To say it had been a shock to see Phoenix across the courtroom from him that first time would be an understatement. Phoenix was an old, warm memory gone cold with time and von Karma’s influence. But facing that nervous smile, that brightly determined gaze, had cleared some of the fog. It had forced him to remember that sunlight existed. To realize it lived in too-kind eyes.
The gaze Phoenix fixes him with now is as dark and unsettling as a day that begins without dawn.
While Miles has been making his slow way to spring, Phoenix has fallen into winter.
✦
Across the span of seven years, Miles Edgeworth gives Phoenix Wright four envelopes.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fingers Sifting Black Earth 1 - That Awkward Moment When
Happy Yuletide, motherfuckers! Next story's up.
On AO3.
It is important for me to be down on my knees, my fingers sifting the black earth, making those things grow which will grow.
—Ann Struthers, Planting the Sand Cherry
So you’re in hell. The air scorches the back of your throat and your pits are beyond dank. Your new (relatively) tunic clings to your back beneath your new (also relatively) drow armor, and your tit region is a full blown swamp.
Even Astarion, famously undead, shines with sweat.
“Everyone present and accounted for?” Gale says. Poor man is more soaked-through than you. Turns out wizard robes, without cooling enchantments which he’s short of at the moment, ain’t all that good for running around a magical forge embedded in a mother fucking lava lake.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Shadowheart says. She at least got a sweet, new set of armor outta that forge.
Lae’zel sways, and then glares when you notice. You don’t say nothing.
Only Karlach stays chipper. She’s waiting over with Wyll next to the big ass lever. On Gale’s nod, they manage to kick and shove the creaky bitch down. The metal platform y’all stand on groans. Jolts. You expect, for a pants-shitting moment, for the fucker to crack in half and drop y’all onto that lake. You read somewhere that people don’t actually sink into lave, like that volcano movie. Cause it’s melted rock with the same density. It’s a lot more like dropping a square of cold butter onto a hot-ass, stainless steel pan. Lots of sizzling and skittering around as the water in the body boils off. Course, you’re dead before you hit, since the superheated air sears shut the lungs—
Everybody’s staring at you. Wyll grimaces.
Oops. You’re all up in the brainworm group chat with that one.
“Sorry,” you say.
“That’s pretty accurate, actually,” Karlach says.
To which Wyll turns his horrified look to her. She just shrugs.
The platform shudders. Wheezes. Screams a little. And then starts to rise. All in one piece.
You sigh and slump. Let your head fall back to try to keep breathing the oven-hot air. You grew up in Oklahoma-sticky, been caught out in one-hundred-thirteen degrees with ninety percent humidity and northerners are always surprised when you tell that that yes, you can actually sweat on the backs of your hands.
Ain’t none of that compares to this hellscape. Literally.
Eventually, the first drafts of cooler air brush your cheeks. You’re beyond things like modesty right now, so you loosen the sides of your armor—thank you Gale for the perfect-fit enchantment—enough you can flap your tunic and try to relieve some of the tiddy sweat.
Catch Astarion watching you with one eyebrow quirked.
You try not to think about that just now.
It’s been a helluva few days. Fresh off escaping a drow hunting party, y’all ran into a group of duergar slavers working a bunch of gnomes half to death to free some Absolute cultist piece of shit. They’re all dead, now. Between them gnomes, the cave buffalo, and all y’all, you’re pretty sure every slaver got ganked.
Astarion…
He really does not fucking care about other people. Not even people in a position a lot like his own. You met others like that. You were others like that for a while. But when he made that “joke” (cause it ain’t never actually a joke) about “motivating the staff” (and by that he meant “torturing defenseless people”) you cold-shouldered him. Hard.
He’s been slinking around your peripherals ever since.
You wipe the sweat from your face as best you can. Which mostly means smearing it around.
It ain’t right to let him carry on like that and treat it like it’s fine. It ain’t. And you’re pretty sure he knows that—you try hard not to think of him as a dog tiptoeing around after getting yelled at. Especially since this dog seems way more used to kicks than words. But you ain’t sure what you should do about it. If you should. Because…you care about the stupid shit. And then you think you shouldn’t because the man has screaming red flags. But…but so did you. When Sasha first tried to talk to you, you went full, flaming Testimony on her.
But she didn’t give up. She saw something in you. The part you would later find in the root cellar, covered in sticky pear juice, staring down at a piece of shattered glass. All the talk you ever heard—the books, the podcasts, anything you could listen to before it got too much and your chest got too tight to breathe and you was right back there again—says that bringing people outta shit like that is work. It takes time. Patience.
If it can be done. If the person ain’t too far gone.
If your sorry ass can possibly navigate the fucking minefield you’re starting to realize that man is.
Fuck.
At least y’all found explosives. Lots of them. Including a giant fucking barrel of something called “rune powder” that y’all sorta stole that made all them other gnomes real fucking nervous about. You’re gonna find whatever controls the cult and the fucking brainworms, and you’re gonna paint “fuck you” on the side of that barrel before you have Karlach—or Lae’zel, actually—chuck it right at their face. There’s an easy answer for one of your problems (ninety-nine problems and that man is one).
The rest of the group is run fucking ragged right now. Between all the murder and the coups y’all have initiated, between the fight with that murderfuck Absolutist and the giant fuck off robot at the forge, y’all can probably sleep for a collective week.
Astarion is still watching you.
Shadowheart raises an eyebrow for you to catch. Turns out stepping off a boat with your neck fucking purpled from hickeys tends to tip off everybody that you was fooling around with that goblin of a vampire man. Elf. Shithead.
You look away.
You just don’t know. He kissed you and you liked it. You liked the whole fingerbanging, too. Like, a lot. Then he ain’t letting you talk to him about it, then suggested you two do it again, then goes off to be a fuckhead racist and then y’all almost got squashed by the iron giant.
And now he’s sidling up to you just as you’re starting to savor the suggestion of cooler air on your skin.
“Hello, darling,” he says.
Okay, fine, he’s stupid handsome. You actually see it now, despite the granny hair (fine, it adds to his “bisexually hot” vibes). Now he’s all sweaty, and that’s gross, but the gross part of your brain fucking perks up anyway.
“Hi, Astarion,” you say.
The elevator rattles and clanks around you. Y’all are lifting up through a shaft cut so smooth, you’d think it had to be made with either water, or modern Earth drilling equipment.
Probably fucking magic. Fucking Middle Narnia.
The magma glow has receded, and now the only light comes from Karlach’s thrumming hellfire heart engine and the tiny flames dancing through her hair and on the tips of her nails. And from Shadowheart’s glowing face-smashing mace that Astarion stole, which then obliterated a whole ass Githyanki creche.
It’s enough to give the illusion of privacy.
“You know, I can’t help but feel we’ve grown somewhat…distant, the last few days,” Astarion says.
“We been kinda busy,” you say.
He hums. Shifts beside you. Then he leans in, his breath cool as it tickles the hairs on your neck. “We never did find an answer to my question, either.”
You know damn well what he’s talking about. Sidling up next to you in that dead temple. Leaning in as he’s doing now, his scent washing over you, voice low and silky in your ear when he asked “your tent or mine.”
“Huh,” you say. Like a smart person.
You got no idea what you’re doing. No idea what you should be doing. You are stumbling around in an unfamiliar, pitch-black room, half drunk, tits swinging, banging into every goddamn piece of furniture in there.
“So,” Astarion says. Leans so close he could kiss your cheek if he moved another inch.
Seems he wants that answer.
What are y’all? What is this? A one-time fling after surviving some bullshit? Stress relief? A new hobby?
You ain’t never done this before. Certainly not with someone like him. Don’t know the rules. You…you’re scared. If you ask him, if you question this or press him for any of the thoughts in your head, he’ll spook.
And deep down (maybe not so deep), you’re a greedy little shit yourself. A whole childhood denied things like cellphones and internet, like steady meals and safety and any kind of privacy and not getting publicly switched in your underwear. And then coming out of that and the group homes, the food stamps, the public health insurance and barely scraping by until so, so recently.
When you got kidnapped by a squidward alien and dropped without so much as a stitch of clothing (but with a fucking dildo, jesus) into another dimension.
You want something nice. Just for once. Just without having to think about the shoulds or should-nots. The morals and the risk and being able to fucking afford it.
This is a terrible fucking idea. Maybe you really are a weak piece of shit. Because you turn to look at him. In the dim glow of y’all’s companions, his eyes reflect a predator’s shine: two copper pennies glowing in the gloom.
You gotta figure all this shit out. Sort the mess in your head. Maybe after y’all find this cult shit and throw a bomb at it and the brainworms is gone.
Astarion is a bitch and an asshole. He makes you laugh. He stabbed a man like eight times for you, and goddamnit, kissing him feels like it paints your skin in electricity.
God ain’t real and neither is sin. And if sin ain’t real, then there’s no reason to feel shame or guilt about engaging in consensual tomfoolery.
Right?
You clear your throat. “We can, uh. Mine. I guess.”
Jesus.
His fangs is shockingly white when he grins. He brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek. “Excellent. I can’t wait.”
“Aww,” Karlach coos.
Right as Shadowheart says, “Do try to remember we can all hear you.”
You jerk away so fast you almost trip right off the edge of the magic fucking elevator. Which they all saw, and which makes you consider hurling yourself off on purpose just so you don’t have to deal with any of this.
Until a faint sound bounces down the shaft at y’all.
Shadowheart lifts her face. Squints. “Is that a dog?”
This is going to be a long af post because I ran a poll trying to decide what to post, but I'm just gonna give y'all a bit of each because *gestures vaguely to the world* at least we have blorbos <3 First up is another bit from the family fic, then some smut under the cut from another wip that i will have done soon or i will end up on the news MDNI: PICK YOUR POISON BESTIES
“Happy to be free of the misery and dread of Winterhold?” He earns a playful punch before Ceri joins her boyfriend on a sofa.
“You sound too much like Ata.”
“You say that now.” He reaches for something in his armour, a folded paper. “I’ve accepted an offer from a man in Skyrim, wants help going through some Nord tomb.” Walking over to his sister, he shows her the letter, distinctly pointing to the bottom.
“May Talos guide you.” She laughs. “Oh, what would Ata say?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and besides, I do not get paid to care about religion. He could be Tiber Septim reborn for all I care. Might even be good actually, could charge him more.”
“Well then, may Talos guide you Arthano. To Sovengarde!” He rapidly ruffles the top of her hair.
“Shut up.” He laughs.
It is a funny moment between them but Ralos can’t help but feel like he is missing something. He knew the worship of Talos had been a major point of contention between Altmer and Nords; particularly when the Thalmor were in operation. It seems their father would be especially concerned, no, upset, to learn of who his son was working for. But the way neither Arthano nor Ceri seemed to find it anything more than funny puzzled him. It can’t just be his Altmer beliefs…
The kisses are slow for a bit, enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually, Ondolemar’s lips find their way to her neck. The marks he leaves will no doubt be difficult to cover tomorrow, but that is the furthest thing from her mind as she grinds her hips into his.
“I’m going to miss you.” She hums.
“And what will you miss most?” Hands move down to her thighs, creeping their way underneath her nightgown.
“Unfortunately, you have me in a compromising position, my love. I cannot answer fairly at the moment.” Her own hands remove themselves and glide down his bare chest.
“Then don’t.” She pulls the nightgown overhead, tossing it across the bedroom. There’s no time for him to react before she is sliding down, knees resting on the hardwood as she looks up at him. Even in the low candlelight, she can see his expression has changed; a deeper hunger written on his face. Head resting on one thigh while her hand makes its way up the other, tracing the outline of his erection through the thin pants.
“Well. now I certainly cannot.” He groans as she removes his cock, stroking the flesh itself now.
“I’m still waiting for an answer, love.”
“Oh course you are. You want to hear all about how I’m going to miss you like this. How much I enjoy seeing you on your knees for me.” His left hand runs through her hair, smoothing through it as her strokes quicken. “I’ll even miss how you torture me, memories of you like this flashing through my mind at the most inconvenient times. So much has changed except for your ability to distract me from work.”
In which they both work at a strip club, Anetra's apartment has a wasp infestation, Sasha looks after everyone except herself, and getting stoned isn't the solution to everything (but it sometimes helps).
Summary: Guy finally gets his just desserts, and Sevika and the Reader fuck each other's brains out. Multiple times.
Pairing(s): Sevika x Reader.
Rating: E for explicit sex, violence, torture, gore, and death.
Word count: 16.9k.
Author's Note: This work is essentially finished.
...
Unless I write a fourth installment where Sevika and the Reader take their beach vacation (suggested in this piece).
I'll probably do it, but it'll be on the back burner due to life and other projects being more urgent.
For now, this piece is finished.
Tagging @sevikasleftpussyflap and @abitohoney bc they'll probs be interested or smthn.
It’s a tepid mid-morning in Zaun. Sevika’s out supervising shipments from the mines in Silco’s stead; you’re in the boss’s office going over final profit margins before he heads out with Jinx on an errand.
Jinx seems less than impressed by the spread of papers over her guardian’s desk. She’d started off in the rafters, then clambered down to draw on the side of Silco’s desk with her pastels, and now she’s sitting upside down on the couch tucked into the corner of the office. She sighs, the epitome of teenage disgust and derision. “How much longer?”
“We’re almost done,” Silco assures his ward without looking up. “Have patience.”
You bite back a smirk when Jinx sighs again. Good thing Sevika’s out this morning. You tap the end of your pencil on an entry towards the bottom of the twentieth page. “We had a raid on a warehouse down by the mines this month–”
“Yes, I recall. It doesn’t appear our losses were too substantial, though.”
“It’s been a good quarter,” you agree with a nod. “There’s been an uptick in purchases of Chemtech prosthetics in Piltover. There’s even a couple hospitals that have taken up contract with Glasc industries for reparative surgeries.”
Silco’s upper lip twitches. “Yes, Ms. Glasc has always been a prominent contributor to our cause.”
And she’ll be your biggest competition if she breaks away. “The returns from the fringes around the lake have been dropping for the past few years. As of now, there’s not much potential for recovery.”
“What do you recommend?”
You shrug. “Might be a time for a change in leadership. Might be better to shift to a new industry there. But–”
There’s a shuffling noise behind you, the sound of tiny boots on the floor, and then Jinx materializes at your elbow. “Are you really dating the ogre?”
Silco sighs quietly when you look at him, then turns his attention to his ward. “This is not the time–”
“Raine said they were.” Jinx hops onto his desk and sits on the edge. “Said they were ‘fucking like alley cats in heat.’”
One glance at Silco tells you he’s making the same mental note you are: knock Raine’s teeth in the next time I see him.
Silco recovers first (no doubt more adjusted to Jinx’s unprompted, non-sequitur questions). “What people choose to do in their private time with one another is their business. And I think you need to stop spending so much time around Raine. Now–”
“Yeah, but–” Jinx faces you again, face scrunched up with confusion “–why would you want to do that with Sevika?”
You bite on the inside of your lower lip to keep from laughing. Though there’s genuine, sometimes malicious antagonism between the two, Jinx’s abhorrence towards Sevika often amuses you. (Not that you’ll admit as much to your girlfriend.)
Before you can think of an answer, though, there’s a knock on the door to Silco’s office. Before any of you three can respond, the wooden portal flies open, smacking against the inside wall.
Guy strides in, head held high and shoulders back like he owns the place. Five men, each carrying massive leather-clad chests, follow him in.
The chests thud against the floor as they’re placed down. Muted, metallic rattling emanates from within.
Guy undoes the clasps on the chest closest to Silco’s desk and opens the lid with a flourish.
Jinx gasps and leans forward. “No fucking way.”
You grimace, heart sinking. Bastard.
The chest is filled to the brim with shimmering gold coins.
“My payment,” Guy declares, tone imperious. “As agreed upon.” Then, before you or Silco can say anything, he turns on one foot and all but runs out of the office, quickly followed by his hired muscle.
Jinx scampers off Silco’s desk and over to the open chest. She picks up a few of the coins, flipping them between her fingers, then turns to Silco, wide-eyed. “They have chests full of coin!”
Silco favors her with an indulgent smile, but it fades when he turns his gaze to you. “Does five chests seem like nearly enough, by your estimates?”
I was thinking the same thing. You do some mental estimations –the rough size of one coin compared to the apparent size and volume of each other chests–then sigh. “Won’t know for certain until I count it all.” Which is going to take forever and a day. You scowl, then run one hand through your hair. “Guess I should get someone to carry these to my office.”
“Do your counting here.” Silco stands and pushes his chair in. “We–” he gestures to Jinx, who returns the coins to the chest “–have an errand to run. We’ll go over the final margins later.”
You nod, wait until Silco and Jinx have left and you can’t hear their footsteps any longer, then drop down on the couch with a disgusted sigh. “Fuck my life.”
…
Maybe you shouldn’t be so pissed off. This is your job, after all –counting out profits, cutbacks, earnings, and so on. Balancing books. Keeping tabs on the financials.
No –no. You should be pissed off. You should be fucking furious, in fact. Because all the other Chem-barons have the decency to deliver their cutbacks and other relevant profits and taxes on time so that you don’t have to do crunch time work for hours on end. All the other Chem-barons are polite enough to pre-count and sleeve their coins so that you don’t have to do it yourself. All the other Chem-barons include invoices if it’s a larger shipment so that you don’t have to do everything by tedious, back-aching hand. And all the other Chem-barons aren’t Guy Fucking Thissemann III, scourge of the earth and stupidest human alive.
You fight the urge –for the umpteenth time, to punt your coin sorter against the wall. You grit your teeth and sigh through your nose. If I ever see Guy again, I’m donkey-kicking him in the balls.
Because, upon closer inspection of the open chest, you’d realized that the coins weren’t all the same value. One, five, and ten pieces had been mixed in with the higher value gold coins –the ones that most of the other Chembarons used for their allotted cutbacks.
I’m going to run out of paper sleeves, you realize as you load another handful of coins into your sorter. You lower your head into your hands, contemplating crying, then sigh again and lift your head. Just get through this. Think about driving Guy’s head through the nearest wall. You grab the crank on your sorter and start turning.
The machine rattles, coins clinking inside as they swirl around until the proper slot passes beneath them and carries them to the correctly sized glass tube.
This is worse than doing payroll sheets. Far worse.
Silco owes me a raise and a bonus after all this shit.
The sound of heavy thumping footsteps emanate through the door –and then the door swings open with a creak and Sevika steps into Silco’s office. She stops short, eyes widening when she sees the chests and your set up. “What the–”
“Guy dropped off his payment,” you explain, voice flat. You pull the lever that angles the tubes outwards, then grab another sleeve for the ten pieces. “It’s mixed coins, which means counting it by hand.”
Sevika stares. Gapes. Then, she strides into the office, sidesteps the chests, drops a box on Silco’s desk, before turning and leaving again.
You’re not offended. You know she handles a lot of errands and meetings on Silco’s behest during the day. She usually doesn’t have time to hang around and chat.
Except, less than two minutes later, Sevika’s heavy footsteps approach the office once more. She closes the office door behind her, sits next to you on the couch, and motions for you to hand you a fresh coin sleeve. “Give me one for the hundred pieces.”
You stare at her for a moment, then frown, confused. “I thought you had–”
“Delegated.” She smirks briefly. “Pays to have underlings.”
You snort and roll your eyes, then return to regarding her with puzzlement. “But…” You gesture vaguely when she arches an eyebrow at you. “Silco needed you to handle that shit.”
“And you need me here,” she replies. Like it’s the easiest, most obvious thing in the world.
Your throat feels unexpectedly tight. You’re pretty sure there’s actual tears welling up in your eyes. You smile, equal parts relieved and touched, then lean in and kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Sevika kisses your cheek, then nods towards the coin counter. “Come on. Let’s get this shit done.”
…
It’s not necessarily faster with Sevika there. Well, it is, but there’s only two of you and it’s still slow, tedious work, but it’s certainly less aggravating. Aside from her comforting presence, there’s the added perk that the two of you can gossip and bitch with each other while you work.
“–give us a fucking vacation after all this horseshit,” you grouse while adding the latest sleeves to the final tally –which is still leagues short of what Guy owes. “After everything Guy’s done, Silco owes us.”
“‘Us?’” Sevika smirks at you when you look at her. “You’re negotiating for my off time, too?”
“Like I’m taking a vacation without you, Sev,” you scoff; it’s a genuinely, deeply ridiculous notion. “Who else am I going to get day-drunk with?”
Sevika tips her head back and laughs. “I fucking resent that.”
“It’s accurate,” you fire back sweetly, blowing a kiss at her when she flips you off. “Of course, I’d include you. What’d be the point of going on a vacation if you weren’t there?”
Sevika watches you for a moment, then loops her right arm around your neck and draws you in so she can kiss the top of your head. “You’re adorable.”
“I am fearsome,” you deadpan as you keep tucking coins in a paper sleeve without missing a beat. “I strike terror into the hearts of men.”
“You’re so adorable it’s disgusting.”
“You’re just disgusting.” You smirk when she chuckles, then lean in the opposite direction to grab the next load of coins from the chest. “But–” Before you can say much of anything, though, your finger skids off something hard. “Ow!”
Sevika frowns and reaches for your hand when you jerk it back. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” you assure her as you shake your hand. You reach forward with the other one and dig through the coins to find whatever you’d bumped into. “I hit something hard–”
It takes a couple tries since the coins keep falling over each other and obscuring your view –but then you hit that hard surface again. You keep going, shoving the coins to the side, until the offending surface comes into view.
A hard, flat wooden base.
You stare. Then do a double-take. You check the outer dimensions of the chest, then look back at the base. That’s not even halfway down. “Sevika.”
She straightens at your tone and your use of her full name. She leans over, then goes deadly still. “...What the actual fuck?”
“There’s handles,” you realize; now that you’re looking, you can see little handles carved into the inner sides of the chest. “Here, and here.”
“There’s a seam around the edge,” Sevika says, now inspecting the chest with you. She pats your thigh, then steps around you when you lean back. “Watch out.”
You watch as she lifts the compartment out of the chest, then lean forward again to see what’s beneath it.
The rest of the chest cavity is filled with old, beat up, hardcover books.
Your jaw drops. “I…” Slowly, with a creeping sense of surety, you look over the other chests. “Are they all like that?”
Sevika scowls, eyes wide with fury. She walks over to the closest chest and opens it –and, sure enough, there’s another compartment hiding used books in the bottom.
It’s the same with the third chest, and the fourth. They must’ve ran out of books after that, though; the fifth chest just has bricks in the bottom.
The two of you are silent for a moment, frozen in place from shock.
Sevika moves first. Her Chemtech arm starts whirring. She lets out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a growl, then turns and kisses the top of your head with a gentleness that belies her evident fury. “Wait here. I’m finding Silco.”
“Should I keep counting–”
“No.” She shakes her head, then pauses at the office door to look back at you. “He needs to see it exactly as it is.” And, with that, she ducks out of Silco’s office and disappears down the hall.
You sigh, then slump back against the couch. Guess I’m on break, then.
…
It’s an hour before Sevika returns with Silco and Jinx in tow.
Silco freezes at the threshold of his office. His gaze sweeps over the chests –over the false compartments and the junk used to weigh down the chests. His mouth curls into a harsh scowl, twitching at the corners from the intensity of his wrath.
Jinx is none so stoic. She gasps, the darts forward past Sevika and Silco. She inspects the closest chest –the false compartment, the remaining cavity space filled with bricks–then turns towards Silco with an outraged, wide-eyed expression. “That bastard cheated us!”
Despite everything, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smirk. From the mouth of babes.
Silco stares at the chests. He inhales deeply through his nose, then turns to the Sevika. “Find him. Alive.”
She nods once, then turns on her heel and strides away.
Part of you wants to be disappointed that she’s been instructed to bring Guy back “alive,” but you don’t have any time to be because Silco turns towards you and says your name. You straighten up, startled. “Sir?”
“Consider this an extra bonus.” He gestures to the compartments holding the coins. “For your particular hardships in this matter.”
You blink, stunned. You gulp, then nod. “Thank you, Sir.”
He nods back, then turns and ushers Jinx out of his office.
You’re left sitting on the couch, blinking stupidly. Well… okay, then. You’re not about to refuse the extra cash. You stare at the compartments, still full of shining coins, then let out a somewhat aggravated sigh. Fuck. That means I’m still going to have to count all of them. You slump back against the couch, equal parts exhausted and frustrated. You stare –dejected and exhausted–at the ceiling, but shrug to yourself a few moments later. At least I’m counting them for me this time.
Well, if that’s the case, you’re taking the compartments back to your office. You’ll be more comfortable there. It’s slightly irritating –especially the thought of lugging your coin sorter back to your room because it’s an unwieldy, heavy beast–but it’ll pay out in the long run.
First things first. You brace your hands against your knees and stand with a grunt. I need more paper sleeves.
…
The day passes. The sun sets, the bar opens for customers, and the music starts playing loud enough to make your teeth buzz in their sockets.
You’re still back in your room. You’ve long since finished counting out your surprise bonus, but you don’t have much –if any–interest in braving the crowd if Sevika’s not there. You don’t want to hole up in her apartment, either. Any other night, you might, but you know she’ll come back here first; if she has Guy with her, you want to be around to witness his torture and execution.
You’ve eaten dinner. Read a few books. Napped. And now you’re sitting at your desk, eyeing a “present” you purchased for a “certain special someone.”
The leather collar is heavy in your hand. It’s well-crafted, made from butter-soft leather that matches the color of Sevika’s cloak. There’s a brass clasp in the back (the metal reminds you keenly of Sevika’s arm, and it was a very intentional choice), and a brass nameplate affixed to the front.
You shift your hold on the collar and admire the way the nameplate gleams in the lamplight. You smile to yourself, then run the pad of your thumb over the words engraved in the brass in precise, neat font.
Property of Sevika.
It’s a bold move. A potential risk. Granted, you like to think you know Sevika well –she certainly has a reputation among Zaun’s brothel workers–but it’s still a gamble; you didn’t ask her before purchasing it.You don’t have any actual way of knowing if she’ll like it.
You hope she will. And, if she doesn’t, you can always play it off as a joke from the poker game where you cleaned her out –buying her “something pretty” and all that. You swallow hard, mouth dry from nerves. Go big or go home.
You want to put it on. More accurately, you want her to put it on you. You want to hear her warm, low voice purring in your ear. You want her to call you a good girl while you get down on your knees for her. You want her hands on your body, you want her to bend you over her lap with your wrists tied behind your back–
You let out a shuddering breath that borders on a moan. Fuck it. You stand, walk over to a mirror you keep next to your bed, and unclasp the collar. She probably won’t be back for a few more hours. May as well have some fun in the meantime.
It fits –well, duh, of course it does. The workers at the sex shop you purchased it from took measurements of you neck and did a final fit check before selling it to you.
The brass clasp is smooth and pleasantly cool against your neck. You shiver a little as you shut the clasp behind your neck, then straighten and adjust the collar of your shirt before admiring yourself in the mirror.
It’d look better paired with lingerie. Or if it was the only thing on you. But you can’t deny that it feels right. Not just the fit, but the implication. You’re hers, just as much as she is yours.
You smile at your reflection and lift your hand to touch the nameplate on the front of the collar. I can’t wait to see her reaction–
Your office door rattles –and then there’s the click of a key sliding into the lock.
Shit.
There’s only one person, aside from you, that has the key to your room.
“You awake, sweetheart?”
You turn around as Sevika closes the door behind her and greet her with what you hope isn’t too suspicious a smile. There’s no time to take the collar off –it’d just draw more attention–so you decide to wait and see if she notices it on you. Here goes nothing. “Hey, baby.”
She grins, then crosses the room and pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss. She holds you close, barring one arm across your back, then breaks the kiss to murmur in your ear. “I have good news.”
You nuzzle against her neck. “Are the batteries included?”
She chuckles, then pulls back so she can see your face. “Guy’s dead.”
“What?” You frown, confused. “Silco wanted him brought back alive. Why didn’t you come get me–”
“Not like that,” she clarifies, shaking her head. “We couldn’t pick him up tonight, but Silco wants him dead. Next time that posh asshole ventures down here, he’s done.”
Your frown doesn’t lift. “Look, I’m not one to give him credit, but I don’t think even Guy’s dumb enough to show his face in Zaun again. He knows what he did.”
“Silco’s got that covered,” Sevika states. “He’s sending a message to Guy that he wants to make him part of the Barons’ council.”
Your eyebrows spike towards your hairline. “And Guy’s going to buy that?”
“He’s already agreed to come here tomorrow night to ‘finalize matters.’”
You can’t help but smirk at her word choice. “Well. Guess I’ll have to get all dressed up for the party.”
Sevika snorts and shakes her head –but then she freezes. Her eyes narrow briefly, and then her expression goes slack with surprise as she stares at your neck. “What…”
Your abdomen goes tight with anticipation. You tilt your chin up a bit so she has a better view. You smile sweetly as she leans in closer to admire your newest acquisition. “What do you think?”
“When… when did you get this?” she asks, voice wavering slightly from awe.
“Ordered it a few days ago, picked it up today. One of the local shops was having a sale on leather goods.” Your heart hammers in your chest as she traces the engraving on the nameplate with her human fingers. “I told you I’d get you something pretty, didn’t I?” You can see remembrance flash in her gray eyes. You lick your lips. Arousal coils in your pussy, and your gut clenches in response. You shift from foot to foot, then let out a soft, tremulous breath. “Do –do you like it?”
“Do I like it?” she repeats, eyebrows raised. She admires the collar a few moments longer, then lifts her gaze to your face. She grins, slow but delighted. “Oh, babygirl. I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten me anything this beautiful before.”
You smile back, so giddy you’re shaking. “Well, I’m glad. I think it might be more of a ‘stand alone’ piece, though.”
“Oh, really?” Sevika’s grin grows wider. She chuckles, then turns and walks back towards the door. She locks it, then ambles over to the chair you keep handy for her. She sits, legs spread wide. “Strip for me, sweetheart.”
You grin. You lick your lips, blood racing in sweet anticipation, then kneel to take off your boots first. Once your shoes are out of the way, you straighten again and reach for the buttons on your shirt.
Sevika leans back in the chair and watches you with a lewd grin. Her gaze follows your hands as you slowly undo the line of buttons holding your shirt shut. She chuckles when you do a little shimmy that’s more goofy than seductive as you take off your shirt.
You whip your shirt at her. You wink when she catches it (without so much as flinching, no less).
Sevika merely smirks and arches one eyebrow at you.
You stall for a moment after that –solely because you’re not sure whether to take off your bra or your trousers next. Logic –as much logic as applies to these types of things–dictates that you should take off your pants next; outer clothes before under clothes, that sort of thing.
But Sevika loves your tits. And that’s all it takes to settle the matter.
She licks her lips when you reach behind you to undo the clasp on your bra. She watches, gaze locked on you, as you hold the cups of the bra to your chest while finagling your arms free from the shoulder straps. She arches one eyebrow at you again when, once your arms are free, you don’t pull the rest of your bra away from your body. She smirks when you giggle, then whistles once you finally whisk your bra away, thus exposing your breasts. “Fucking gorgeous.”
You laugh, then toss your bra over to her.
She’s leaning forward in her seat now. Her forearms are braced against her thick, muscular thighs. Her lips are parted, and her eyes have gone dark with arousal. Her gaze rakes over your body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. She licks her lips, then nods when you pause at the clasp of your pants. “Keep going.”
The timbre of her voice –pitched far lower, far huskier with arousal–makes you shiver with delight. You’re panting a little; your body feels warm. You can feel slick arousal soaking into your underwear. Part of you wants to cave and ask her to touch you, to finish undressing you –but you’re also enjoying this. Having her eyes on you and you alone, watching the effect your little “routine” is having on her, seeing her get as turned on as you are… It’s better than any drug or drink.
You take your time taking off your pants, so much so that it’s nearly agonizing. You have to bite back a smile when Sevika lets out a little growl; she’s just as impatient as you. Once your pants are finally –finally–off, you toss them at her, then shuck off your socks and chuck them at her, too.
“Cut it out,” Sevika laughs as she easily bats your airborne clothes aside. She smiles when you laugh, then looks pointedly at your underwear before looking back up at you. “Well?”
“I thought you might want to take them off for me.” You smile sweetly, the picture of innocence, then add, “Don’t you want to feel how wet I am?”
That nearly gets her out of her chair. The poor thing creaks pitifully beneath her as Sevika rocks forward. She swallows hard, throat flexing. Her nostrils flare as she inhales deeply, and her fingers twitch eagerly. She bites at her lower lip –then stares you down and leans back in the chair again, slow and deliberate. “Take them off.”
The command has you biting back a moan. Your cunt pulses with arousal. You let out an airy, whimpering sigh, then reach down and do as she asks.
“Slowly.” Sevika smirks when you huff, but do as she says anyway. “Good girl.”
You moan. You drag your panties down your legs, inch by maddening inch, until you can finally step out of them. You leave them on the floor, too turned on to focus on being cheeky. You stare at Sevika, utterly bare before her (save for the collar), and wait for whatever she has next in mind.
“Good girl.” She stands and strides over to you. She circles you, admiring you, then stops in front of you again.
You shiver when she places her hand under your chin and tips your head up. You meet her gaze, then lick your lips when her eyes flit lower to admire the collar around your neck. “What do you think?”
“Looks really fucking good on you.” Her voice has gone to gravel. She trails her flesh fingertips down your sternum, then lets out a soft laugh when goosebumps follow her path. “Doesn’t look like it’ll keep you warm, though.”
You don’t even have to think about your reply. “I thought that’s what I had you for.”
That’s all the excuse she needs.
She kisses you, deep and consuming. She pulls you into her arms, hands roving over your naked body like she can’t decide what she wants to touch first.
You yelp into her mouth when she squeezes your ass with both hands.
Sevika chuckles, then walks you back towards your bed. She nudges you down, then strips out of her cloak, bandolier, and shirt. She climbs on top of you, knees your thighs apart, then lowers herself over your body and kisses you again.
“Hngh.” Your body jerks when her metal fingers tease one of your nipples. You squirm against her, hips grinding up against hers. “Sev–”
She silences you with another kiss, tongue sweeping into your open mouth. She wedges her right arm between your back and then bed and tugs you against her.
You gasp when she carefully tugs on your nipple with two sharp fingertips. The prick of pain, the thrill of danger –all of it washes over your mind in a mix of heady arousal and exhilaration until everything falls away, save for your need for her. You spread your thighs wider, then moan when she finally releases your lips. “Sevika–”
“What do you want?”
You shudder. Her lips are pressed against your ear, and her breath is hot against your skin. You pant, trying to parse together a sentence while your brain leaks out between your legs. “Ungh.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?” She’s above you now, watching you with that insufferable, smug, sexy smirk. She loves this; you know she loves this. The past few months have been nothing but proof that Sevika takes the utmost pride in ruining your brain with lust, then promptly fucking you to pieces till you can neither walk or talk.
Speaking of–
“Yes.” You whimper and tilt your head back when she nips at the spot just below your ear. “Yes, Sev, please.” You roll your hips against hers, hoping to entice her into action. “I need you to fuck me.”
“Need me to fill you up?” She rolls the lower part of your earlobe between your teeth, then follows it with her tongue when you whine. “Need me to take care of you?”
You nod, borderline frantic. “Yes!”
“I dunno,” she purrs, voice dripping with amused condescension. “Think you’re wet enough, sweetheart? That’s an awful lot of cock for you to take.”
You moan when she slides her human fingers through your slick folds –then whine and open your eyes when she retreats from you.
Sevika climbs off the bed, then hooks one hand around your thigh and tugs you to the edge of the bed. She kneels, hooks your knees over her shoulders, then presses her mouth against your cunt.
“Shit!” Your back arches. Your thighs clamp on either side of her head. The first swipe of her tongue over your swollen clit has you scramble for a handhold. You clutch at the blanket on top of your bed. “Sevika–”
This isn’t going to take long. You’re already so wound up from stripping for her and having her watch you. You can feel your abdomen pulling tight as Sevika sucks on your clit.
She lays her left arm over your hips to hold you still. She alternates between rolling your clit beneath her tongue and sucking it between her lips.
You let out a loud, ragged moan when you feel two of her fingers prod against your entrance. “Yes –please, baby, yes!”
She chuckles, then slides two fingers inside you. She groans in unison with you. “Gods, you feel so fucking divine.” She curls her fingers against your front wall, then lets out a soft growl when you whimper. “That’s it –just fucking take it. Good girl.”
Your head’s swimming. You’re panting, gasping, bordering on hyperventilating. Your thighs are trembling on either side of her head. By all right, you ought to be embarrassed by the wet squelching noises she’s drawing out from your soaked little cunt, but you don’t have the mental presence to be. You don’t have the mental presence for anything that isn’t her. How warm she is against your skin. The pitch of her voice. How thick her fingers feel inside you–
Sevika pulls her hand back, then adds a third finger and pushes back inside of you.
You back bows off the bed. Your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth hanging open as you scream out to the ceiling. You’re close, you’re so fucking beautifully, agonizingly close; you’re practically teetering on the edge, utterly at her mercy. You try to explain as much, but all that falls from your mouth is a symphony of unintelligible moans, broken bits of her name, and the word “please.”
And then Sevika seals her lips around your clit once more and sucks.
You orgasm with a shriek. Your toes curl painfully tight against her bare back. Your hips buck as best they can against her metal arm (you’ll likely have bruises in the morning from her hold, and you can’t wait to see them).
Sevika lets you ride out your climax on her mouth and fingers. She slows, but doesn’t stop –not until you’re whining and trying to squirm away. She chuckles when you push against her forehead with shaking arms, then finally takes mercy on you and lets you go.
You shudder as she slips her fingers out of you. You lie limp against your bed, body glistening with sweat and the inside of your thighs smeared with a mixture of her saliva and your arousal. You hear the floor creak as she stands, register the darkness of her shadow falling over you. You let out a shuddering breath, then open your mouth when her fingers tap against your lips.
“Good girl,” Sevika croons as you suck her fingers clean. She smirks when you moan. “Still so sure you want my strap, babygirl? You seem pretty fucked out.”
You release her fingers with a wet pop and pry your eyes open. You meet her gaze, unflinching, and smirk right back. “Bring it.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Have it your way.” She stands, then nods towards the head of the bed before opening the nightstand drawer where you keep a spare harness. “On your back. I want to be able to see you.”
You wriggle your way to the head of the bed. You rest against the pillows, watching as she tightens the leather straps of the harness around her hips. You whimper when you realize she’s selected one of the larger dildos in your collection: a teal, thick, ridged piece with a wicked curve to it. You mouth falls open, jaw slack, as you stare at her in wonder. You swallow hard when she uncaps a bottle of lube, then moan softly when she applies some to the toy cock and strokes the shaft in slow, even motions.
Sevika glances over at you and smirks. “Put a pillow under your hips.” She climbs back onto the bed once you’re settled. She settles on her haunches between your spread thighs and presses her lube-slicked fingers between your folds. “You comfortable?”
You nod, gazing at her with half-lidded eyes. You shiver and suck a breath through your teeth when she presses her lube-covered fingers past your entrance. “That’s cold.”
“So sorry, babygirl,” Sevika purrs without sounding the least bit sorry about it. She withdraws her fingers, then lowers herself over you and aligns her hips with yours. “Let me make it up to you.”
You wrap your arms and legs around her as she slides the toy cock inside your cunt. Your eyes roll back into your head as the dildo stretches and fills you up. You whimper and bury your face into her neck.
“Just relax for me,” Sevika croons into your hair, somehow equally sweet and condescending. “That’s it –that’s a good girl.”
It’s no small task. You’re already sensitive from your previous orgasm, and the pillow under your hips means that the angle is nothing short of exquisite. You moan when Sevika bottoms out; you’re trembling, breaths coming in short, airy pants. “Sev…” You whine when she pulls back, then manage to open your eyes and gaze pleadingly up at her. “Please…”
“Do you need it, baby?” She takes one of your thighs in each hand and presses until your knees are pushed back against the bed. She positions herself on her knees, staring down at you with unabashed, lewd hunger. She grins when you let out a choked sob and rolls her hips in a shallow, teasing, barely there thrust. “Tell me how bad you need it.”
“Please.” You gasp when she gives you another thrust, a little deeper this time, then let out a groan when she stills again. “Sevika–”
“Use your words, sweetheart.”
She’s so fucking smug and annoying and sexy that it’s infuriating. You want to scream –and you nearly do when she smacks your ass with her human hand. Your body jolts. “Sevika –fucking please! Just fuck me!”
“Oh, I think you can do better than that.”
A shiver rolls down your spine as her lips brush against your ears. “Please.” You don’t know what else to say; your mind evaporated the second she filled you with her strap. “Please, please, please –Sevika, please, I need you to fuck me.” You can feel tears welling up in your eyes from sheer frustration and anticipation. “I need you to take me; I need you to make me feel good. Only you can make me feel good, Sev, please–”
Sevika growls, then draws her hips back and snaps them against yours.
You shriek. Your eyes flutter shut as she sets a deep, unrelenting pace. You let out a high-pitched whine that breaks each time her hips hit yours. “F-fuck!”
The sounds of your moans, the rhythmic thumping of the headboard hitting the wall, and the low creaks of your bed fill the room.
She has you pinned against the bed. She’s holding you open, watching your tits bounce while she fucks you into the mattress. Sevika grunts, then tightens her hold on your thighs. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” you gasp without hesitation or thought. “You, only you –oh fuck, Sev–”
She moans, and then her mouth crashes against yours in a messy, breathless kiss.
The shift in position has her grinding against your g-spot such that you nearly cry. You squeal into her mouth, sound muffled when she presses her tongue into your mouth. Your fingernails bite into her bare back as pleasure coils tight in your belly.
“That good, babygirl?”
“Fuck yes!” Your legs clamp around her hips. You rock your hips up against hers as best you can. You’re moaning with each thrust, loud and broken. “‘Vika…” You keen when she starts sucking marks onto your chest. “Sevika–”
She growls. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”
You’re not quite there; it’s good –she feels good–but you need more than just her fucking you to get you there. You try to explain as much, but all that falls from your lips are breathless fragments. “Need –I–” Your eyes roll back in your head when she bites your shoulder. “Please!”
Luckily for you, she gets the message. “Touch yourself for me.”
You moan, then wrest one hand between your bodies to touch your clit. You rub your fingertips over the bundle of nerves in short, tight circles. You scream as pleasure bursts through your cunt, spreading through your body. “Fuck!”
“You gonna cum for me?” Sevika purrs, breath hot against your ear.
You nod frantically. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes. You wail her name, long and drawn out. “Sevika… Sevika!”
“You gonna be nice and loud for me?”
“Yes!” You nod again; your body’s trembling as you careen towards climax. “I–I’ll be good, please–”
Your back arches as your orgasm hits. Your body locks up, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. For a moment, you can’t remember how to breathe, much less make noise –but then your brain kicks back on and you let out a guttural scream. “Sevika!” You writhe as she fucks you through it –though she does slow her pace–then still when she finally takes mercy on you and stops. You pant, shaking from head to toe.
Sevika gently settles against you and kisses your temple. “Good girl.”
Her praise sends another aftershock through you, making you whimper. You turn your head and bury your face in her neck.
She lets you rest for a bit, acting as a human blanket to shield you from your body’s inability to retain heat. After a while, though, she starts kissing you again. It starts slow, soft. Random, even. A gentle peck against your shoulder. A few lingering kisses to the underside of your jaw. A sweet kiss against your earlobe that makes you shiver and whimper, which only makes her laugh softly.
You catch onto her intentions when you feel her human hand start gently kneading your hip. You groan, then turn your head away from her next kiss. “‘Vika–”
“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?” She chases you until she can press her lips against your cheek. “Humor me?”
“You just fucked me to death,” you grumble (though you’ve stopped trying to squirm away from her), “and now you want me to let you do it again.”
She snorts. “Like you don’t get anything from it.” She props herself up on her right forearm and looks down at you when you mutter under your breath. “It’s your fault, really.” At your disbelieving sputter, she taps the nameplate on your collar with her metal index finger and smirks. “You’ve inspired me.”
The shift in her tone –a shift to something huskier, something dark with desire–stalls your complaining. You slowly look up at her, curiosity getting the best of your cat. “What do you mean?”
“Well, since you’re wearing a collar…” She lets her voice trail off, feigning nonchalance, before grinning and leaning back down to murmur in your ear. “I thought I’d fuck you like you’re my bitch.”
Your cunt pulses around the dildo still buried inside you. You’re suddenly alert again, eyes wide and locked on her as she props herself up again. You swallow hard, mouth dry. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sevika smirks, obviously pleased with herself and your reaction. “You want it?”
(It’s a stupid question, really.)
You let out a soft whine, then nod.
“That’s what I thought.”
She pulls out, then pushes off of you and settles on her knees so you can turn over. She laughs and nudges you along when you get stuck, then grabs your hips and drags you up until you’re on your knees and elbows. “Just like that.”
You groan –then gasp when her hand smacks your ass. “Fuck!”
“Gods, your ass is so amazing.” She squeezes your ass with both hands. “Could watch you walk away all day long, babygirl.”
“Your –yours is better,” you eke out, faltering when you feel the head of the dildo brush against your folds.
“Nah.” She grabs hold of your hips, then bends over to whisper in your ear. “I like yours best.”
You open your mouth to retort, but all that leaves is a high-pitched groan when she thrusts in. Your eyes roll back into your skull. “Sev…”
She goes slow, filling you with deep, rolling thrusts. Her fingers flex against your hips. “You look so fucking good, taking me like this.”
You let out a long whine of her name. Your arms are quivering, on the verge of uselessness –and then she adjusts the angle of her thrusts and they give out completely. You collapse against the bed, held up only by her hands on your hips.
“That’s it.” Sevika keeps rolling her hips, drawing breathless moans from you with every thrust. “Just gonna take what I give you, hm?”
You let out a broken sob into the bed. “Yeah.”
She chuckles smugly. “Good girl.”
Eventually, though, you get impatient. As good as she feels –and as spent your body is–she made a promise and you want to see her keep it. You groan, then brace your forearms against the bed and push back against her desperately. “‘Vika.”
“What’s the matter, babygirl?” Amusement drips from her every word. “Use your words.”
“Fuck me,” you beg, keening. “Please, Sev. Y-you said–” You cut yourself off with a moan when she thrusts harder. “You said–”
“What’d I say, sweetheart?” She ramps up her rhythm, steadily fucking you into the bed. “Tell me what I said.”
“I–” You gasp when she starts hitting a pace that has you seeing stars. “You–”
“Tell me, babygirl.”
You can’t think. Can’t speak. You try, but all that comes out are incoherent gasps. Your fingers curl into the blankets, holding tight as your mind fritters away beneath an onslaught of arousal and pleasure. Eventually, you manage to draw in a shuddering gasp and formulate a semblance of a response. “Fuck!” You shudder, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck–”
She laughs, slightly breathless. “Close enough.”
You’re too sensitive for this. Every thrust borders on simultaneous heaven and hell. It’s too much stimulation, wringing your body dry of every last drop of arousal. You’re shaking, gasping, groaning inelegantly into the bed. You let out a broken sob. “Sevika!”
She groans, long and proud. “That’s it, babygirl.” She places her metal hand between your shoulder blades and presses down, keeping you against the bed. You can feel her thighs starting to quiver against yours. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”
The sound of the headboard slamming against the wall gets louder as she starts fucking you harder. The bed trembles beneath you, creaking like a door being blown back and forth in a windstorm.
You can’t hear the music in the bar any more. All that exists is this bed, the heat rolling off her body, her strap splitting you open, and your screams and garbled pleas as she fucks you towards your third orgasm of the night. Vaguely, distantly, you can hear the wet, vulgar sounds from your poor, dripping pussy. (If someone stood outside the door, they could probably hear just how wet you are right now.)
You need to cum. You need to cum and get this over with so you can pass out and give your poor, overworked body a break. It’s too much, too good, too overwhelming.
You whimper as your cunt draws tighter around Sevika’s strap. You manage to work one arm down and reach for your clit –only to shriek when Sevika’s human hand smacks yours away with a loud crack.
“Good bitches don’t decide when they get to come,” Sevika growls by way of explanation, “do they?” When you let out a frustrated groan through gritted teeth, she softens just a bit. “Need you to wait for me, babygirl.” She moves her hands back to your hips for better leverage and starts fucking you faster. “I’m almost there. Just hold on for me.”
You let out a hitching moan, then move your hand back to its spot at the top of the bed.
“There’s a good girl.” She rolls her hips against yours, simultaneously fucking you and grinding against the base of the strap for her own satisfaction. She lets out a low moan, and her grip on your hips tightens. “Such a good, pretty thing for me to fuck…”
The praise is almost –almost–enough to push you over the edge. You want to be good for her –no, you need to be good for her. You need to be her good girl, to be hers. You need it more than you need air, more than you need water, more than you need your heart to beat without failing.
You need her. Only her. Only ever Sevika. (No one else could ever compare again.)
You moan into the bed. “Wanna be good.”
“Didn’t catch that, babygirl.” When you don’t respond, she drapes herself over you and cups your throat with her metal hand. She gently lifts your head from the bed, holding you close while she fucks you. “Say it again, sweetheart.”
“I wanna be good,” you sob breathlessly. “I wanna be good –wanna be good for you–”
She moans, then buries her face against the sweaty nape of your neck. “You are,” she assures you. She’s panting, and her thrusts are growing more erratic. “You’re so good for me, baby. So fucking perfect. My good girl.”
You let out a high-pitched gasp. “Yours.”
“Mine,” she agrees, voice rough with arousal. “All mine.”
You sob. You can feel tears falling down your cheeks. “Pleaseletmecome.” There’s a terrible few seconds where you’re certain she’ll deny you, but then her human hand slides from your hip and her fingers circle over your clit.
Relief. All you feel is relief. Everything whites out as your climax finally, mercifully washes over you. Your muscles were barely functional before, but anything remaining gives way to uselessness as you go limp in her arms.
You come back a few seconds later to the sensation of being crushed against Sevika’s chest. You gasp as she fucks you hard enough that you feel it through your whole body –then let out a hoarse shout when she bites down on your shoulder. Your body shudders when she thrusts her hips against yours one last time, hilting the dildo as deep as it’ll go.
Sevika groans. Her hips grind against your ass a few times, and then she finally falls still. Her chest pushes against your back as she pants for air. She moans into your shoulder –you can feel it reverberate against you–then releases your shoulder from her mouth. She kisses the spot where she bit you. “You okay?”
You groan, too fucked out to formulate sentences.
She chuckles. “You want dinner after this?”
“I’m not walking,” you grumble.
“Nah.” She kisses the shell of your ear. “I’ll take care of my girl.”
You grunt, warming slightly when she kisses the nape of your neck. You’ve got half a mind to send her down to the sandwich place that sells a mean chopped cheese. It’s a bit of a walk, and there’s likely to be a line given the hour, but you feel like you’ve earned it.
(Such are the hazards of your life. Papercuts and eye fatigue during the day, and getting your back blown out at night. Truly arduous.)
Sevika rubs your lower back with her human hand. Then, she props herself up on her metal hand. “I’m gonna pull out, okay?”
You nod, then groan when she carefully pulls the dildo out. You wriggle forward a bit, intent on giving her space to maneuver off the bed–
The bed jolts. It groans like a dying man. There’s a high-pitched creak, followed by a crisp snap.
You shriek when your bed collapses on one side, sending you toppling towards the floor.
“Fuck!” Sevika wraps one arm around your waist, then catches herself on one knee. She holds you tight as the foot of the bed collapses as well. “Shit. Are you okay?”
You blink a few times, stupified. It takes a few moments for reality to sink in. We broke the bed. We fucked so hard that we broke the bed.
“Hey. Look at me.” Sevika tips your head up with her metal hand so she can see your face. “Are you okay?”
You stare up at her, dumbfounded. She fucked me so hard that she broke my bed. Finally, the penny drops. You press your lips together, snort, then burst into giggles.
Sevika simply stares at you for a moment. Then, she smirks, until she’s laughing right along with you. She sits back, laughing so hard she shakes you, then pulls you into your lap. “Fuck, I love you.”
You giggle, then hook one hand behind her neck so you can pull her in for a kiss. “I love you, too.”
…
It’s after hours at The Last Drop. The bar and dance floor are closed to customers for the night. The heavy, pounding music is off, and the glowing neon lights have been switched off in favor of the more practical, warmer “daytime” lights.
It’s still a full house. Standing room only.
Everyone loves an execution, you reflect as you gaze around the bar floor.
The news of Guy’s impending doom had spread quickly through Silco’s goons and various officials. Several of Silco’s workers are here up to partake in the extermination of the pest you’d all been forced to endure the past couple months. Some of the Chembarons are present as well –chief among them Margot and Chross, who seem particularly eager to watch justice doled out after the headaches Guy caused them.
You’re hanging back, for now. You’re waiting for Sevika near the back hall of the bar (she’s in a meeting with Silco). You’re leaned up against the wall, arms crossed loosely over your chest.
“Quite the occasion, isn’t it?”
You flinch, startled, then turn to face Renata Glasc. “Ms. Glasc. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you approach.” I didn’t think you’d show up, you add mentally, but you bite the tip of your tongue to keep from speaking. Whatever her motivations are, you don’t want to know.
She inclines her head in a haughty manner, but waves one hand dismissively. “No apology necessary.” She nods her head towards the crowd. “Was Silco expecting this kind of turnout?”
You shrug; you really don’t know one way or the other, nor do you care. “Everyone loves a wake.”
Renata chuckles; she sounds so different from Sevika, all distorted and icy. “Indeed. I’ve heard that this particular pest has caused you a great deal of frustration.”
“I–” You snap your mouth shut before you say anything impulsive; you don’t know how she found out about Guy’s fixation with you, but you’re not about to play into whatever hand she’s dealing out. “Every job comes with its hazards.”
“True.” She studies you for a moment, then adds, “But they don’t have to.”
You arch one eyebrow at her, more challenging than curious. “Ma’am?”
“Come work for me.” She straightens up; you can practically taste the pride rolling off her. “Your talents and experience speak for themselves, as do your presentations at the quarterly meetings. I certainly could make use of your expertise –and you would be insulated from… unseemly individuals.”
Perhaps, in another lifetime, it’d be a tempting offer. Renata can definitely afford to pay you as well as Silco does –and if you never have to deal with another “Guy” type in your life, it’ll be too soon.
You smirk, then shake your head. “It’s a very generous offer, ma’am.” You stand up straight and look her in the eye. “But I’ll have to decline.”
Renata’s eyes narrow; no doubt she’s not used to being turned down. But then her gaze dips to your neck, and her consternated expression lifts. She makes a noise akin to understanding in the back of her throat. “Quite the statement piece.”
You smile, pleased as punch. “I saw the model piece in the window.” You tap on the nameplate of the collar with your fingertip. “I felt… overwhelmingly inspired.”
“I see.” She crosses her arms over her chest as she scans the rest of your get up (you’d opted for a dress tonight that pairs nicely with the collar and shows off the marks your lover left on your shoulders and thighs). “And the purpose of wearing it here?”
You smirk. “Gotta send the right message.”
At that, she laughs, albeit without much mirth. “Indeed we do.”
The distant sound of Silco’s office door creaking open draws both your attention. You smile when you see Sevika striding down the hall towards you, followed by Silco.
She smiles back. “There you are, babygirl.” She cups the side of your face with her human hand before kissing you, then spares a glance at Renata. “Ms. Glasc.”
Renata inclines her head. “Sevika. Silco.”
Sevika winds one arm around your waist, then whisks you away as Renata and Silco start talking. “What’d she want?”
“To make me a job offer.” You bite back a smile when Sevika glares a man down until he vacates his barstool, then sit when she nudges you towards the spot. “Promised I’d be ‘insulated’ from people like Guy if I worked with her.”
Sevika hums, then raises her eyebrows when you don’t continue. “And?”
“I said no,” you assure her with a roll of your eyes. You smooth one hand up her right forearm, settling on her impressive bicep. “She couldn’t possibly offer me the benefits my current position does.”
Sevika snorts.
Silence falls over the room as the front door opens.
You crane your neck, then smirk when Guy walks in, escorted by the two bouncers that usually work the front door. You lean back against your girlfriend, practically preening when she kisses the edge of your jaw. Showtime.
“How’s he going to fight in those shoes?” Ran murmurs from their seat next to you. She nods at Guy. “He won’t get any grip.”
“Boss might not give him the chance to fight,” you point out, voice hushed.
“The fuck do we care if he tries?” Sevika adds in as she winds one arm around your waist. “He’s a deadman.”
You smirk grows when the bouncers lock the front door shut (without Guy noticing, too). Yes, yes he is.
Guy stops at the edge of the crowd. He glances around, expression imperious. When no one moves to greet him –to say anything–he spreads his arms. “I came to speak with Silco.”
“Mr. Thisseman.” Silco enters from the back of the room, emerging through the crowd like a wolf through the undergrowth. He tucks his hands behind his back. “You’re on time tonight. Your manners are improving.”
Guy’s ears and neck flush red as everyone else laughs. He frowns, nose scrunching in consternation, but he otherwise holds his temper. (It’s the first smart thing you’ve seen him do since you met him.) He inclines his head, staring Silco down. “You said we would discuss…” His voice trails off when Renata appears behind Silco. He blinks –and then he scans the crowd again. His eyes widens when he sees Chross and Margot. He turns around, studying the room; his shoulders tense, and he does a double-take when he seemingly realizes that the only people in the bar tonight are people who work for Silco.
So, he has survival instincts after all.
Silco raises his good eyebrow, expression smug. “Is something wrong, Mr. Thisseman?”
“I–” Guy faces Silco again. He swallows hard; you can see sweat glistening on his forehead. “I thought we were discussing making me one of your barons.”
“You did?” Silco feigns surprise, then smirks when everyone else laughs again. “There must have been a misunderstanding. We’re here to discuss your payment for this quarter.”
It must be a pre-discussed cue, because at that, Sevika straightens and whistles towards the back of the room.
A few men come forward, carrying two of the chests Guy used to deliver his “payment.” They tip the chests out onto the floor, spilling the books across the wooden floor.
“I’m well aware that Zaun lacks the educational resources your people possess,” Silco says as the men retreat back to the crowd, “but I still don’t take payment in books.”
Guy pales. He swallows hard, eyes wide. Then, he turns and bolts towards the front door, only to bounce off the thick chest of one of the bouncers. He tumbles to the floor with a resounding thud.
“I’ve been patient with you.” Silco stares down at Guy, looking outright bored by the unfolding events. “You’re not from here; it can be… difficult to grasp the local customs.”
Guy struggles to his hands and knees. He pants, winded from hitting the floor, then lets out a sob before looking up at Silco. “Please–”
“I will admit, it’s been impressive to watch your manners improve during our time working together. We all thought you were raised without them.” Silco leans down towards the younger man, staring him directly in the eyes. “Tell me, do you think they’ll save you now?”
“Please,” Guy begs, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll –I’ll do anything!”
Silco smirks, then shakes his head. “No. I’m not going to kill you.”
Tension practically cascades from Guy’s body. He lets out a watery laugh and drops his head.
“Someone else has already requested the job.”
You suck in a breath, then grin when Sevika lets go of you and pushes off the bar counter.
Guy goes rigid again when he catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Sevika, then lets out a horrified, high-pitched whimper. He trembles –then, in a blink, he switches back to rage. He lurches to his feet and rounds on Silco. “My father–”
“Isn’t here,” Silco cuts him off, unfazed.
“You–”
“Shut the fuck up.”
You shiver at the hard, unyielding tone of your girlfriend’s command. You grin when Guy falls silent –and it only grows wider when Guy looks past Sevika to you. You raise your hand and wiggle your fingers in a little, taunting wave.
Sevika steps around the barstool. She stares at Guy until he cringes back –then, she turns on her heel and faces you. She takes her cloak off and carefully drapes it around your shoulders before looking you in the eye. “How do you want it?”
Your eyes widen as her meaning sinks in. Your lips stretch into a wicked, feral grin as you stare Guy down.
His throat flexes visibly. “Please–”
“I want to watch you beat the shit out of him,” you declare, making sure your voice is loud enough to rise over whatever Guy was going to say.
A round of raucous cheers and whoops go up around the bar.
Sevika smirks. She glances around the bar, looking triumphant, then makes a show of taking a vial of Shimmer out of her bandolier and loading it into her arm.
“On your feet, boy,” one of the older, more grizzled henchmen says. “Don’t let her kick you into the floor.”
Guy lets out a choked sob, then pushes himself to his feet. He sways, unsteady, as tears trickle down his cheeks.
Exhilaration courses through your body as Sevika’s arm loads and injects the vial of Shimmer into her system. You grin as the vial pops up over her shoulder plate, then wider still when it disappears again and everyone else cheers.
“Tie off.” Another urging from one of the older members of the crowd squeaks past the cheers and the bets being made on how long Guy will last against Sevika. “She’ll strangle you with it.”
Guy’s body heaves as he gasps between sobs. He undoes his tie, hands fumbling and shaking as he cries.
Sevika turns and looks at him, waiting until he looks at her and cowers away. Then, she turns back to you –and with a gentleness that you know is deliberate, places her fingers beneath your chin and draws you in for a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” You beam up at her when she pulls away, then nod to Guy. “Go on. Give me a good show, baby.”
Sevika laughs –cruel and bemused–then turns and stalks towards Guy.
One thing to his credit: he tries. (If you can call it that.)
But it wasn’t like he was ever going to stand a chance against Sevika.
He tries to hit her first. He swings, but it’s comically dismal. The momentum from his own throw has him staggering off balance, stumbling past her like a drunk on a dance floor.
Sevika dodges –as much as she needs to, anyway–then twists and lines up a right jab that connects directly with his jaw.
Guy squeals like a stuck pig and careens backwards.
A deafening round of cheers and hollers from the crowd damn near makes your teeth rattle in their sockets.
She’s toying with him. Even aside from all the bravado and posturing, you know how easily she could finish him off. But instead, Sevika’s giving Guy time to recover and try again. She waits for Guy to get back to his feet, dodges another few wild, sloppy swings, then sidesteps and kicks his knee so hard that he drops face first into a chair.
Your eyes widen when you see blood spatter against the floor. You grin –slow, wide, manic–and lean forward on your seat to get a better view.
“Get up!” someone hollers when Guy groans but doesn’t make an effort to move. “Don’t let her grind your face into the floor!”
Guy whimpers. He spits some blood onto the floor, then pushes himself to his feet. There’s blood trickling from his now crooked nose, onto his shirt and vest. His upper lip is ballooning up, and there’s swelling and discoloration around his nose, too. He staggers, glassy-eyed, then hunches over and spits into his hand. A glob of blood and bits of broken teeth land in his palm.
“Finish him off already!” one woman screams.
“You just want to win your bet!” another person hollers at her before adding, “Drag it out! Make that fucker suffer!”
“Break his stupid neck!” a third shrieks.
Sevika ignores them. She watches Guy, gaze calculative, as he stumbles and gasps in pain, then glances over at you.
You smile back at her and blow her a kiss.
She smirks –but then her gaze shifts back to Guy, and something in her expression hardens. It starts as a sneer, disdainful and disgusted, but quickly transforms into a brooding, hateful scowl.
A thrill runs down your spine as you watch her stalk towards the bedraggled, bloodied man. Here we go.
Sevika throws the first punch this time. She rams her metal fist into his gut hard enough that Guy doubles over and makes a high-pitched squeaking noise, then follows it up with a right uppercut to his jaw. She catches him by his shirt when he goes limp, then lifts him up and supplexes him through a roughly hewn wooden table.
Guy comes to life again as she drags him across the bar floor. He thrashes, shrieking pitifully as Sevika yanks him around by his hair. He tries to swing at her, only to jerk to a stop when Sevika grabs onto his throat with crushing force. He gurgles, clawing at her human arm in vain.
She slams her metal fist into his face. And then she does it again. And again. And again. She doesn’t stop when part of his nose bridge caves in with a sickening crunch. Nor when the skin above his eyebrow splits open and blood spurts over her metal knuckles and down his face.
The crowd cheers, frenzied, when one of her fingers goes into his eye, leaving a jagged, bloody void behind.
It’s a mess –Guy’s face, his clothes, the bar floor, Sevika’s fist.
Someone ought to wash him off. You grin nastily when a brilliant, terrible idea occurs to you. “Sev!”
She stops midswing, and ignores the groans and cries of complaint and dismay when she turns to face you. She’s still holding Guy up by his throat –he barely looks like he’s clinging to consciousness–and raises one eyebrow at you in question.
You nod to the bar. “Bring him here.”
She does as you request without question and drags Guy over to the bar.
“Lay him out on his back.” You hop up onto the bar so she has more room to work with –you’re positioned such that you’re perched at Guy’s side once Sevika hefts him onto the bar and pins him down by his neck. “Good.” You turn to the bartender, who’s been watching from behind the counter. “Get me a glass of rotgut.”
Dark laughter and excited whispers ripple throughout the crowd as the onlookers start catching on to your idea.
You smile in thanks when the bartender hands you a glass of the cheapest, meanest, nastiest hooch The Last Drop has to offer, then turn to the crowd and hold up the glass in a ‘cheers’ gesture. “To Zaun!”
“To Zaun!” the crowd echoes back.
You grin –then turn and slowly pour the glass out over Guy’s face.
He sputters and wheezes –then screams when the alcohol trickles into his gored eye and the cuts on his face. He tries to squirm away, but Sevika holds him in place with an iron grip.
You set the glass down once it’s empty, then face the bartender again. “Get me a bottle. Biggest one you have.”
Guy wheezes; it’s a terrible, popping, wet noise. “Please–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sevika growls while the bartender hands you a bottle of moonshine.
You uncap the bottle and show it off to the crowd –which gets more cheers—before tipping it over Guy’s head again.
He tries to break free –well, as much as he can try, given his current state–but eventually he stops. His abdomen starts twitching, and the skin on his face and neck start turning red from having to hold his breath.
You don’t give him a break. You go slow, watching with unrepentant glee as the alcohol seeps into his wounds, his hair, his clothes. At last, the bottle runs dry, and Guy inhales with a sob –but you ignore him in favor of grabbing your girlfriend by the collar of her shirt and drawing her in for a deep, passionate kiss.
Sevika meets the kiss with equal fervor. She cups the back of your head with the hand that isn’t holding Guy down. She groans, then slides her tongue into your mouth.
A mix of raucous whoops and annoyed groans emanate from the crowd.
Eventually, you break the kiss with a wet smacking noise. A thin thread of spit trails between your lips briefly before breaking. You gaze into her eyes, exhilarated when you find that they’re wide and blown dark with arousal. “I love you.”
Sevika swallows hard, then grins. “I love you, too.”
You place one hand on her shoulder when she starts to heft Guy off the counter. “Wait. Where’s his wallet?”
Ran finds it first. They fish it out of his back pocket, then hand it to you.
“Thanks.” You toss it to the bartender. “That should cover the bottle. Keep the change.” You look back at Sevika and grin. “Finish him off, baby.”
She grins back, then yanks Guy off the counter. She hauls him over to a table so he’s lying on his stomach, then lets out a sharp whistle. “Pin his arms.”
Several goons rush over, all eager to partake. In the end, there’s nearly fifteen people pinning Guy’s arms against the table, spread such that his fingertips nearly touch each opposite side.
Sevika stalks back to the bar. She’s further away from you, so you can’t make out what she says to the bartender over all the excited chatter, but you get the picture when he hands her a battered cleaver.
Guy seems dead to the world. He isn’t resisting anymore. The only reason you know he’s still alive is because you can see his body twitch as he coughs.
You suck in an excited breath when Sevika strides back towards the table, blade in hand.
She approaches his right side first. She steps around the cluster of thugs and waits for them to reposition so their hands are clear of Guy’s wrists. She places the blade against his skin, lining up her shot, then lifts the cleaver over her head and brings it down with a grunt.
Guy comes to life again as the blade bashes through his wrist bones. He screams, jerking futilely as the others hold him in place.
It takes two hard swings to sever his right hand from his arm. Once it’s cut off, Sevika rounds the table, then cuts off his other hand with one clean stroke.
Guy retches, then pukes up a mixture of bile and blood over the table.
Sevika doesn’t flinch. She leaves the cleaver embedded in the table and grabs his hair with her metal hand. She turns his head to the side, smearing his face through his own vomit, then pulls a sharp, pointed dagger out of her pocket.
You can feel your core clench in anticipation.
She lines up the tip of her blade with his temple, then raises her hand and drives it down with a growl.
There’s a horrible, sickening, wet crunch as the blade drives through his temple, followed by an equally disgusting shlock when she pulls it back out.
Guy goes limp. He slumps to the floor when the henchmen release his arms. He lies there in a crumpled, filthy heap. Blood trickles from his severed wrists, nose, eye, and temple.
You grin, breathing hard. Finally.
The Last Drop erupts into cheers and hollers. Several people surge forward to loot the corpse of anything that’s still worth selling.
Sevika turns and gives a few orders to one of her workers –likely instructions on how to dispose of the body. Then she strides towards you, looking every bit like a lioness back from a successful hunt.
You greet her with a smile and a kiss, then moan into her mouth when she kisses you harder, deeper. You clutch at the front of her shirt, then let out a little whimper when she breaks the kiss.
She stares down at you for a long moment, expression inscrutable. Then, she kisses your forehead before looping her right arm around your waist and wordlessly ushering you towards the rear of the bar.
You follow her without question or hesitation.
…
It’s quieter in the back hall of The Last Drop. Cooler.
Sevika lets out a sigh as the two of you walk away from the chaotic throng in the bar. She heads towards the bathroom. “I need to wash off.”
You hum and follow her. The bathroom’s a cramped, dingy space –barely larger than a closet–so you wait at the threshold while she cleans up. You watch as she scrubs her right hand with soap and a coarse bristle brush, but stop her when she starts to clean her left hand. “Let me do that.”
She looks at you via the mirror, expression heavy with reluctance. “I can do it myself.”
“I know.” You squeeze into the miniscule bathroom and take your station next to her at the sink. “But I want to do it for you.”
Sevika hesitates –then steps back as much as she can to give you more working room. She leans against a battered, water damage stained wall, and holds out her metal hand to you.
You start by rinsing off the blood so you can better see what you’re working with; it swirls down the sink drain, turning the tepid water rust colored. From there, you start picking out the bits that got stuck in the seams and crevices of her hand and wrist. You carefully extricate the mangled scraps of flesh with your fingertips and toss them into a nearby wastebasket (you don’t want to clog the pipes and deal with what would surely be a hefty invoice from the plumber).
Sevika watches you in silence. She lets you work, only moving to adjust her hand or turn her wrist to make things easier for you. She bends over when you start scrubbing the remaining flecks of dried blood off her hand and forearm, practically caging you in against the sink.
You work slowly, methodically. You go inch by inch, carefully inspecting the metal surface of her arm until you’re satisfied that it’s clean. “All done.” You dry her arm with a few paper towels, then smile up at her in the mirror –only to frown again. “Oh, shit. You’ve got some on your face. Hang on.”
Sevika watches, still silent, as you wet a fresh paper towel. She stares down at you when you turn around –then, surprisingly, closes her eyes when you reach up to wipe the blood off her skin.
The display of trust isn’t lost on you. You feel nearly dizzy with power. You let out a shuddering breath, then swallow hard and steel yourself. Focus. Now’s the time to take care of her for a change.
Sevika’s eyelids flutter when you start dabbing at her cheek. Her breathing shallows out when you start wiping some stray spattering above her left eyebrow. She swallows visibly when you move down to her jaw and throat, and rocks forward slightly to brace herself against the sink basin.
You don’t have to take nearly as much time with her face as you did her arm, but you work with the same thoroughness. Each spot is carefully washed, until her skin is clean again.
You’re practically panting by the time you’re done. You have to swallow hard, then clear your throat once, twice before you’re able to force any words out. “I’m done.” You toss the stained towel in the trash –then blink when you see diluted blood and viscera staining your hands. “Oh, shit.” You laugh to yourself. “Guess I should wash my hands, too.” You turn around and get the tap running again–
But before you can start washing your hands, Sevika reaches around you and takes your hands in hers.
You let out a dreamy sign, then tip your head back against her and close your eyes as she starts washing your hands for you.
She’s so deliberately, heart-wrenchingly gentle that you scarcely feel her touch. She works one hand at a time; she cradles whichever hand of yours she’s cleaning in her left hand, then uses her right to carefully rub your skin with soap until you’re clean again.
You groan when she presses a little harder, massaging the heel of your hand. “That feels so good.”
Sevika chuckles, then gently, chastely kisses the side of your neck. When she’s satisfied your hands are clean, she turns off the taps, then dries your hands before drying her own.
You inhale deeply through your nose, then open your eyes. You blink a few times as your brain works its way back up through the haze of relaxation she put you under. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Sevika tosses the used paper towel in the trash can, then wraps her arms around you once more. “Are you okay?”
You nod. “Yeah.” You meet her gaze in the mirror. “Are you okay?”
She grunts in confirmation, then turns her head and brushes her lips against your temple. “How was it?”
You grin. Not satisfied with simply looking at her through your reflections, you turn in your arms and gaze up at her. You cup her scarred cheek with your hand, beaming like she brought the stars down to the earth for you (and, frankly, she may as well have). “You were perfect.”
She smirks, her signature cocky, intoxicating bravado coming back. She squeezes your waist with both hands, then bends down and kisses you.
You meet her eagerly, straining to deepen the kiss and make up for the height difference between the two of you. You wind your arms around her neck, pulling yourself closer to her as she presses you against the nearest wall.
Sevika, however, doesn’t seem like she’s going to be rushed. She gently grabs your hair to hold you still, then takes her time kissing you. She moves in almost a lazy fashion, dragging her tongue across yours before tracing sluggish designs against the roof of your mouth. She drags it out until you’re whimpering and squirming against her, then breaks the kiss and murmurs into your mouth, “Need me to take you to bed, babygirl?”
You nod frantically and whine.
She chuckles, then steps back and ushers you out of the bathroom. “Come on.”
You take her hand and lead her down the hall, towards your bedroom, only to stumble back when she tugs you towards the rear exit. “My room–”
“No.”
“But–”
“Your bed’s still broken, remember?”
You dig in your heels, then smirk and arch one eyebrow at her when she stops and looks at you. “I have other furniture in there, you know.”
Sevika huffs out a laugh, but shakes her head regardless. “Let me walk this off, first.” She gestures with her still glowing metal arm, then reaches over and adjusts how her cloak sits around your shoulders. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You don’t think she would –but you also don’t see the point in fighting her over it. You assent with a smile and a shrug. “Alright.” You pause, then reach over and gently smack her ass. “Take me home, baby.”
Sevika chuckles, then smacks your ass in return before opening the back door for you.
…
The walk home is agonizing; delayed satisfaction has never been your thing.
Sevika’s silent for most of the walk –and so are you, for that matter. You’re both just content to hold each other’s hands and let the city pass by.
(You can tell she’s processing, too. You know she had a lot of built up rage against Guy, and the kind of catharsis tonight brought can be draining.)
Sevika lets go of your hand once you reach her apartment door. She unlocks it, ushers you inside, then closes and locks the door behind her–
It’s like flipping a switch.
You gasp when she grabs you, then let out a ragged, delighted moan when her mouth crashes against yours.
She has you manhandled and pinned against the nearest flat surface in seconds. She lifts you up, pinning you against the wall, then breaks the kiss long enough to rip her cloak off of you.
You wind your legs around her waist, then groan when she kisses you again. You sink your hands into her hair, tugging when she bites down on your lower lip.
Sevika grinds her hips against yours. She growls when you nip at her tongue, then lifts you off the wall and carries you to her bedroom.
You grope at her shoulders, her back, her chest –anything you can reach, really. You moan when she pins you against a wall in her bedroom, seeking her mouth out for a kiss –then gasp when she reaches behind your neck and starts working the clasp on your collar. “I thought–”
“I want your neck,” she growls. She undoes the clasp, sets the collar aside atop a dresser, then grabs your hair and tugs your head back before burying her face in your neck.
You let out a shout when she bites down. Your hips jerk against hers. Arousal pulses through your cunt, spreading through the rest of your body until you’re warm and sensitive to her every touch. You moan as she continues attacking your neck, dragging her teeth and tongue over every inch of skin. “Sev–”
Her right hand gropes up your thigh, squeezing your flesh and occasionally digging her fingers in until you’re shuddering against her. She works steadily higher, until she’s pushing up under the tight skirt of your dress–
You grin when you hear her breath catch, then giggle when her hand starts searching over your hips and ass. “Something wrong, baby?”
“You –you didn’t–”
You shrug, smug. “It seemed like too much effort.”
Sevika’s right hand grips your ass hard enough to make you squeak –hard enough that you’ll probably have a bruise. She growls. “Fucking brat.”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, then mewl and arch against her when she sucks on the skin over your collarbone. “I –fuck–I thought you’d like it.”
“Like it?” She rucks up your dress, exposing your bare cunt and ass. “I fucking love it.”
You groan and bury your face against her shoulder when she slides two fingers between your folds. “‘Vika…”
She slides her fingers through your arousal, teasing you while you whimper into her shirt. She turns her head, breath hot against your ear. “I want to fuck you with my strap,” she murmurs in your ear, voice like gravel. She adjusts her hold on you so she’s support you with her metal arm and pinning your thighs apart with her thighs. “I want to fill you until you can’t take anymore, and then I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.” She chuckles when you let out a loud, lewd moan. “Sound good, babygirl?”
“Fuck yes.” You sigh when she presses two fingers against your entrance, then reach from the clasps on the front of her shirt. “You’re wearing too many fucking clothes.”
She lets you open her top as she slides two fingers inside of you. She curls them gently, attempting to prep you rather than fuck you with them. She lets out a soft groan when you wrestle your hands inside her bra and grope her tits, then captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.
You roll your hips against her hand, matching her languid pace. You moan softly when she curls her fingers against your front wall –then break the kiss with a gasp when she starts scissoring them back and forth. “Sevika –please–”
“Gotta make sure you’re ready.” She’s shifted to kiss your neck now, pressing gentle, chaste kisses against your skin that leave you trembling. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you assure her, voice fraught with need. Your hands fumble over your body as arousal sparks through your pussy. “Baby, please, I need you to fuck me. Please, please, please–”
“Patience.”
“Never.” You grin when she chuckles, then wind your arms around her neck and pull yourself closer to her. You kiss and nip along her jaw, working your way towards her ear. “I need your cock inside me, Sev.” You suck on the spot just below her ear (and you can feel your walls flutter in response when she moans). “I need you to fill me up, baby.” You purposefully squeeze your walls around her fingers this time –which gets a growl out of her. “I need you to fuck me, need you to make me feel so good…”
Sevika lifts her head, staring you dead in the eyes. She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “You’re fucking incorrigible. You know that, right?”
You smile sweetly at her, then squeeze your walls around her fingers again. “You love me.”
She narrows her eyes –but the corners of her mouth are twitching like she’s fighting a smile. After a moment, she sighs, shakes her head, and slides her fingers out of you. She sets you down, then smacks your ass before turning and heading for the nightstand. “Strip for me, babygirl.”
You’re out of your clothes and boots in a flash –though you’re briefly distracted by the way she sucks your arousal off her fingers–and then you’re chasing after her. You stop behind her and tug her shirt off, then attempt to divest her of her bra, too.
Sevika snorts. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”
“I do.” You manage to get her bra halfway off, but falter when trying to get it over her head; she’s just so damn tall. “But I also want something pretty to look at while you do it.”
She shoots you a mild glare for that, but shakes her head and goes back to rifling through the drawer where the two of you keep your sex toys when you merely smile at her.
You take advantage of her being stooped down to get her sports bra the rest of the way off and toss it aside –then pause when you see her pull out the strap on harness. “Wait.” You take the harness from her hands and drop it back in the drawer, then pull out a double-sided dildo and hand it to her. “I want you to use this.”
“You’re awfully bossy tonight.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it at the bar.” You bite your lower lip when she fixes you with a hard stare –okay, in fairness, that was probably pushing it–then reach out and stroke her scarred cheek. “I want you to feel good, too.”
She rolls her eyes, but relents anyway. “Have it your way.”
You lean forward to kiss her cheek –and relax a little when she kisses yours in return–then kneel to take off her boots while she finds the lube. Once they’re off, you move to her belt, then work her trousers and briefs down her massive thighs.
Sevika lifts each leg in turn to help you undress her –then sucks in a breath when you nip at the inside of her thigh. She looks down at you, smirking when you follow it up with a kiss. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”
You flash her an impish smile, then slowly rise, making a point to kiss various points of her body on the way up. You sigh when she cups your chin with her hand and guides you up the rest of the way, then melt against her when she kisses you.
With her other hand, she tries to push you onto the bed; she lets out a slightly irritated sigh when you rest, then breaks the kiss so she can pull back and see your face. She arches one thick eyebrow. “What now?”
“I was thinking… against the wall?” Your face warms as you nod at the wall she had you pinned against earlier.
Sevika glances over, considering. “You’re just full of demands tonight, huh?”
“I’ve never tried it before!” You defend yourself. “It’s always been on my bucket list.” You pause, then grin cheekily at her. “And you’re probably strong enough to hold me up.”
She takes the bait. Her eyes narrow, and her brows draw together. “‘Probably?’”
Exhilaration courses through your body when she puts one heavy hand on your shoulder and practically marches you over to the wall.
It takes a bit of fumbling to get situated –for Sevika to insert the strap, to get you lifted and pinned safely against the wall, to get the dildo lubed up; you accidentally knee her in the ribs, causing her to nearly drop you, and you both wind up laughing so hard that she has to set you down anyway, meaning you essentially have to start over.
“Are you okay?” you ask between giggles. You smooth one hand over the spot you hit, as if searching for injuries. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to clock you.”
“I’m fine.” She takes hold of your hand and presses it against her skin. “You’re not that strong, sweetheart.”
You fix her with a stink eye –but then she’s lifting you up again like you weigh nothing, and suddenly you can’t remember what you might’ve been mad about. You let out a little, soft moan when she adjusts her grip so she’s holding you just under each ass cheek. The slick, cold head of the dildo brushes against your folds, and you arch against her. “Sevika–”
“Patience.” She nips the side of your jaw and continues adjusting her grip on you and how you’re positioned against the wall. She chuckles, dark and rich, when you whine. “Can’t rush me now, brat.”
“Please,” you beg. You moan again when you feel the head of the toy cock press more insistently against your folds. “Please, please, please, Sevika; I need you to fu–”
She picks that moment to thrust in, slow and steady. She laughs against when you cut yourself off with a gasp. “That better?”
You can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Your body tenses as the strap fills you to completion. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, and your eyes roll back in your head. You shudder when she comes to a stop, buried inside you, then practically wilt against her. You loop your arms around her neck and let out a desperate, choked whimper.
Sevika groans when your hips start rocking against hers. Her grip on you tightens, and then she draws back and thrusts in again.
You’ve always appreciated her strap etiquette. She always uses enough lube, she doesn’t ram you in the cervix, and she never starts fucking you by going fast and deep; she takes enough time to let you adjust, to make sure that she’s lined up right and that you’re comfortable.
Tonight’s not an exception –but the wait time between that first thrust in and her outright fucking you is much shorter. She maybe waits a handful of thrusts to take it slow, and then after that she’s ramping up until she’s pounding your poor cunt, hard and fast.
It’s heaven.
You’re moaning with each thrust. The position has you totally at her mercy; between her hold on you and how hard she’s fucking you, you can barely move, much less meet her thrusts. All you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.
Which is amazing.
“That’s it,” Sevika growls. “Just be a good girl and take my cock.”
Too late, you’re realizing that she’s positioned you just right –no doubt on purpose–so that each drag of the strap rubs against your g-spot. It’s overwhelming. It’s merciless. It’s too good. It has you near crying as your body is all but dragged through pleasure too fast to process. It leaves you scrabbling at her back and shoulders as you try to cope –to fucking breathe. You moan loudly. “‘Vika…”
It’s too fast. You don’t want this to be over in the blink of an eye. You want it dragged out to the point of madness. You want to feel her inside you until you can’t remember what it was like to be empty. You want her to fuck you slow and deep until you’re begging, sobbing, for her to finish you off.
You smack her shoulder, trying to get her attention. “S-sev–” You cut yourself off with a guttural groan, then try again. “Sev –slow, Sevika, please go slow–”
She scoffs (but does slow the pace of her hips). “Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”
“S’too fast,” you gasp, relieved when you’re finally able to untense. “Just… please.”
She takes pity on you –though not without some teasing. “Aw, sweetheart, is it too much for you?” She slows down further, until her pace is practically lazy. “Need me to ease you in, go nice and slow for you?”
You’ll rib her later for being an asshole –but right now, you’re in the blissful state where nothing else exists but her. All that matters is that you’re with her, full of her, and all you want to do is agree with anything she says. So you nod, drunk on arousal, and all but melt in her grasp.
Sevika chuckles, slightly breathless, then leans forward and kisses your forehead. “Don’t worry, babygirl. I’m gonna take care of you.”
The angle of her thrusts is still nothing short of exquisite. You can at least breathe now, but you’re still groaning with each roll of her hips. Your body still shakes with each thrust –she’s so damn strong. You tip your head back against the wall and let out a long, loud moan. “Sevika…”
She’s feeling it, too, you can tell. Her grunts have turned into deep, throaty groans. Her hold on you keeps tightening and loosening as she tries to keep control over herself –tries to keep her head clear. She presses her forehead against yours and lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck.”
At some point, you wind up meeting her gaze (frankly, it’s a miracle you can even keep your eyes open). It’s accidental –but once you do, you can’t look away. You stare into her eyes, practically entranced, as she fucks you deep and slow.
Sevika sucks a breath through her teeth when you moan without breaking eye contact. “That good, babygirl?” She grins when you whimper and nod. “I know it is.” She leans forward, until her lips are pressed against the shell of your ear and her chest is flush with yours. “I can feel that pretty pussy of yours pulling on my strap.”
You whimper and arch against her. She’s not wrong; you’re pulsing around the length of the strap. Your thighs tremble around her hips, and your hips jerk against hers of their own accord. You grind against her, chasing your own pleasure, and make both of you moan in unison. “Sev–”
Her hips meet yours a bit harder. She groans in the back of her throat. “I’m –I need it faster than this, sweetheart.” She’s panting, and her breath is hot and harsh against your neck. “Are you–”
You nod, frantic. “Fuck me, Sevika. Please.” You sink your hands into her hair, then drag her head up so you can murmur into her mouth, “Finish me off. Make me scream.”
Sevika growls, then digs her hands into your hips and starts pounding into you.
You wail. You were trembling before, caught in such a sweet spot of pleasure and stimulation, but now the increased pace is like a sucker punch. You’re breathless, squeezed between the wall and her, unable to do anything except take as she fucks you both to completion.
It’s not going to be long for you, either. You feel like you’re burning in the best way possible. Arousal smolders through your body until it’s an inferno. Until you’re screaming yourself hoarse. Until you’re dripping down the strap, and your girlfriend’s thighs, and onto the floor. Until you’re clawing at Sevika’s back, howling as each thrust yanks you higher and higher towards climax.
The sound of her hips meeting yours is scarcely loud enough to be heard over your moans and the lewd, slick sounds her strap makes with each thrust. Her groans are loud and rough in your ear, and you can feel her thighs trembling from her own impending orgasm. She moans your name, then drags her teeth over your jaw before growling out, “Touch yourself.”
You don’t catch the command at first –in your defense, your brain is leaking out your pussy–but you don’t miss it the second time when she bites down on your neck, hard. You dig your nails into her shoulders and squeal in equal parts pleasure and pain.
“I told you to fucking touch yourself.”
You moan, then manage to cram one hand between your sweat slicked bodies. You rub your fingers over your clit once, twice –and then it’s over. “Sevika!” You orgasm while screaming her name, voice fraying at the edges, then keep screaming it as she continues fucking you so she can reach her own climax. You wrap your free around her neck, squealing as pleasure slides into delicious overstimulation.
“Fuck!” Her thrusts falter for a moment before picking back up. She moans, rocking you against the wall with a particularly hard snap of her hips.
You whimper –and then, though it’s a bit awkward for your wrist, you manage to adjust the angle of your hand and circle your thumb over her clit.
Sevika gasps your name. She thrusts wildly –once, twice, three times–and then she all but smashes you into the wall as her climax washes over her. She braces herself against you, body heavy and hot against yours as she shudders with pleasure.
You simply cling to her; breathing hardly seems important when the trade off is having her so close to you. You want to hold her this close forever, until your bodies merge together –or, at least so you can leech from her furnace-like qualities for all of eternity.
Sevika, however, has other ideas. It takes a minute for her to ride out her orgasm, catch her breath, and come back into her own head –but then she seems to realize she’s on the verge of crushing your ribcage with her body and curses. “Fuck. I’m crushing you.”
“It’s fine,” you insist as she pulls away and lifts you off the wall. “I don’t mind.”
She snorts and shakes her head.
It's a bit of a fumble to get to the bed. You’re both too distracted by each other, too invested in kissing each other, or kissing other parts of each other to make the other person gasp and twitch to move in any semblance of order.
The dildo gets removed and placed onto the dresser next to your collar and the bottle of lube, to be cleaned later.
You wind your arms around your girlfriend’s neck when she picks you up and let her carry you over to the bed. You sigh, content, when she lays you down, then reach out and pull her down on top of you.
Sevika kisses you. She’s slow, languid at first, seemingly content to feel and taste your lips. Eventually, though, she moves lower, trailing kisses down your body until she reaches your chest. She groans against your breasts and starts laving her tongue over your skin. “Gods, I love your tits.”
You laugh, breathless. You simply lie back, happy to let her have her way with you, and cradle her head in your hands as she devours your breasts.
She sucks on one nipple, working it with her tongue and lips until it’s formed a stiff peak. She glances up at you when you moan softly, then switches to the other one.
You can feel warmth pooling in your belly again. Despite your fatigue, your cunt pulses when she scrapes her teeth over your nipple. “Sev…”
She starts kissing lower, over your sternum and down your belly.
You grin, downright dreamy, and spread your legs wider for her.
…
“I’m serious! We should take a vacation!”
Sevika scoffs, then takes another drag from her joint. “Sure. And where would we go, exactly?”
“I don’t know.” You shrug, then prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see her face. “Somewhere nice. Somewhere with a beach.” You roll your eyes when she grimaces. “You’re just being contrary!”
“The fuck are we going to do at a beach that we can’t do here?”
“Uh, enjoy the fucking ocean? Admire a sunset because we can see the sky? Take walks along the sand–”
“Oh, great,” she cuts in, voice sarcastic. She raises her left hand, making the gears whir louder to emphasize her point. “Sand.”
You narrow your eyes at her –then smirk when another point occurs to you. “You’d get to see me in a swimsuit.”
Sevika pauses mid-drag. She considers, gray eyes widening for a moment, then finishes inhaling before blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I’m listening.”
You laugh, then lean down and kiss her shoulder.
You’ll talk her around eventually. It’s not like you’re in any particular rush, after all.
It doesn’t matter where you are, so long as you’re with her.
