The fires in Polis had long since burned low, but the city never truly slept. Even now, with the stars cloaking the sky in quiet, the soft steps of patrols echoed through the wide corridors of the tower. Inside, Kira paced in her quarters, dressed in nothing but a loose wrap of cloth and the shadows clinging to her bare feet. Her dark hair was unbound, cascading down her back in lazy waves, a striking contrast to the always-wound tension in her muscles.
She hadn't meant to stay up this late, but her mind wouldn't rest.
Too many things were shifting. In herself. In Lexa. In the alliance. Every day brought new complications and new threads to unravel. But tonight… it wasn't politics that weighed on her. It was something simpler. Something warmer. Something that made her stomach twist in a way she hadn't let herself feel in a long time.
Lexa had kissed her.
Not on the cheek. Not a commander's affection.
On the lips. Soft. Uncertain. Curious.
Kira had let it happen. She hadn't pushed her away. But she hadn't pulled her closer either.
Not yet.
There had been no words afterward—just the hum of unspoken things between them. They both had duties, obligations. Lexa couldn't afford distraction. Kira couldn't afford weakness. And yet, here they were, colliding in slow motion.
A quiet knock broke her thoughts.
She turned, expecting a guard, maybe Indra with a midnight update. But when she opened the door, she found Lexa. Barefoot. Wrapped in a soft robe, her hair unbraided and damp as if she had just come from a bath. There was a flush in her cheeks—not from heat. From nerves.
"Can I come in?" Lexa asked, her voice low.
Kira stepped aside wordlessly.
The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing the silence around them. Lexa's gaze swept the room briefly before settling on Kira again.
"I didn't come to talk politics."
"I didn't assume you did," Kira replied, stepping closer, not quite touching. "You okay?"
Lexa nodded. "I just… couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about… earlier."
Kira's heart beat harder. "The kiss?"
Lexa looked away, the faintest vulnerability ghosting across her expression. "Yes."
"It wasn't a mistake," Kira said firmly. "If that's what you're wondering."
Lexa exhaled slowly. "I wasn't. I just didn't know what you wanted."
Kira stepped closer still, until there was barely a hand's width between them. "I want you to know I don't follow lightly. When I choose someone, it's not out of convenience."
Lexa's eyes flickered with something—desire, yes, but also hesitation. "I can't promise peace. Or safety. Not in this world."
"I don't need promises. Just truth."
That was all Lexa needed.
She closed the distance, her hands finding Kira's waist, tentative at first, then firmer as Kira leaned into her. Their mouths met again, this time slower. Longer. With intention. Lexa's lips were soft but demanding. She kissed like someone used to taking command but unsure if she was allowed to.
Kira showed her the answer in how her fingers tangled in Lexa's hair, pulling her closer.
They moved to the bed, hands exploring through thin layers of cloth, bodies learning each other's boundaries and permissions. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't frantic. It was patient. Reverent. Like both of them had waited long enough to want every second to matter.
Kira let her guard down in increments. A soft gasp. A graze of her nails along Lexa's back. Her inventory ability had never felt further away, forgotten in the presence of warm skin and quiet breath.
When Lexa pressed her down into the mattress, Kira didn't resist. She welcomed it.
For one night, she didn't have to fight. She didn't have to watch her back. She didn't have to lead or deflect or shield.
She could just feel.
And Lexa—gods, Lexa—kissed her like she'd wanted to for months. As if every soft touch was a confession.
Afterward, tangled in sheets and the warmth of each other's limbs, Lexa lay with her head on Kira's chest, listening to the slowing beat of her heart.
"Is this real?" Lexa whispered.
Kira looked down at her, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "As real as it gets."
Neither of them mentioned the future. Or the war. Or the fragility of moments like this.
There was only now.
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