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kikiiswashere · 2 months

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Children of Zaun - Chapter 21

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Katya teaches Silco the crawl. When they go their separate ways for the evening, each wishes they hadn't.

Special Note: Many, many thanks to @sand-sea-and-fable for being my swim expert and beta-ing that part of this chapter ❤️

Chapter CW: Masturbation and sex dreams, MDNI

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 8K

“Ya don’ think it sounds too threatening?” Vander asked, eyes glossing over the note again.

We are the Children of Zaun

Consider the coin the beginning of your reparations

We are the Children of Zaun

We are The Storm’s Fury

And we demand freedom.

“Sure makes a statement, doesn’ it?” Benzo said, glancing over his friend’s shoulder. He didn’t seem convinced either.

Silco stared at them from across Vander’s kitchen table, his fists gripping the back of a chair, cigarette dangling from his sneering lips.

“We are not going to ask nicely for our freedom. We are not going to ask for it at all.”

“’M not sayin’ we gotta go in with ‘pretty pleases’ n’ the like,” Vander sighed, setting the paper down. “’M just sayin’ is it wise to be so aggressive off the mark?”

“They are not going to believe that the airship crash was an accident. They are going to come at us with their teeth. They need to know we have our own,” Silco retorted. “That we won’t be pushed around any longer.”

His eyes went to the clock on the wall, and he pushed off the chair. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he crushed it into the ashtray at the table’s center.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Vander asked, eying the sudden movement.

“Kat wants to show me something. I’m supposed to go meet her.”

“Showin’ ya? What’s she showin’ ya?”

Silco averted his gaze as he said, “She’s going to teach me a few swimming strokes.”

Benzo guffawed. “Where? It’s bloody cold out.”

“Apparently there are some hot springs near those lagoons that kids like to play at. The ones between Zaun and Topside,” Silco explained blandly, going to gather his bag by the door. Katya had instructed him to pack a towel and dry change of clothes. “Besides, I need to give her the coin.”

At the top of their meeting, Silco had proposed the Children spare a negligible percentage of their recent treasure to Katya, so she could afford Viktor’s higher tuition rate for the upcoming semester. Vander and Benzo had agreed without a second thought.

Brothers and Sisters looked out for each other after all.

They all knew this would not be a long-term solution; and they all privately hoped that by the next time Viktor’s tuition fee came around, that their cause was far enough along that Piltover was agreeing to fully foot the bill.

Vander frowned. “Sil, I think we need to talk about this message some more. What if Piltover comes down hard on us?”

Silco slung his bag across his back, a hand patting protectively at the pocket that held the sack of gold.

“When have they ever come down easy on us? The only thing that will change is that they will now know there is a concentrated effort on getting their bootheels off us. Send the message.”

With that, he slipped out of the room. Benzo sighed and sat heavily next to Vander.

“What a fuckin’ prick.”

“He’s not wrong, I suppose,” Vander murmured, looking at the message. “No matter how we word it, Topside’ll still come after us. Best they know we’ll meet ‘em head on.”

His eyes drifted back to where Silco had been, his stomach knotting.

Silco stalked down the hall and through The Last Drop’s backdoor. He and Katya were meeting at the Bridgewaltz. The location was central enough, and made more sense than meeting at either of their homes.

When he arrived, it was mostly deserted. Which was to be expected in the early-afternoon; the Waltz did not burst to life until very late in the evening, Zaunites and Topsiders alike milling about the colorful streets taking in everything the Undercity had to offer: Crispy and well-spiced street food, boisterous musicians, and clever artisans with their unique wares.

But there was awhile before such nightly festivities began. Now, a few slow-moving, but dedicated, proprietors tended to the upkeep of their booths and stalls. A few Zaunites were hunched over tables or countertops, having fallen asleep the night before and had been deemed too troublesome to try and shoo away.

“Silco.”

He spun to see Katya strolling down a slim corridor of colorful awnings. She smiled brightly at him and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. His lips quirked and heart pattered at the sight of her; relieved and happy. Despite her invitation, he had been concerned that what had happened in the airship – how yet another thing did not go to plan – would scare her away from the Children. From him. But it had not, and he found himself inordinately relieved.

She wore her usual long, too-big charcoal coat and her hair fell loose around her shoulders. As she passed under a string of chem-bulbs, he noticed a flash of rosy gold undertones to her locks. He felt compelled to reach out to run his fingers through the strands to find that hue again.

Instead, he tightened the grip he had on his own bag, and nodded at her in greeting.

“Are you ready?” she asked, skirting around a vendor’s table to him.

“I believe so,” he said, jostling his pack. “Lead the way.”

They walked together through the Bridgewaltz, the winding alleys and gangways of the Lanes, and a short section of the Promenade before heading toward the Oases. The sun gleamed on the Promenade stones and the pair squinted against it as they traveled. Despite the brightness, the chill in the air was persistent, a promise of the cold season arriving shortly. A few shops they passed were even beginning the process of decorating for Snowdown. Business owners had threaded ribbons of gold and silver over window boxes and door lintels. A few storefronts boasted colorful paper garlands and delicate, star-shaped string lights. A few shop owners they passed were swapping details and ideas of impending holiday sales.

Before long, Katya led them down a steep rickety staircase that ended abruptly. She had always assumed that the builder had gotten fed up with trying to navigate and place the iron posts and steps over the uneven and sandy rocks, and had just given up halfway down the embankment. It would be easier and faster to travel down to the small rivulets that would lead to the Oases with Silco than it was with Viktor. She had nearly forgotten how quickly the landscape could be traversed. They walked along the bank of the largest tributary, mindful of the runoff trickling down from the sewer outlets that peppered the stone walls that rose above them.

“How did you learn about these hot springs?”

Katya shrugged. “My parents always took me to them. I do not know how they discovered them.”

As they neared the larger lagoons of the Oases, the sounds of screeching and laughing children overtook the noise of the gently running water. The pair spied a gaggle of scrawny Undercity youths scampering along the banks of the largest lagoon. It was too cold to swim, but that did not stop the children from investigating the shoreline, or skipping rocks. Katya was certain she spied a couple of Sevika’s sisters, but made no mention of it.

“This way,” she said as they approached a fork in the small river.

She veered right and Silco followed. The sandstone pressed in, narrowing the chasm they traveled, until a cave mouth yawned open and Silco took in this little secret of Zaun. The cavern itself did not seem particularly deep; the sun was able to illuminate most of the rocks and steaming, turquoise pools within the cave’s maw.

“Does anyone ever come here?”

Katya shook her head. “I have never seen anyone else here.”

She leapt down from a rock and stepped into the warm cave, swinging her sack from around her shoulders and dumping it to the ground. Silco remained at the mouth of the cavern, eying the glistening pools within apprehensively.

“It will be difficult to learn how to swim on dry land.”

Silco started, and looked down to Katya. She lifted her thick eyebrows and grinned at him.

“I won’t let you drown,” she said. “I promise.”

Silco returned her smile and followed her into the cave.

It was balmy. The heat of the water swirling around them in clouds of steam. The air smelled of the tang of minerals and wet sand. Katya knelt down and opened her sack, pulling out a large, fraying towel. She sat on it and began unlacing her boots. Silco began doing the same. When she stood, he looked up at her in slight confusion, but the question died on his tongue as she began unbuttoning her pants.

She noticed his wide-eyes and uncharacteristically stupefied face, and explained, “It will be easier to learn without soaked through clothes. Just in our underthings. Is that alright?”

Silco nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

He casually looked away as she slid the trousers down her legs. He felt a warmth blooming inside him that had nothing to do with the springs. He began to follow suit, writing off the tremor in his fingers as a need for a cigarette. When she shed her shirt, leaving her only clad in underwear, a camisole, and a brassiere, he bit the inside of his lip. He kicked his trousers off and stood, and unclasped the hooks that held his shirt in place before peeling it from his back. He tossed it next to his bag and tried to stand as nonchalantly as he could, dressed only in his thin undershorts. His pale skin was turning pink, and he prayed that she thought it was only because of the cave’s warmth and humidity.

Katya began braiding her hair, and glanced him over once. Twice. And then at his head.

“Would you like a hair tie?”

Silco’s hands flew to his lanky hair and pet at it. He looked to the water, and then back to Katya. “Will one help?”

She shrugged. “It might. Hold on.”

She bent over to dig through her bag, and despite everything inside him begging him not to, he eyed the curve of her wide hips and swell of her ass. She rose again and handed him a small elastic band.

“Here.”

He mumbled a thank you and began pulling his hair back as Katya headed to the nearest spring. She delicately jumped in, the water rippling and gently splashing around her body. A soft, pleased groan blew from her lips as her muscles were wrapped in warmth. The pool only came up to her chest and she dipped beneath the surface, wetting her hair. As she came back up, she wiped her bangs from her eyes, and looked back to the edge of the pool. Where Silco stood, waiting for instructions.

She noticed his slender body in a way she hadn’t during that initial physical. Slightly broad shoulders and chest that tapered to a very narrow waist; his muscle sat tightly against his bones, the cut and shape of them becoming more apparent as sweat and moisture collected on his skin. He had very little body hair. A small, light smattering across the planes of his chest and a thin line that began beneath his navel and disappeared under the waistline of his shorts. Her gaze lifted back to his face, the angles of his cheekbones and nose more apparent now that his dark hair was swept back into a messy knot. Lean, elegant, and magnetic she thought.

Beautiful.

Katya nearly choked at the word as it flashed through her mind. She played it off and jerked her head back, beckoning him.

“Come on. Hop in. The water is far better than the Pilt.”

Silco toed the pool’s lip for a moment more before jumping in. He created a larger wake than Katya did, and she laughed at the small waves that splashed at her.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, stepping forward, cutting his sinewy arms through the water.

Wiping the water from her eyes, she chuckled, “It is fine. I’m already wet anyway.”

Silco gave her an apologetic grin as his feet and toes squeezed and gripped the uneven rock beneath them, feeling the slight slick of algae that grew there. There were nerves coiling his stomach. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. In general. And not in front of her.

“What’s first?” he asked, infusing his tone with a confident, blasé bravado.

“Well, since you can already not drown,” she cheekily said, “I figured we would just focus on a more efficient technique.”

First, Katya took him through a few arm and shoulder warm ups, and mobility exercises: instructing him through shoulder rolls, chest and back stretches. She mimed the crawl stroke she was preparing to teach him by throwing her arms into the air in controlled, alternating sweeps. He did his best to copy her. And to not feel foolish.

“Keep your arm in its socket,” she told him, stepping over and gently adjusting his right shoulder down, away from his ear. “Use the muscles in your back, not your ligaments and tendons, to reach and pull.”

She touched the muscles in the center of his upper back and at his sides in direction. Silco adjusted his technique.

“The arm that is drawing back, bend its elbow more,” she added as he mimed the movement again. “It is called the crawl, yes? Imagine that you actually pulling yourself through something. Like this.”

She turned her back to him and did the stroke into the air, making a point to exaggerate pulling back through her elbows. He watched the slight rotation of her wrists and hands as she went, as if she were pushing material out of the way. He watched the way her back muscles moved. How the band of her brassiere strained under her camisole.

Katya turned to face him again, and gestured for him to try. He obliged and she nodded at his technique. She then explained the breathing pattern for the crawl: to turn his head in the same direction the arm sweeping back.

“Both sides?”

“Typically, yes. But you may find it easier to just turn your head to your dominant side for now. You’ll get a feel for it once you start swimming. You use your left hand, yes?”

Something pleased fluttered inside Silco that she knew that. He nodded.

“Good. Now, I want you to use your arms like that and swim the length of this pool,” she said, walking over to one end.

Silco looked at her, then to the spring’s opposite end. It wasn’t too long; maybe forty feet.

Slowly, he waded across the pool to her side. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he rolled his shoulders before launching forward into the warm water. Shifting the movement he’d just learned to a horizontal position was harder than he anticipated. His arms didn’t feel as strong and his lower body kept sinking, despite kicking furiously. Every time he turned his head to breathe, not only did he get a mouthful of air, but water splashed in, too.

Finally, his fingers scraped against the ledge of the pool’s far side and he stood up, panting. He looked down at the ledge, and then turned to look at Katya at the other end of the pool. The water between them was frothing and choppy, but she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Not bad,” she called. “Now, come back.”

Silco heeded her instruction and attempted the crawl again as he swam back. He was huffing and puffing by the time he returned to Katya’s side.

“I don’t know why,” he gasped, “but I did not think it would be so tiring.”

She smirked up at him. “Swimming is a different beast from roof running. It probably doesn’t help that you smoke, either.”

He recalled her final comment that night he had shown her Zaun.

You shouldn’t smoke, anyway. It’s bad for you, too.

He slyly grinned back at her, and purred, “I am allowed a vice. Piltover has made life hellish enough to deny ourselves any small pleasures. I’m sure once I get this stroke down, I’ll swim just as fast as you. Perhaps faster – “

Katya snorted, throwing her head back. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Silco shrugged cockily before diving back into the water and practicing again. After a few more laps, he began to get a better handle of how to move his arms and neck, his stroke pattern becoming smoother, surer. Slowly, he began cutting through the water instead of splashing against it.

“Very good,” Katya congratulated once he returned to her side again. “I think it is time to talk about hips and legs.” She turned to the pool’s edge and placed her hands on a relatively level slab of rock. “One of the reasons your lower half is sinking is because you are kicking too much with your knees. You will swim faster and more efficiently if you keep your legs straighter and kick from your hips.”

She kept her hands on the rock, and allowed the rest of her body to float up in the water. Her rear breached the surface, and Silco fought not to stare. She made a point to flex and straighten her shapely legs and kicked. Despite the movement, very little water was splashed up. Silco scooted down the edge of the rock a bit to find his own level piece. Once he was set up, he kicked his lower half up to the surface. Very ungracefully. His jaw squeezed and brow furrowed as he did his best to lengthen his legs taut and access his hips.

“It is a balance,” Katya explained, stepping over to him. “Straight legs, yes. But allow there to be a little give in your knees so that they remain soft.”

“So keep my legs straight. But don’t keep my legs straight.”

Katya smirked and shrugged. “Viktor can do it. And his bones are warped. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Silco huffed and tried again. It was challenging, but eventually he got it enough that Katya didn’t need to keep reminding him.

“Do not swish your hips so much,” she said, reaching out and gently touched the top of his hipbone.

The feeling of her fingertips on him caused Silco to jolt and stop swimming. He spun to look at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped, hand pulling back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I just – I just wasn’t expecting it.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “What did you say?”

“You are rotating through your hips too much. It’ll make you tired. Keep your hips steady. The rotation comes from your back. Remember? From the crawl stroke itself.”

Silco tried again, imagining that an iron beam holding his hips in place. A couple times, Katya reminded him to keep his knees and feet a touch softer. As she watched him, her eyes squinted and she brought the tips of her fingers to her temple.

“What?” he asked, pausing to catching his breath.

“I am trying to think of another way to explain,” she sighed. “Have you ever seen people on the Promenade ride . . . I think they are called Bi-sickles, or something? A metal frame with two wheels on either end?”

“Bicycles. Yeah. I’ve seen them.”

“Okay, well, the leg movement is not dissimilar. Steady hips, strong glutes and thighs propelling the motion, but some soft give from the knees down. Does that make sense?”

Silco pondered for a moment, thinking on the Topside youths he’d seen racing their toys through the Promenade streets. He recalled how their legs pumped their mode of transportation, strong and efficient strokes that powered the bicycle to impressive speeds. He nodded and tried again.

After several minutes, she suggested he put the two together and try swimming another few laps of the pool. Silco rolled his shoulders and shook his legs out a bit before venturing back into the middle of the water and piecing together what he had learned.

Just as before, it took him a couple laps to achieve smooth movements. Once he found a rhythm, he felt like a harpoon slicing through the water, especially compared to how he felt in the Pilt a few days ago. After his tenth lap, he stopped for a break at the far end and turned to look at Katya. His heart tapped firmly against his breastbone to see her beaming at him. Her skin was glistening from the warmth and water, her cheeks rosy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so pleased or carefree, and he was excited to think he was the source of her happiness in that moment.

Suddenly, Katya leapt forward and swam towards him, streaking through the water like a waverider. He hadn’t really paid attention the night they jumped from the airship, but she moved seamlessly – as if she became one with the water. It didn’t froth around her limbs, just rippled in smooth wakes. It seemed as easy as breathing for her. Despite the improvements he had made to his own abilities, he knew he floundered like a beached fish in comparison.

She appeared at his side, that sun-bright smile still on her face.

“Race?”

Silco stared at her for a moment, his eyes glancing down to her smile, then his own split across his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ‘played’ – had had unproductive fun. He was sure Katya felt the same.

“Prepare to eat my wake, Kat.”

Katya did not eat Silco’s wake. Quite the opposite. He struggled to keep up, but laughed at his own ineptitude in the water. Although, the more and more laps they swam, the surer in his skills he became. Katya told him his slight build would work to his advantage, something he quietly preened at because he never considered his physicality being an advantage for much.

Eventually they tired, and lifted themselves from the pool. They spread their towels over the cave floor and sat, allowing their bodies to rest and dry off. Silco did his best to avoid staring at Katya, at the way her wet clothes had sheered from the water and now clung to her body. A heat that had nothing to do with the hot springs spread through him.

To distract himself, he fished an apple and a small knife from his bag. He cut a slice and handed it to her. Katya stared at the offering for a moment, stunned, before taking it.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, because that it what you said when someone gave you something.

Unsettled warmth bloomed across her chest as she bit down on it in a satisfying crunch. It had been a long while since she had had a bite of apple. It had been a long while that someone had provided for her. She wondered if she would ever get used to being thought of, sought after, taken care of, considered. Silco’s companionship felt as much of a treat like this apple.

The fruit was crisp, juicy, and sweet against her tongue. As it broke down in her mouth, and the sweet sparked into surprising notes of tangy sour, compulsory sadness curled in her stomach; that her experience of the treat was nearing its end. Then her eyes fell onto the fruit by Silco’s pointed knee, and realized she could have more. That one bite was only the first. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled.

“I brought some bread, too. One of mum’s reject loaves.”

Katya’s eyes flicked up to his face. Why had she gone so long denying herself of company? Denying her own needs? Pointedly skirting the care and lives of others? If she had kept to her solitary way, she would not have this apple, this bread. This man, and his caring mother.

“How is she?”

Silco’s nostrils curled. He cut his own slice of apple and ate it. He shrugged.

“Like she said, it always gets bad this time of year.”

Katya’s eyes softened, empathy and sadness leaching out the joy that had lit them up.

“She is probably due for another vial of medicine,” she said. “I will grab one when I am at the clinic.”

Silco gave her a weak smile and retrieved the lumpy loaf of bread from his bag. He tore a piece off and handed it to her. She took it and held it in her hands, thinking of how she might smooth out the lines that had appeared on Silco’s face at the mention of Enyd. How she might dampen the small flame of ire that had appeared in his eyes, and rekindle the joy that had been there earlier.

“I am glad I got to show you this place,” she decided on, looking up at the stalactites on the cave’s ceiling. “As grateful as I am that only Viktor and I seem to be the ones to ever come here, it’s so beautiful that I feel badly for it that so few people visit. Know about it.”

Silco hummed, biting down on a piece of bread and looking around at the cave. It’s towers and divots. At the lush moss and algae that collected at its mouth, and hung down from its opening like a shredded curtain.

“This is where your parents taught you how to swim?”

Katya shook her head. “No. I learned in the Oases. Like a lot of the children do now. When it came time to teach Viktor, his body did not handle the cool water well, so Papa taught him here. Being in the water also helps relieve some of the chronic aches he has in his body.”

“How did your father find this place?” Silco asked, looking around again.

“I never thought to ask. I wish I had now. He used to talk about taking me and Viktor out on a boat someday. To explore the Conqueror’s Sea.”

“It sounds like he had an affinity for water.”

Katya chuckled and took a bite of bread. “I suppose he did, now that you mention it. One of the books he would read to us most frequently had to do with ocean life. Various habitats, animal and plant life – that sort of thing.” She laughed and said, “My favorite chapter was about the deep sea, and all the monstrous creatures down there. It sort of reminded me of the Undercity. I found it fascinating, but I don’t think Viktor did.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “He is more interested in building and creating things. He preferred when Papa read about inventions and why they worked. Engineering and chemistry and physics, and those sorts of things. Biology never grabbed him as tightly.”

“But it did you?” Silco asked, taking his knife to the apple again and slicing it twice. He handed one piece to her, and placed his own on his tongue.

Katya shrugged again and bit thoughtfully into the apple’s flesh, Silco’s eyes flicking down to her mouth as she did.

“I do find it interesting,” she said around the fruit in her mouth. “It certainly has served me well with my role at the clinic. And with caring for Viktor. And like I told you, I think I would like to become a doctor once Zaun is free. Once we have the ability to manage such things.”

“That reminds me,” Silco gasped, reaching for his bag. His hand gripped the small satchel of gold within and he drew it out. “Vander and I wanted you to have some of the coin from the airship job. To help with Viktor’s tuition next semester.”

He handed her the purse, and she slowly took it. Her eyes glossed over and became distant as she uncinched the bag’s mouth and peered inside. Gold glittered up at her. Katya sniffed and her throat squeezed tightly. She looked back up at him, and her heart cracked at the soft – almost adoring – smile on his face. She opened her mouth to thank him, but all that came out was a teary choke. Silco scooted over and wrapped his arm around her.

“I got you.”

Katya’s voice failed her again, and she simply leaned against him. She curled against his side; her face pressed into his neck. She nodded against it, overwhelmed and humbled by the sense of gratitude. Her body alight with the feeling of belonging. She felt treasured and valued.

She wasn’t able to speak, but as she closed her eyes and felt Silco’s jugular pulse against her cheek, she thought You have me.

Eventually, when the sun began to fade, they toweled off and redressed, preparing to head home. Katya wrapped the small bag of gold in her towel and shoved it deep within her sack. Despite the extra weight on her back, her heart felt easeful and light. The children that had been at the Oases were gone. Headed home for supper, or for work, or to nothing at all. Silco and Katya hopped onto the bottom step of the incomplete staircase and headed back into Zaun.

The Bridgewaltz was just beginning to brighten and stretch into its evening routine. The chem-bulbs above twinkled various colors, casting rainbow splotches on the pavement and across scattered tables and chairs. A few of the food stalls and kiosks already had customers gnawing at kebabs and drinking whatever brew was offered; the passed-out people Silco and Katya had seen earlier had since woken up and staggered off.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Silco asked, as they came to a stop.

Katya looked up at him, voice stuck in her throat. The shadows and light did mesmerizing things to the angles of his face, and his pale eyes reflected the flickering magenta, orange, and green lights above.

Would she like? Would she want?

“That’s okay,” she finally answered. Her stomach curled in displeasure at her own words. “You should get home and check on your mother.”

Silco smiled and nodded. He ignored the pang of disappointment that flicked at his heart.

“Right, then,” he said, adjusting his bag. “I’ll see you soon. Yeah?”

Katya beamed up at him. Her milk-colored skin glowed in the colorful light, and Silco’s fingers twitched, fighting the urge to run them down her cheek.

“Yes. I will see you soon.”

“Thank you again for the lessons. For today.”

Something open, vulnerable, and wanting cracked behind Katya’s ribs, and she closed the distance between them, wrapping Silco in a tight embrace. He returned it with an immediacy that left his mind reeling and surprised. She felt warm and solid – not unlike that dream he had had the night he’d fought the enforcers. Turning his head slightly, he nestled his nose into the crook of her neck. The smell of brine, minerals, and warmth from the Springs was stuck to her.

“Thank you for today,” she whispered. “And for everything else.”

Katya gave him one last squeeze and drew back. Silco followed suit, his heart hammering against his chest.

“Walk home safe, Kat.”

“You, too.”

Silco watched her for a moment, before turning himself and walking home.

When he arrived at his and his mother’s apartment, it was quiet except for the warm, prickling drone of the phonograph needle swirling on a record that had finished playing. A singular light from the living room bled into the front hall. Silco quietly removed his boots, and set down his sack by the door before venturing further.

“Mum?” he called quietly, stepping into the living room.

Enyd was propped up in her rocking chair, a sewing project in her lap, her head lolled onto one shoulder, eyes closed. Her breath came in soft, long wheezes as she slept. Silco smiled tenderly at the sight and tip-toed to the phonograph, gently resetting the needle in its bed.

“Mum,” he said again, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mum.”

Enyd gently started under his touch and blinked awake.

“Wha? – Oh, Silco. You’re home. I – I didn’t realize that I fell asleep.”

She adjusted in her seat, the chair rocking slightly with her movement, and she peered down at the bundle of thread and fabric in her lap. An amused huff blew from her lips at the sight, and a string of dry coughs followed it. When they passed, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at her son with watery eyes.

“How did it go today?”

“It went well. Kat’s a good teacher. It was nice. Spending time with her. Mum, why don’t you go to bed if you’re tired?”

Enyd batted away his concern with a flick of her thin wrist. “I’m fine. I want to get this done before I turn in anyhow.” She gestured to the sewing project in her lap. “Would you mind starting the record again?”

Silco turned back to the phonograph and reset the needle. Soft, warbly music echoed from the soundhorn and Enyd hummed appreciatively, lifting the needle and thread back up to the light.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything?”

His mother shook her head. She smiled at him, and said, “I’m glad you got to do something light today. Fun. Joyful.”

Silco’s insides squeezed – with what, he wasn’t entirely certain – and softly smiled in agreement.

“Me too.”

With that, he headed to his bedroom, grabbed his pajamas, and then locked himself up in the bathroom. He turned the water in the tub on, holding one hand under the faucet, waiting for it to turn warm. When it did, he was surprised that he could feel the difference between this warm water and the stuff he’d been swimming in a few hours prior. He didn’t know water could feel different. Pulling the tee diverter, the shower head rumbled and spat to life. He quickly divested himself of his clothes; surprised when a flash of Kat in her wet underthings flickered in his mind. He swallowed, tossed the clothes into the hamper by the toilet, and stepped into the shower.

The warm water sluiced over his frame in vaguely relaxing rivulets. The sensation paled in comparison to the heat and comfort he’d found in the Springs. He’d found in the excited, pleased beam of Kat’s smile. Silco ran his fingers through his hair, unraveling any snags and snares he found. He closed his eyes as water ran down his face. The image behind his eyelids was that of Kat standing in the shallow end of the pool, water to her knees, her underwear, camisole, and brassiere wet and sticking to her body. Her skin glowed and shone with the warm mist of the cave. Silco sighed, and finally allowed himself to ruminate on what he’d seen while he lathered himself up with soap.

Like many trenchers, Katya’s body hungered, but it hadn’t kept her hips and breasts from filling out. His mind’s eye roved over her legs. Stopped, and stared at where her thighs thickened into the swell of her hips and ass. Salivated at how the damp sheerness of her underwear had allowed the suggestion of curls at the crux of her thighs –

Silco gasped as he brought the soap to his groin, and found himself half-hard. Balls beginning to lift and ache. For a moment, he considered turning the water to ice cold, to put a stop to this. But his hand made a cursory sweep down his length and the space behind his navel tightened with anticipation. With a plead.

Silco’s imagination took creative license, and the Kat behind his eyes shifted her expression to something sultrier. Hungrier. Her lashes sat low over her golden eyes – those mesmerizing gold eyes. Silco braced one hand against the shower wall, while the other took hold of him in earnest. Kat bit just the inside of her lower lip, and Silco worked himself to full hardness in steady strokes.

His mind’s eye traveled up the length of her torso, wondering what it would be like to touch (taste?) the delicate flesh that ebbed and flowed into that beautiful hourglass shape. Her breasts – their details and shape brought into stark relief by the wet, clingy fabric – were devastatingly heavy and ample. Her nipples had puckered and lifted. He wanted to touch them. Roll them into impossibly tight, pebbled peaks between his fingers. And then suck and bite at them. How she would writhe beneath his attention –

Silco’s breath hitched as a callous on his palm caught along his frenulum. He bit back a groan, grateful for the noise of the shower and the record playing in the other room. Despite those buffers, he choked back any vocalization that threatened to give him away.

The promising lift behind his navel was intensifying – little shimmers of pleasure licking up his spine. The squeeze of his pumping hand tightened, and the one bracing against the shower wall collapsed to its forearm. Silco’s forehead pressed against the meat of it. His eyes clamped shut as his mind shifted, giving form to tamped down fantasies and maddening questions.

What would those plush thighs feel like wrapped around his waist? Kat’s heels pressing into his tailbone as he fucked her –

A whimper vibrated off his lips. Despite the water, he could tell that his cock was leaking all over his hand.

How would she feel wrapped around him? Glorious, he knew. His fist would never be able to compare. Warm, soft, and slick. And tight. Would they fit together like puzzle pieces?

How would she look beneath him? On top of him? Looking over her shoulder at him? He imagined her mouth hanging open – her dusty pink lips turned red and kiss-swollen. Her intense, expressive brows pitching up in elation as she hurtled toward her release. Pleasure he’d brought her –

Silco’s hips bucked into his hand as his own climax neared. Those little laps and zips of pleasure he’d felt earlier grew into spine arching, toe curling flames as his fist became a blur around his cock.

How would Kat sound? How would that rolling, molasses-sweet accent sound in the throes of ecstasy? Would she mutter in her mother-tongue? Chant his name? Look him in the eye and say “You have me”? –

“Kat!” Silco rasped, unable to keep her name behind his teeth. And he came. Strong, pulsing spurts onto the shower wall that were promptly washed away by the water’s spray. His hand worked himself through each throb of his orgasm, until his body felt blissfully heavy on his skeleton and he leaned against the wall.

He stood there for a moment, the water beating against his back; residual glimmers of ecstasy shivering up and down his spine. He huffed and puffed, heart hammering and lungs swinging. He placed his left hand on his chest, and felt the steady percussive, beat within.

As the gooey, post-orgasm feeling draped over his body, Silco finished cleaning himself. And made a point to make sure the wall and floor of the shower was clean of any ‘sign’ of him, too. He dried off, dressed, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. All the while thinking on what he had done, and whom he’d thought of.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling – one hand on his heart; the other tossed over his head – a lonely, wanting, foreign ache pressed into him. The sensation eased as he drifted to sleep and dreamt that Kat was curled against his side.

Katya glided through the dark, star-lit water of her dreamscape. Smooth, warm, and malleable. Like liquid glass. A few easy frog strokes propelled her forward, the water rippling gently. She wondered if she’d ever reach an edge here, if there would ever be something to grab hold of. Something to rest against, in case she ever tired.

“Kat.”

She gasped and sputtered. The water splashed as she spun. She’d never heard anything but her own breath here. The sound of her own body in the water. But now, a few feet behind her, there was a pale figure with lank dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Silco?”

He smiled at her. She realized how endearing – almost awkward – the fullness of it made him look. In life, he’d only ever smirked or grinned at her. Expressions that kept his coolness and distant persona intact, kept him at arm’s length from most people.

Now, he was beaming at her, and she was enthralled.

He paddled toward her. “Shall we?”

Katya blinked at him, and then she smiled in return. Laughing, they pressed forward into the endless space. Silco swam just about as well as he had at the Springs – not with the best form, water splattering about him. But neither cared. They moved together, Silco splashing at Katya; Katya dodging his sprays by elegantly flowing around him. Eventually, they tired enough to slow their pace, lazily floating along the surface. The stars sparkled and winked above them.

“Kat.”

This time he said her name softer, his tone lifting as if in question.

Katya stopped, her arms and legs barely needing to tread water to keep her upright. She looked at him, tilting her head in equal curiosity. He fixed her with an intense, earnest look that held her in place. An enticing heat banked behind his eyes, and he closed the small distance between them. One of his hands slipped up from the water and gently cradled her cheek. The etheric nature of the dreamscape made his touch feel ghost-like, a whisper of how his hand had felt in hers, but it made Katya’s breath hitch all the same. His thumb gently pressed against the beauty mark under her eye and dragged down. His blue eyes left her gold ones to flit down to her lips, and then back up. The look, the touch, sent a blaze through her body. As if her insides were a smoldering fire, and he was a great gust of wind, igniting her in a mighty WHOOSH!

Katya’s fiery heart thundered wildly in her chest as she leaned forward and kissed him. The hand on her cheek wrapped to hold the nape of her neck, and Silco’s other hand wound around her waist, drawing her flush against him. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her mouth more firmly against his, annoyed that the sensation of him was gauzy. She wanted to feel him, taste him.

She tilted her head and slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, pleading for access; hoping it would give her something more solid to experience. Silco obliged, his own tongue melding against hers. Katya squeezed her eyes tight as their tongues, teeth, and lips hungrily explored each other. For too brief of a moment, she thought she could taste cigarettes, thought she could smell that citrus tang and deep terra scent that had been on that shirt he’d given her.

Silco surged forward, his kisses a strange combination of intense and distant. Katya gripped at him, fingers digging into the slick and firm muscles of his shoulders and back. She gasped when her own backside pressed against something solid. Somehow, for the first time, she was able to feel an edge to this dreamworld. She couldn’t see it, only feel it. Silco’s right hand pressed into the starry surface next to her head, his breath a mere suggestion against her warm, damp skin. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers, the blade of his nose caressing her cheek. The inferno within Katya’s belly blazed for him. Her body ached, breasts heavy and heaving, core throbbing.

“Kat,” Silco breathed, pressing against her.

“Yes.” Katya’s breath came in shaky, pleading huffs.

Her legs lifted in the water and wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer. There was a probing pressure at her aching center and a desperate, excited cry pealed from her throat.

The exclamation woke Katya up. She jerked awake in her bed, back arching, breathing erratic. Initially, she was confused, borderline distraught. As her vision cleared and she took in the dark, empty space of her bedroom, she understood what had happened.

She was home.

Alone.

Disappointment settled in her stomach, lead-heavy and cold. Despite this, the ache between her thighs persisted; annoyed at being left unattended.

Katya steeled her jaw and turned onto her side, eyes closing, determined to just go to bed. She would inspect that dream in the morning. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was only a dream after all.

However, her body refused to fall into stillness and slumber. Her mind swam with images and sense-memories of Silco. His intense gaze, low, syrupy voice; his lithe frame, how his hands had felt in hers, how his hands might feel on her body. Holding her in place, exploring . . .

Katya grunted and turned again, her core reverberating with a nearly painful, needy pulse. Her nipples were pointed and tight beneath the shirt she wore. His shirt. She laid still for a moment, considering. Finally, her fingers skirted across the gusset of her underwear in an exploratory swipe. Her body shuddered at the light touch and she gasped to find the garment soaked.

She decided to not think too hard about it, nor deny her bodily desire any longer. In quick, furious movements, she stripped her underwear down her legs and kicked them off, sending them somewhere deep within the folds of her blanket. Her hand was quick to cup herself, and an intense and relieved sound was pressed out of her lungs.

Her hips lifted into the heel of her hand as her index and middle fingers swiped lightly through her slit, gathering and coating them in her arousal. Slowly, she dipped them inside. A gasp left her, her back arched, her free hand reached for the pillow above her head and gripped it tightly. She was overwhelmed by how warm, wet, and ready she felt. Burying her fingers inside her felt relieving and maddening. Her body grateful that it was being touched, but desperately wanting more. Needing release.

Her fingers began to pump in and out, the heel of her hand trying to rub against her clit. Pleasure ebbed and swelled inside her, promising tickles fluttering behind her navel, up and down her spine. Images flashing through her mind provided titillating inspiration that drove her further and further into carnal need.

The shape of Silco’s member; she’d sneaked a peek of him when his shorts were wet and clinging to it earlier that day. Her fingers couldn’t compare.

The way Silco’s muscles moved over his body as he swam.

Silco’s head between her thighs, those piercing eyes watching her intently.

Silco’s hands grabbing needily at her thighs and hips as he rut against her.

Katya’s body shook hopefully at the thought, her fingers pumping faster, the heel of her hand desperately wriggling against her apex. A whimper trickled from her mouth between ragged breaths. Despite the pleasure building within her, entangling her low spine in teasing tendrils, she needed more. The hand gripping the pillow snaked itself under her shirt, squeezing and pinching at the peak of her breast. A hiss whistled through her clenched teeth, her body writhing.

It wasn’t enough.

She rolled onto her stomach, pinning the hand working at her between her soaked sex and the mattress. Her hips humped and ground into her palm. The position, aided by her weight and gravity, offered deeper, sweeter sensations the ability to curl and build. Katya gasped and cried into the pillow, her legs propelling her hips into her hand hurriedly, the movement not dissimilar to the firelight swim stroke.

“Si – Sil – “

Katya’s breath hitched into a new tempo as her body rapidly approached the peak of her climax. Her toes curled, the soles of her feet flexing in anticipation; thighs and hips quivering.

“P-please. Oh, Gods. S – “

She moaned loudly into her pillow as she crested her release; hips pulsing and grinding over her hand of their own volition, chasing her high, squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of it. Eventually the sensation ebbed away, leaving Katya wrung out, and panting. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from herself and carefully stretched her legs out, rocking her hips side-to-side experimentally.

While she felt satisfied on an animalistic level, as the heavy blanket of sleep began to lay over her, the feeling of loneliness crept back in. Into her chest. Into her bed.

The sleep she was granted was dreamless.

Notes: Ahhhhh! These crazy, pining kids! When will they *actually* make it happen?? Soon hopefully 😈 I hope you enjoyed the start of some smutty-smut! I was really happy to finally get to this point in the story 😅 What do you think? Let me know your thoughts! Please comment and reblog ❤️ Til next time, my sweets!

Coming Up Next: Piltover's answer to the Children's declaration, Zaun prepares for the Snowdown holidays, and Kells attempts a monsterous act.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

If you're interested in being added to the taglist, just message me 😘

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco #vander #benzo #young silco #young vander #young benzo #original character #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat #smut #mdni #silco fanfic

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alterrora · 2 years

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About Lost Privileges🐀🔪🐕

#arcane silco #arcane #silco #arcane vander #vander #vanco #zaundads #young silco #young vander #reconciliation au #vander got his permission after all

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conretewings · 5 months

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The Paths We Cross

-Viktor, needing a part for his newest invention, seeks assistance from a shop of good reputation.

-Set a couple decades before the events of Arcane season one, a young Viktor and my oc Rosemary meet. Just a fun idea I had bouncing around in my head and decided to write for fun and as a gift to the lovely @grumpyoutlaw ❤️

Sticking close to the buildings for safety and an easy escape into a shop if needed was an essential lesson and skill Viktor had learned long ago, one that he was using again this day as he wove his way through the crowded, dank and damp streets. All around vendors hawked their wares from stalls, carts, or even from bulging bags, people milled in front of bars, brothels, or hurried on their way to whatever business they had and everywhere teemed the chaos of the Undercity.

Pausing to re-shoulder his bag to a more comfortable angle across his hip, one where it's weight helped steady his limping gait instead of worsening it, Viktor glanced up at a couple landmarks to note his location and which street to turn down next toward his own destination.

"Let's see...it was-"

Feeling a couple rapid taps on his shoulder, he instinctively clutched his bag and rotated his hand to grip his cane at the perfect angle to defend himself if need be; it wouldn't be the first time.

Whipping his head around at the same moment, he found himself face-to-face with a squat little man in patchwork garb and a seemingly friendly, yet too friendly, grin so wide his crooked teeth poked out. A well-worn bag nearly his size and adorned with various items was strapped to his back, and in his grubby hands something was concealed.

"Greetings, yes most welcome greetings this day young man!" he started in a likely well rehearsed speech, "Tell me yes, tell me, are you hungry? Does your stomach yearn for a tasty morsel? Yearn no more! I have here the solution yes! For a mere two coin I offer the finest fruit one can find!"

With a flourish he opened his hands to reveal an apple clearly past it's prime, brownish soft spots dotting it's surface. Viktor had his suspicions that it likely also housed an insect or two and not wanting to either waste his money, nor evict any possible tenants, he shook his head, managing a polite half smile.

"Thank you sir, but I already ate..."

The man's eye twitched, but maintained his salesman smile, "Goodness my boy but you're thin as that stick you're using yes, poor thing, so thin! Wouldn't a bit of extra food do you well yes? It's such a good deal! A bit of lunch!"

'I'm sure it is, if one wanted to lose their lunch' Viktor thought sarcastically, but carefully started to move away as he said again, "No, thank you, but I wish you luck..."

His smile finally dropping into a sour pout, and grumbling about how he's 'missing out' the man shoved the sad fruit into a pocket and turned to shuffle off. Releasing a sigh of relief, the man's words about his weight nonetheless echoed in Viktor's mind until he bitterly shoved them away and gripping his cane, felt a renewed sense of resolve to find the place he sought and finish the project currently residing in his bag. To that end he stood as tall as possible and went on his way.

A young woman leaned on a heavy, paper-strewn wooden counter with a gnawing sense of boredom, absentmindedly tapping a pencil as she stared at a broken clock she'd been planning to fix sitting next to her. It seemed to reflect and even mock her feeling that time was, in fact, at a standstill. Normally she was proud to be in charge of her family's business, yet today, all she wanted was escape. Looking around the rest of the packed shop with it's shelving and cases of mishmashed parts, half-finished mechanical items, and antiques, nothing sparked her interest. Perhaps she'd dig through the trash again for parts to weld together. That was usually fun. Usually...

Turning her head she shouted, "Dad! Can I shove off early?"

"Absolutely not!" came a bellowed reply from far behind a curtain that served as a divider between the shop and their living quarters, "Your brother has his shift 'n so do you!"

"But I just wanna scrounge up some parts-"

"Birdie, I really need ya to mind the shop. Ya can run about with your friends 'n that beau of yours later! Now lemme finish fixin' the stove please."

She exhaled in exasperation and lowered her head, wishing something, anything would happen. As if by some divine miracle, a few moments later she heard the creak of the heavy door mixed with the musical chime of the bell attached to it. Instantly she snapped into professional mode, standing up tall and putting on a welcoming grin.

"Good day! Wares and Repairs! You break it we can probably fix it! What can we help ya with?"

Using his shoulder to hold the door open while he awkwardly made his way through it, a teen who looked to be around fourteen, though with his prominent limp and slight build it was difficult to tell, let the door shut behind him as he paused to gaze around.

Viktor gaped at the sheer number and amount of items stuffed into the large room which, somehow, was clearly organized in it's own way. Yes, this was certainly the place he'd been told about. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, feeling a sense of hope and even excitement at the prospects; surely somewhere the treasure he sought lay waiting. So absorbed was he it took a moment for the greeting he'd received to register, and he snapped his attention back to the woman behind the counter.

"Ah, yes, hello," he started, shifting his bag again and approaching, "I've been told this place can fix anything and sells almost anything as well..." planting his good foot for leverage he carefully heaved the bag onto the counter, wincing when a dull metallic thud sounded, "So I would like to know if I could ask for some assistance with this."

"Oh? And what is this?" the woman inquired, her hazel eyes alight with an eager, inquisitive sparkle that somehow set Viktor more at ease. She looked to be somewhere in her mid twenties, with thick chocolate brown hair and clad in well-worn but sturdy looking work overalls, arms covered in bandage wrappings with canvas gloves. Something about her looked very familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Undoing the snaps on the bag, Viktor carefully slid a metal box onto the counter in front of her, a gesture which only seemed to fan her curiosity's flame, as she leaned forward a degree. He turned it around and opened a lid to reveal a carefully painted bird made of tiny pieces of metal and wood atop a wire 'branch'. A hollow area in the center was lined with a worn but still soft piece of velvet.

"A music box!" she inhaled with delight, looking from it to Viktor, "It's lovely! Where did ya get it?"

He cracked another, more proud smile and stood a little straighter, "I made it. It's for my mother, but it's not working yet. Something's off with the gears, and the sound mechanism-"

The woman gaped at him, leaning closer, making to touch it but quickly pulled her hand back, "You-made it?! Freakin' hell lad! This is some sophisticated work!"

The angle at which she was now stooped over the counter accidentally gave Viktor the perfect view of her ample cleavage, an effect that in her enthusiasm she was evidently unaware of. Out of respect and to stop the threat of his cheeks growing warm he quickly flicked his gaze to her face, "Th-thank you. I was hoping you might have the parts and tools I need to complete it."

Grinning she stood, planted her hands on her hips and flicked a stray chunk of hair aside, "If we don't have what ya need, no one does! We've got this ummm," she tilted her head, "Sorry kid what's your name?"

"It's Viktor." he replied with another smile, her energy rubbing off a little, "And you?"

"Name's Rosemary! Now let's get this train movin'!"

It may have been mere minutes, it may have been hours that flew by, neither could truly say nor did they care as they worked together to tear through the shop's extensive collection. Gears and bits and bobs were selected then discarded, or placed on the counter for further inspection until they had a generous pile to work with as they carefully undid the music box's inner mechanisms to test them out.

As they worked they chatted, mostly about their mutual interests in creating or fixing things and experimentation. Rosemary told him the story of her family's business, how her great-grandfather had started it and, proudly, how eventually it would belong to her and her brother. Viktor shared his dreams of scientific discovery, of building new and innovative things to better people's lives.

"I guess we have that in common." said Rosemary softly during a slight lull in conversation.

Viktor lowered the screwdriver he held, "Hmm?"

She gently touched the tiny mechanical bird, "We want to make things better."

Eventually, after a generous amount of trial and error, Rosemary crossed her fingers as Viktor carefully opened the lid-and the bird came to life, spinning and making tinny 'chirping' sounds.

He grinned happily as she cheered with a loud 'woo hoo!' They watched it until the spring-loaded mechanism ran out of tension and the bird's movement ceased.

"Thank you so much for all your trouble," he paused, "And for talking with me. It...means a lot."

"Ya kiddin' me? I've been havin' a great time Viktor!" she chuckled, picking up tools and parts to start putting them away, "I love workin' on stuff! Plus, not everyday I meet someone clever as you!"

He gave a small, unsure laugh as he carefully slipped the box back into his bag and dug into a small coin pouch, counting out what he hoped would be adequate, "I suppose my projects aren't too bad."

Watching Rosemary practically dance about the room with graceful movements and singing softly, that familiarity he'd felt earlier came back, burning at the front of his brain but he still couldn't quite recall where he'd seen her. Shaking his head to focus he held out a hand to her, "Here is my payment. I realize we never discussed it, but this should be enough."

She took the coins, nodding as she counted, "Aye, this'll do..." then cleared her throat, "Actually, I'm not so sure."

Viktor clutched his bag and felt his stomach drop; surely it was adequate for what he'd needed! Was she really not as kind as he'd thought? He didn't really have any more to spare, what about the food he was supposed to pick up on the way home? What about-

Abruptly she snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth, "Ah no I-I was only messin' with ya! It was a joke this is fine! I'm so sorry oh your face lad you're pale as a ghost!"

Releasing the breath he'd been holding in a loud, shaking sigh, he dryly replied, "Yes, yes. Hilarious."

"Tell ya what. I'll make it up to ya; swing by anytime you're workin' on another project and I'll help...and give ya a steep discount. Deal?"

Viktor met her gaze, and seeing the remorse and sincerity there, cracked a slight smile again, "Deal."

"Well, in that case," Rosemary swept an arm around, gesturing to the room, "We thank you for visiting Wares and Repairs and I hope you'll visit us again for your fixin' needs! No guarantees."

He gave a brief laugh, "I'll keep that in mind. Farewell, and thank you again, Rosemary." Securing his bag and adjusting his cane to a more comfortable grip, he headed to the door, and was reaching for the handle-when it unexpectedly flew open, a mountain of a man taking up the entire doorway.

"Oy Rosie! I-oop!"

He skidded to a halt, having just about run smack into Viktor, who gasped sharply, moving quickly but ungracefully to one side before cautiously glancing up. The larger man, who seemed to be about the same age as Rosemary, was looking at him curiously but not unkindly with steel-blue eyes and his thick, muscular arm still held the heavy door open with no apparent effort. He also looked very familiar, but again Viktor couldn't quite place him.

He jerked his head in a 'go ahead' gesture, and Viktor mumbled thanks before quickly starting to walk out. The man was so tall Viktor passed easily under his raised arm.

Pausing in the doorway to readjust his load after that mishap, he watched Rosemary's face light up as the man strode up to her where she had retreated behind the counter and leaned an elbow on it opposite her, the pair engaging in rapid, hushed conversation.

Abruptly he realized where he'd seen the man before; a gathered crowd, indignant shouts, calls for change...and at the center, standing on a pile of crates and junk, there he was. He raised his fist high as his deep voice boomed off the surrounding buildings, two other men at his side. He spoke of pushing back, of standing up for themselves, of a more independent city. Viktor had paused briefly to watch and listen before his father had encouraged him to keep moving. As they left, Viktor heard applause and cheering before the noise faded entirely.

Unexpectedly he felt a seething, burning knot of jealous anger twisting in his gut; this man, with his sheer size and confident charm, probably didn't have to worry about constantly watching his back. He didn't have to hobble around, seeing everyone run about with ease while he was constantly left behind. He probably had lots of friends. He didn't have to hear the whispers, the cruel laughs, the insults. Viktor gripped his cane so hard he thought it may break and spun to leave.

Walking as fast as he could manage, the anger slowly petered out until he only felt a cold numbness where the rage had been, like a lead weight in his stomach. He paused to breathe, finding a relatively safe spot to do so as he gathered his thoughts and tried to calm himself. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair...

Self-pity was not something he normally indulged in, finding it pointless and unproductive, but for a miserable few minutes couldn't stop the racing thoughts. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he run and jump like others? Why was he always sick? Why had fate pointed it's cruel finger at him?

Looking up, he saw in the distance and high above, the proud spires of Piltover's Academy, the late afternoon sun shining off their facades. Slowly, the anger morphed into steely determination and he made a vow to himself-

Someday, somehow, despite his abilities, despite his origins, he would be in those rooms, gazing out over the city and feeling this same sunlight warming his face as he worked toward his dreams...

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane viktor #young viktor #arcane oc #arcane vander #young vander #hope you enjoy

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mudd-art · 1 year

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History rhymes | (Traced from an Arcane Still)

#Arcane #Benzo arcane #vander arcane #silco arcane #young benzo #young vander #young silco #Arcane oc #Phone doodles #'Gill' Gwillian the last gasp #Gill is just 'live creature reaction' at Silco bullying a creature in a cage #Bc I had to make it sad somehow

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starguardian-ask · 1 year

Note

How did Silco and Vander meet in Star Guardian AU 👀? (btw they're so handsome, I love your style!!)

Yeah! It was complicated

#arcane #arcane au #star guardian #star guardian au #silco #vander #zaundads #vanco #young silco #young vander

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celestialzet · 2 years

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young vanco’s idea of a date is breaking into a piltover apartment during events or holidays and taking a nice hot expensive soapy shower while the other guards the door

#this was definitely when they were young and feral teenagers #young vander #young silco #vanco #zaundads #arcane #silco #vander

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

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Back-Booth (Kinktober Day 3)

You had a sneaking suspicion, that you were Vander’s favorite.

Vander X F!Reader

Face-sitting, developing-relationship, Young!Vander, pre-canon, some fluff

Vander owns the booth in the back. The building might indeed be in Silco’s name, for Vander’s hand had been too sloppy from drink to properly write his own at time of purchase, but without exception, and without question, if there’s one place that Vander owes in its entirety, it’s the booth in the back.

He doesn’t use it often, despite it being his. However, when he does, it’s usually with a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face as he invites you to join him - and who knows?

Maybe he regulates the back booth of his for this specific reason - specifically, for you.

“Mm… got me more bruised than the Pilties,” You hum, fingers ghosting over the tender skin left on your neck, the evidence of a sloppy makeout session as you both tumbled into the booth before kicking the draw-curtains closed. A low rumble, shooting almost-literally through you, accidently makes you press hard against the hickie with a sharp inhale, and a glare downwards soon to follow.

It’s hard to hold it though, and it crumbles at the cheeky quirk of the Son of Zaun’s brow, and a tongue flicking harshly against your clit a second-time.

“Fuck,” Your other hand grips down on light-brown locks a bit harsher as your hips rock, and you bite down on your lower-lip to keep the volume down as you hiss his name, and earn only a smug sliver of silver as his fingers dig harder into your hip, bringing you closer down onto his open mouth.

Janna… as if you aren’t close enough already.

Physically, and the fact you had a sneaking suspicion that you were Vander’s favorite. A ladies-man to be sure, but as of late, the number of ‘ladies’ he’d had at his side had dwindled significantly since the time of your requirement, until all that remained was one.

You.

Thoughts on that become as fleeting as your lack of pleasure, as Vander’s tongue curls further upward into your cunt, tasting the warmth directly from its source, and, if his appreciative groan and thick fingers gripping deeper into your thighs was any indication, finding it thoroughly delectable.

The way he’s feasting on you is delectable, a fact you show appreciation for not by sound, but by a sharp grind down onto his face. Tilting back to follow the motion of your hips, Vander's head lolls back onto the thin-leather of the booth’s seats, grey eyes fluttering again before they flash open. Silver locking onto yours, in lust and other emotions rolling in his bright gaze, that soon has you grinding your clit against his nose again, and again.

It’s looks like that, that have you more than suspicious that you’re Vander’s new favorite.

Coupled with the groan sounding suspiciously of your name when wetness soon gushes on to his tongue and chin, and the cheeky, yet utterly dazed grin he gives when you shakily move back from his face to his chest, quivering and leaving a slick trail, you imagine Vander’s fondness goes well-beyond the back-booth sex you share.

Maybe the chaste, yet sinfully wet-kiss he gives to your cheek when he sits up, is a good indication too.

#vander #arcane #arcane vander #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #vander x reader #young vander #arcane fic #vander fic #fluff #mdni

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sosooley · 2 years

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любовь среди ментов

#zaundads #Vanco #silco #vander #arcane #young vander #young silco #my art #love them

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immortalbumblebee · 4 months

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Chapter 17: Corrosion

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE 5 MONTHS!!! Tbh this was probably the hardest chapter I've had to write thus far and it was just not working with me. But honestly combined with the new Warwick trailer, and the amount of people flooding into my account and mass-reading my stuff lately??? Thank you so much for the motivation y'all, it really means a lot <3

So without further ago, have this 3k word chapter!

Masterlist

It had taken nearly an hour just to settle the crowds once the officers had left. An entire mob of people, suddenly panicked and in need of a level head to tell them what to do and how to feel. So, by the time Benzo was actually able to walk into the backroom of the arena, the anger that coursed through his veins had (somewhat) been able to cool down, no longer quite boiling over. Now replaced by anxiety that fought with his typically cool-headed mind that was trying to remind him to be rational. The pain in his side wasn’t helping none, of course. His lungs were already shite, but that Enforcer slamming the butt of his gun into his ribs hurt like a bitch… He took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the burning protest of his lungs.

Emotions are never good for business.

“They’ve gone too far this time.” Silco spat, slamming the door as he entered the room behind Benzo. “I mean, storming in here like they own the place, waving their guns around? That’s a new low, even for them.”

“And Min?” Benzo asked, sliding a hand through his thin brown hair, urging his breathing to remain even. Silco nodded, waving his hand as if she were an additional afterthought. Benzo thought about Min getting arrested, the way they threw her to the ground like she was nothing, and suddenly he felt the need to slap Silco upside the head. Bigger fish, he reminded himself. “They’ve never made this much of a show for an arrest before. Grayson knows we’re important down here, and now she’s aiming to take us out of commission.”

“Min’s been arrested just as many times as the rest of us.” Silco argued. “She's strong, she can handle it. Standard protocol; get some bail money together, we run down to the station at first light-” “Are you seriously that petty?” Benzo stepped forward, facing Silco face-on. His tone was careful but carried a weight to it. “This was a godsdamn army, for what? Arresting one lass? This goes beyond your fucking ‘protocol’!”

Silco stepped up, meeting Benzo eye-to-eye. Benzo could see the anger in his eyes, flames of passion, he knew the look well amongst his fellow Zaunite revolutionaries. He only wished that he could believe that any of those flames burned for their missing sister-in-arms, but that would be expecting him to put his own anger aside for the good of the cause, for the good of others. And Benzo knew that wasn’t about to happen.

Taking a deep, attempting-to-be-calming breath, Benzo disengages from Silco’s fury, centring back his focus to address both of them. Noting Vander was still silent, glaring the same hole into the ground.

For fuck’s sake, he thought to himself.

“You two are the fucking leaders here, aye?” Benzo barked. “So where’s yer fucking plan of attack? What do we do? We’re gonna break her out, right?”

Silco’s the one to speak up, of course, shaking his head aggressively. “Are you kidding me? If we’re caught anywhere near top-side, we’re landing ourselves in a cell right next to her. We’re too conspicuous, too high-profile, and Grayson obviously has her eye on us.” Benzo made a move to fight against Silco, but Vander finally chooses to speak up.

“He’s right. We go running in after her, even all the cogs in the world won’t be able to pay her way out. Odds are, we get clinked too. Then what good are we?”

“Oh give your head a shake!” Benzo exclaims. “We could fucking try!”

Vander’s jaw tenses. “This isn’t a ‘run in half-cocked’ sort of deal.” Bento scoffs, eyes practically rolling out of his head.

“So…what? We can do…nothing, then? Is that right?”

Vander takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he’s focussing on his breath. “Nope. But I think I know who can.”

***

It’s rather unfortunate that, out of all the things you could have inherited from your mother, the recurring habit of getting arrested was one of the more notable.

Also unfortunate that cops are capable of learning.

“Minerva!” Grayson’s voice, practically spitting out your name, had caught you off guard. Your eyes glazed over, looking off to the side. From your spot, seated on the ground with your captured hands sticking out awkwardly in front of you, most of her face hidden by shadows. All the light filtered in through the barred window on the door to your cell, a torch light. The cell was completely lightless, almost a pit of darkness. Dank, dark, and too quiet to be peaceful. But what you could make out from her appearance, you could see wrinkles formed between her eyebrows and a deep sneer.

“Sorry Commander, I must have dozed off there for a moment.” You finally responded. “Welcome to my humble abode! I’d offer you a drink, but I’m a little…tied up, at the moment.” You lifted your hands, ignoring the cramped feelings in your muscles and joints. The thick metal that encased your hands wore you down, like holding a weight you had no consent in holding, and no ability to put down.

She didn’t respond to your jest, simply continuing to stare down at you, face like stone but the underlying disgust ever-present. Tough crowd.

“The counsel has been sent the details of your case and are currently discussing further actions.” She explains. “But it’s customary that someone speak with you directly before any major decisions are made.”

“Gonna be a short conversation,” you note, “y’know, on account of the fact that I’ve done nothing wrong. But I suppose everytime something bad happens, us ‘fissure folk’ are to blame, huh?”

She moves on, as if she doesn’t even hear you. “Your nose looks like it hurts.” She notes. Her shoulders are less square than you’ve seen them before, she’s more comfortable here than when you’ve seen her in the Underground. Although you’ve seen her without her helmet before, notably at the apartment when she first introduced herself, seeing her whole face here felt…oddly personal.

You twitch your nose, feeling the dull pain spike between your eyes. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Wanna tell me about the girl who did it? Looked to be a girl by the name of…” she looks down at a file you hadn’t realized she was holding. “Sevika, right?”

Your eyes glance down at the file. Just how many names did they have? “I don’t know, it’s all a little…fuzzy to me. Pretty sure it could have been one of your guys, you know, when they forced me onto the ground and locked up my hands without probable cause.”

She looks back down at you, eyes cold and unamused. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?” She closes the file and reaches into her pocket. Pulling something out, she shows it off to you with an extended arm.

“Look familiar?” It’s hard to make out what she’s showing you at first, but slowly you work out the details. A piece of fabric, red cotton. It was wrinkled and stained beyond saving, but there was a darker, fresher stain around most of it that hadn’t been there last you had it. Of course it was familiar, you’d been wearing it-or ones like it-most of your time in the lanes. The bandana that used to be a staple of your wardrobe, now bloody and in the hands of the Chief of Enforcers.

Your mind flashes to the job just a couple weeks ago, when you’d left the fabric tied around the thigh of that Enforcer you’d attacked. You can feel your heartbeat raise ever so slightly. There’s no way they could have actually linked you to the crime with just your bandana.

“Nope.”

“Really? Cause in all of your mugshots, you’re wearing one just like it in your hair.” She pockets the fabric again. “I notice you’re not wearing one now. Lose it recently?”

You shrug, tilting your head back. “Is changing hairstyles a crime now? I’ll have to let my salon know.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts from three nights ago?”

“You’ll have to ask your mother, I believe I was at her house.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long, deep sigh. “Minerva,” her tone is calm, but irritable. Like she was scolding a small child.

You mimic her, rolling your eyes as well, but significantly more dramatic. “Grayson.”

“I am aware that you and your…compatriots may be used to certain lax standards. But I can assure you that physically assaulting one of my officers is not something I intend to easily brush under the rug.” Your hands attempt to fidget within their constraints, your bones buzzing with the need to move them. “I know the man you hurt, he's a good officer. He has a family, a wife and child. Are you really going to allow your anger to blind you so much that you’re willing to take away a child’s father?”

You lean forward, the chains rattling with your movements. “Several of the people your officers pointed a gun at tonight have families too. Those ‘good officers’ you have, they attack and aim firearms at women and children on a daily basis.” Gone was your mocking tone, your light-hearted facade. “You attack our people in our streets, in our businesses, in our homes. But hey, it’s different right? We’re all just fissure-folk trash to you.”

“And that justifies you nearly killing one of my men?”

You kill hundreds of ours.

Your jaw tightens, biting your tongue. She’s not going to goat you into a confession that easily.

“I didn’t touch ‘your man’.” You finally respond, sitting back against the wall. “And if all you brought me in for was some half-baked story built around a piece of red cloth…well, it’s good to see you’re just as incompetent as your predecessor.”

The room falls silent, both of you glaring daggers at each other. You swear the room grows colder, the cold stone walls looming over you more and more with every passing, silent moment. You tried so hard to focus on the woman in front of you. Maybe if you were more aware, better able to scan her and read her body language, you could find something on her. Find something that you could use against her. But all you could focus on was your bones burning with the urge to use your powers, fanned on by the anger that’s coursing through you. You needed to get out of these damn constraints!

The door to your cell opened again, and another officer poked his head in. This one was much younger, and clearly very nervous. Twitchy eyes looked over from you, to his superior, just as Grayson’s head snapped back to glare at him.

“I gave orders that we weren’t to be disturbed.” Grayson snarled, and you could see the officer practically jump out of his skin in fear.

“Um…I’m sorry Ma’am. But uhh, you see…there’s someone demanding your presence outside.”

“What?” She dug into her pocket, fishing out a silver pocket watch. “It’s not even dawn yet. The doors to the station don’t open for another hour.”

“There were, um,” his eyes dart over to yours, and the obvious anxiety in his gaze makes you smirk. “Very insistent.”

They? God, please tell me the guys didn’t decide to come…

Grayson lets out a long, heavy sigh of frustration. Stuffing the pocket watch angrily back into her jacket and snapping her folder shut, she begins to storm off out of the room. Just as she grabs onto the heavy metal door, however, her head whips back to stare directly at you. Her eyes, furious.

“We’re not done here, you understand.” It wasn’t a question.

Lifting your shackled hands to your forehead, you give a mocking-serious face and a curt nod. “Aye aye, cap’n.”

The door slams behind her, and immediately your mind begins to spiral. The guys can’t have come here, they wouldn’t. Sure, it was basic protocol that all of them would immediately jump to bust the others out of prison whenever one of you got pinched, but this wasn’t your typical riot-crashing or pickpocketing charge. Closing your eyes, you try not to linger on the blurry images of the raid. The white hot shock of fear upon seeing a gun pointed at Narco, Skye, and little baby Vi. The way the frequency of the Enforcer’s guns seemed to scream at you in such large quantities. The fear, all but palpable within the arena as people either were pulled into the fight or ran for their lives. The thought of Benzo being clubbed down, Silco with a knife against his throat and hands raised in surrender, the rage in Vander’s face as they placed you in cuffs.

This wasn’t like any other run-in with the cops that you’d experienced. This was a whole other level, and you knew that if the guys tried to fight you out or pay anyone off; they’d wind up in cells just like yours.

You tried not to let your mind linger on that image for too long, either.

Your throat started to burn with the tears you wouldn’t let yourself shed, your thoughts spinning in and out of control, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. Trying ever so hard to calm your breathing. Please let it not be them out there…

Loud shouting filtered in through the cracks below your cell’s door. You couldn’t make it out, even if you tried, or even how many voices there were, but you could tell it was definitely heated. Were those the guys, fighting tooth-and-nail for your release, only to get shackles placed on them as well? Forced to the ground, kicking and screaming, and arrested in front of a huge crowd with your rage-filled family, forced to watch?

You could only anxiously listen in, your ears straining to hear the muffled sounds as you sat, uselessly, in your stupid little cell. This continues on for what felt like an eternity, but most likely what would have been only half an hour. Until, finally, the door to your cell swings open. On the other side, a very pissed-off Grayson. The flames of her rage practically emanated across the room, getting warmer and warmer as she stormed over to you, keys in hand.

“You got lucky again, Minerva.” She grunts out as she leans down, grabbing your shackles with probably more force than necessary. As she begins to unlock your restraints, your hands slowly begin to regain movement ability, you can feel the energy of your magic slowly flood back into your fingertips. The vibrations of all the metal around you, singing to you like a beautiful orchestra. You could only shut your eyes, the flood of emotions that came with your powers almost overwhelming to your already anxious body. You didn’t even realize that Grayson was still speaking. “-won’t be the last time you’ll be in one of my cells, I can promise you that.”

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t help but ask. You know you sounded pathetic, but this was honestly not how you pictured this going down.

Grayson laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. “All you Underground folk, all you do is play dirty. Lying and cheating, it comes to you like breathing.”

That didn’t answer your question, but as Grayson slapped a normal pair of handcuffs on you, using them to force you up to your feet, you felt it was better not to ask followup questions. She dragged you by your arm out of your cell and into the all-too familiar main chamber of the Enforcer’s main station. On the other end, however, much to your surprised wasn’t the boys. Rather, two female figures.

“Minerva!” Not even your mother’s cry was enough to shake you fully out of your shock as she surged forward, throwing her arms around you in a tight embrace. Out of habit, you tried to return your embrace, only to quickly remember your shackles.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked, quickly pulling away to look down at her with furrowed brows. “You shouldn’t-”

“The boys phoned me!” Her salt-and-pepper hair wasn’t in its usual braid, still down in flowing waves, showing that she had come straight here from bed. Her thick winter coat had been thrown on overtop of her wool nightgown, and her boots were unlaced.

“They phoned both of us.” The second figure spoke up, Niya’s tone was stern, moreso than you think you’d ever heard from her. Her citrus-coloured hair was messier than how it had been at the arena, and there was a new cut along her lip that she must have gotten during the raid. She looked tired, but more than that, she looked mad. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” You looked back down at your mom. “But, why-”

“Your mother and Ms. Niya have negotiated for your release.” Grayson’s words were heavy, and she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding her snarling face. With begrudging movements, she reached down, unlocking your handcuffs. “You’re free to go.”

Before you really even have a moment to wrap your head around what’s happening, your mother is pulling you away from the captain, all but dragging you towards the door. “Come on,” she whispers to you, “we need to get out of here.” But your eyes are still stuck on Grayson’s, the rage flowing off of her body in waves.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Minerva.” She spits.

With all the confusion swimming around in your mind, you try to think of something to say; one last quip to gain the extra hand. You’ve held your ground for so long here, and yet, the only thing you can really think to say is, “looking forward to it.”

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space-blue · 2 years

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This is the preview for my contribution to the Zaundads Zine! Young Silco with a bun supremacy, rise up! It'll be published around the 23rd by @arcanefandomweek along with a lot of other fantastic pieces, I can't wait!

I also wrote a ficlet for the zine. Have a snippet :

'Just let me love you,' Vander says when Silco protests. 'And of course I mean it.' And sure he does. Vander wears his heart on his sleeve and his temper on the back of his hands. Palms to love and knuckles to dole out pain.

I'm very pleased with this pic, it really forced me to work hard on the background and setting, things I very rarely do.

#zaundads zine #zine preview #arcane #fanart #fanfic #my art #my fic #silco #vander #vanco #zaundads #young silco #young vander #silco/vander #blood #tw: blood

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kikiiswashere · 4 months

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Terms of Agreement - Chapter 2

When my bestie, @sand-sea-and-fable, asks for Zaundad smut, she gets Zaundad smut. However, I am gonna do it my way and make it longer than necessary. So a little, baby novella it is! Here's chapter 2!

Chapter 1

Summary: Vander shows Silco just how devoted he is to him.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Established Vander/Silco

Word Count: 3k

PURE AND UNADULTERATED SMUT FROM HERE ON OUT! MDNI!

-------

Warm, sticky steam enveloped Vander as he stepped inside the small, tiled room. He closed the door quietly behind him and tossed Silco’s shirt onto the rest of his clothes piled by the toilet. He shrugged off his vest and began to undo his belt.

“Mind if I join you?”

Silco’s silhouette paused behind the shower curtain, considering.

“It’s your bathroom, too,” was the snide reply.

Vander refused to bite on the passive aggressive statement and finished undressing, dropping his own clothes on top of Silco’s. Mindfully, he slipped into the shower behind his partner, and sighed at the sensation of hot water against his skin. Silco’s back was to him, and his gaze raked down his slender form appreciatively.

Vander enjoyed all body types, but Silco was by far his favorite. The most beautiful. His silver eyes tracked the breadth of those sinewy, strong shoulders; down the narrowing planes of his back to a slim, slim waist. He lovingly smirked as his gaze dropped to Silco’s comically small and perfect ass. He loved to grope and bite those pert and round cheeks, like they were the sweetest pieces of fruit from the market. Below, his long and lean legs sprouted. Like the rest of him, his muscles were cut close to the bone; their shapes and lines defined by Silco’s minimal amount of body fat.

Vander felt his cock stir. He tamped down its excitement and gently reached out to run the tips of his fingers down Silco’s spine. The smaller man, who had been running his hands through his hair, stopped at the touch. But still did not turn to look at Vander.

“I missed ya, Sil,” Vander murmured, stepping closer. His front wasn’t flush to Silco’s backside yet, but it was a near thing.

Silco snorted and reached for the bar of soap nestled in the shower’s corner. He began lathering his arms and chest with feverish attention.

“Did you now?”

Vander sighed and dropped his head, brow pressing against Silco’s damp crown. His giant hands settled on those narrow hips. And Silco stilled.

“I did,” he said, and stepped closer, allowing their bodies to mold against one another. Vander’s heart thudded furiously to feel Silco go ever so slightly slack against him. A bodily response even Silco’s conscious mind couldn’t fight against. Proof that they had been meant for each other, Vander thought.

“I haven’ seen ya for three days. I get fuckin’ worried sick when yer out there. By yerself.”

Silco began soaping himself up again. “You seemed to be managing just fine.”

“Sil – “

“Aren’t you needed up in the bar?”

Vander flinched at that. But he rallied, and slid his hands around Silco’s middle, drawing him tightly against his belly and chest.

“Benzo’s got it covered,” he said, nuzzling at Silco’s temple, kissing the hair plastered there.

“Benzo can manage the bar, yes,” Silco scoffed, “but what about your friend?”

Vander loosed a weary sigh. “It’s just business, Sil. I didn’ know you’d be back t’night. An’ I didn’ know she was comin’ by.”

“I told you I’d be back in three days.”

“Yeah, an’ half the time ya say that an’ it ends up bein’ double.”

“Sometimes things happen – “

“I’m not blamin’ ya, Silco,” Vander insisted, firming his grip on his partner enough to spin him around. He took the soap and placed it in back in the corner. Silco glared up at him. “It’s just . . . we agreed. I let you do these missions – “

“You let me?”

“ – An’ I help Zaun on the home front by . . . well, ya know.” He waggled his head from side-to-side, not quite meeting Silco’s ire-filled stare. “It’s just business.”

“Yeah, well, it hurts me when you bring your ‘business’ into our home,” Silco spat. His glare became watery and he broke Vander’s gaze. “I know you are only doing what we agreed. I know it’s not . . . personal. I just . . . don’t want to see it,” he muttered, his voice barely louder than the running water.

Vander’s face softened and he drew Silco closer to him, a large hand splayed on his lower back. His other hand cupped and lifted Silco’s chin, allowing their eyes to meet once again.

“’M sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’ mean to hurt you. I won’ bring it here anymore.”

After a moment, Silco’s face softened and he felt him give the tiniest nod against his palm.

“You missed me?” he coyly asked.

Vander grinned. “You bet yer sweet ass I did.”

He leaned down and closed the distance between them. As their lips met, Silco wound his arms around Vander’s shoulders and leaned up into the kiss. Mentally, he was kicking himself for being such puddy in his partner’s hands.

Physically and emotionally, he was flint – Vander, the spark. Together, they became aflame with desire.

Silco slanted his thin lips against Vander’s full ones, his silver tongue flicking across the miniscule space between them. A soft rumble rolled at the back of the Hound’s throat as he thrust his own tongue forward, sliding across Silco’s, probing the roof of his mouth.

Silco couldn’t help it. He whined. Gripping Vander’s shoulders tighter, he lifted himself onto his toes to kiss him more intensely.

Insistently.

Desperately.

One of his hands slid up and fisted itself in Vander’s brown hair. His locks were smooth and thick between Silco’s fingers.

“Did ya miss me too,” Vander teased, pulling away to nip at his partner’s ear.

“Shut the fuck up,” hissed Silco, wrapping his lips around Vander’s throat, and sucking fiercely. Leaving his mark on the Hound.

Vander grunted and his hips tilted forward, his dick half hard and well on its way. He gripped Silco’s ass – hard – and felt his partner’s own growing cock against his belly. Vander’s balls tightened and something small and excited fizzed tantalizingly low behind his navel. He wrestled Silco back into a kiss that was all tongue and lips. His right-hand slip down around his partner’s small ass. His fingers pet the defined cut that bisected his buttock from his leg. And then slid lower. And under.

Silco started and gasped at the first tender stroke placed on that sensitive strip of flesh between his balls and anus. His hips pressed back into Vander’s digit. His lover did it again. And again. Each time, the swipe would end nearer and nearer toward that tight ring of muscle. Silco whined and panted into Vander’s mouth, kisses becoming too wide and hungry. His cock grew and thrummed between them, the tip of him pointing up seeking attention. It pressed into Vander’s flat, strong belly, and the pressure was as euphoric as it was maddening. Silco groaned, his hips rocking between Vander’s finger and stomach.

The Hound broke away and looked down between them.

“Janna Almighty, Sil,” he breathed, crowding his partner against the shower wall, and sinking to his knees.

Vander’s hands raked up and down Silco’s front – just as slim and defined as his back. In the glistening light of the bathroom, under the spray of water, the delicate cut of his physique glimmered and shone. Like starlight on the Pilt. Vander’s cock ached at the sight of him. He was so beautiful. How could he ever think Vander would prefer anyone to him?

His thumbs flicked Silco’s dusty pink – nearly mauve – nipples, and raked down his ribs. Silco shuddered. Not only at the sensation, but at the sight: The Hound of the Underground on his knees in front of him.

For him.

It made Silco feel loved. And powerful. He reached out and ran his hand threw Vander’s hair, guiding his head to tilt up. For their eyes to meet. They looked at each other, eyelids heavy with lust, lips kiss swollen. Vander grinned at Silco, and nuzzled the thatch of wiry hair near his hip crease.

“I missed ya, Sil,” he said into his skin, and then licked a long, wide stripe up the groove of his hip flexor.

Silco sighed and shuddered, his hips jutting forward into nothing. His cock seeking out something, anything. A low chuckle rippled through Vander’s throat as he shifted his head over – making a point to lightly drag his lips across the purpling head of Silco’s dick – to the other hip crease. Another teasing, erotic swipe of his tongue.

Silco grunted, the back of his head bumped against the tile. In frustration. In elation.

“Vander – “

Before he needed to ask, there was wet, delicious heat tracing the underside of his shaft. Then a seal around his head. Light suction before Vander bobbed his head down in increments, running his tongue along veins and Silco’s frenulum, until he was nestled at the root of his partner.

Silco’s hands threaded through Vander’s hair as his eyes closed, his eyebrows pitching up in ecstasy. Vander drew back slightly, adjusted the angle of his head, relaxed his throat, and began a gentle rhythm.

Pleasure rattled up and down Silco’s spine as Vander repeatedly swallowed around his cock. When his hips jerked forward, Vander’s hands gently, but firmly, held Silco in place. A touch that said ‘I got this. Let me take care of you.’ He created a particularly tight seal and swirled his tongue around Silco’s flushed glans. A gesture to assure, tease, elate, and promise.

“Y-yes-s,” Silco moaned, scraping his nails against Vander’s scalp.

Vander hummed in thanks and the sound vibrated through Silco’s sensitive cock wonderfully; another bolt of pleasure rocketing up his spine, his abdominal muscles flexing excitedly.

“I missed you, Vander,” he whispered up toward the ceiling as his lover continued to lavish him.

Vander’s right hand stroked down Silco’s thigh once, twice, before carefully lifting the back of his knee, and slinging his leg over his shoulder. Before Silco could question what he was on about, there was a gentle press against his hole. He gasped, and accidentally pulled Vander’s hair. He winced, but chuckled around Silco and pressed his index finger against him again, circling. His heart soared when the tip of his digit was welcomed in. Water was fine, but it wasn’t lube; so Vander very slowly and very gently pumped his fingertip in and out. Above him, Silco whimpered and cursed, his body opening effortlessly. His hips pressed down as he took in Vander to the second knuckle.

“Faster,” he ordered. Although, Vander knew it was a plead.

He obliged, pumping his finger in and out in time with the contracting of his throat. Silco’s thighs began to tremble.

“Another. Please.”

Vander pulled off of Silco’s cock, a thick string of drool hung between its tip and his bottom lip. He grasped the shaft in his left hand and began a languid, but steady pace. Hand jobs were easier to give when his attention needed to be elsewhere. His middle finger zipped up tightly against his index, and the pair slowly breached Silco’s opening.

Silco flung his head back and groaned, fighting the urge to just sit on Vander’s hand. The fingers bottomed out, and a sly grin cut across Vander’s face as the pad of his middle digit lightly pressed against that spot he knew so, so well. Silco jerked and choked. Vander drew his fingers back and slid them in again and again, each time brushing that knot of nerves with more conviction.

Vander smiled as he watched his lover become more and more undone. Silco’s face pink with pleasure and open; his slender body trembling. He looked so good. Gods above, Vander loved him.

With the pace set, Vander prepared to take Silco back in his mouth. To finish him off and take his cum down his throat. But as his lips pressed against the tip of him, Silco batted him away.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head. “No, no. I want – I want you inside.”

Vander’s heart leapt. He chuckled, “I am inside ya, Sil.”

He rubbed the tips of his fingers against his prostate pointedly. Silco yelped and ground his hips against Vander’s hand.

“The other way,” he panted, swinging his leg off Vander’s shoulder. “I want your cock. Please. I’ve missed it.”

Silco couldn’t bring himself to care how desperate he sounded. He had missed Vander. Had missed having sex with him. Had missed his cock. It was all true. He would deal with the vulnerability hang over later. Right now, with his prostate and dick well-primed, he just needed to be fucked.

At once, Vander was reminded of his own dick. He’d been so wrapped up in and around Silco, he’d forgotten his own turgid member. Since dropping to his knees, it had grown and swelled in the wake of the sounds and sensations of his lover. It ached and dribbled.

Silco carefully stepped out from in front of him, and Vander took himself up in his own hand. He allowed himself a couple strokes to soothe the pressure in his rock-hard member. He stood, cock bobbing proudly before him, turning toward Silco. His partner was bent over at the waist, hands braced on the tiled wall, that perfect ass presented and ready. His blue eyes glanced over his shoulder, hazy and lust-filled. Vander’s mouth went dry with want. He surged forward and grabbed Silco’s narrow hips.

He curled over his back and whispered, “’M gonna make ya feel so good.”

“You better,” Silco purred, tilting the cleft of his ass to catch the cock prodding him.

Vander laughed lowly, before taking hold and guiding himself toward Silco’s winking hole. A zip of pleasure rocketed up from his toes to the crown of his head as the tip of him was pulled in.

Heaven. Silco felt like heaven, if there was such a place. Vander drew back before pressing forward again, digging deeper. He didn’t suppose he’d ever make it to heaven, but he didn’t care. Not when he could hold it in his arms; not when he could be wrapped up in it, feel it from the inside out.

After another couple rocks and sways, Vander was seated to the hilt – his pubic hair scratching at Silco’s cheeks, his heavy balls caressing the back of his slender thighs. Vander sighed in relief and bent over, resting his forehead between Silco’s shoulder blades. Beneath him, the smaller man trembled and panted.

“Ya okay?” Vander asked, kissing his back.

Silco nodded. “More than okay. Move. Please.”

“Anything fer you.”

Vander kissed between his shoulder blades once more and stood. With a secure hold on Silco’s hips, he began thrusting back and forth. The sound of wet skin slapping together rang throughout the bathroom; Vander’s grunts and Silco’s whines were quick to join, the small space becoming a cacophony of sound. Neither had enough bandwidth to consider or care if the sound of their love-making traveled up to the bar.

Silco’s nails scraped against the tile wall. His ribcage swung frantically with his breath, like the bellows that kept the furnaces alive in Augmentation Alley. Intense pleasure built up his spine like a heating thermostat; his cock jumped and dripped. With each pass and press of Vander’s dick against his insides, he didn’t know whether to push back or pull away. His thighs began to tingle, his knees began to knock.

“Fuck, Sil,” Vander gasped behind him. “So tight. So. Fucking. Good.”

He grit his teeth and increased the pace. Silco cried out and his back arched. He babbled and agreed.

“Vander!” Silco yelped. “I ne – I need – “

“I gotcha, Love,” Vander assured, knowing exactly what Silco needed.

His right hand released Silco’s hip and swooped under him, taking hold of his impossibly rigid cock. The smaller man moaned and bobbled his head up and down as Vander began stroking him. Silco gasped and pleaded and rocked his hips into Vander’s hold.

“Yes yes yes yes – hng – YES!”

Silco came with a cry, ropes of himself splattering over Vander’s fingers and against the tub. After working him through his orgasm, Vander made to pull out, but Silco reached his hand back and grabbed his thick wrist.

“No. Inside. Inside, please,” he breathlessly asked. And then, with more snark, “You’re not done making me feel good.”

A grin that toed the line between sweet and wicked curled Vander’s lips, and he renewed his grip on Silco. Truthfully, he was grateful for the request. There was something about finishing inside his partner that felt untouchably intimate. It made him feel close to the man he loved.

Vander set a vigorous pace, as much for himself as it was for Silco. The muscles cradling his cock squeezed and massaged as the head of him beat against that bundle of nerves repeatedly. The fizzing behind his navel swelled and bubbled in mounting pleasure.

“Oh, Gods, Vander,” Silco warbled as the pressure against his prostate threatened to release. Vander’s hips stuttered. His cock swelled. “Fuck, I love you.”

Vander erupted at the proclamation. Yelling in relief as he unloaded inside of Silco, his hips rutting against his backside. The firm, consistent sensation of Vander’s cock massaging him, coupled with the feeling of his seed filling him up, tipped Silco over the edge. He moaned lowly as the deep, gooey feeling of release seeped through his muscles and bones, threatening to shake his legs right out from under him.

Before he could slip away, strong arms were gathering him up and lifting him away from the wall. Vander pulled Silco into his chest, his softening dick slowly slipping out of him. He winced at the emptiness and sighed. Vander kissed his temple and held him tighter.

“I missed ya, Sil. I love you, too.”

Silco hummed appreciatively and wrapped his arms in front of Vander’s. He turned his head, and Vander ducked his head down, kissing him softly.

Belatedly, Silco heard the patter of the shower. Then he felt the water. He’d forgotten where they were. He shivered.

“The water’s gone cold,” he said against Vander’s lips.

The Hound huffed a small laugh, and reached behind him to turn off the spigot. “Let’s get ya into some warm clothes, yeah?”

Silco smiled and nodded, following his partner out of the tub.

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Notes: *blushing furiously* I HOPE YOU LIKED IT. If you did, please comment and reblog! I'd really appreciate it!!

There will be at least one more chapter. Hopefully, I'll have it up in the early days of the new year.

Coming Up Next: Silco reminds Vander why he belongs to him

#silco #vander #vanco #silco x vander #zaundads #young silco #young vander #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco fanfic #vander fanfic #mdni #smut #silco smut #vander smut #zaundads smut #my writing

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