Chapter Text
Hers: Voltaea
Everything burns around Voltaea as she presses back against the wall of the shower - the water, her heart, her nerves, the touch of Alara’s lips against her own. She’d asked for an answer - Voltaea’s only instinct was to pull her in and show her when her own words failed her. She tastes the wine on her mentor’s lips - she’s been drinking too much… that explains the slurring, but the rest of this? What are we doing here? Why won’t she just let me explain? Water pounds against the tile around her - the chaos of her heartbeat fighting to match the rhythm. Her hands wander over Alara’s skin as her own reaches out to claw at the base of Voltaea’s spine. A gasp escapes her lips before she can trap it there - not pain - something else, more fire.
The second Alara pulls away, Voltaea’s hands twitch with the urge to yank her back so she can feel that blissful heat again. What’s wrong with me? Why do I need her so close right now? The static crackles louder every time she tries to think - she focuses on her breathing but it’s just as out-of-tune - shit. Alara’s half-slurred siren-song cuts through the steam and the static and coils its way around her - “Before we continue, I need you to tell me something else.” Can I finally explain myself?
She grasps for the question - her mouth moves but no words come out - that’s not what she wants to know, she told you that. But what do I say? Alara’s stare screams confidence but her shaky grip and shifting eyes say differently - What’s going through her head? When she finally speaks, all she can muster is a whisper - a question, she hates too many questions, but what else can I do? “Tell you what?”
The nails in her back dig deeper, downward, latching onto the back of her leg - her lips betray her by letting another one of those foreign-sounding whines escape them - I don’t understand any of this. She looks to Alara’s for some kind of hint - all she finds is a smirk splayed across her face and an intensity that melts her every nerve. There’s something in the way her words waver when she speaks again that sends her thoughts spinning - “Tell me that you’re mine.”
Is that it? Is this a test? Alara’s eyes scan her own - too loud - she looks to her lips for clues instead. The bottom one quivers, almost fearful - Is she afraid? Is that what this is about? Voltaea’s hands shake, she feels them twitching against skin as they hold each other in place - Am I afraid? Alara taps her nails along the back of her thigh - she’s getting impatient, shit. - I don’t want her to go anywhere. I don’t think she wants me to go anywhere either. Her voice is steadier this time, almost firm - I hope this is right. “I’m yours.”
“Good girl.” Those words again. They send a shock running down her spine every time she hears them now - she tenses. Alara sears her nerves with another kiss, pressing her back against the cool tile - a sharp contrast to the heat of everything else around her. Before she has a chance to pull her closer, Alara shifts - not breaking the contact, moving it downward - the soft touch of her lips against Voltaea’s neck forces another strange sound to leave her.
I’m an embarrassment.
Alara feels unsteady in her arms, grasping for support - claws dig into Voltaea’s hip - this is too much, no control - “Alara, I don’t -”. The protest dies in her throat as a tongue traces the ends of her scar, just below the shoulder - the usual phantom pain blending with something that makes her legs feel limp underneath her - pure voltage - Don’t fall, don’t go limp, we’ll both go down. She tenses - Alara shifts - her mouth hunting lower until she reaches her br- Oh. That’s where this is going. But I don’t know how to- “Alara, I’m not r-”
“Shhhhh.” Alara breathes the command against her stomach and she’s struck silent. I’m not ready. Am I? I don’t know how this works. I- Hands shift across her skin again, clawed nails digging further into her back as Alara crouches in front of the most sensitive parts of her - too exposed, no control, stop making those fucking noises! Why can't I stop? She can barely hear herself think, or breathe, or keep track of her heartbeat - it’s all static, electric, burning shock. Voltaea looks down, Alara’s focus is locked on her body - she watches her mentor as she grazes her softer fingertips across her, downward, until - oh fuck. A harsh inhale, loud enough to pierce through the buzzing in her brain - it’s all she can do not to make that other noise again. Alara pulls back - no, wait, that was…
“Please…” She wants to tell her to stop, or not to stop - or both - she only manages the first part as the shock of that touch rips through her. Alara tilts her gaze upward, just long enough to lock eyes - she smiles - it’s the same one she gave her that first night on the train when Voltaea threw herself into her lap. When Alara had shifted herself underneath her until her leg pressed into that same spot that made that same fucking noise escape her. Voltaea had thought she was uncomfortable under her weight but now? She knew. She’s always known, hasn’t she? She keeps telling me I’m not subtle - is this what she meant? What does that make me?
A strike of hot, wet, lightning shocks straight through her core as Alara’s tongue finally reaches between her legs - Hers. It makes me hers. She doesn’t fight the sound this time, lets it slip out of her like a plea for answers - or maybe for mercy - No. For more. Alara pulls back just enough that she can still feel her breath against her, taunting her - she steels herself - Then I guess that makes you mine too? Voltaea laces her fingers through Alara’s curls - No resistance. This is what she wants. And I don’t ever want her to stop. - she tightens her grip and yanks her forward until her mentor’s lips press against her. A different sort of kiss. A better one.
The static clears as Alara’s tongue plunges forward - her ears pound with a rapid, thumping pulse in its place. She battles to stay upright as her inner circuits shatter under the pressure. “Don’t stop.” - her voice is unrecognizable - ragged, breathless, pathetic . A sudden vibration between her thighs nearly collapses her - a low chuckle, pressed against her - it’s electrifying. Her whole body tunes to the movement - every nerve ends at Alara’s lips and fires in unison. Her nails dig into her mentor’s scalp to pull her tighter still - to hang on, to stay standing, to feel everything.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” A muffled voice from below - then that laugh again - her head falls backward into the tile, limp and languid. A tight heat coils around her core - building with every motion - burning brighter second by second. She closes her eyes - What am I doing? What am I letting her do? Why is it so perfect?
The sensation shifts again - Alara’s fingertips gently glide across her entrance while her tongue teases further forward. Voltaea stifles another whine - don’t do that! Alara’s voice vibrates against her in response - hard to hear with her pressed inward as she is - “Relax. Let it out - I want to hear how much you enjoy this.” How is she not embarrassed by me? It’s good when I do that?
A single, soft finger slides inside of her - she clenches - relax, she said to relax . A half-pleasant, half-painful burn tears her open as she cries out - too loud, too much, too perfect - don't stop. Her grip on Alara’s head falters as her whole body starts to weaken from the sheer, overwhelming feeling of it all. The tightly wired heat in her core feels like it’s going to burst. Every subtle shift Alara makes - her tongue, her lips, her fingers - drives her closer to the edge of oblivion. Fuck.
“Let go, darling.” The demand shreds the last of her resolve - the dam holding back that building wave inside her breaks in spectacular fashion. Her mind short-circuits - there’s nothing left but that delightful burning of nerves - the wet-hot lightning that consumes her. Alara stops moving - stays pressed against her while the wave subsides - her pulse throbbing against every touch. Her legs can’t take anymore, she slides downward - back pressed against the tile to slow her descent. Alara’s hand pulls free with a soft, wet sound to wrap around the back of her legs to guide her to the floor. She’s shaking, exhausted, completely derailed - that much she can make sense of. Nothing else sticks but the sound of her heart, her breaths, the splatter of water-on-tile.
It might be minutes - it might be hours - she’s not sure how long it takes her to finally open her eyes again. The first thing she sees is that self-satisfied smirk on Alara’s lips - her stare slicing through her as she crouches at eye-level in front of Voltaea’s collapsed form. She slams them shut again. What did I do? Oh gods, what are they going to think of me back home? My mother would -
“You can open your eyes, you know. I won’t bite - Not when you’ve done so well for me.” Alara’s voice has steadied now, throwing her a lifeline through the haze of her swirling thoughts. I did well? But she did everything, I just stood there and fell over. She opens one just enough to take in the sight in front of her. Alara’s lipstick is smeared slightly onto her chin - slick-looking, different somehow. Her cheeks burn at the realization - oh no, did I do that? She opens her eyes fully, to get a better look at the mess she caused, but Alara cuts through her thoughts again before she has a chance to get them straight - “There. See? You’re fine. No need for all this embarrassment.” Her smile softens, beaming - wet curls frame her face like a work of art - it almost hurts to look at her when I’m such a disaster .
They stay like that for a while - Alara looking her over, Voltaea reeling with a thousand disjointed thoughts - What am I supposed to do now? What are the rules here? Alara finally rises to her feet, grabbing a shelf on the wall to haul herself up unsteadily - she doesn’t take her eyes off Voltaea. Am I supposed to go next? How do I even do that? Her voice cracks when she tries to speak - “I’m s -” No apologies. “I don’t know how…”
Alara raises an eyebrow at her, reaching out her free hand while the other supports her on the shelf - “Just take my hand, darling. I’ll help you up.” Voltaea takes her offer, grabbing hold and pulling herself to her feet with considerable effort - still shaking, but slowly steadying as the seconds tick by. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wait, that’s not what I meant. I know how to stand.
“I… um…” She struggles to find the words - “I mean that I don’t know how to… um…” She gestures at Alara’s still-nude form in front of her. “You know.” It’s like being shocked all over again - heated shame burns through her cheeks. A shrill cackle bursts through the rising static.
“Oh, you sweet girl - still thinking of me?” I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Alara lets go of her hand and reaches up to brush a strand of Voltaea’s hair off her cheek before caressing it. Her voice softens, song-like understanding - “Of course you don’t know how - but I can show you all my tricks later.” She pulls back from the contact, turning slightly so she can fiddle with the shower handle. The water cuts off - silencing the rhythm of the room once more. “For now, let’s get you ready for dinner.”
“Wait, no. I don’t want to go out there.” The protest slips out before her thoughts can catch up - I don’t want to be anywhere but here right now . Alara steps toward the door of the shower, sliding it open - the steam pours out, replaced with a burst of cooler air that sends shivers across her skin. “Please? Can we just lay down for a while?”
Alara sighs, “Alright, darling. We’ll get ourselves dried off and have it delivered to us - but I don’t want you to get in the habit of skipping meals. You still have the games to win in a few days time.” Her heart drops into her stomach - the arena. I don’t want to think about the - oh! I was supposed to ask her something!
“Speaking of the games, can you -” Her words are cut off by the sound of the overhead blowers as Alara flicks them on - excruciatingly loud. Voltaea flinches, stiffens - Alara takes it upon herself to reposition her so she dries off properly. At least it’s warm. Voltaea lets her mentor take control - it’s far easier than moving herself right now. When they finally click off, she tries to ask again. “Can you sign off on an official alliance between Districts Five and Seven? I know you don’t like Sarah, but I think -”
Alara cuts her off - waving a hand dismissively over her shoulder as she walks to the robe rack and starts flipping through - “Since you don’t seem to be dropping the subject, and I detest arguing - I’ll relent just this once .” Her words are sharp, but Voltaea can hear the performative edge to them - like Alara has to force herself to stop smiling. She feels a rush of excitement at the prospect - yes! She listened! This is actually going to work- “But - I have a few conditions before I say yes. First, make sure those brats know who the one in charge is - that’s you, darling. Don’t let that girl walk all over you - don’t give away your best secrets - and don’t be a flirt.” She puts more emphasis on the last one - That’s the most important to her. She needs to know she comes first. I can show her that. “I won’t tolerate disloyalty, not after tonight. Are we clear?”
Voltaea nods, “Crystal clear. I promise.” Alara tosses her the black-silk robe that she’s been claiming as her own since she’s arrived here - she nearly drops it - still not quite recovered from her earlier exertions. “Thank you… for listening to me. I can tell you about the rest of my plans now if you want, while we wait for dinner, and then maybe we can -”
A sharp sigh stops her excited ramblings in their tracks, Alara turns to her - eyes heavy, voice thick - “Voltaea, I have to stop you there. I am beyond exhausted this evening, perhaps the strategic discussions can wait until morning?” Alara pulls a blood-red robe over her, not bothering to tie the front - Oh, yeah. I should probably get dressed. She struggles to get her own on as the silk threatens to slip through her shaking fingers, but she manages. Alara wraps an arm around Voltaea’s waist, slipping it under the robe and giving her a tight squeeze that makes her gasp - “Gods, I’ll never tire of that sound.” I’m glad you like it, I guess? Alara chuckles under her breath as she leads the both of them out of the bathroom.
Voltaea loops her arm around her mentor’s shoulder as they glide their way to the bed - the familiar chatter of Capitol gossip plays from the television - it feels welcoming now - not new, comfortable. As they reach the edge, untangling themselves from each other’s grip, Alara falls forward into the plush mattress with a long sigh. Voltaea sits next to her, unsure of what to do next if she’s not allowed to talk about strategy. Food? “Should we call Orville? For dinner, I mean.”
Alara rolls onto her side - “Oh yes, probably. Give me a moment.” Voltaea watches the front of her robe slip open, revealing every pale curve - heat hits her like a moving train - she’s beautiful like this. Wait, I’m allowed to look now, right? Alara pulls herself upright and leans back against the pillows. Her mentor fumbles on the side table for the phone, grabbing the receiver and dialing out. It only takes two rings for an answer - she can hear Orville on the other end of the line. Alara’s voice takes on the sterner tone she uses with him - but it’s shakier than usual - “Orville - have your avox bring a dinner cart to my suite. Instruct him - very specifically - to leave it at the door and knock rather than barging in. I’ll retrieve it when I’m ready.” She hangs up before he has a chance to respond. “There. On its way, I assume.”
Alara leans back into the pillows with a satisfied exhale, closing her eyes - as if that phone call had taken the last bit of her energy. Voltaea shifts into place beside her, unsure of what to do with her hands, her words, her feelings. Everything is still too loud — her heartbeat, her thoughts, the static. She watches the slow rise and fall of Alara’s chest - The glossy, slightly smudged curve of her lips falls slack. Something clenches inside her stomach - What should I do now?
She reaches out, brushing the tips of her fingers along Alara’s exposed side - stroking just above her hips, where the silk has fallen away from her. It’s not even a touch so much as a test. Or a thank you, maybe? Alara’s face twitches - just a flicker, like a frown that doesn’t form fully. She reaches out in a flash, catching Voltaea’s wrist in her clawed grip - not rough, but deliberate. She guides her hand away from her body, then lets it go without so much as opening her eyes. “Let’s not ruin a perfect evening by overreaching, my sweet.” The words are soft, but they still hit like a punch to the gut. I’m sorry.
Voltaea doesn't speak the thought aloud, just pulls her hand back into her lap and fidgets with the other - What was I thinking? Garbled voices from the television fill the room as she looks back to Alara - her jaw is completely slack now - chest rising and falling slower and slower as she watches. Then a small snore escapes her lips, still smeared with dried red - Did she fall asleep? Just like that? Voltaea whispers, just to test - “Alara - do you want dinner?” No response, just another soft snore. She reaches out and gingerly pokes Alara’s shoulder - nothing, not even a flicker of movement. I don’t think I could sleep for a week after that. Maybe it’s the wine? Or is she bored of me? She pulls one of the bedsheets up over her mentor’s sleeping form, plants a soft kiss on the side of her forehead like Alara had the night before - I’ll try not to wake you up.
There's a familiar, rhythmic knock at the door - the avox, shit. I have to eat dinner. She asked me to do that. Her mind is so far from hunger right now she can’t imagine what she could possibly want, but vows to try at least. Voltaea sits upright - she’s sorer than she was earlier, like the day has finally started to catch up to her. She creeps quietly to the door and presses her ear up against it, just to see if anyone is lingering outside - nothing, not a sound. Pulling her robe across her chest, she opens it - she can hear distant chatter from the main lounge, but the hall is blessedly empty besides the silver-lidded dinner cart. She drags it inside, shutting the door quickly behind her - silently cursing it when the wheels squeak loudly against the metal axles. Alara doesn’t seem to wake up for anything right now - it’s a small relief, at least.
Voltaea brings the cart over to the couch, pulling off the lid and grabbing a few foods that at least look slightly familiar to her. There’s flatbread, meat, some kind of rice-cassarole with bits of green in it. None of it looks appetizing right now, but she forces herself to load a plate and sit down in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. She grabs the remote to flip through the channels until she reaches Alara’s recordings - choosing an episode at random. The familiar voices of Alara and her co-hosts are a welcome break to the usual chatter - even if the other woman with the thick drawl sets her teeth on edge.
Dinner is a haze - she barely tastes the food she forces herself to eat. Her head starts to throb halfway through the second plate and she puts it to the side - this again? I thought this was a morning thing? I’m not even tired yet. She briefly considers grabbing the discarded patch from the bathroom and trying to stick it back on herself for some relief - that’s not going to help me sleep. I need to figure something else out. The last few nights Alara had given her a drink before bed - to help her sleep - maybe that’s the secret? But I don’t want to go out there… Wait, Orville! That’s his job.
She leaps up from the sofa and skates across the room to the phone, carefully lifting it from the holder so as not to startle Alara - she’s snoring deeply now - I’ll be fine. There’s a label near the top on one of the buttons that just reads “lobby” - she tries that one. Two rings - then a familiar chirp from the other end “This is Orville, District Five, how can I -”
Voltaea cuts him off, trying to keep her voice firm - just do it like she does - “Alara says you need to bring her two glasses of wine, and leave them by the door.” It’s the best she can come up with on the fly.
There’s a pause at the other end - heavy breathing, then - “Alright, I’ll have them down in a flash. Did she mention anything else - where did she g-” Voltaea ends the call before he can finish his questions - the chirping makes her skull feel like it’s being split open.
The wait for his arrival feels near eternal - she paces by the entrance, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Finally, she hears them coming down the hallway and presses the button to open the door. Orville stands there with a tray in one hand, the other raised to knock - looking very surprised to see her. “Oh, ah. I expected Alara, is she h-”
“I’ll take those, thank you.” She grabs the tray from his outstretched hand and nearly spills the glasses in her eagerness - oops. Orville catches the other end to balance them. He looks over her shoulder - opening his mouth like he wants to say something, but Voltaea strikes first - “She, um, told me to grab these while she took a quick nap. Thanks again, I’ll be going now.” She steadies the tray in her hands and backs into the room, using her elbow to press the button that closes it in front of her with a final, mechanical hiss . Ok, not smooth, but that worked out just fine.
She brings the tray over to the bed - my side? I guess this is my side. She slides in - slowly, carefully - wrapping the silk sheet up over her exposed legs. Voltaea stares at the two glasses for a long moment after setting them on the bedside table. They shimmer slightly in the low light - she dreads the taste - but this will work. She lifts a glass, swirling it in her hand before opting to plug her nose and drink half back in one sip - it goes down easier without the smell. She waits - it worked quickly before, shouldn’t be long - Alara’s on-screen counterpart laughs at some joke she hadn’t heard the others say. More waiting. Nothing. Just a warmth in her throat and a gurgle in her stomach as it flows deeper. No sinking feeling, no sleepiness, nothing. She drains the rest of the glass - more burning - no relief.
It’s not working. She glares at the glass like it’s betrayed her. Maybe I just need more? It was a long day… She reaches for the second and downs it faster - this one nearly makes her gag, it burns stronger - the warmth in her throat spreads further out into her arms. Maybe that’s good? That means it's working right? She leans back into the pillows and closes her eyes, willing the exhaustion to come. Something. Anything. Please?
Instead, her legs start jiggling against the sheets. Her fingers drum against her thigh. Her mind wanders to the sound of the tile in the bathroom, the way Alara’s laugh had vibrated against her, the unyielding rise and fall of her breath now as she slept peacefully just inches away. How does she do that? How does she just turn everything off? Why can’t I do that right now?
The minutes stretch. The buzzing in her brain rises over the sound of the television - she squeezes her eyes shut tighter. It’s not supposed to be like this. Last night, I was out cold. Why not now? Was I just… more tired before? That can’t be it. I’ve barely slept since I got here. I should be unconscious. We did so much today. Her body aches from the training and the shower and the tremors that echo faintly through her extremities - her head pounds harder still - but she’s not tired, not enough for sleep.
She looks over to Alara. Her mentor has shifted slightly - curled onto her side, one arm draped over the pillow. Her hair fans across the cover, curls wild and radiant in the low light. Peaceful. Perfect. Her red robe is still open in the front — not all the way, but enough to make her chest seize again - enough to send her mind spinning with memories of before . Her breathing is steady. Different from Voltaea’s own fractured rhythm. I could just… ask her. She’d help me. She always knows what to do. She reaches over, hand hovering over Alara’s shoulder - But what if she’s angry that I woke her? She pulls back.
Voltaea takes a deep breath, steeling herself - It’ll have to do, I have to sleep, I can’t sit here by myself awake all night. She leans closer, inches from her mentor’s ear - “Alara…” she whispers, barely audible. No response. She tries again, louder this time - “Alara, I can’t sleep.” Nothing but another faint snore. She places her hand gently on Alara’s shoulder - above the robe, so she doesn’t shock her. She’s so warm - she lingers there for a moment, then gives it a gentle shake. The wine coils angrily in her stomach - or maybe it’s just the nerves . There’s still no response from the woman in front of her. She shakes again with far more force - “Please wake up!” - the pitch of her own voice nearly splits her head in two.
Alara’s eyes finally snap open, bleary with sleep, but alert enough to see Voltaea’s panicked expression hovering right above her. She’s just happy to hear the sound of Alara’s voice, in spite of the harsh tone behind it - “Gods above, Voltaea - do you have to yell like that?”