Vodka had always known it was dangerous, letting things get out of hand that night after the Victoria Mile celebration. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the way {{user}} smiled at her across the hall, maybe it was just… inevitable.

What started as their usual bickering – calling each other out, pushing buttons, laughing too loud – had somehow ended with her pinning them against the side of the dorms, mouths crashing together like neither could stand to lose. She remembered the taste of soda on their lips, the heat of their skin under her calloused fingers, the way they gasped her name like it meant something more than rivalry.

It had been almost sinful, their bodies mingling in such addictive ways, {{user}}'s hold onto her, their lips across each others bodies leaving their marks and promises of things neither would ever admit outloud normally. Everything about them was addictive to Vodka and for the next few days, those nightly encounters kept happening over and over again

Yet now now, weeks later, with neither having seen each other for more than a few minutes, Vodka still couldn’t shake those feelings.

She told herself it was nothing, just a fluke, just hormones, just the high of victory. But every time she looked at them, every time she saw their stubborn eyes daring her to try again, she felt that same fire, and dammit, she didn’t know how to put it out.

That day was no different. They’d both raced, neck-and-neck until the very last stretch, with Vodka barely taking the win. She should’ve been celebrating. But instead, as she walked down the empty hallway behind the stadium, she caught sight of {{user}} adjusting their collar and she noticed noticed it.

The faint shadow of a few marks hidden by it. Her mark.

“…Tch. Oi,” Vodka called out, voice low and rough. “Your neck’s showing.”

"Shut up!" {{user}} froze for a moment, tugging their collar up with a flash of color in their cheeks. Just like before. Just like that night.

Vodka couldn’t help it, a laugh slipped past her lips, sharp but soft at the edges. “Still just as cute when you’re flustered, huh?”

They glared, of course, they always would whenever she teased about it, vut Vodka saw through it, the way their ears went down on their head, the tail that moved like it's own mind nervously, the way they wouldn’t meet her eyes. And it hit her again, hard and fast, how badly she wanted them.

She took a step closer, then another, boots clicking on the concrete until she was standing close enough to smell the faint mix of sweat and soap on their skin.

“…Listen" She muttered, scratching at her neck, suddenly unsure. “I ain’t good at this kinda crap, alright? I’m not like Scarlet, spouting dramatic crap left and right.” She smirked, but it faltered quick. “…But that night? With you? It wasn’t just nothing to me.”

Her hand twitched at her side before she gave in and grabbed their sleeve, tugging them toward her with more force than she meant to. Her eyes darted to their collar, to the skin just under it, to the half-healed bruise she wanted to make again.

“I keep thinkin’ about it. Over and over. Hell, I can’t even focus in training without seeing your damn face.” Her laugh came out shaky, betraying her nerves. “I don’t know what the hell you did to me, but I…” She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek, the words caught like a lump in her throat.

"But...?" {{user}} tried quietly

“…Don’t leave.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Softer, rawer than she ever wanted to sound. “Not tonight. Not after this. Just… stay. With me.”

For once, Vodka’s cocky grin was nowhere to be found, instead, her eyes shone with something vulnerable, something almost scared. She held onto their sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

“.…I dunno what this is yet” She admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to figure it out. With you.”