up further against the glass wall. Eyes closed and heart open, desperate and eager and lost in the moment.

She moved her hands down Caitlyn’s body, hooking up one of her legs over her hip and grinding into her.

“Oh, Vi…” Caitlyn moaned, throwing her head back and letting Vi keep kissing down her neck and to her bosom. “I’ve never—mmph—I’ve never done this.”

“Shall we stop?” Vi asked, panting against Caitlyn’s delicate skin. “Shall I leave?”

“No,” Caitlyn begged. “Please… Please, keep going.”

Vi dropped down to her knees.

“Pull your skirt up,” she said, and Caitlyn did as she was told—trembling as Vi kissed up her legs to her inner thigh. “You’re so wet,” she said, before lapping it all up with her tongue. “So sweet.”

Vi pulled down her lower undergarments, and Caitlyn felt she was going to collapse. She was going to explode. She was going to shatter into a million tiny pieces, never to exist again. And still, she let Vi do anything she wanted. Still, she thrust her hips forward, her center pressing against Vi’s face.

“Y-yes…” she whimpered, feeling Vi kiss her there—right at the apex of her ache, using her mouth to turn that unforgiving pain into such sweet and tender pleasure.

Vi did not know what she was doing, but she knew that it felt right. She knew that it felt good. She knew that she needed to be as close to Caitlyn’s center point of arousal as she could be. She needed to taste her, to feel her, to give her all the pleasure that she could.

It was clumsy. All of it was. But it was new and it was theirs.

Vi found Caitlyn’s swollen clit. She paid attention to the way Caitlyn’s moans grew louder when she licked it. She noticed the way Caitlyn’s legs would shake when she sucked on it. And when she swirled her tongue around it—over and over and over—she felt it in the way Caitlyn grew wetter and wetter. Swollen and throbbing.

With her hand, she followed the wet trail right up her thighs and to her entrance, two fingers pressing just slightly without going in.

“Please…” Caitlyn begged. “Oh, it f-feels so…”

It feels so wrong. So wrong. So wrong. It feels so fucking good.

And suddenly, she was growing stiff—body shaking, moans coming out more like choked sobs. Vi had heard of this before. This pinnacle of pleasure. But never did she imagine it like this. So loud, so frantic, so absolutely beautiful.

At her fingertips she felt Caitlyn pulsing. Rhythmic clenches taking over, calling her in. And, fuck, she so badly wanted to fill her cunt. To feel just how good she felt inside. To share in this pleasure. But she reminded herself of her place. Of Caitlyn’s place. She wasn’t sure how defilement worked. She wasn’t even sure if she could do such a thing. But she did not want to risk it. No, the idea of ruining Caitlyn’s life like that—it made her sick to even think about.

So, Vi pulled her fingers away. She crawled out from underneath Caitlyn’s skirt, only to be met by more desperate, hungry kisses.

“Is this what I taste like?” Caitlyn asked.

“I told you,” Vi said. “So sweet.”

“Will I see you again?” Caitlyn asked.

They were standing outside the greenhouse, anxiety now twisting in their throats as they both already knew the answer to that question.

“I’d like to,” Caitlyn added, before Vi could reply. “I’d love to actually. I don’t quite know what any of this means. But I know I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.”

Vi sighed, looking down at her shoes as she kicked the dirt at her feet.

“Oh,” Caitlyn said, voice broken. “You do not feel the same?”

“No, I do,” Vi said. “I truly do. But I… I told you, I’m a stable hand”

There was an unbearable silence that followed. Even the nightly creatures held their breaths.

“I wish the world were different.”

Vi nodded. “I wish the world were what we pretended it to be.”

For the next few weeks, Caitlyn was desperate.

During the days, she paced and fidgeted, mind wandering back to the greenhouse. Always the greenhouse.

And during the nights, she tossed and turned. She dreamt of Vi. Of her hands and her mouth and her tongue. She dreamt of those blue eyes and her voice and her… Fuck, her everything.

It was torture. Constant misery. Nearly every moment of the day. At balls and soirees and promenades. All she thought of was Vi. Vi, Vi, Vi…

“I’ve invited Jayce over for tea this afternoon,” Caitlyn announced one morning over breakfast.

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra sighed. “I’ve told you extensively why I do not think engaging with Lord Talis is a good idea.”

“I know, Mother, but I have not seen him since the start of the season.”

“You see him at balls, do you not? And just yesterday, we saw him eating ice cream with Ms. Medarda.”

“Exactly,” Caitlyn said. “He’s quite basically spoken for. My going to visit will not sour any of my prospects, when everyone knows he’s already got his heart set on Mel.”

“Caitlyn…”

“And, say rumours were to spark, would this not incentivize my suitors to put in that extra effort?” she asked. “A good dose of healthy competition cannot hurt."

And so, Jayce joined them for tea and biscuits. It was a shower of pleasantries and anecdotes of all they’d missed since they’d last spoken. Mainly, though, it was Jayce speaking of Mel Medarda, whom he was scheduled to promenade with the next day.

“That is quite lovely, Jayce,” Caitlyn said sincerely. “She sounds like a wonderful person.”

“Yes, indeed,” he said. “But tell me, Sprout, how has the season treated you? I read in Lady Whistledown that you’re the Diamond this season. Of course, I cannot say I am surprised.”

“Yes, it has been rather busy juggling all the different suitors. They are like vultures, you know?”

Jayce chuckled softly. “So no one has caught your yet?”

Caitlyn took a sip of her tea, then said, “Why don’t we talk about your new inventions instead?”

This was Cassandra’s cue to leave. She bored easily, listening to Jayce drone on and on about his trinkets and late-night discoveries. Which meant, of course, that it was the perfect time for Caitlyn to ask him for a rather dangerous favor.

It was late at night. Vi had climbed onto the roof of the stables, and was looking up at the sky and trying to count stars. Every few, she’d get distracted, thinking of blue eyes and blue hair and a voice that seemed to haunt her very existence.

She sighed.

It had been torture ever since the masquerade ball. All the other servants could see it, though she’d never tell them why. It turned out her fear of Powder coming home disappointed with the current shortcomings of her life was entirely misplaced.

Never had Vi felt so stuck, so utterly hopeless.

Ximena Talis held a ball.

Lady Whistledown put into words what everyone was already thinking: that this was merely an attempt for Jayce to show Mel Medarda all he had to offer her—the mansion, the servants, the gorgeous gardens. What they didn’t know was that this was all Caitlyn’s idea, planted over tea and biscuits.

The ulterior motive, of course, was for Caitlyn to sneak off halfway through the night and just so happen to stumble upon the Talis stables, where she was sure to find a certain pink-haired stable hand.

Vi wallowed extra hard that night, seeing the Kiramman carriage outside of the Talis Mansion. Her heart ached and yearned to see her again. Her feet demanded the steps to be taken right up to the back door. Her mind raced through all the different ways she could end up alone with her again.

But it was futile.

None of it worked because none of it was meant to be.

She’s probably forgotten me, anyway, she thought as she lay atop a stack of hay, arms folded across her chest. She’s probably only moments away from getting engaged.

Caitlyn found the stables easily enough.

She slipped through, the horses twitching their ears as they watched her walk by. Each step of her low-heeled slippers against the wooden floor was one wrought with anxiety. Nerves that ate her up inside.

A chestnut horse reached out and tugged on her sleeve with its lips. She jumped, startled, only to softly laugh at herself and reach out a gloved hand.

“Hello there,” she said, letting the horse sniff her.

On its stall, the word Sebastian was burned into the wood.

“Sebastian,” Caitlyn read out loud, and the horse neighed, moving its head up and down. It made her smile as she pet him. “You’re quite handsome, aren’t you?”

A strong gust of wind blew in, picking up dust and loose strands of hay. It made Caitlyn shiver. But with the wind also came a familiar scent. Of pine. Of sandalwood. Of Vi.

She turned around and saw her standing there, absolutely bewildered. She was wearing brown trousers over dark work boots, a white flowy shirt with sleeves rolled up past the elbow, and a straw hat out of which her rowdy pink hair poked through.

She blinked, taking Caitlyn in as if she were an apparition. Her hair was down this time. And she was dressed in an empire style dress with frilly sleeves and a beaded bust. It was crimson red just as Vi’s outfit had been at the masquerade ball. Such a scandalous color. So bold, so daring.

“Hello,” Caitlyn said.

And it’s like something snapped. The air cracked with it—this realization that Caitlyn was real and not a mere figment of Vi’s imagination. Not a hallucination, not a waking dream. But real. Real and here and calling out to her.

Vi ran towards Caitlyn, needing to close the distance between them. Caitlyn did the same, and they met in a collision.

All at once it was hands in hair and chests pressed together. It was kisses and sighs of relief. It was the taste of each other’s tongue’s, the feel of each other’s skin. It was I missed you and I can’t believe you’re here and You don’t know how much I’ve thought about you.

They stumbled into an empty room. Vi’s room. Small and dim, with an unmade bed, a tiny desk, and a set of unlit candles.

Caitlyn fell onto the mattress, watching Vi pull out a match and quickly ignite the wick to give them some light. When she turned around, she looked nervous.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Vi said as she sat next to her, kissing her again.

They went back and forth, pushing and pulling. Giving and taking. They kissed and kissed and kissed, getting lightheaded from forgetting to take even a single moment to breathe.

Eventually, it was Vi who pulled away. “Forgive me if I’ve been too bold just now,” she said.

“Please. I have been dreaming of this,” Caitlyn said. “I’ve been imagining what a true courtship with you would be like. An engagement. A marriage.” Caitlyn paused. “A wedding night.”

Vi swallowed. “We can do what we did in the greenhouse.”

But Caitlyn shook her head. “I want…” She hesitated, feeling her face grow suddenly very hot. She looked away as she said, “I’d like you inside of me.”

“Caitlyn…”

“I know,” she said. “You’d ruin me.”

“You’re meant for a life I could never give you,” Vi sighed. “You know that if I could, I’d already be on one knee for you, Caitlyn. I’d do everything properly for you. All the flowers and promenades and calls to your house.”

“I know, darling.”

Caitlyn touched her face, such gentle fingers. She traced her jaw, then up to her lips. To her nose, her eyes, the scar on her eyebrow.

“I can please you,” Vi said. “As I did in the greenhouse. And then, you can go back to Lord Talis’s ball and find someone who will spoil you rotten. Who will give you children. A family, a future. Everything.”

“And you?”

“I will be happy to have known you. Not once, but twice,” she said, smiling. “And that will be enough.”

But that would never enough. Not for Caitlyn.

“I’ve never wanted to marry,” she said. “I have seen my father’s will. In the event I do not wed, he is to leave me with more than enough to live on my own in the mansion. With Jayce looking over the estate, of course. But I’ve spoken with Jayce as well. He knows how much spinsterhood means to me.”

Vi furrowed her brow. “So what are you saying, Caitlyn? That you’ll go through the season without marrying?”

Caitlyn nodded. “This and the next and however many more. I decisively will not marry.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she argued. “I’ve always known, but especially now that I’ve met you.”

“Your mother—”

“My mother is pushing me to marry, yes, but only if it is a love match. And that is impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn assured her. “Because of you, now I am certain.”

Vi thought this through. What Caitlyn was undoubtedly asking of her. What exactly it would entail. How much it would inevitably hurt them both.

“You want me to wait, then?” she asked. “For you to grow too old to wed? For your mother to tire? For your parents to pass? And then, what? You hire me on as a stable hand? You sneak me into your bed chambers?”

“I am not asking you anything,” Caitlyn said. “I understand how impossible this is. All of it. What I am doing is making you a promise.”

“A promise?”

“To be yours,” she said like it was the most obvious thing. “To be yours tonight. To be yours in a decade. To be yours as if you could go down on one knee for me. Because, Vi, if you asked me, the answer would be yes. However that looked like for us. Whatever amount of secret meetings and stolen glances. An entire lifetime of playing pretend. I would say yes to marrying you, in our own absurd little way.”

Vi felt her heart melt within her chest. There was nothing else she needed to hear.

She lunged forward, kissing Caitlyn with such ferocity it almost startled her. Then, she worked her way down her neck as she started undoing her own belt.

Caitlyn reached out and helped her.

“Would you like me to touch you?” she asked, though she wasn’t all that sure how.

Vi shook her head. “I just want to feel you. I want to be as close to you as I can without all these layers.”

She pushed her trousers down, kicked off her boots, then yanked her shirt off her head. Beneath was nothing but skin and skin and skin.

Caitlyn could not remember how to breathe.

Vi was fit—she was biceps and abs and thick thighs. She was unruly hair and perfectly rounded breasts and too many scars for Caitlyn to count. She was absolutely beautiful.

Next, Vi took off Caitlyn’s dress—though, this she did much more delicately. Careful not to rip or fray or damage any item, she gently set them each aside. And even this Caitlyn found unbearably attractive. The thought behind it, the consideration. The calloused working hands capable of such softness.

Caitlyn was eventually left completely exposed—delicate, soft skin that had never been touched. Had never been kissed. Had never been claimed. It made Vi dizzy, eyes devouring her already.

Caitlyn pulled her in for a kiss, and Vi settled on top of her until their breasts grazed against each other. They shivered at the unexpected feeling.

“Kiss me,” Caitlyn said. “Everywhere.”

And Vi did—taking her time, exploring Caitlyn’s body. With each kiss that she left on her skin, she left, too, a promise of her own. A promise to wait for her. To look for her. To stay true. A promise to love her.

She kissed her way down to her very toes, pressing them against her face and looking back at her. She looked so pretty like this—legs spread out for her, breasts moving up and down with each nervous breath, cheeks colored pink, eye dark, and blue hair slightly tousled.

Vi kissed her way back up Caitlyn’s leg, settling between at her center. She tasted her, as she did in the greenhouse.

Somehow she tasted even sweeter.

Caitlyn clung to Vi’s hair, lifting her hips off the mattress and grinding into her. Vi encouraged her with moans and whimpers against Caitlyn’s cunt, with a tongue that licked and swirled around her swollen clit.

She could have done that for hours, but suddenly, Caitlyn was asking for her. Begging for her, saying, “Please, darling. Come here.”

And so Vi kissed her way back to Caitlyn’s mouth, letting her taste herself as she grinded her hips into her.

“Do it, please,” she said into the kiss. “I want t-to feel you…”

Vi nodded, snaking a hand between their burning skin—fingers tingling with eagerness to finally touch her properly.

She quickly found her entrance—soaked and slick and ready.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Vi pressed two fingers against Caitlyn, pushing them in nice and slow. They moaned together, feeling the way Vi slid inside, pushing past Caitlyn’s impossibly tight walls. Walls that pulsed and throbbed and welcomed her. Hot and wet and eager.

“Holy fuck,” Vi moaned as she started moving inside her. “Does that… Does it hurt?”

“N-no,” Caitlyn said. “It f-feels good. It feels—mmph—so good.”

Vi kissed her as she drove her fingers even deeper, swallowing up Caitlyn’s gasps and whimpers. All of her, so absolutely sweet.

It didn’t take long for Caitlyn to fall apart—clinging onto Vi, one hand in her hair and the other digging her nails onto her bicep. She tensed beneath Vi as she came undone, bucking her hips with each hard clench of her walls.

“That’s it,” Vi praised her. “Let go for me, my love.”

They went a second time—because they could, because they wanted to, because they did not know how to stop.

And this time, Vi was just as soaked as Caitlyn, grinding against Caitlyn’s thigh as she simultaneously moved in and out of her.

Their foreheads were pressed together, sweat mixing, and mouths open in shared pants. Shared moans. Shared whimpers. They moved desperately against each other, rocking the small bed back and forth.

Vi’s throbbing clit pulsed against Caitlyn’s leg, leaving behind wetness and desperation. She should have been embarrassed, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about anything but how good it felt. Because oh, how good did it feel—to be inside of Caitlyn, drawing out these marvelous sounds. To be fucking herself on top of her, growing more and more delirious by the second, feeling pleasure at heights she never knew existed.

They came together, louder than they meant to.

And in the aftermath—once Vi had rolled over and lay there panting and looking up at the ceiling, Caitlyn cleaned her up. She ran a mouth and tongue all over her, kissing and licking and biting and sucking. She left bruises, she left bite marks, she left anything she could to lay claim. If Vi had enough breath left in her, she would have told her how needless it all was.

I’m already yours, she would have said. I’ll always be yours.

Caitlyn even licked between Vi’s legs, lapping up the wetness of her inner thighs and then closer and and closer to her center.

She wanted to taste her—to have something to cling to until they could sneak off together again. And when she did, she almost came a third time from how good Vi tasted. How perfect.

Vi helped Caitlyn put her dress back on, then escorted her out to the stable entryway. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she knew that Caitlyn was sure to be missed already.

“I’ll see you again,” Caitlyn promised.

Vi smiled softly, taking her hand and bringing it up to her mouth to plant a small kiss.

“You must,” Vi said. And with a wink, “I am your husband, after all.”

Caitlyn grinned, beaming at her in a way that put the moon and stars to utter shame.

“Yes,” she said, still smiling. “And I am your wife.”