The Hextech Ultimatum
A/N: Fun little Orianna x Camille oneshot. My first official fanfiction- I would really appreciate any constructive feedback you have. Recommend that you imagine Orianna with her Winter Wonder skin on, and Camille with either her base skin or her Coven skin.
I will not write a chapter that occurs directly after the events of what's below (that's up to your imagination!), but I may end up writing a chapter that occurs beforehand depending on whether I receive flame or headpats for this.
Inspired by a certain small YouTuber who religiously onetricks Orianna; hmu if you're reading this or you know who I'm talking about ;)
"Stop. Let me go."
It required Orianna's best efforts to present herself as being even somewhat composed. She'd stabilized her breathing as much as possible, but internally, her hyperventilation went on. Her captor's predatory, unblinking eyes bore ominously into her own, and Orianna had managed to muster up enough courage to return her gaze without quivering visibly.
"I'm afraid I can't let that happen, my dear. You'll need to offer more than that."
"Please…?" Orianna glanced away now, though she still felt the burn of the grey lady's hawk-like glare. She hated the tinge of desperation in her own voice, but at the same time, hoped her plaintive tone might garner Camille's sympathies.
"Don't beg. It's unbecoming." She arched a leg back, poised to deliver the lethal cut. Orianna winced anxiously, her eyes downcast-
"Hmm."
Orianna was amazed by the fact that her heart hadn't already burst out of her chest. What was taking Camille so long?
"Thank me for my mercy, toy. I might spare your pathetic self yet."
Camille scooped up the clockwork girl's maimed body with both hands, eliciting from her a startled gasp as each gloved finger curled in snugly around her waist, the thumbs maintaining a firm hold on her tummy. Never before had Orianna been in such close proximity with another Champion, let alone been held by one so intimately. For a moment, she was entranced by Camille's gentle touch, the hands that supported her form so confidently. But Orianna couldn't let Camille simply do with her as she pleased, not after she'd just been so brutally dismantled and humiliated by her. She tried to free herself from the woman's calm, comforting magnetism, but to no avail. Only once the steel shadow hungrily licked her lips before the lady of clockwork, was she given the motivation necessary to resist, the act making her feel uncomfortably like a fresh slab of meat to a rapacious, feral predator who'd been starved for weeks on end. Squirming fruitlessly against Camille's sturdy grasp, Orianna glowered defiantly at her captor, but the scowl she received in return extinguished all thought of rebellion.
"That's right. Be a good doll and play nice." At this, Orianna was promptly lifted so that she was face to face with Camille. Being just inches away from each other, she had no choice but to breathe in the steel shadow's rich, refined scent, tinged with a hint of cold steel. She wanted to be angry, to show defiance, but the steel shadow's cold, frightening glare and the way her hands wrapped themselves so fittingly, so tenaciously around her body caused her to instead meekly stare off to the side while ensconcing her lips behind her winter gloves. Or, rather, the one she had left.
"Why so silent, my toy? Can't you speak at all?" The hextech blue in Camille's eyes flickered, complimenting her smug expression, her insulting demeanour. Though Orianna felt challenged by this, she was still hopelessly unsure of how to respond, especially now that the gloved hand on her waist began climbing its way dextrously up the small of her back. She shivered, involuntarily, as Camille's thumb fixed itself just below the underside of her breast.
"Awww," cooed Camille, "The poor thing is mute. How tragic." The grey lady leaned in closer, so that their noses almost touched. Orianna's breathing turned shallow as she watched Camille's face harden, a ravenous look again overtaking her.
"Are you going to hurt me?" Orianna asked, her voice small and frightened. It dismayed her to sound so pathetic, so much like a lost child. But the near-predatory way in which Camille seemed to be scanning the lady of clockwork, taking in her whole body- or what remained of it- was too much for Orianna to handle.
"No- not so long as you behave," said Camille impassively, as she continued voraciously poring over Orianna's body. A restless silence taunted the clockwork girl, amused her captor.
"I think I will make you my windup toy."
Orianna's whole being seized up at this statement. The ambiguity in the phrase's meaning tormented the girl. What does she mean by that? Why does she keep calling me a toy? What is she going to do to me? She said none of this out loud, but the questions danced through her mind regardless. There was something deeply sinister underlying what the grey lady had just said, and even though Orianna couldn't explain what it was, it petrified her thoroughly. Though she'd thought she hadn't offered much of an outward reaction, she evidently appeared quite flustered by this, as Camille then said,
"Don't fret, Orianna. I'm sure you'll come to enjoy it, too." The way she said her name, tasting and savouring each syllable so fervidly, made Orianna feel unexpectedly and inexplicably violated. Camille's almost-hypnotic words made her feel like some captured plaything, and the potential consequences of such a reality frightened her too much to dwell on. Too much to even make an attempt at defying her captor. All she could do was wonder wearily what the grey lady truly wanted with her. Such disheartening thoughts nearly caused her to whimper, and she sought something to say so she might save herself from such a piteous scene.
"Camille, wh- what are you-"
"Shush, little doll," said Camille, softly pressing a finger to Orianna's lips. "You need not speak."
Camille's hands traveled deftly up and along the sides of Orianna's tensed body. A sly grin spread slowly across her face as Orianna's turned to one of unnerved fright. The steel shadow breathed in deeply her toy's sweet, subtle aroma, causing Orianna to recede within herself, growing smaller and smaller under Camille's manipulation. Her hands worked confidently and with a sense of arrogance as they invaded the unexplored region behind and underneath Orianna's hips. Realizing what was happening, Orianna looked up, wide-eyed and in disbelief, at Camille who returned her stare with smug nonchalance. Forgetting herself, the clockwork girl threw her sole intact hand atop one of Camille's, desperately trying to loosen its grip. She cried out as loud as she could for help, hoping that perhaps one of her teammates were close enough to hear.
This dissolved the grey lady's playful disposition in its entirety, and what replaced it was a chillingly dark animosity that choked the surrounding air into reticence. Orianna halted her feeble attempt at escape, freezing in place. A foreboding chill ran through her, and she found herself unable to refrain from meeting Camille's grim glare.
Without warning, Camille delivered a swift, stinging slap across Orianna's right cheek, evoking a frightful cry from the clockwork girl. That same hand subsequently locked itself firmly around the girl's vulnerable neck, squeezing tighter and tighter until Camille was certain not a single molecule of oxygen could be permitted entry through her constricted clockwork windpipe.
"I don't repeat myself, toy. Mind your manners, or I'll mind them for you." The steel shadow released her grip with steely resolution, letting Orianna fall unceremoniously to the ground. The girl coughed zealously and repeatedly, breathless and unnerved by her captor's aggression. She sat up slowly, painfully. Her jaw ached where Camille's thumb and forefinger had so forcefully pressed against it. Desperately, she choked out an apology.
"I'm sorry…"
Camille kneeled down to Orianna's level, one of her bladed knees protruding dangerously close to the girl's face. "You're sorry to whom?"
"I'm sorry, Camille."
The lady of clockwork received a second slap, albeit this time with significantly less force.
"No. You will address me as mistress. Understand, toy?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, mistress."
"Good. Good toy," said Camille, bringing her hand up to Orianna's face, to which she flinched frightfully. Then, when all she did was caress lovingly the clockwork girl's now-bruised cheek with it, Camille laughed softly but wickedly at her distressed toy. Orianna felt indignantly powerless from this humiliating chain of events; she loathed being at the complete mercy of her captor, being forced into feigned obedience and apology.
"Now, if you're good, I may consider fixing you," said Camille, gesturing to Orianna's severed legs. Her forefinger traced the edge of one of Orianna's clockwork stumps, which ended mere inches below the hip. "Should you displease me, however," she continued, "understand that I have ways of breaking you further." The automated inflection in her speech turned mechanically unfeeling in her final words.
With this, the terror Camille had instilled in Orianna had grown far greater than her disgust at her own helplessness. For a moment, Orianna panicked- she felt trapped, forced into a too-small box by this casually uttered threat. She hoped, in vain, for some reassurance, that all this was just a cruel joke by Camille- she didn't exactly know what being her toy entailed, only that she didn't want to know and that she couldn't do it. Everything began moving too quickly; her breathing, her heartbeat, increased steadily and without end and she had to bite down, hard, on the soft inner flesh of her cheek to prevent herself from falling into hysterics-
"I imagine you'd like to keep your remaining limb intact."
To this, Orianna found nothing to say. She was far too disturbed by Camille's perverse interest in her- the woman now seemed to be surveying her every movement for the slightest reaction. As if she were to gobble up the first indication of emotion the clockwork girl offered up. Camille now creeped in closer, pinning her prey against the wall.
"Please let me go," the lady of clockwork begged miserably. She despised the fact that she needed to resort to such pathetic pleading, but she thought it better to face humiliation than whatever inhumane punishment Camille might conjure up. Orianna raised her remaining hand weakly, a meaningless barrier between her crippled body and her augmented assailant. Camille clutched the girl's thin wrist powerfully, then drew her toy in closer yet. The girl's forearm was a brittle twig in Camille's grasp. Orianna noted, with dismay, how small she became in the hands of the grey lady.
Camille scoffed. "Do you truly expect I'll permit you to leave?" There was a sickening humour in her voice, and it saddened Orianna to know how insignificant her distress was to her captor. She sheepishly shook her head in reply.
"Then it's simple; do not beg for mercy. You'll not receive it." Her tone was harsh, unapologetic. The way her eyes bore into Orianna's always seemed like a challenge, a test if the clockwork girl had courage enough to hold her gaze. She always ended up looking away, often at something insignificant in the distance.
"You lack confidence."
It was almost an accusation. Orianna probed the words hesitantly, realized they rang true. She chose not to return Camille's ever-demanding gaze, instead looking on and away as if she'd never heard her. The grip on her wrist tightened. Through her peripherals, Orianna noted Camille's free hand approaching her. The girl held her breath, waiting nervously for the steel shadow's next move.
With two fingers, Camille lifted her toy's chin. Made her look up. She seemed scared. Shaking in her breath. Tightness in her lips. Camille leaned in closer. Looked down on her. She couldn't tell if Orianna had spoken or gasped. Imagining she was calming her eyelids with her own. Then, ever so naturally, met her mouth with lips just slightly parted. Let her tongue explore the foreign landscape. She greeted her's. Found her reposed at the very entrance of the mouth. They shared that same studded, meaty, yet synthetic texture. Celebrated it. So soft. All of her. Her breath was warm, moist, tingling…
"I'd begun to believe you carried no noteworthy qualities at all."
Orianna was too stunned, too mesmerized by what just occurred to fully register Camille's words. Her captor's full, lush lips on her own, the brisk yet comforting rush of air she bore, the wanting pressure with which she touched her- had Orianna ever experienced anything similar? Was there a moment in her life comparable to what'd happened now? A single thought raced through her mind, over and over- This is what she wants? There was no longer any fear, no panic. The desperate helplessness that had plagued her was now replaced by a willing subservience.
She wants me.
The touch of Camille's hands, gloved as they were, had soothed the lady of clockwork into a seemingly magical trance. Suddenly calm, she bathed in the cool warmth of each finger that so gracefully massaged her body; the thumb that brushed her cheek. The hand that rested on her residual thigh. Her eyelids were heavy, and she let them droop as far down as they pleased. Camille's voice, smooth like honey, murmured softly and sweetly tender nothings to her toy.
"So adorable."
Orianna found it difficult to explain why she felt so protected, so safe in Camille's embrace despite the brutal way she'd been treated by her. There was a wonderful, fluttery warmth in her stomach, and it tickled her spine delicately. She was prompted to lean her head into Camille's hand, the one that so sweetly caressed her cheek, and she did so, shutting her eyes completely now. She was smiling.
"Orianna,"
"Yes, mistress?"
The hands that so affectionately pacified the girl now slid down her body, one supporting the small of her back while the other tucked itself easily under the remainder of her thighs. Orianna was lifted up to Camille as lightly as if she'd been carried on clouds, and held close in her captor's warm embrace. Their torsos pressed lightly against one another, Camille's arms assuredly binding them together increasingly tightly. She heard Camille murmuring, almost musically, into her wintry toque. The calm, rhythmic beating of her augmented heart- the metronome.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"I belong to my mistress."
The sound Camille made in response was almost a purr; Orianna giggled serenely, playfully, leaning fondly into Camille's firm yet tender body.
"So obedient..."
A gentle pause-
"I want to enjoy my toy."
It was a hungering, lustful growl. Orianna halted, an anxious uncertainty overtaking her. The air, once warm with affection, now drained into an apprehensive anticipation. The lady of clockwork opened her mouth to speak, wanting to answer her mistress' demand, but found herself hopelessly hesitant.
"My patience wears thin, doll."
Hoping honesty could cure her indecision, Orianna stammered, "I'm sorry, I-... I'm just unsure."
"Do you wish to displease your mistress?" challenged the steel shadow. The lump in Orianna's throat swelled; she felt it fortunate that she wasn't in a position to face Camille. Her artificial brows furrowed in uneasy concentration while she sought an explanation to offer her captor.
"No, I don't, please understand- it's just that… I'm afraid you won't enjoy me very much," she said, as apologetically as she could.
Camille scoffed her confident, knowing scoff.
"That's not of your concern. You must only worry about offering yourself to your mistress in full." The lady of clockwork flinched defensively as Camille's hands moved to take her.
"I'm sorry, mistress. Please, I-"
"Be silent," Camille said sternly. Then, more softly, "You mustn't be afraid."
"Yes, mistress. I'll try..."
"That's a good doll. Now, let your mistress have you."
To be continued, if you so wish ~