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It wasn't easy for Lexa to turn off her brain; it wasn't really allowed. If she let that happen, if she let her guard down, she would become too vulnerable. Her people counted on her, and she knew from painful experience what not being on guard all the time could cause. Lexa was young, but she was forced to grow up fast, to be an adult even when she wasn't. She had to do all of that for her tribe: she had to lead, and in order to do that, she couldn't let herself get soft.
That was what she thought, until she met Clarke, the woman who literally fell from the sky and changed her entire world. Clarke, who was a leader in her own right, who was burdened with responsibilites and needed to keep a clear head as much as Lexa. For some reason, Clarke managed to stay soft despite the steel she had to build up around herself to stay and keep others safe. Clarke's heart remained warm, despite it all, and she still carried an almost childlike playfulness within her, which shone through when it was just her and Lexa together.
It made Lexa curious. She wanted to know what it was like to let go, what it was like to truly believe that life was about more than just surviving. Clarke managed to hold up this view even after all the terrible things she has witnessed, but Lexa wasn't sure how to do it. She needed an anchor to hold onto, something she could use to turn her mind off, because she couldn't do it alone.
Clarke drew a lot. She even drew things she has never seen herself, just heard about. Lexa saw her drawing animals. Clarke explained that her mum told her a lot about animals that lived on the Ground before everything was wiped about. Animals that people kept as pets. Lexa liked hearing her talk about them, as if she has known them herself, explaining them to Lexa in great detail.
Cats became Lexa's favorite right away.
She envied the carelessness these animals apparently had. Soft little creatures that did nothing but lie around all day, receiving pets, affection and treats in exchange of some purring. How wonderful it must be, Lexa thought, to live your life like that. To not think about much, to not worry about anything, and be adored.
Neither of them were sure what started it. It seemed like as if one day, after a particularly harsh one where Lexa felt like setting the whole world ablaze after a peace negotiation grone wrong, something just clicked in her brain. Maybe that was what started it, when Lexa broke down - something she only allowed herself to do around Clarke - and Clarke comforted her, holding her in her arms and petting her hair soothingly. Maybe Clarke, almost instinctively calling Lexa “kitten” in that moment was what turned Lexa's world upside down, but after that, it was easy. Natural. For Lexa to finally grab onto something that she could hide behind when she felt like she needed to let go and not use her brain for a bit, without feeling guilty about it. And Clarke, of course, took to her own role like a duck to water.
It was perfectly normal after that for Lexa to disrobe the role of the Commander and slip into a much more comfortable one. It was like a new instinct has developed within her, a primal one that didn't care about the pains and tribulations of being human.
It changed something within Clarke, as well. She was always caring, but after she saw Lexa slip into her new role for the first time, she became even more so. In those moments, she became Lexa's sole caretaker, and it opened them up to a whole new world, where they could both hide from reality.
Today was one of these days again, where Lexa felt herself slipping. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin. She wanted to cease existing, as the Heda, at least. She felt snappish, on edge, the whole day. Her armor was itchier than usual, her braids too heavy. Everything was too much. She needed to escape.
Clarke was watching her like a hawk, reading Lexa like a book, as always. She knew what she needed. She followed Lexa into her room after the Commander officially retired for the night. Her hands touched Lexa's shoulders gently after she closed the door behind them. She brushed Lexa's hair to the side to kiss her cheek, and Lexa let out a soft whimper. She felt herself all but collapse against Clarke like a helpless ragdoll, sinking deep.
“It's okay, Kitten,” Clarke whispered into her ear, her breath warm against her skin. “It was a rough day, wasn't it? Too much thinking for Kitten.”
Lexa nodded as a shiver ran down her spine. Her head was spinning, brain growing foggy as she slowly but surely lost herself in this game.
“But it's okay, now,” Clarke continued. Her lips went to Lexa's neck, breathing a soft kiss onto the sensitive skin. “I'm here to take care of my little Kitten.”
With deft hands, she started unbuckling the claps of Lexa's armor. Lexa's stiff muscles loosened. Her limbs felt like they were made of rubber as that beautiful, sweet fog covered more and more of her brain. She couldn't wait until it was fully gone.
“Let's get you into something more comfortable,” Clarke said. “This rough armor isn't right for my pretty little Kitten.”
No, it wasn't. It was too heavy, too stifling. Lexa wanted it gone, as quickly as possibly. She brought up her own trembling hands, trying to tear away at her clothes. Clarke tutted.
“Stay still, okay? Be a good Kitten.”
Lexa huffed, but allowed Clarke to continue. She let out a sigh of relief when those heavy clothes were off her, at last. She shivered softly as the cool breeze touched her naked skin, followed by Clarke's fingertips. They traced her arm, her waist, until goosebumps rose on her body.
“The most beautiful Kitten,” Clarke cooed, her eyes full of adoration. “So soft, so well-groomed. Gorgeous.”
Lexa closed her eyes, basking in the compliments. Clarke always made her feel like that, perfect and beautiful. Vulnerable, but not in a scary way. In a way that made her feel like she deserved to be cherished. Like a good little pet.
“What do you say, Kitten,” Clarke gently hooked her fingers under Lexa's jaw, holding her face tenderly, “should I put your collar on to make you even prettier?”
Oh, yes, that would be amazing. Lexa loved wearing that collar. It made her feel like she belonged to Clarke. The collar was a testament of Lexa trusting Clarke with her life, putting her whole self into her hands. The collar was the final touch. After that, Lexa truly would stop thinking for a while.
Her throat felt dry. The words didn't want to come out. Clarke was patient with her, she knew that it was difficult for Lexa to speak when they played, the deeper she sunk. She just smiled at her and caressed her face, until Lexa managed a weak “yes.”
Clarke turned around to rummage through Lexa's bedside drawer. Lexa was growing restless, waiting. She didn't like it when she lost Clarke's affection for even a second.
She let out a whine. Clarke chuckled softly.
“You need to be patient,” she said over her shoulder as she kept looking for the collar. “You're a good Kitten, not a naughty one, right?”
“Right,” Lexa whispered. Her face lit up when Clarke finally returned to her, holding her collar in her hands.
Clarke made that collar herself from a piece of leather. She painted it a soft, light pink, and attached a heart-shaped coin to it. It was the perfect collar for a kitten like Lexa.
Clarke walked around Lexa and stood behind her to buckle the clasp of her collar. She tied it tight enough to make Lexa's breath hitch, but not tight enough to hurt her. The feeling of the leather squeezing at her throat, the cool metal of the heart-shaped coin resting against her neck made Lexa sigh happily. She was so well taken care of, so safe. There was no need to lead, to think anymore. Clarke was looking out for her. All she had to do was purr and be pretty for her owner.
“So lovely,” Clarke smiled. She kissed Lexa on the forehead before she took her hand and led her to the bed - not the actual bed they slept in, but another one that was a result of Clarke's artistic skills.
She made a smaller bed for Lexa out of a large basket and found the most comfortable, softest pillows and blankets she could. That bed was covered with a large duvet, safely hidden from anyone else. It was only for them, when they were in the mood to play.
Clarke uncovered the cat bed. Lexa happily went down on the floor and crawled into her place. She laid down against silky pillows and sheets, stretching out her limbs. It felt so good. She could have teared up with how happy she was feeling.
“You're a spoiled thing,” Clarke said teasingly as Lexa burrowed into her bed. The sheets were pleasantly cool against her naked skin. Lexa purred weakly as she suddenly felt so heavy, so exhausted. Sleep was going to soon drag her down, she could feel it.
“Not yet, Kitten,” Clarke's voice pulled her back before she could drift away. “Dinner first.”
Lexa was so lucky that she had an owner like Clarke, who always remembered everything. Lexa would have definitely forgotten to eat if it weren't for Clarke to remind her.
She watched from her bed dreamily as Clarke prepared her bowls for her. She filled one of them up with meat and vegetables, the other with water. She placed them down before Lexa.
If Lexa still had the ability to think clearly, she would have felt embarrassed about crawling out of her bed and onto the floor, to eat out of bowls on all fours like an actual animal, but her brain, luckily, was far away by that time they reached this part of the game. The real world ceased to exist. There was only Clarke and her wonderful care, and the joy this whole thing provided for the both of them. Clarke loved taking care of Lexa without ever having to worry about being too much, and Lexa got to bask in that care without feeling any shame.
Lexa ate clumsily without using her hands, spilling food and water onto the floor. She didn't have to worry about that either, because she knew Clarke wouldn't get mad at her. She just laughed softly about what a messy Kitten she was, and then she would wipe it up. After all, a pet couldn't be held accountable for the mess they were making.
Once Lexa was done with her dinner, she tackled Clarke onto the ground, making her gasp. It quickly turned into an amused laughter when Lexa climbed on top of her and started rubbing her cheek against Clarke's chest, demanding pets.
“What, are you not tired anymore?” Clarke grinned. All the same, she caressed her fingers through Lexa's hair, gently untangling it. She scratched under her chin with her nails gently until Lexa felt like she was going to melt. She closed her eyes in bliss, feeling light as a feather as Clarke's hands caressed and rubbed over her shoulders, the back of her neck, her sides, everywhere she knew Lexa liked to be petted. There was something animalistic in being completely bare against Clarke and feeling her clothes against her skin. It made Lexa shiver in delight.
She snuggled into Clarke, resting her cheek against her chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeats. Clarke's fingertips danced up and down over the ridge of her spine, following the pattern of her tattoos. Her hand slid to Lexa's side, rubbing small circles into the muscle there.
“You're getting a little heavy, Kitten,” Clarke said softly, gently nudging Lexa in the side. “You can't sleep on top of me. You have a pretty little bed, all set up for you, remember?”
Lexa made an offended little noise. Clarke was right, though, she could feel her exhaustion seeping right back in. She reluctantly crawled off Clarke and back into her bed.
“Have sweet dreams, Kitten,” Clarke whispered to her softly as she petted her hair. Lexa's eyes slipped closed. Half awake, she could still feel Clarke stroking her hair and her face, whispering sweet nothings to her.
The next morning, the spell would be broken and she would wake up like Commander Lexa again. She would have to remain harsh and focused, sharp as a knife.
But until then, she would purr and rub herself against Clarke's hand for affection, enjoying their rare moments of peace and vulnerability.