The room Lexa had provided in Polis was as private as it could get, nestled high within the tower. The heavy oak door kept most ears out, and the thick stone walls muffled the rest. Still, Kira sat near the shuttered window, watching the glow of torches far below and listening to the muted hum of the city at night.
The day had been long—negotiations with Floukru, a confrontation with a delegation from Trikru, and training with Indra that left her drenched in sweat and blood. But none of it occupied her mind the way Lexa did.
Ever since their kiss days ago, something had shifted between them. Not a rupture, not something dramatic—more like a subtle gravity, an unseen tether that tugged gently but persistently. Lexa had been careful since, even more composed than usual. She hadn't brought it up, hadn't mentioned it once. But her gaze lingered longer, her presence carried a different weight.
Kira felt it like a pulse beneath her skin.
She leaned her head back against the stone wall, closing her eyes. Her body ached in the best way—sore from battle, alive with purpose. And yet her thoughts swirled with uncertainty. Not fear—Kira wasn't afraid of emotions—but questions.
Was this the path she wanted to walk with Lexa? Not just politically, but intimately? Did she have a right to it?
The quiet knock on the door startled her, though her hand reached instinctively for the blade at her side. She relaxed as soon as she heard it—two knocks, a pause, then one. Lexa's pattern.
Kira stood and opened the door.
Lexa entered, cloaked in her usual leathers, though tonight her face held none of her Commander mask. Her eyes were bare, vulnerable, and focused entirely on Kira.
"Can I come in?" Lexa asked.
"You're already in," Kira said, stepping aside.
Lexa walked to the center of the room, then turned slowly. "I couldn't sleep."
"I've noticed," Kira said with a soft smirk, crossing her arms.
Lexa hesitated. "I keep thinking about that night. The kiss. You haven't spoken of it."
"Neither have you."
Lexa looked away, lips pressed tight. "I wanted to give you space. You're not from here. You didn't choose to be thrown into this world."
"I didn't," Kira agreed. "But I'm here now. And I've made my choices since."
Lexa stepped closer. "Then let me ask you—what is this between us?"
Kira watched her for a long moment. "Something I didn't expect. Something real."
Lexa exhaled softly. "Then why the distance?"
"I needed to know if I was staying for the fight or for you."
"And what did you decide?"
Kira closed the distance between them, stopping only inches away. "Both."
Lexa didn't move, but her eyes flickered with something—hope, hunger, hesitation.
Kira reached out and took her hand. "I've loved before. But this feels different. Like I'm not just part of your story… like I'm rewriting mine."
Lexa's breath caught. "And if you stay…"
"Then I stay for all of it. The war. The politics. You." Kira cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. "But I need to know something."
Lexa leaned into the touch. "Anything."
"Are you ready to let someone in again?"
There it was—the flicker of pain, the scar left by Costia. But Lexa didn't look away. "I thought I never would be. Then you walked into my life like a flame in the dark."
Kira kissed her.
It wasn't rushed, or fierce. It was slow, deliberate, a confirmation of everything they'd danced around for weeks. Lexa melted into her with a soft gasp, arms wrapping around her waist, drawing her close.
They kissed like they had all the time in the world.
Kira's hands slid down Lexa's sides, settling at her hips. Lexa's fingers tangled in her shirt, hesitant but eager.
"Stay," Kira whispered against her lips.
"I wasn't going anywhere," Lexa replied.
They moved to the bed together, unhurried but sure. Layers of leather and cloth gave way to bare skin, to warmth and breath and sound. Kira worshipped every inch of Lexa like she was learning a sacred map—slow touches, soft words, whispered moans that filled the room like music.
Lexa was fire beneath her cool exterior. Responsive. Devoted. Kira made it her mission to draw out every sigh, every tremble.
Their bodies moved in rhythm—no rush, no urgency, just connection. Lexa clutched at her as though afraid to let go. Kira kissed the hollow of her throat, the line of her collarbone, the curve of her hip.
"You're mine," Lexa whispered, voice hoarse. "But not in chains. Not in duty. In choice."
"I chose you," Kira murmured. "And I'll keep choosing you."
They collapsed together, breathless and tangled, heat cooling against the stone air. Kira tucked a blanket around them and pulled Lexa into her chest. Her heart still pounded, not from battle—but from being seen.
They said nothing for a long while.
Until Lexa broke the silence.
"I've never felt peace like this."
"Get used to it," Kira said, smiling into her hair.
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