not much of a conversationalist

Your face hurts. Your body too—with the heavy dress weighing on your shoulders, and the scratchy faux jewels that embellish said dress—and your feet, strained in these god-awful heels that threaten you within an inch of your life every time you step forward. Fortunately for you, Silco has proven to be very effective in helping you maintain your balance by offering his arm for support, as well as being good company. Unfortunately, he seemed to have disappeared, and you're stuck talking to some topsider that doesn't care what a wink you say so long as you keep smiling and laughing with him. Yeah, your face hurts a lot.

And it doesn't help that this man has the most punchable face you've ever had the obvious displeasure of looking at.

Behave. Silco's reminder rings in your head. You're here so that he can keep good graces with the Piltovans—taking their greatness as his, and making sure that they do not intervene with his control in Zaun. So why is it that you're having the unpleasant conversations, batting your eyes at men who have far too much bravado for their brains to know what to do with. It's a surprise you haven't downed your entire glass of champagne yet.

'Say, what's a pretty girl like you hanging around sumprats for?'

You had forgotten that you also grew out your nails for this event. Your fist balls at your side, manicured fingertips digging into your skin as you refrain from yelling obscenities at this man and his audacity. You're appalled by his Piltovan-hubris and further baffled by the ignorance of this man - far too privileged to know that people cannot move to Piltover as they please, not that you would want to. But still, surely the council has more to offer than the man that doesn't seem to know the regulations he has a hand in approving.

Gritting your teeth behind a feigned smile, you respond. 'I'd hardly expect you to be a better company,' you joke, though there is no lie in your quip.

The man raises his arms in mock surrender, receiving your words the way you concealed them. He grins disgustingly, only emboldened by your attitude. 'Now there,' he laughs almost tauntingly, 'I only meant it as a compliment.'

That earns him an eye roll. 'Can't say the same,' you return, raising your glass to the jest and smiling into its narrow rim as you take a sip. But as you pull the drink away from your mouth and feel his fingers slide against yours around it, it takes everything in you to not smash the glass over his head.

Again, the audacity.

You don't protest as he takes the glass from your hands, but your mouth falls agape as he downs the rest of your drink and discards your cup. Is he expecting you to swoon at his bawdiness?

'What th—'

He offers his hand to you. You stare at it blankly. 'Let's start over. Salo, and you?'

—are about to tell him to shove his slimey fingers up his frivolous-looking a—

'Silco, charmed,' he interjects, an arm crossing the space in front of you to shake hands with your company. The other loops behind your back, squeezing your waist in a silent greeting. 'Darling,' he drawls, both eyes regarding Salo with no sign of impress or genuine intrigue towards your companion, 'You didn't tell me you've already made friends.'

'It's been a pleasure,' you retort coldly, not caring to stroke the man's ego any further than you apparently have.

Still, Salo doesn't get the hint and is rather emboldened by Silco's presence. 'Your lady has been keeping me very entertained,' he responds, a painfully obvious attempt to look you up-and-down paired with his words.

'Oh? Has she now?' Silco, smug as ever, raises his eyebrow at you, 'Have you been holding out on me, dear?'

You can feel your jaw clench under the pressure of the smile you are maintaining.

'Well, I—'

'I sure hope not,' Salo interjects, cutting you off rudely, 'Gods know how many men - or women! - I don't judge'—he winks at you and you roll your eyes when his returns to Silco—'are dying to get their hands on something like her.'

'You know, I really think we should get going,' you urge irritably, tugging at your date's sleeve. Your eyes meet his in a silent 'help me out here' and then widen to communicate a threatening urgency to him. As if to say that if you don't leave this instance, you will be dislodging your nails into Salo's eyes. Silco gets the message.

'I'm afraid she's right,' he smiles dashingly, eyes full of fondness. 'We have a little one at home,' he begins to apologise to Salo, excusing the both of you from the conversation and hopefully, the rest of the night.

'Nonsense!' he exclaims with a laugh, 'It was a pleasure mee—'

'Pleasure was all ours,' you rush, already pulling yourself and Silco away from that pretentious douche as fast as you can—not caring for your insincerity, not that Salo knew any better. Your feet scurry out of the ballroom, pulling you and Silco into an empty hallway.

'Darling,' he begins, 'Might I say—'

Silco grunts with the sudden impact of his back to the wall, the rest of his sentence morphing into a low groan with the way you push him backwards with forceful lips on his.

He entertains your eagerness for a moment, pushing back. 'C'mon darling,' he groans against you, mouth refusing to fully separate from yours. 'Let's get out of here.'

You're absolutely giddy with your ungraceful escape, hands snaking down to tug at Silco's belt with intent and refusal against his suggestion. 'Nuh-uh,' you chide, 'We can have fun right here.' Your hands fumble at his hips clumsily, as if you were teenagers both horny but unable to stop giggling.

‘Surely we can have fun in behind one of these doors,’ he suggests, knocking just to the side of the wall behind him, where there conveniently happens to be a door. ‘And look!’ he gasps dramatically, hand twisting around the handle, ‘It’s unlocked.’

You roll your eyes as he opens the door, walking past his outstretched arm in an exaggerated show of chivalry. 'We do this all the time at home,' you sigh, 'Can't we do something a bit more...indecent.' While you love the rendezvous you have with Silco at The Last Drop, this gala presents you with a fine opportunity to be naughty.

The door closes, prompting you to turn back to Silco as he makes use of its lock. When he faces you, his eyes narrow, capturing yours as he stalks over to you. He chuckles darkly.

'I'd be happy to defile you on every surface of this building—the whole fucking city—if you can prove to me you can be quiet.'

You inhale a steady breath as Silco lowers himself.

Ah. Only behind closed doors are you given the pleasure of seeing the Eye of Zaun drop to his knees so willingly. It's really a testament to your power over him.

He brushes slender fingers up your bare leg through the slit of your dress, your heart rate picking up against his unhurried movement towards your arousal.

'That pretty boy—What was his name?'

'Salo,' you grit, drawing in a shallow breath.

'Salo.' He tastes the name on his tongue, a bitterness in his tone. 'He's been gawking at you all night.'

'Hmm.' So he noticed.

His hand stops, too close to where you want him but not yet there.

'But he's not your type? Is he?' You shake your head at his question but he pushes on, not satisfied. 'Why not? He's pretty. Rich. Powerful—'

You scoff, cutting him off. 'He doesn't know power.'

He seems to be in agreement, though wants to hear more of your stance. The hand that presses against your thigh becomes a slight indication for you to continue as it remains unmoved.

'Elaborate.'

And the timbre of that voice. Yeah, that too.

'He's arrogant. Salo holds no true power—none over Zaun or even Piltover. Rich, sure, but he's never worked for anything. He might have a pretty face—'

A pinch to your thigh, your leg jerks at the pressure.

'Careful,' Silco warns.

'But you...' you can't conceal your grin as you hold Silco's upwards-turned gaze, knowing that this is how you get what you want. 'You... are devilishly handsome...'

'Wicked girl,' he comments.

'Rich. Powerful. Striking. And you know what else?' He quirks a brow and you drop your voice, a smirk tugging at your lips. 'He could never satisfy me like you do.'

A beat of silence. You swear the temperature rises. And then—

It's the sound of your yelp that cuts through the air of the closed space as determined hands separate your legs, forcing one of them over his shoulder. The skirt of your dress parts with your thighs, allowing Silco closer access to where you need him as he comfortably settles in between them. While the change in pace has you startled, you are not complaining.

'Hush, darling,' he croons, splaying a hand over the exposed thigh resting languidly over his shoulder, 'we wouldn't want to be kicked out of this fancy party too soon, do we?'

Well, not before you get off.

'—Not before I get to defile you on every surface in here. Like I promised.'

Oh right. Definitely not before that.

You shake your head at him, pointedly not responding with a sound but instead grinding your hips in a silent plea.

'Patience, girl.'

And then he inhales. You shudder as his nose presses against your panties, earning him a whiff of your cunt as he balls the fabric of your dress in his long fingers.

'Please...' you whimper, though it's barely above a whisper.

He flattens his tongue along your still-clothed cunt, then presses harder, as if your panties weren't soaked already with your arousal alone. Salivating. Tasting you.

It's not enough. For you or him.

A forgotten hand of yours snakes itself through his hair, parting the gelled strands, mirroring your dishevelment. Then, a tug.

Again, a silent plead. Please.

A hum in return. Okay. A tug of your panties, then a snap against your skin. A contained yelp from you. A 'you asked for this' as he frees you of the scrap of fabric.

There is no teasing this time when he pounces on your cunt. No warning as two fingers breach your opening and slide in with ease. None as his tongue, wet and wanting, separates your folds, lapping at the arousal already spilling out of you, and you—despite his desperation matching yours—aren't allowed to make a single noise even as he groans shamelessly against you, indulging in your sex.

You try to stay quiet, you really do. But for every dart of his tongue, every push of his fingers, every grind of your hips against him, there is a gasp, a squeak, an apology to every tug on his previously elegantly styled hair.

A beg for more, more, more.

And he is the one to indulge you. To make you cum as his tongue finally latches onto your clit; grinding, pushing, sucking on the delicate bud. A sensitivity that makes your toes curl in those absurdly uncomfortable shoes, numbing you in a state of euphoria rather than the strain of Piltover's exhibitions.

The obscene noises caused by the man between your legs are more telling than your whimpers; those high-pitched noises becoming echoes of your suppressed moans. And the noises echo, unwavering almost as his tongue laps and laps again, pushes against your clit, between your folds, even teasing your entrance despite the two fingers slick with your arousal with every push against your walls. Pushing and pushing until you're falling over the edge, only able to stifle your moans by sinking your teeth into the flesh of your own arm.

Well, nothing you can't survive.

And even if you do make a sound, Silco will just have to punish you. In which neither of you are particularly averse to. Especially not with his promise to take you on every clean Piltovan surface, leaving his mark as the king of its underworld with his queen at his side. More likely, you under him.

‘Hey! What are you—‘

The door closes behind you, trapping you and Adrian in the confined space of the storage closet. Immediately, a gloved hand goes flying to your mouth, muffling the end of your question with an apprehensive urgency.

‘Be quiet!’ Adrian rushes out, voice hushed to stay within the confines of the dimly lit closet.

You huff, still confused by his abrupt entrance and his dragging-you-with-him, but deciding to entertain the shenanigans he seems to be busying himself with for now The quicker you acquiesce the quicker you can get out of here, you hope.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asks, prompting your ears to tune into the footsteps on the other side of the door, increasing in volume and then gradually fading to silence, leaving the two of you alone once again. There is no longer a need to stay quiet.

You slap his hand away from your face, the "threat" gone. ‘What? Peacemaker?' you answer confusedly, the concern now filling you, 'What’s going on?’

'Okay so,' he begins, taking a breath, 'I took the liberty of doing Peacemaker's laundry because I knew he was having a bad day and I kinda-sorta-accidentally...shrunkhisclothesinthewash?' he rushes - voice inflecting like in a question and unsure of how you might react. 'And now his bad day is like a total clusterfuck of bad days.'

'Right...' you understand that much already, though it doesn't explain your current proximity to him in the darkened space. 'But, why'd you drag me in here with you?'

'Because you totally would have told him I was in here,' he answers without a hitch.

'I wouldn’t have,' you challenge him.

'Would too.'

'Would not.'

'Would. Too.'

Oh, seriously? You scoff, 'I'm offended.'

'C'mon,' he chides, obviously amused and smiling in the dark, 'You love messing with me.'

'I do not,' you're quick to refute - even though you know he’s right.

And it's like you can hear his eyebrow go up. 'Are we going to do this again?'

Cue your shit-eating grin. 'Do what?'

'Ha-ha.'

'Whatever,' you roll your eyes, 'Can I leave now?'

He thinks for a moment, deciding that it's probably safe for him,

'After you,' he shuffles minutely back, only able to allow you enough room to snake your hand far enough to grasp the door handle.

You twist the knob. Once. Twice. To no avail. It's locked...from the outside?

'What the f—'

'THAT's what you get Vij!' the sudden voice outside the door startles you and you find yourself jumping away from it. 'Maybe next time you'll learn to stay out of a man's dirty underwear!'

'Peacemaker?' you question, knocking against the door. 'LET ME OUT.'

'Mhmm, no can do. You can keep Vij company until I let him out. I promise—'

'Chris, I swear to fu—'

'—See you in a few hours.'

And then with purposeful footsteps, he's gone, once again leaving you and Adrian alone, but for real this time.

You inhale deeply, then sigh irritatedly at the situation 'FUCK.'

'Look I know you're mad—'

None of that. 'Move over,' you order him.

A beat of silence, then an awkward shuffle in the space. 'I can't exactly do that.'

'Fine.' You move anyways, wedging yourself between the door and Adrian's frame, facing little resistance despite the tight fit. 'I think I can pick the...Right. I can't do that from the inside. I'm just gonna—'

Adrian's hands go flying to your hips, keeping you in place before you can shift away. 'If you're gonna move back, don't.'

'What, why?' you push against him, hoping to—

He groans - and then you feel it.

The answer lies in the print of his erection against your ass, your bodies separated by the fabric of your clothes - usually comfortable but right now, suffocating.

Thimble, my ass.

You snort. What an appropriate choice of words.

'Is this funny to you?' Whoops. You freeze. Now's not the time to be frothing over your teammate's apparently not-so-small penis.

'What, no?' Still, you choke on a giggle in an attempt to stifle your bubbling laughter.

'Because I'm hard as shit right now, and your shaking isn't really helping.'

Ah.

'Right, sorry.' You cough, doing your best to still your movements, but make no attempt to keep anything to yourself. 'For the record though, it doesn't feel like a thimble.'

His head knocks back against the wall with a thunk.

'Shit,' he mutters, hands gripping your hips harder now. Then, with heavy breaths, 'Don't fucking say that.'

Your lips twitch as you fight the cheeky urge to smile at his state of...disarray. 'Why?'

'Because I really like you. But I also really wanna fuck you right now.'

And you wonder why it's taken so long for him to admit any of that; the catalyst being Peacemaker's shrunken underwear. How are you supposed to respond to that?

He saves you the trouble. Just momentarily before you manage to recover. 'Did I make this wei—'

You've decided to get the upper hand; grinding back against him, pushing yourself against his crotch, and cutting him off with a plea. 'What are you waiting for?' you tease, 'We don't have all day.'

'Well...' he corrects you, adorably ingenious to your eagerness, 'PM said we've got a few hours.'

'Adr?' you sigh, looking at him over your shoulder, catching those pretty, puppy-dog eyes of his.

He clearly has no complaints about being here with you. 'Yeah?'

'You gonna fuck me or not?'

And as quick as he had pulled you into the closet with him, his expression sobers and he nods vigorously, hands fumbling to undo his suit at the waist.

While you had hoped that he’d help you first - freed you from your pants before he’d help himself - you don’t let that faze you. Without his help, you shimmy your bottoms and panties down your thigh, making sure to wiggle your ass behind you. But the further push of his hips against yours stills you, his hands coming around on either side of your body and constricting you even more in the tight space.

‘Can I…’ he closes in on you, speaking so close and lowly that you can feel the heat of his breath on your neck —the rest of his body igniting you all the same— ‘Can I touch you? Here?’ he finishes. He cups your pussy with a still-gloved hand, and you’re unable to stop yourself from rocking into his palm in search of any gratifying friction.

You bite your lip in an affirmative nod, letting your head fall to his shoulder as he drags a finger through your folds; teasing your entrance and then your clit.

‘Oh…fuck,’ you moan as he slowly rubs between your legs. His fingers move leisurely but you find yourself getting wetter and wetter in no time, your pussy just aching to be filled by anything he’ll give you, mirroring your desire. ‘Adrian…inside, please.’

You sigh as he obeys and another finger slips in, but the soft noise doesn’t compare to the desperate moan Adrian lets out with the intrusion of his digits into your soaking vagina. ‘You’re so wet…’ he comments, retracting his hand oh-so-slowly and then thrusting his fingers back in again, ‘So fucking dirty.’

You moan. ‘Does that mean you don’t want to fuck in this dusty closet?’ you retort, turning your face into his neck the best you can and letting out a whimper. You also hope to capture some of his skin between your teeth and tongue - branding him as yours.

‘God, no,’ he grits, punctuating his response with another press of his naked length against your bare ass. You can feel all of him. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you right now. And you’re so fucking wet for me, right? Right?’

You can’t help the sharp intake of breath you have when he inserts another finger, or two — you’re not sure — stretching you out in preparation for his cock. Which is partly true. You’re sure he was opening you up so that he could quickly slide in his dick and give you the quick fuck the closet suggests, but then, with thrusting fingers, his thumb finds the hood of your clit.

Deliciously full with three - four? - fingers, you continue rocking into his hand, his digits sliding in and out of you while his thumb coaxes you into a blinding orgasm. Yeah, the room is dark, but as you crescendo into pleasure, you can only see white light behind your closed eyelids. You writhe against Adrian’s body, to which he provides a secure wall around you, but even him, with his solid frame and newly discovered power to induce the best orgasm of your life, is unable to control himself against the erratic movement of your body against his—and cums with a shout of your name.

As you attempt to regain clarity, you’re vaguely aware of the fingers in your cunt, acting as a plug to prevent your cum from dripping down your legs, but also the wetness staining your ass and lower back, signs of your’s and Vigilante’s mutual orgasm.

‘I—are you okay?’ you whisper to him, the both of you simultaneously trying to catch your breaths as you overcome your highs.

‘Better than okay,’ he breathes, to which you laugh in response.

‘I mean…was that enough for now? Because we can stop if you can’t…’

‘No.’ He hastily cuts you off, ‘I was going to fuck you, but I didn’t expect to cum so e—’

‘It’s alright,’ you reassure him honestly, ‘I didn’t mind. We still have time as well.’

Neither of you have moved from your position. His fingers are still inside you, and you’re clenching around him with an insatiable thirst. Probably soaking him down to his knuckles as well. But you can feel him behind you; he’s no longer hard and you don’t want him to feel pressured to—

‘Can I eat you out?’

Oh.

‘…You know, before I fuck you. While I get hard again.’

And the definitiveness of which he states his intentions almost makes your legs buckle underneath you. You manage to turn around on shaky legs, his hand leaving you to support you at your sides as you face him.

You swallow, somewhat flustered by his proposal. You can feel your cheeks heat up at the thought. ‘Have you ever—‘

‘No,’ he answers, though with the confidence he exudes as he lowers himself to his knees in front of you, you’d have a reason not to believe him.

He firmly grasps one of your legs, guiding it over his shoulder and balancing you against him. With his head so close to your cunt, he looks up to you again, waiting for your confirmation.

You nod, but then, ‘Wait.’

He holds your gaze, waiting for you to continue.

‘How do you know you won’t cum again?’