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She could hear the rumble of war in every sound she drew from that girl. Pretty sounds, pulled from Caitlyn's chest. Deep groans and high, gaspy sounds. War on every breath.
The warmth of her hand against spreads across her lower back like land to claim as Ambessa watches Caitlyn fall apart in need.
She'd made the wrong assumption when she first found Caitlyn at her door step, when she'd first darkened Caitlyn's. Ambessa had assumed the girl would want a surrogate mother, a figure to give her praise and lift her up -- there's fragility behind the strong, beautiful lines of the Kiramman features, after all, and they'd both lost so many someones.
But -- "Good girl," comes out of Ambessa in nearly a growl -- it turned out Caitlyn needed something else instead. Ambessa prefers this. Fucking, when she can't fight. Handfuls of flesh and the clash of lips and teeth.
She could have been an advisor, she could have laid in wait and schemed. It'd taken time for Salo to learn to respect her, to kiss the ring on the hand that feeds but that was a different dynamic. No sex, just power, and Ambessa loves the power, but Caitlyn? It's different. It feels good to feel Caitlyn watch her every interaction like a hawk, worried someone will usurp the ambassador's affections.
"Such a good girl," Ambessa says, pulling away from where Caitlyn is left, breathing hard, spread before her across a desk that is... no one's by right, not at the moment, but Ambessa thinks she'll take it as her own if there are memories like this attached.
"You're doing so well for me," Ambessa murmurs, her fingers curled just enough to drag against a spot that makes Caitlyn moan, then turn to quick, hiccup gasps.
"I can't," comes the whimper. Caitlyn's face is pressed into the wood by the weight of Ambessa's hand in her hair. Ambessa follows the curve of Caitlyn's spine with her eyes, admiring the bend of her body.
Ambessa licks her lower lip. Caitlyn's hole has been worked open and Ambessa drags her fingers against Caitlyn's most sensitive flesh, watching her drip while the whole of her body trembles in drawn out oversensitivity. She gauges where Caitlyn is, the thoughts or lack thereof that must be swimming in her head and makes a call.
"You will," Ambessa says softly, her thumb following lingeringly over sensitive flesh, tracing to the very trip of Caitlyn's clit and dragging back down as Caitlyn sobs in pleasure. Caitlyn makes her frustration known by trying to buck up into the hand that holds her down. There is a pause then, perfectly level, "Do you want me to stop?"
It draws Caitlyn up short. Ambessa knows she wants to fight, to be held down and made to comply. She can taste the rage on Caitlyn, but that's not what this is. Ambessa wants to ply Caitlyn open until there's no doubt she submits fully, willingly.
Theres nothing to prove here. It's a trope as old as time that those in power wish for safe places to relinquish it. Caitlyn is strong. She has backbone. Ambessa had believed that even before Salo admitted the name carried as much weight as it does. Ambessa admired Caitlyn's resolve from the moment she first saw the girl arguing in the council room against counselors who saw her as little more than her mother's pale shadow. It's natural she should need a place and a time, a steady, guiding hand.
Caitlyn still doesn't respond. Ambessa pulls back, starts to pull away. Consent can be revoked, wordlessly, and she'll not--
"Stay," Caitlyn says.
As soon as Ambessa's hand is out of her hair Caitlyn is trying to chase that touch - grabbing out for Ambessa's hand and pulling it so she can rest her head against Ambessa's palm. It plays cruel tricks on Ambessa, ones she knows she deserves, for how that makes her heart beat faster, for the way her stomach swoops like it hasn't in years.
She's grateful that Caitlyn can't see her expression, see the mourning there, in the twist between her brows, before her calloused fingers curl and hold Caitlyn's face.
It's not one-sided. Ambessa wants to break the woman down, undo her. To hold the military dictator of Piltover so close in hand that they are one body, one will. Caitlyn knows, she's smart enough for that, Ambessa knows. Maybe Caitlyn's not aware of how much she gives away with every "please" but there's victory in her eyes when Ambessa stays. Another minute in bed, another hour in the baths, another night with her.
It isn't with ease that she says, "I'll stay," when rose perfume chases her where ever she goes.