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I never loved you gently.
I loved you like the last cigarette —
with trembling hands
and a promise to quit after this one.
I never held you loosely.
I loved you like the last sip of rum —
with cracked glass
and an oath to quit when I am done.
˚₊‧✩.✧˚ 🍃⏳🍃 ˚✧.✩‧₊˚
One… two… tree flickers on the lighter before the flame appears, painting the small room with a soft orange tint for as long as it takes him to light his cigarette. The first drag is always the nastiest, the feeling of the smoke burning in his lungs always foreign and uncomfortable. But the action of breathing in and out as he watches the smoke rise into the sky is calming, numbing the previous discomfort, encouraging him to keep going.
Just like any other vice, the reward always lays past the initial discomfort, and just before paying the price for it. At least they are of good quality. The taste is still bad, but better than the outright horrid the cheap ones have. These ones are not something Ekko can afford, nor something he would waste money on even if he could. Luckily for him, they are a present from the blue-haired woman he had been cuddling with until just a few minutes ago. A gift she makes sure never runs out despite the fact that she never indulges in it.
She's the one who can actually pay for them, though he suspects she prefers stealing them from those specialized piltie stores. To that he doesn't have any objection, the way they get to him is none of his business. Beggars can't be choosers, after all. It's already a blessing that she chooses plain cigarettes over the fancy cigars her adoptive father smokes. It gives him hope over the fact that she too likes to keep this little refuge separated from their reality.
Ekko leans on the open window to breathe out the grey smoke; too pale and plain compared to the one tattooed on her skin. Tracing them with his fingers is much more relaxing than smoking is. But if he hadn't got up, his anxious tossing and turning would've inevitably woken her up, and he wants her to sleep a little longer.
His insomnia has been worse lately, a bad feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach preventing him from resting when nighttime comes. The same one he's currently trying to drown with another deep, slow drag from his cig. It helps to some extent; the deep and slow inhaling and exhaling along with the fresh breeze tickling his naked body.
This is not the occasion to let anxiety consume him. There will be time for that later, once he's back in his room at the Firelight sanctuary. For now, he pushes it to the back of his mind. This safe haven is the only indulgence the Firelight leader has, the only place where he can allow himself to give in to all his weaknesses and vices — cigarettes, alcohol, her. That last one being the worst of them. The one that makes him feel the most guilty, and at the same time the one that makes him come back every time.
Jinx is resting peacefully tonight — body relaxed and a calm expression on her pretty face, almost purring in contentedness as soon as she fell asleep. It's in general a rare occurrence. Usually her sleep is plagued by nightmares of all kinds that wake her up between screams and cries. A knowledge her enemy shouldn't have, but he doesn't find it in him to care about that fact while he's here with her.
It's a heavenly display, her naked, half-wrapped in the white sheet of the bed. Her long, blue hair free from those braids and lovingly framing her figure. An otherworldly creature made of moonlight, unaware of the blessing the sight of her is for his mortal eyes. Even in her sleep, the pretty afterglow of her pleasure still lingers on her.
Right at that moment, she stirs and turns, unintentionally revealing to him more of her naked frame. From in between the blankets Ekko finds one pale thigh peeking out, covered in blossoming marks he left there just a couple of hours ago. The milky skin on her abdomen is not in much different state, a garden of purple love marks blooming there as proof of tonight's events — to have something to remember once they leave their oasis.
From where he is, Ekko can see a tiny spot in between her hip bone and waist that would look gorgeous with one of his marks. The scene in front of him only manages to make his member grow hard again, though he chooses to remain seated admiring the view. He'll take her again later, after she has rested for a little longer. There's enough time before they have to part ways. And in any case, she's always liked when he drags her back to bed in the morning. Though he hopes that she'll let him make love to her rather than just fuck her.
For now, he's content with just watching the bewitching scene as he waits. Committing every detail to memory in hopes of capturing it on paper once he's back home — remorsefully thinking about her. A common hobby of his. Confessing all his sins and crimes with pencil and paper, turning them into masterpieces that would never have the chance to see the light of day. Made exclusively for his own eyes.
In the drawings she always looks divine, equal parts paradise and torment. His favorite is the one he made after the memory of her, still lost in the ecstasy he took her to. Flushed skin contrasting beautifully with her hair that surrounded her like a blue halo. Half-lidded eyes completely lost in the haze of pure bliss after her climax.
In his wildest dreams that's the look she always has, closer to a mortal than a deity. So human that he can almost fool himself into believing there's a place for them outside of this mirage they've built. One where her bloody hands and his righteous anger don't matter anymore. A world where she can be more to him than just one of the vices he bottles up until the call for relief becomes unbearable.
He takes another drag and then shakes off the ash with a flick of his finger. Maybe he could drink one or two shots if only for the sake of sleeping. He knows that Jinx surely brought with her another bottle of that liquor he likes, the same one he keeps purposely forgetting the name of in order to keep the temptation at bay when he's out of this place.
That one is also of good quality. Ekko would like to share with his friends at the Firelights. But then he'll have to explain how he got it, and how is it possible that he had taste it enough times for it to be his favorite. So he settles for silence, and with sharing it with the enchantress who provides it in the first place. It's better this way; let his people live in ignorance and hope. Though it would be much better if he'd stopped coming here completely.
It's always the same thought when it comes to this place. The problem is that he can only pretend to be the flawless Firelight leader for so long. Everyone needs to blow off steam from time to time. Not very often. Twice per month, or less than that if his conscience is feeling particularly guilty, or if her actions turn particularly heinous.
His people know about his escapades, only not the full extent of what he does during them. A lot of the members of the Firelights do similar things sometimes — going out, forgetting about their responsibilities. Why would it be any different for him? They blindly trust in him, giving him the necessary time to clear his mind. Ekko wonders what would they think of him if they knew what those activities entail — the vices he indulges in here. The person he becomes when he's in this place, too far from the leader they know and respect.
What would happen if someone were to discover the growing pile of drawings stored under his bed? His collection of those has become quite big recently, enough to make him build another safety box for them, lest one of his people actually find out about his private affairs. Will they call him traitor, hypocrite? Would they be disappointed in him?
He's aware that he should stop, but also knows it's futile. He has tried many times, and failed miserably at each one of them.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that none of those thoughts actually reach him when he's in here — when he's with her. In this abandoned corner of Zaun, there's no place for fear or worry. He can do that back home, fear his weakness and worry about his indulgences. Yet, while he's in here, they stay outside the door, perhaps afraid of the man he is when he's inside.
Remorse will come to him eventually; he knows. It'll catch him once he's back in the hideout, looking at his ceiling as he waits for sleep to come. He'll think about this place then, feeling tempted to come here again; he's sure. He won't. At least not for a time. Shame will keep him away for a while. Until the impulse to return festers, and he can't take it anymore. And then the cycle will restart.
In a couple of weeks maybe, or a little more if he has the misfortune of having to fight against her during a mission. It breaks his heart every time he has to see her outside of this place. As bitter enemies fighting ruthlessly, when only days prior he had been holding her while she moaned his name, lost in the pleasure he provided. But those are the rules. Never talk about it, never even think about it. The only place for these thoughts is the safety of the night.
🔥༄࣪ ִֶָ☾.⏳ ࿐ ࿔*:･
The cigarette finally runs out and he puts it out, the butt abandoned in the scribbled ashtray she made for him. A simple gesture, yet so thoughtful, and so painfully similar to the way Powder used to be. Ekko lights up a second cigarette almost immediately, hoping that the fire from the lighter momentarily dispels the bad thoughts.
The encounters are never planned. They just have a way to match the other. Or maybe Jinx waits for him in this place every night. Ekko huffs, shaking his head at his foolish idea. If that were true, she would never have time to build the guns and bombs she uses against his people. He gives one long, purposeful drag to the cig. No, there's no pattern to it. Just meeting when the need for each other demands it. Quite similar to the way it happened the first time.
It was a couple of years ago, barely a few weeks after Jinx had presented herself to a fight displaying proudly her new tattoos — unknowingly messing with his head until he couldn't take it anymore. A burning lust awaking in him. The forgotten crush from his infancy coming back with full force. This time darker and with a much deeper reach into his soul.
He had been trying to drown all those messy feelings in alcohol, dancing, and the hope of an easy hookup that would calm the ardent urge. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. Most times it was just a way to scratch an annoying itch that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he tried satiating it in the privacy of his room.
It was a cold detached option, but still a better one than going to one of the brothels under Margot's jurisdiction. Back then his escapades had consisted of drinking nights in one of the few night clubs not owned by one of the chem barons. The mere idea of contributing to their enrichment while poisoning the Undercity being so disgusting to him.
The alcohol they served there was cheap, diluted with unknown stuff to get the most out of them. It wasn't that late, and he had already gotten dizzy, dancing alone and waiting for someone to catch his eye. By the point that had occurred, they both had been drunk enough to forget all feuds between them.
Some of the details of the night are completely lost in him. One moment he was dancing, the room spinning around with red and green lights flashing from the ceiling — more or less aware of the gorgeous girl ogling him — the next, everything had turned blue. The prettiest shade that had always made him weak, clinging to him like a vine. His hands had instinctively held her — not yet recognizing her with his mind — an invitation to dance and see how far that dance would go.
She had melted in him almost instantly, happily purring in his ear for his acceptance. Her body and his had sway pleasantly to the music. Her hands roamed his arms and shoulders until they reached his chest, searching for something — probably wanting to check if the space in his heart with the shape of her remained there after all this time. It was — it is. Still fitting so perfectly in there, like two matching pieces — returning to being one after being forced to wander as halves. It had felt so right back then, coming home after years of being away. Yet, his drunk mind still hadn't deciphered who she was.
Time quickly blurred away in her company, mainly due to the dubious alcohol, though it would be a lie to say that the enticing spell of her perfume didn't submerge him too into a trance. The magnetic pull she has over him taking effect — the same one that keeps making him return to this place every time.
Just like that, little by little, he ended up trapped in her. With her beautiful face so close to his, her alluring eyes, needy and pleading with him to come and drown in them. Triggering a kiss that quickly escalated to something else — primary instincts taking over, with wandering hands and curious mouths.
Even then, Ekko only knew it was her when his tongue had found the clouds adorning her shoulder. But instead of breaking the bubble, the discovery had only served to egged him on — making him crave more from her. Determined to leave pretty plump marks to embellish the clouds on her skin. Needing to lick away the freckles like sprinkled caramel dusting the skin of her shoulders.
His memories of that night are to this day a disarray of sweet moments and flashes of her. He can put them in order to some extent. First would be the sight of her big doe eyes looking shy as she asked him if he wanted to go somewhere more private. He had dumbly nodded, and then got lost in the delight shining in her eyes as she grabbed his hand to guide him. Or it had been him the one who led them to the place they now use as refuge? Perhaps it was neither and they had landed there by accident.
The next has to be the memory of her under him, only because both were still wearing their clothes. Ekko had given himself the chance to look at her face more closely, appreciating all the small changes that now gave her face a sharper look, more mature and impossibly alluring. When had she changed this much? Probably at the same time he did, if her exploring eyes over him served as proof.
The rest of it is confusing. Mostly feelings of her cold, soft skin, and the pretty noises she made that he had enjoyed so much. He also recalls her long braids wrapped around his wrists and fist — the excitement over her giving him that much control… But then there's also the memory of her hair running free all around them, like rivulets flowing down her figure, and giving her that divine aura she carries every time they meet again in this secret place. Her small hands grabbing his, caging them as if to prevent him from leaving — as if he would ever want to go.
He doesn't know the moment when they lost their clothes. If she had stripped for him, or if he had taken the time to undress her. All of that remains a mystery to him. He only remembers himself already exploring with his lips the soft expanse of her tattooed skin. His adoration flourishing from within the clouds in her shoulder, arm, breast, stomach, and hip.
The next must've been when he had witnessed the sight of her flushed face as she opened her legs for him — like a silent invitation she was too shy to actually say out loud.
"Ekko, please…" the blue-haired fairy in front of him had whispered, "b–be gentle"
Her voice so tiny and embarrassed, how was he supposed to resist the urge to taste her? Make her come in his mouth until she begged so prettily again. It had been like a dream seeing her like that, so lovely and vulnerable, screaming his name in bliss — little mewls and moans escaping her lips. Pleading with him to give her more of the love he had for her, asking him to turn into one with her.
Then, when she had been under him, all flustered and overwhelmed but still so eager. He had felt an intense urge to kiss her, so he did. She had allowed him to — pliant and responsive to his touch. Whimpering in his mouth as he dragged his fingers against her folds, getting her ready for him. She had come again in his hand, eyes rolled back, ragged breath and an adorable little pout on her face.
Intoxicating, the most powerful drug Zaun could offer. Even the shimmery pink poison paled in comparison to the effect her body drenched in ecstasy had in a man like him.
Then, like a siren, she had called for him again, what else was there to do but to sink into that ocean of blue waves over the pale pink surface — making sure to be gentle just like she had asked. He took his time, fighting against the lust and pleasure in favor of burning under his eyelids every single detail of the sight under him — later to be captured in paper, becoming the first piece in the secret stash under his bed. But more than anything, his foolish self had wanted to show her the adoration his soul still held for her regardless of everything that had happened between them.
However, there's a dark shadow looming over the memory, staining it with the guilt that only a sin such as that one carries. In all the duration of the encounter, Ekko had neglected speaking her name. Neither the current nor the previous one. A shameful thing that he keeps doing now, even after so much time shared with her. He can't help it, both names weight heavy on his soul.
'Powder', the first one, the shared past and all that they will never have. Made of hopes and childhood dreams. It dissolves in his mouth like cotton candy before he has the chance to pronounce it, leaving only a saccharine taste behind it.
'Jinx', the current one, the harsh present that hurts at contact, and yet the only possibility for a future. Made of sorrow and everything that makes him weak. A spice deliciously burning his tongue, reducing the sound of it to ashes before it reaches his lips.
They force him to remain silent, because choosing means hurting her and himself one way or another. Because until they learn to let go, the past will always be condemned to carry the crimes of the present. Or the present will find itself unable to live up to the expectations of the past, the painful 'what ifs'. It's not fair, nor something he would wish for them. So, he avoids pronouncing them entirely — only like this is she able to remain the nameless goddess he worships.
He had tried to atone for this crime; alternate names of endearment, gentle praises, and soft, sweet nothings spilling from his mouth that had guided her as she fell over the edge. Rewarding Ekko with one of the most magnificent scenes he had ever witnessed. The same one he still uses on the lonely nights when the guilt is too big for him to go look for her — but not enough to restrain himself from doing something about the craving for her.
At that moment he had understood with surprising clarity that, after that encounter, nothing else would ever be enough again. Her and only her, the only other person he would ever dare to share himself with. Accepting that, only here, in this place of fantasy and pretend, would she ever be his — the only way in which the Undercity tolerates their brief encounters.
🔥༄࣪ ִֶָ☾.⏳ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Ekko exhales the grey smoke from his lungs, flicking the ashes from his half-finished cigarette before taking another drag. Thanks to the memory of her, he is now painfully hard. But he's planning on waiting for a little longer. He wants to finish smoking first, give her a few more minutes of slumber before waking her up with his mouth on her skin.
It's all part of the fun, relish in the domesticity of the scene. Enjoy the sight as she sleeps so peacefully in the bed they unmade just a few hours ago, unaware of the salacious thoughts brewing in his mind. Let his longing for her deepen with the wait so he can love her properly before the day begins.
His eyes instinctively look at the wall clock Jinx made for him after that one time they got carried away and ended up staying more than they should have. It's still early, though he must remember to keep an eye on the clock — it's easy to lose track of time in Zaun. The sky in here is always grey and dark, making it impossible to tell the time by just looking at the window. Another thing the Pilties have stolen from them, turning a gift of nature into a luxury they have deemed the Zaunites undeserving of.
In the Undercity, only the Firelights are able to enjoy of such comfort. Warm sunlight slipping between the leaves of the ginkgo tree. How much he would love to see her there. Waking up in his bed, the golden light of the morning sun dancing over her naked body. Or maybe just a quiet evening sitting under the tree, enjoying the clean air and the fresh breeze as they laugh about everything and nothing.
Ekko takes another long drag to chase those thoughts away before they take root. Hopeful dreams only serve to hurt him more when he finds her again on the opposite side of the fight. It has happened before, many times — a lesson he has learned the hard way. It's a constant heartbreak, especially when it's been just a few days after their encounters, having to fight against her while the marks of both his love and hatred share the canvas of her skin; both oh so painfully similar.
Love and hate are a constant between them, even in this room where they like to pretend that the outside world doesn't exist. But the influence of the outside inevitably seeps into their safe haven. When the tensions outside escalate, so do the ones inside. He first noticed it a few months after their little encounters had become a thing.
It was just after a mission that had been particularly successful for the Firelights. A big shimmer shipment destroyed by their hands, no casualties, not one wounded fighter — there had been no fight, the whole mission had been smooth and stealthy. In and out before Silco's goons knew what had happened.
Ekko had been ecstatic, his conscience feeling so light that there was barely any guilt when later that same night he had felt the urge to go see her again. Eager to play into their game of forgetting which side they each fight for. Almost thinking about it as a reward for a well done job.
The thing is, as he later learned, Jinx had been part of the people assigned to protect it. Her adoptive father hadn't admonished her for the failure in protecting the shipment. Though his disappointment was enough fuel for the demons in the mind of the blue-haired woman to do the job themselves.
She had already been there by the time he arrived, and contrary to what he should've expected if she had known about his involvement, she had welcomed him with open arms and an uncharacteristic desperation for him to just take her. Clinging to him with a thing he at first mistook for lust.
The first request was innocent enough, a spanking, nothing he hadn't done before; all within the bounds of this relationship that has no name. Then she asked him to do it again.
"Harder! harder!" A red spot with the shape of his hand already imprinted on her skin. "More, more, more…"
The bells of alarm ringed, showing clearly on his face as he looked at her. So she was quick to deflect with misleading demands for deep kisses and lewd touches. A distraction, only to resume her masochist requests not long after. Begging him to go rough, to be mean, to make it hurt. Pull her hair, call her names, slap her face, choke her.
All his previous happiness evaporated right at that instant. It wouldn't have been a problem if she really were into that, nothing that a previous agreement and some rules won't facilitate. However, Ekko felt the edge in it, something else hidden behind her sudden requests. The undeniable intention of punishing herself, or rather making him do it for her. That was the first time he had ever denied her something while in their oasis.
"No, not like this, Love"
"Please—" she had croaked out in between sobs, "please… I–I need it"
It took a long time to calm her down, to convince her to wait and talk before doing anything else. They spent the rest of the night between cries, cuddles and grueling confessions. A temporary measure to keep at bay the monsters in both their minds. Clinging to each other for dear life and then taking the time to kiss every old pain and scar. Improvised stitches for the wounds that refused to heal.
But it happened again some time later, and again, and then once more just to be sure. And Ekko would like to believe that he's a better man, one that no matter what would never give in to the anger and rage. Unfortunately, Zaun has never been known for raising righteous children, no matter how good their hearts used to be. Not to mention that, at the end of the day, this secret place they share is a place for vices, guilty pleasures, and wickedness. Because what else is it if not wicked to allow your worst enemy to also be the love of your life?
In occasions like those, when her pleads for hurt match his wrath, pain and pleasure can only mean the same thing by his hand. His sins growing with each spank, insult, or whatever other cruel action his depraved mind turned to reality. Staining the body of his precious goddess with equally loving and violent marks.
The retribution for those actions always comes in the form of guilt — at this point Ekko could almost swear he's mostly made of it. After that, apologies overflow his mouth and hot, and acidic tears try to purge the vileness out of him. Gentle reassurances from her lips alleviate the sting, though never forgiveness since she always assures him there's nothing to forgive.
Still, he never lets her go before showing her the proper care she deserves, kissing away every hurt on her soul, whispering soft loving praises directly to her ears. Everything to prevent her from forgetting the gentle way in which she deserves to be loved — the way he loves her when the hate doesn't get in the way.
There's also the middle ground between it all, when those interactions truly come from a playful desire rather than from the inherent poison of being broken. The push and pull that comes so easily for them, exploring the limits of their own boundaries with the only intention of seeing the other break so divinely under the right amount of pressure. Discovering new things about the other and themselves only to later make good use of them is perhaps the most delicious game. Ekko likes it better like that, believes she does too if the mischievous smile she gives him at those times is anything to go by.
🔥༄࣪ ִֶָ☾.⏳ ࿐ ࿔*:･
There is less than a quarter of his cigarette left when a small movement on the bed pulls him from his reverie. Almost imperceptible if not for the fact that all in him is used to noticing her every move. It's not only the movement that catches his eye, but the recognition of its cause. The beginning of one of those nightmares his Baby Blue is often haunted by.
He immediately abandons the small vice in the ashtray in favor of going to the important one — the one who needs him right now.
Standing at the foot of the bed, he looks at her in awe. She's breathtaking like this, adorable and vulnerable, even with the slight furrow of her brow due to the unpleasant dream threatening to disturb her peace.
"Bunny…" he calls, her face immediately relaxing at hearing his voice has him smirking to himself.
Scaring away the bad dreams by calling for her is a temporary solution. At this point, the best thing to do is wake her up, bring her back to the equally dreadful world, but also the one where he can hold her. At least while they are here in their private retreat. Help her forget all of those monsters, banishing them before she properly wakes up.
His hand grips a corner of the blanket covering her, pulling from it slowly to reveal her naked frame. In the dim light of the night, the contrast between her pale skin and her blue tattoos makes her look ethereal. The memories he had been recalling just moments ago paling in comparison. Definitely not helping his situation, but Ekko is a patient man — one that knows how to take his time.
He crawls up closer to her. On his knees, as if fulfilling a vow to the deity of his devotion. Stopping only when his face is leveled with her navel, half her body caged under him. With the tips of his fingers he grazes the hip bone, tracing with a featherlight touch the edge of the cloud tattoo adorning it. It is one of her most sensitive spots, so he's not surprised by the small jolt of her body. Though it's still not enough to wake her up. Her furrowed brow eases; the only proof he needs to know that he's saving her from the bad dreams.
Saving. Another indulgence of his, perhaps his most harmless vice.
Ekko places both his hands over her waist, marveled by the possibility of encircling it completely with them. He refrains from doing so — there will be time for that later. Right now he's focused on properly waking her up in her favorite way. His hands move, hot hands traveling the cold familiar path of her skin. From her waist, to her hips, and through her thighs to finally landing on the back of her knees. A low chuckle ripples from his chest at the shiver running through her, enjoying the divine ways in which her body reacts to his touch regardless of still being lost in the arms of sleep.
Slowly, he moves her legs, searching for a more comfortable position. And like the weak man he is, the sight of her parted legs in front of him amazes him just like it did the first time. He rests his head on one of her legs to admire the view, gently rubbing his cheek against the tender skin there.
Like in a trance, his lips start to make their way to her core, adding more purple flowers to the garden he planted on her thighs. A pleased sigh escapes her lips; nightmares fully dismissed now by his loving touch. But he has yet to fully erase whatever memory lingers of them in her head — the only action that has ever truly earned him the Boy Savior title.
Jinx gasps softly when his lips finally find hers. Ekko would've chuckled if he weren't already lost in the maddening taste of her, only making a fire ignite in him. Ekko starts slowly, wanting the sleep to leave her gradually — opening eyes with the glint of pleasure already in them. It's a hard task to accomplish, since his pretty girl is — even in her sleep — a deadly siren. Using her song of breathy whines to lure him in and drown him in her sea.
The most expensive Noxian wine would be put to shame if it were to compete with the intoxicating flavor of the spring between her thighs. So drunk on her, Ekko is so close to losing his mind. The licks of his hot tongue grow more insistent, causing her body to stir and shake slightly — not waking up yet. But his body aches for her, needs her to wake up, to bless him with the sound of his name coming from her lips.
Please, Love. Please, please, please… He calls in his mind due to his mouth being busy sucking the rosy nub that works wonders to contort her face in delight. It works now, stealing her from the realm of dreams. Eyelids fluttering open to reveal the blue gems underneath, disoriented by the haze of sleep. A confused and adorable pout appears on her face at the surprise of finding herself being devoured by her lover.
"E–Ekko…" she moans, all pretty and breathless, making electricity travel down his spine at the recognition.
His pace changes then, going faster and faster, riled up by how responsive she becomes now that she's awake. Jinx can't help it, opening her mouth to speak only to get lost in the adoration being poured into her by his fervent mouth — unknowingly singing Ekko's favorite love song. It doesn't take long before the waves of ecstasy engulf her, almost taking his lover with her by the sight alone.
Almost immediately Ekko starts his ascent, kissing the skin on the way to reach her mouth. An expert hand is left behind, making sure to help her come back from the peak he just sent her to. The other one rests on her hip, massaging over the bone because he loves the little gasp that escapes her lips when he does it.
She giggles when he kisses her neck, her jaw, then her cheek and finally leaves a chaste kiss over her lips. Her hands cradle his face, looking at him with adoration. A small action that could almost make him cry. His woman being so sweet, looking so fair — the moon that illuminates his darkest nights.
"Ekko," she calls again, making this game of theirs feel real.
"Came to save you from the nightmares, Love"
"Nightmares?" His Baby Blue asks, tilting her head, "I don't remember that"
"Good," he purrs, nuzzling in the crook of her neck, kissing, biting, marking.
She laughs, happy and excited — his favorite sound ever since they were just innocent kids. There's little innocence left now, but they are still here, and he needs her so bad. Both his hands are free now, roaming her body in search of the sacred places to worship, to make her sing again.
"Ah…" A moan. "Boy Savior…" A praise. "More…" A plea.
And it would be blasphemous to disobey her. He sits, already missing the softness of her skin in his lips. It's all worth it when she shyly parts her legs for him — an invitation. Already more than what a mortal like him should be allowed to witness. But Ekko is a greedy man — a starving one too, needing to take and consume all that she offers.
Ekko sinks in slowly, and she whimpers, gripping him tightly. In their hastiness to be one, they had neglected preparing her for taking him. Still, her eyes roll back, the stretch delicious. A distinctive glow comes from her, the spark that sets him ablaze.
Rolling hips, wandering hands, their favorite dance beginning again. He holds her close and kisses her lips, swallowing the delicious moans crawling out of her throat. It feels good, like a dream, like a reality. Soon they yearn for more — of this feeling, of each other, of themselves, of the inebriant fantasy of having a future.
Perhaps is that shared need what makes her change the pace. Her right hand on his chest, feeling his beating heart. The other on his hair, keeping him close. She looks at him with her pretty doe eyes adorned by tears like shimmery diamonds. In them, the perfect mix of love and lust that melts his heart.
"I–ah… Ekko, please," she lets out, "I…I need–mmh… I w–want…"
"What is it, pretty girl?" He asks, falling into a trap, "What do you need?"
"C–call my name"
Time stops with that simple request — the only one Ekko doesn't know how to fulfill for her. A crack in their sanctuary through which the cruel reality begins to sip in. Both her names fighting in his mind — none emerges victorious. His tongue freezes, her face falls, and her body tenses. The dance slows to a stop. In her face, regret and panic fight for dominance, but it's sorrow the one to win over the other two.
Ekko discovers himself unworthy — of her smile, of her touch, of being one with her. He's ready to retreat, separate from her and beg on his knees for forgiveness.
"No, no, no, please," she begs, desperate, "It's okay, it's okay, forget it."
The hand feeling his heart moves. He immediately feels the cold of its absence. Her arms hold him down, cradling his head in her chest.
"Just…just don't stop," his devastatingly beautiful goddess granting absolution to his heresy, "please, don't stop"
If Ekko were a better person — a deserving one,— he would've known which name to say, let go of the pain attached to them and choose. He would've understood the reason that drove her to make that request, and more importantly fulfill it. However, the Ekko in this room has never been that kind of person. In here, he's just a despicable man, product of the corrupted remnants of the Little Man she knew, dreaming about everything they are not allowed to have.
All he has to offer is this fantasy, fragile and insufficient.
"Please…" she begs again, quieter this time.
Ekko has already denied her enough — he will never allow 'love' to join that list.
Their dance resumes, but the rhythm changes. Speaking has never been their strong suit. Communication is confusing for them who grew up in a place where words were more often than not used as weapons. Physical contact in contrast comes easy, knowing each other's reactions as if they had once been a single entity. There are never any missteps between them; it's only natural that they can predict what the other needs, adjusting in time with their other half. A push and pull capable of making the sea tide jealous for its smoothness.
The push.
For all the harshness his Bunny proudly holds inside of her, she is actually a soft lover. Her calloused and scarred hands have a way to locate all the weaknesses of his body and soothe the heavy ache in there. Alleviating all the tired old pains product of his tragic history, and making him cry, laugh, whimper and then moan.
Her mouth knows how to do magic like no other. Her lips always know where to find those corners and crevices in which the sorrow, anger, and grief like to hide and build a home. She chases them away with the softness and love she always hides from everyone else but him.
And once she's done freeing him of all the grievances haunting him, Ekko feels somewhat ashamed. For he is the Boy Savior, yet is this blue fairy the one saving him from himself.
The pull.
Ekko, on the other hand, is an artist through and through. His knowing eyes already seeing the hidden shape under the surface, removing one by one her worries as excess layers that she no longer needs to carry. Sculpting her very soul with his strong and expert hands until there is nothing in her that doesn't feel like a masterpiece.
Then, his eyes transform into the finest brushes that have her painted in the most beautiful of colors. First the red, a scarlet nebula to accompany the star-like freckles on her cheeks and nose. Second, the purple, to dress her skin with royal colors, so she never forgets her divine nature. Finally, the highlights, shiny tears trickling down her body, although if they are his or hers neither of them knows.
Finally, when she's nothing more than a whining mess under him, all worries long forgotten, it's time for the final touches. A few kisses over the hip bone as a signature, though the delirious whisper of his name may also work as such. Syrupy words pouring from his mouth all over her body as the varnish that will preserve her forever.
🔥༄࣪ ִֶָ☾.⏳ ࿐ ࿔*:･
Once everything is done, having cleaned themselves and laid back down together, they just rest in silence. Holding each other close while one of her hands massages his scalp, and one of his gently caresses her spine. It doesn't take long before sleep finds them again. Her first, lulled by his heartbeat, and then him because following her has always been his nature.
They wake up again later than usual. Having no intention to separate yet, ignoring the late morning looming over them — they can afford to stay here for a little longer. It's silent and comfortable, only lamenting that they can't remain like this for eternity.
But time stops for no one, especially not for the enemies resting in the only place they are allowed to be lovers. And soon enough the wall clock lets them know there's no more time left, their responsibilities so awfully opposed can't be delayed any longer. Even then they steal every second they can, dressing slowly, making the bed, braiding her hair — anything to postpone the goodbye.
She gives him a deep long kiss before reluctantly leaving — it leaves a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth. Something in him screaming to not let her go, to call her name now, to make her stay. He doesn't. Instead, he watches her go, taking a part of him with her. One he hopes he'll recover once they return to their safe haven. Not that he minds, he'd give her all of him if he could, but just for the promise of seeing her again he hopes she'll return it.
Back at the Firelights sanctuary, his people wait for him with new information about a shimmer cargo that will be sent out in a couple of days. And the Firelight's leader starts planning their next hit, while Ekko prays to not find her there.
But Janna must've been busy that day, because of course Jinx is part of the people in charge of protecting it. The evidence of that night still present on her, which only makes her following actions ten times worse. The bombs she throws at his people and the shot that kills Eve.
Anger ignites in him once more, restarting the vicious cycle and preventing him from returning to their secret spot for longer than usual. That same fury is still present when Vi appears in their lives again and he takes her away from Jinx. Then the battle of the bridge, where her chomper finishes the encounter with a loud, terrifying explosion.
Ekko survives with some scratches and an injured leg, only knows she does too because of the blue rocket that destroys the council. He can almost laugh about it, fully aware that the consequences of her actions will cause countless problems to the Firelights, but feeling a twisted sense of vindication.
The need to see her is almost immediate after that, and yet he pushes it to the bottom of his mind once more in favor of protecting his people from the chaos. It's not until the taste of spice burns painfully on his tongue that he returns to their place.
For the first time he finds it empty and in exactly the same way it was when he left the previous time. He drinks half the bottle of his favorite liquor as he waits for her, but she doesn't appear that night. He's there again next week, spending the night awake thinking about her. But she never returns, not even while he's not there. He knows, since the empty bottle sits in the same place he left it when he drank the last sip of it, and the cigarettes run out without her replacing them as she used to do.
His visits become less frequent, since there are no more vices to indulge in there. Little by little, the two sides of him become one again, and he gets to see how her own name starts transforming into a symbol of hope in Zaun. But then the tree gets sick, and both blame and salvation seem to be in Piltover's territory.
The last time he's there — the day before venturing upside — Ekko tortures himself thinking about what would've happened if only he had called for her when she asked. The answer of which name to say is clear for him now, but it's too late. Time has never been by his side.
˚₊‧✩.✧˚ 🍃🌀🍃 ˚✧.✩‧₊˚
She never liked being Powder — helpless and pitiful.
She doesn't like being Jinx — angry and lonely.
But Jinx is strong and Powder is weak.
Yet, the wish to be neither never vanishes.
She likes their secret place because in here none of that matters — in here she never has to worry about who she is. Especially when her Boy Savior holds her with so much care, looking at her as if she were something precious — in here she feels like something precious.
But it's been so long, and she just wants to go home; she wants him to take her home.
I need you to call me home.
Why won't you call me home, Little Man?
She doesn't even care which name he uses — the old one, the current one, or one completely new — as long as it's his voice referring to her.
Just call me home.
Offer me your hand once more.
I promise this time I'll take it.
"Call my name," she begs, because begging is what one does in front of a benevolent god.
Kind-hearted and forgiving, the only person that has seen her true self and still loved all of her — the good and the bad, the bright and the messy. But her bones turn to ice when she sees the expression on his face; sorrow and dread obscuring his once tender gaze.
She knows what comes next. The voices in her mind have told her many times — they do it again in case she forgets. He'll stop loving her; he'll remember what she is, what she's done. He's gonna leave while looking at her in disgust for daring to ask such a thing.
No, no, no, no.
"No, no, no, please," an anguished plea, "it's okay, it's okay, forget it."
Don't leave me.
Her hands like greedy claws holding him, wrapping him back into the beautiful lies of their fantasy.
"Just…just don't stop," her tone trying to sound soft, trying to make him stay, "please, don't stop"
Tears sting in her eyes and needles pierce her heart, but she refuses to show it, to ruin everything again.
"Please…" A whispered prayer.
He grants her that, at least. He returns to her, loving her like she's a treasure rather than a jinx. That will inevitably change; she knows. Once they are out, he'll hate her again. That's why he can't call her home, offer her a way out. That door closed long ago, when she slapped him to make him leave that one time he came to rescue her.
The magic that makes her presence in his life bearable only works in this refuge. Outside of here she's just something despicable. Outside of this shelter, only hate can exist.
Her heart breaks at the realization. She will never find her way home again. Not even to this insufficient substitute. His fearful silence had erased from her memory the way back. Having painted in falseness all the love vows he has made to her so far.
That night, she gives him all her heart, and then some more. A kiss before leaving and then she's able to cry her soul out in the solitude of her hideout.
The following weeks are chaos — death, destruction and bad decisions — and no long after she finds herself alone again.
Nights become endless as she wanders the Undercity trying to remember the path to their secret spot, but she never succeeds. Eventually, she hears the rumors about the disappearance and probable death of the Firelight's leader. Her searching stops, and lonely nights quietly crying herself to sleep begin.