Im literally just a girl

She rides him with utmost precision, draining every morsel of self-control from his body. All with her head thrown back, careless as she chases her own climax. Laughs of pleasure mix with her shallow breaths.

Desperation and desire are lacking as descriptors when tasked to convey the countless needs she fills him with. He adores her.

His eyes will subtly soften and pupils expand. They may seam like small gestures to some, but she knows him, and she knows how expensive such things are.

Weaknesses are costly for a monarch. They are sensitive spots that can be manipulated. And although she doesn't like to think of herself as one, she is. Therefore, she does not blame him.

In spite of the risks, he allows himself this expensive luxury.

To say she has him wrapped around her finger is an overstatement, even though she's realised that he differs little from a red string. Sometimes traceable, sometimes comprehensible. It is simply not in his nature to be transparent. Straight-forward. For dreams seldom are.

"Look at me," he breathes, tone monotonous. Fingers sinking further into her waist.

"Ask me nicely," she teases, hands bracing against his thighs.

Dream hums, and she can hear the smirk in his tone. He's humored by her boldness. "I need not be kind," he begins, and shifts beneath her. Getting ready. "For your king demands it." Suddenly, he grabs hold of her arms and pushes his torso off the mattress.

She gasps and her eyes open by reflex. Dream has repositioned them. Lean muscle and pale skin shimmer before her, pressed against her. His perfectly distraught hair has stuck to his dampened forehead.

His lips part and he bares his teeth in an open-mouthed grin, stopping inches from her face. "You test my patience," he says, sharing her air. Enjoying her sweet breath.

"Someone must."

Member still inside her, he circles a hand around her back, resting it in the curve above her ass. "You think yourself the only one?" Then pulls her closer, simultaneously pushing his hips into her. Teasing. Punishing. He delves deeper.

She moans as a string of pleasure shoots up her spine. "Tease," she huffs.

He kisses her jaw, lips curving further. "Says you, lover." He lets the word linger on his tongue before repeating the motion. Shifting inside her, he moves deeper. This time, she meets him as well. And their bodies move in perfect synchronization. Pushing and pulling. Sweat gleaming on their skin as small moans and words of affirmation are shared between them.

"I miss you when you leave," she whispers.

Disconnected by shock, but safe in his embrace. Fatigue from the day's horrifying events take over, and the girl doesn't reflect before caressing his neck.

Joel smiles, it's quick and sweet. But it falls as reality floods the pair, drowning them in consequences. The softness she values disappear from his eyes, seamingly reminded of the dire situation they find themselves in.

She shouldn't have, she knows it. His divided reaction lurches in her stumach while the question festers in her mind. Which situation was it? Emotional or physical–Infected or her father. One wedging between them while the other forces them closer.

Her thoughts become muddled, she doesn't know. The girl's adrenaline drops and she struggles to keep her eyes open as her subconscious is assured of safety in his embrace.

Worry furrows his brow once again. Snow crunches underfoot as his pace picks up, desperate to get you to safety.

The bright blue sky and light snowfall encapsules the determination in his features. Her eyes are drawn to his strong stubbled chin as fingers sink into her skin.

Then it goes black.

—

Her father's worried face and relief washing it clean as he catches sight of his girl. He knows she's in good hands, he knows she needs to be taken care of. She gets snippets of their conversation while swaying in and out of consciousness. "Take care of her, Joel." And "Get her warm." Among a few. In the back of her mind is an image, her father's eyes relenting to a friend. Admitting that his grown daughter would rather have Joel's help in such a delicate situation. Then, his parting words comes rushing back. "I trust you."

—

Coarse fabric strokes her face, stinging shallow wounds. Wincing at a particularly nasty cut, she opens her eyes to find Joel's face inches from her own. "It was the best I could find," he murmurs, a damp towel in hand.

She sighs in with relief, happy to see his face again and the girl gets a sudden urge to stroke the grey strands at his temples. "At least it's clean."

Joel smiles, the dent between his eyebrows loosening. He's relieved by her light mood. It's a good sign. "Not anymore," he jokes.

The girl blinks, noting that the brownish red towel had once been white. It doesn't worry her, the cuts she can feel are mild. It's the pain she cant see that alarms her, a dull ache haunting her muscles. She tries to move, but a blinding pain shoots through her and she groans. "Mggh-- Fuck. Is it bad?"

"I dont know, I'd have to see for myself." He sits back, eyes searching her body. "Your face took the worst of it. I can't find any blood apart from the cuts on your face." Joel rubs the towel over her forehead, his thumb soothing the skin as he moves along. "But, I expect there'll be a lot of bruising."

"Will they scar?"

Joel's gaze flick between the wounds, assessing them. He doesn't say it, but he's apologetic.

She nods, putting on a facade of indifference. "Cool, cool." She feels her face. The skin on her forehead, chin and cheek have split. A few scars are little to trade for her life, but it sucks either way.

"You're not gonna like it, but we need to get you walking–figure out where it hurts."

The girl nods again. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then sighs, "let's get it over with."

Joel ditches the towel and kneels beside her, circling an arm around her back to get a steady grip on her body. "Ready?"

She puts an arm around his shoulders and braces a hand against the back of her chair. "Ready," she exhales.

It hurts less with his help, but the side of her abdomen wails in protest. "Oof-" Worn floorboards creak as the girl takes a few steps without a limp. That's good news. "Mhh-- Its my side," she huffs. The room seems to warp around her, blurring her vision. "Feels like my waist 's gonna snap in half."

"Alright, alright," he exhales, relieved by the miraculous steps as she is. "We'll have to take a look, got a bath running upstairs," he begins, bending down to slip an arm beneath her legs. He smells of leather and pine.

The girl stops him. "I can walk, Joel." Pushing him away by the chest. "Promise," she says, but the dizzy spell lingers and the force from her own arms make her stumble.

Joel hauls her into his arms, shooting her independece down. "Now's not the time to be stubborn," he chuckles.

She wants to protest further, but there's immediate relief along her midriff as he takes the weight off the damaged area. She didn't realise how her body strained, but once gone, a relieved tear rolls down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispers.

Glancing down, Joel has to swallow unwelcome emotions. The tear has streaked dialuted remains of blood. She's strong, but hurting. Three words want to slip by his lips, but he swallows them too. He doesn't dare answer at all.

They journey the rest of the way in silence. Once arrived, Joel nudges the door open with his shoulder and steam swarms the pair. Gently, he sets her down on the tiled floor.

It's dark as little light seeps in from the hallway. But it's the heat that presses her mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. She's overdressed, sweat already coating her skin. Unzipping her jacket, she strains to pull it off. Hissing as she's forced to move her side.

"Gently," Joel calms her, stepping in to help and slides it down her arms. Without another word, he sinks to his knees and starts untying her shoes. Joel looks up, there's devotion in his eyes. Kind and unyielding. He cares for her like she cares for him, but this isn't news. It's hazardous however.

With their eyes locked, the girl carefully bends forward to brace a hand against his shoulder, aiding Joel in the removal of her shoes. He slides a hand behind her calf while the other grab the heel of her boot, pulling it off. It pains her, and he notices. "Just one more," Joel reassures her as he switches legs, making quick work of the second to spare her the pain. "Well done, sweetheart."

The pain affects her less than his words. Joel straightens out and looks her over. "Still need any help with that?" He nods to her hoodie, hands on his hips.

"Please." She's never enjoyed the feeling of helplessness, but if someone has to save her–she'll ways choose Joel.

"Raise your arms," he instructs, and gathers the fabric into his palms. She wears a t-shirt beneath, and as he begins to pull, it catches on the hoodie and hikes above her abdomen. Joel gets an involuntary glance of her exposed skin, and duty catches him in the act. He's quick to grab the shirt and pull it down as he slips the hoodie over her head. "Alright," he clears his throat and discards the hoodie. "Want to sit down for this?"

She shakes her head.

"Stop me if I hurt you."

She nods.

"Hey, look at me."

Doe-eyed, she faces him.

"Say it."

The girl's gaze flick between his eyes. Stubborn versus stubborn. He desires to strengthen her autonomy–by doing as he tells her. It's contrasting. And the thought of his hands on her body was a remedy of its own. Yet, she relents. "I'll stop you. . . If it hurts."

There's the beginnings of a smile, proud in it's curve as he hitches the t-shirt on his thumb and lifts it enough to inspect her side. A tall bruise stretches up her midriff, darkening her waist and ribs. He plants his hands around her ribcage to feel for breakage, and her breath hitches as he gets to the bruise. Joel lock eyes with her, ready to stop. But the 'stop' never comes.

The girl rolls her eyes. "You're not hurting me," she reassures him.

Joel nods slowly, inspecting the purple skin. "Nothing seems broken," he says, softly tracing the length of her ribs. And his thoughts take him elsewhere.

It was supposed to be a supply run. Ordinary and well-practiced. She wasn't supposed to come, but Joel had allowed it. She wanted to, he tells himself. But deep down, it was because of his own slefishness. He wanted her by his side, unsupervised by her father for few hours. Just the two of them.

He strokes the purple skin, transfixed by it's blotchy pattern. He was the cause of her pain. "I'll wait downstairs," he breathes. Prepared to give her space. Yet, he doesn't move.

"I might need your help," she offers, giving him a reason to stay. But there's protest brewing in his features. She continues, "just turn around, Joel. It's not that serious."

His arms are crossed as he gages her. One would think it's the look of a man firm in his decision. But Joel sighs, and a moment later his back is turned, leaning against the doorframe.

He eyes the floor out of respect, but the day has taken it's toll. He's worn, and look up to stretch his neck. Too late does he remember the small mirror above the sink. Inside it's fogged up frame is the girl, half-naked and glistening from sweat. And Joel's consience fails.

She releases pained grunts pulling on the back of her shirt, hoping to avoid extra strain. "Oh for fu-- Joel?" She pants. The fabric had slipped from her grip, and the girl can't bother doing it all again. "Joel?" The girl repeats. Turning her head sideways, she catches his eye in the mirror. "Think 'm gonna need that help after all." She doesn't question why he's looking at her or why he hasn't refrained. She knows.

The girl turns around and lifts her shirt, revealing the small of her back. Joel moves closer until his lips are inches from her neck, their breaths come heavy and his hands slide beneath the fabric. All rational sense vaporize along with the steam as he pulls it off. "Want me to continue?" He asks, whispering over her shoulder.

The girl shivers. "Yes."

Rusty fingers unclasp her bra, snapping it open. Gently, he slides the straps down her arms. Thebra hits the floor, Joel grasps her biceps and rests his forehead between her shoulderbaldes. "Tell me to stop, baby." Lips brush against her spine.

She furrow her brows as the words cut through her. "I won't." She knows it's hard for him, how he wishes to be free of these feelings. But it's hard for her aswell–being told of his wish to stop.

Joel moves closer, pressing his chest against her bare back. His hands find the buttons on her jeans, undoing them one by one. Then, he sinks his knees once more, and their gazes meet over her shoulder. Joel focuses on her eyes as he hooks his thumbs into the denim waistline and pulls it down. From their restriction, her panties follow. And she steps out of them both before Joel stands back up and looks away, grabbing her waist. He helps her step into the bath without a glance in her direction. Duty outways lust.

The girl adores his display of respect. She always has. Sitting on the edge of the tub, his fingers sink deep into her untouched side. He holds her weight with one arm, enabling Joel to spare her bruised side. Her eyes light up. She adores how considerate he is. There are a hundred qualities most men lack, which all come natural to Joel.

Sinking into the water, her aching body sighs. It loosens the tension that constricts her muscles and allows the girl to move without much pain.

"Im always thanking you."

"You never have to," he says, then moves to leave. He has done his duty, lingering would be a breech of it.

But she grabs his hand. "I want to thank you properly."

He shakes his head, refusing to look at her. "Im not trading you for a few minutes of pleasure."

"Joel." The girl places his hand over her heart, coarse fingertips soaking up waterdroplets that glisten on her skin. "I'm right here," she whispers, leaning closer to cup his face, gaining no response. "Inches away, wanting you . . . Loving you."

That gets his attention. Finally, he looks at her. The gravity of their situation opening his eyes.

"You mean the world to me," she murmurs and slip his hand beneath the surface, guiding it atop her breast.

Joel inhales, fingers itching to move. To squeeze and massage. To give her everything she needs.

"I love my father, but he doesn't get to decide who else I give those words to." She beckons him closer. There's no force. Only slight pressure dimpling his cheek as she retracts her hand. It's the simple threat of her touch slipping away that makes Joel follow.

Their noses brush. "Tell me you love me too," she whimpers, squeezing for him, making his calloused fingertips dig into her breast.

Joel groans, chin jerking in chase of her lips. But he uses all the willpower he can muster to halt his urges, closing his eyes to focus.

"Tell me, Joel." She pecks the corner of his mouth, stubble prickling her lips. "Tell me. . ." Her hand squeezes harder around his.

"Fuck, girl," he groans, clenching his free hand. Joel tries to shake his fingers loose of restlessness, but it doesn't work. Enough is enough, he thinks. And puts them to use instead.

Joel rolls his shirtleeve up before softly grabbing her jaw. Slowly, his hand leaves her breast and dives beneath the surface. He leans closer, when an inch away he whispers, "I love you." Their lips connect as his hand slides down her abdomen. The kiss is considerate, and they're hungry. But this moment will weigh heavy in their memories, it would be a shame to rush.

Fingers slip behind her neck for purchase as Joel deepens the kiss. Yet, keeping the thumb on her jaw he applies a soff caress to preserve it's innocence.

The girl has never felt love this strongly before.

His hand sends shivers up her spine as jt dives between her thighs, cupping her mound.

She gasps and pulls away by reflex. Their eyes connect. Joel hesitates, his fingers pausing just as they reach her clit.

She shakes her head. "Dont stop, Joel. Dont stop." She had been entranced by the kiss, the sudden pressure caught her of guard. But her hand slips from his cheek to pull him closer by the shirt. "Please," she breathes, brushing her lips against his before inching back. Teasing him into action.

Luckily for her, it works. He slides two fingers between her folds before sinking into her core. She moans, eyebrows furrowing from the sudden pleasure shooting through her. "Yes . . ."

But as she leans in to kiss him, Joel pulls back. "Let me look at you, sweetheart."

The girl smirks and rests her cheek on the bathtubs edge, cushioned by the back of her hand.

Combing through her damp hair, he tenderly pulls it away from her face and gathers it in his fist. Joel simultaneously picks up the pace. He rubs his hand against her mound while thrusting his fingers, long fingers curling against her insides as his palm rubs against her clit.

He has experience, but that's to be expected. The girl was just in tatters by the raw talent he possesses. The knot tightens in her stumache, uterus roiling from the stimulation of her walls. She can only try to convey the pleasure he gives her. Her panting picks up, nonsense words falling from her lips.

"You're so beautiful," he says and strokes her temple. Gazing at eachother, his expanded pupils betray his thoughts.

The girl smiles, but the sweet moment passes as his fingers curl and her teeth sinks into her lip. "You-- Mhhg . . . You'll make me blush . . . Joel."

He smiles back, teeth and all. Those are rare. "You already are."

She can imagine. Rosy and satisfied by his hand. Her lungs strain as breaths expell in moans, high in pitch to signal her approaching climax.

"Jesus- 'm close," she cries, eyebrows creasing painfully. "You're s' fuckin good . . . Wanna be good, too." Her hand falls to his jeans, attempting to undo the buttons while she navigates through blinding pleasure, stars filling her vision.

"Let's focus on you, baby." The words push her over the edge and the pressure bursts like a dam, washing over- and filling her with ecstacy. "You're doing so good," he murmurs and levels his head with hers. The girl's fingers curl reflexively, sinking them into his thigh. Joel hisses, brushing his lips over hers. "Thats it . . . Good job, sweetheart."

"Kiss me," she whimpers and Joel obides without question–for once. Their lips meet again, comforting and soft. Joel's and leave her sex to move both into cupping her face, and the restrained her falls around her face. He pulls her closer

Tracing a nail up his thigh, she loops a finger through a belt hoop and tugs. "Need you . . . "

He disconnects their lips and sits back. Hand dripping of water and foam, he leaves wet stains on the fabric of his shirt as he undoes it's buttons. "Im yours."

—

The girl blinks and the next thing she knows–she finds herself on the floor. A rug pulled beneath her back and a large palm beneath her head, he lays her down.

Even though the air is warm and clingy, goosebumps cover her skin as cold tile stick to her ass.

Leather groans as he pulls the belt loose of it's constraints and denim rustles as his pants hit the floor. Then, Joel kneels before her.

The girl cant take her eyes off him, it's a sight she can never tire of. She's seen him shirtless before, but the circumstances were different. He looks different now–in the pale light, removing his clothes with intimate intention. Perhaps it's her view of him that's changed. He looks softer, somehow. She's noticed glints of it before, when they talk and in the way he looks at her. But it never lasts long. She imagines this version of him prominent before the outbreak. His default setting. But now, for the first time in a long time, his guard is completely lowered.

"Ready?" He asks and kisses her forehead, tip prodding at her entrence.

She nods eagerly, the need for him pent up and ready to release in tears unless she can have him soon. "Im ready." Her voice breaks.

Deleting the space between them, Joel drives forward and enters her. They gasp, then smile. Eyes connected as they explore the shape of one another. He's big, but the girl takes him perfectly. "Fuck," she moans.

"Stop me if i hurt you," he tells her again, always conscious of her well-being. But she realises late that it was more of a warning. Because Joel pulls out, pauses and thrusts back into her. He laces their hands together, move them above her head and then strike into her again.

"Holy shi-" she cries out in surprise and sinks her nails sink into the back of his hands.

Targeting her neck, he kisses the soft spot above her collarbone. " 'M sorry . . . Need you so bad." Laboured breaths and deep moans hit her ear. They're finally close in the way she always dreamed of.

His thrusts are deep and strong, but never forceful. Dull twists of pain go through her side with each thrust, but the warm water has limbered her up. They're barely noticeable. Besides, she would never let anything pull this man out of her. Joel had been so diligent at prioritising her that she never registered his own needs. "No It- 's ok." The stuttering of their bodies puts pause between her words. " 'S good, feels so good."

Sinking teeth into her neck, he leaves love bites that will let everybody know who she belongs to.

She nuzzles his profile and kisses his ear, attempting to grab his attention as her hands do little good. "Let me touch you, Joel . . . Please." She rocks her hips to meet his thrusts, it's all she can do.

His member twitches inside her, the actions getting to him. "Bad idea, baby," he grunts, then lowers his body what little there's left and uses his weight to thrust deeper, simultaneously pinning her hips to the tile.

Frustration bubble up as her walls clench around him. "Please, please," she whimpers.

Joel staggers, hands reflexively squeezing her as he push them hard into the tiles. "Cant . . . I won't last long enough for you." He gathers himself and trails kisses up her neck–soft and expertly–until he reaches her lips.

"Joel." His name is barely audible as it falls from her lips, her panting and pitched tone make words difficult to convey. "C- mmh, cum inside me for all I care." Her teeth sink into his bottom lip. "Just let me get you there."

He relents with a breathy groan, taking some weight off her hips as his hands slip to her wrists. He gives them a final squeeze of dissatisfaction before realeasing and caging her in with his forearms.

"Thank you," she smiles and pecks his lips. But she has a goal in mind. The girl puts her hips in motion then wrap her legs around the snall of his back, pushing him deeper still. She wraps a hand around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, while the other finds his back to claw.

"Fuck." Joel's thrusts falter as he pushes into her hard. "Feels so nice, girl . . . 'M- mhh, gonna cum."

She smiles against his lips, tongues dancing around eachother. "Good."

"Want me inside?"

"Please."

Joel's pace stutters and he slams his fist into the floor as he spills into her core. The pleasure overwhelming him. "So fucking good, I love you, sweetheart," he pants.

Satisfaction floods her chest, heart beating thrice as quick by his words alone.

"I love you," he continues, placing kisses down her throat. Hands slide down her sides, grabbing her ribs as his lips attach to her breast.

She gasps. "Shit-- Joel, it's alright. I dont have to-"

He sucks the plush flesh inte his mouth while kneading the other. Not taking no for an answer.

The girl moans, back arching. "Now isn't the time to be stubborn," she teases, using his own words against him.

He smiles around her nipple, biting it softly before he travels south. His fingers dimple her thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders and the pair lock eyes. Smug, he smirks.

She rolls her eyes and smiles back. "Go on, then. Big guy." One would think the girl has learned to control her tongue around Joel, because getting smart with him always end with a valuable lesson.

"Smart mouth," he exhales, damp breath fanning over her cunt. The girl swallows, and then he dives in.

She has no idea how many women he's been with, even though hes aware of her short history with one or two at Jackson. No matter how long it's been, Joel's tongue has kept its experience.

Lapping and sucking, he attacks her clit. Licking a stripe trough her folds just to tease her while paying no mind to the seed spilling out of her core. He might spit it out or use it as lube. She cant tell, because its all too much.

She topples over the edge quicker than expected. But he doesn't stop. He has a lesson to teach and she to learn. Tears roll down her cheeks as stars cover her eyes. "Fuck, Joel," she mewls. "I get it, I get it."

He let's out a throaty chuckle and slips his tongue out of her core. "Good."

Catching her breath, she heaves herself up as he crawls onto her. Joel braces his knuckles into the tile, keeping his arms straight to level his head with hers. Leaning in, they smile in unified satisfaction as their lips connect. He tastes of salt, a mix of their juices.

"He doesn't know I'm here," the girl snaps, defiantly locking eyes with the industrialist. Clad in shadow, he's a mere silhouette backlit by Zaun's streets. "He doesn't know anything."

Picking up a brand new cigar, he clips the end and flicks a lighter open, toying with the flame. All in due time, he's not rushing to spoil such a favored treat.

"Good," he says and gestures dismissively, signaling his trusty henchman to leave.

Sevika releases the girl with a displeased huff and slams the door behind her. The only thing she likes less than piltovians, is them wandering too far from their fabricated safety and ending up on her doorstep.

She watches the muscular woman leave, staring at the closed door in contemplation as she once again finds herself alone with the eye of Zaun.

Something clatters behind her, a lighter discarded on a desk. "You're late," he mutters, bringing the smoking cigar to his lips.

Anger begins to blaze inside her. That's it? That's all he has to say? "Six enforcers are dead," she snaps, nose scrunching. Disgusted by the mere thought of that demon's violence. "She's a loose canon, Silco. She blew them up for the hell of it."

From the dark, a red orb slips her way. He leans forward, having the rooms gloomy light illuminate his face only to throw the girl a disapproving look, barely deeming it worthy to look her in the eyes. "You forget yourself, girl."

Swallowing, she forces herself to calm down. Aggrivating such a volatile man never proved a good idea, and displaying anger against his daughter proved even worse.

Carefully, she ventures closer. Testing the waters and finding them thick as mud. The very air around him emenates danger, and her body slows down, relucant to put itself in such unpredictable environments. "You broke our deal," she announciates, finding it safer to put the blame on him rather than the blue haired demon he protects so ferociously.

"You disrupted our shipment," he repeats her ridiculous attempt. "It's simple business. Collateral," he shrugs and gestures toward her, vaguely implying the deaths should be on the girls consience. He doesn't say it outright because he doesn't need to, because he doesn't care if it hurts her feelings. Because, he doesn't care about the lost lives of a few topsiders, lives of enforcers even less. In true rebel spirit.

Massively unimpressed, he sizes her up when she places herself on the other side of the desk. Gripping the edge, the wood is tough beneath her fingers as she strains to keep herself in check. Blue and green light his back, lining the countours around his body. It softens him in some ways, as if the light hasn't completely shunned him yet.

Suddenly smirking, Silco's gaze drifts over her. Studying her tense disposition with spiteful glee as he enjoys the irony of a murderous piltovian. "Contemplating violence wont relieve you of this predicament."

"Killing you would."

"Threatening me so early in the morning?" He tsks, taking a deep drag of the cigar to then blow a ring of smoke in her direction. "Perhaps I should have approached your father instead, the councillor would've been easier to handle . . . More willing to please."

Keeping eye contact, she doesn't react, and a glint of cuiosity to sparks in his gaze. "He has nothing to do with this, and you know it," she tries again. "But Jin-"

Silco's smirk falls. "Hold your tongue, girl." Pinching the bridge of his tall nose, he releases a heavy sigh. "Lock the door," he orders, looking at her through his eyebrows.

Menacing, haunting. She could describe him with a hundred different horrific words. Yet, he doesn't scare her. They both know she's right.

Breathing relief, she does as she's told. When asking her to create a boundary between the world and this room, he shows her nothing has changed. Whatever they have remains within the confines of his office and her bedroom. It takes the edge off, and she lets the inhabiting worry slip away.

Upon her return, she softly stalks around the desk until sidled up against the short side. "Shoving clever words down my throat won't shut me up, Sil."

Rubbing his face, he looks at her through his fingers. Heavily disapproving of the nickname. "Dont tempt me," he warns. "I'll find other ways to shut you up."

She swallows, a single pulse throbs in her core. Moving around the desk, she slides a finger along it's edge and places herself infront of him, bathing her in the very same darkness that Silco finds himself in.

A small smirk flicker on his lips. But even though it dissolves, turning back into its usual serious mask, the satisfaction of the expression linger on his features.

"It cant happen again," he warns a third time, he must going soft on her. His hands move, trading the cigar for the the ability to touch her. One hand reaches for her thigh, sliding beneath her skirt. While the other reaches up, grabbing her chin to stare into her eyes. "The shipments are important." Silco applies just enough pressure on her chin to keep it stinging, just enough to understand that he didn't take the loss lightly. While the thumb beneath her skirt brushes lightly over her hipbone.

Inspite their predicaments, their relationship was business from the beginning and the majority still is. He tells her this through the contrasting touches.

She nods.

"Use your words, girl. Tell me you understand. This cant happen again."

But she won't concede, not yet. "No more attacks," she murmurs, placing her hands on his thighs. "No more deaths." The girl sinks to her knees, slowly, and making sure he keeps his gaze glued to hers. Being so close to him, she gets a whiff of his cologne. He smells of musk and wood, Smoke and whiskey. He smells of man.

They know what buttons to press when it comes to one another, and right now, she needs safety for her people in much the same way he needs independence for his. The difference laying within their methods of accomplishment. But looking at them now, it's clear they've got more in common than she's previously thought.

Silco spreads his legs further apart, welcoming her advancements. "I wonder what daddy dearest would say if he saw you now; that pretty princess of his . . . Negotiating on her knees." He slides a hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together before leaning back in his chair to enjoy the show.

It's a small sign of fondness, one he confidently gives. Showing his inclination toward her means little, for they already know where they have each other. Unwilling to put it into words, they feel them silently.

Truth is, they enjoy the power imbalance, they enjoy the hatred their respective people share. Peculiarly, it unites them, and simultaneously fuel their polarity. They're a strange equation, two variables with a common sum.

Helping each other with free hands, they unbutton his pants. "Im sure he'd be proud of your devotion," he mocks, exhaling that infamous low chuckle.

Spitting into her hand, she reaches into his pants. "He'd share the pride with your people," she smiles and looks up at him innocently, pulling his member out. "–when they find out you're working with a councillor's daughter . . . Fucking her no less." She leans in, teasing his tip with a slow circling lick, gathering the pre-cum on her tongue. With a corner curving upward, his lips part, and there's a silent intake of breath. Brushing his hand along her cheek, he collects stray hair covering her face and gathers it at her neck, twirling it around his fingers. "Go on," he urges.

And so, she finally closes the distance and takes him in her mouth.

With a hiss, he squeezes the hand laced with his. Slender fingertips dig into the back of her hand. "Little devil," he groans, hand burrying deeper into her hair and balling into a fist, coincidentally pulling on her scalp.

Clasping her still spit-wet hand around his shaft, she strokes him, adding on to the bobbing of her head.

"Yes," he moans, reclining his head against the back of the chair. "Carry on, girl."

Im sync with her hand, she works him until he's close to squirming, trying his very best to keep a semblance of composure. Never did she think such a powerful man would tremble beneath her touch or the pressure of her lips. But here he was, his usual neat combed back hair fallen over his forehead, beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

He'd started using his hand to guide her head, helping her find the perfect path toward his climax. Chest heaving and teeth bared, he chuckles breathlessly as the squelching of their actions reach his ears. Pushing her too far, she makes half-choking noises when she takes his entire length down her throat. Causing saliva to spill out of her mouth and roll down his length.

"Sloppy," he snarls, manicured nails digging into her hand. "-used to sucking cock."

She whines from the rare usage of crude words, making her core purr. His inches twitch in her mouth, sensing how close he is. "Please me," he supresses a groan, calling her name. "Swallow."

It happens quickly. His breathing turns rapid, his hips arching as he spills into her mouth. Tasting of rich salt as she swallows.

Smirking devilishly, he catches his breath. "Thats it . . . Well done." He brushes his thumb along her index finger.

Joy trickles into her heart at the praise, but there is little room as her body is already filled to the brim by need. With heavy eyes and glistening lips, she stands up on her knees. "Kiss me," she whispers.

Unlacing their fingers, he moves to slide a thumb across her lips, gathering some of the milky seed she'd yet to swallow. "Open up, princess." He pulls on her hair to tilt her head back.

Her lips part automatically, a knife slicing through her pride at the irony of the name. Silco slips his thumb into her mouth and wipes it clean on her tongue. He watches with fascination as her lips close around the digit, volunteering to suck it off as he pulls it out. "Kiss me," she repeats.

The fingers still burried in her hair twitches at the sight. Acting on impulse, they bunch her waves, pulling her close enough for their lips to play ghost. He tilts his head to the side, bringing them impossibly closer. "Tell me you understand," he murmurs, watching her reaction as the featherlight touch tickles her lips.

Her expectations for the night and the soft shell of intimacy around them shatters, but she'll never give him the satisfaction. The kiss was a wish from her own selfish needs, but giving him what he wants without the safety she require for her people is not. "No."

With a harrowing glance, he releases her. "I have work to do, you know where the door is," Silco says, nodding toward the exit. He then runs his hand through his hair, combing it back into place.

So quickly is the mood ruined and the rush of lust diminishes, settling her nerves. Instead it is the annoyance and the anger she arrived with that begins to rebuild.

The girl scoffs. "Petty, man-child," she mumbles, keeping her voice beneath her breath. But she wants something from him too, anything. She's derserves it, it just the matter of taking it.

Then, something just clicks in her mind and an irruption takes control of her body. Narrowing her eyes in quick to non-existent contemplation, she grabs his collar and pulls him in for a kiss. It only lasts for a second before she pushes herself away and stands up, not planning to stick around to deal with the consequences.

But before she gets a chance to move too far, a hand grabs her forearm and yanks her back. "You stubborn girl," he whispers in her ear, an arm slung around her torso as Silco holds her against his chest. She feels her panties being pulled to the side, and the head of his member lining up with her core. "Bleeding your integrity dry for those imperious, self-important cretins." He teases her entrance, sliding the tip up and down her folds.

"I am one of them, or do you forget?" She snaps.

Without warning, he lowers her onto his inches, fitting them inside her like they've been molded. The girl gasps at the feeling and Silco's fingers curl, releasing a groan as his fingers rouch the fabric at her ribs. "Even now?" He adjusts the girl in his lap. "Would they deign to descend from their thrones as you? Stooping to my level, manipulating on a whim to fullfill your needs." He pulls her closer, nudging her profile with his. All the while he's got his still hard member pushed up inside her, soft walls of flesh welcoming him eagerly. "Would they still accept you when found-out, or will they throw you to the wolves as the rumours spread? When they find out Zaun's villainous crime lord is fucking Piltover's princess," he laces the words with venom, hands slipping upward. One stops at her breast to squeeze while the other clasps around her throat. "When they whisper of the ways he uses her. How he puts her on her back, makes her kneel . . . How he bends her over," he murmurs, sending shivers down her spine.

She grows dizzy, a mix of worry and pleasure clouding her senses. His words hit home, drawing her lips into a thin line. "They are still my people," she breathes, voice close to breaking, sunding more like she's trying to convince herself.

"They will be your downfall." He puts pressure on her throat. "We've made sure of that, you and I."

"No . . . Silco, that's not true."

The hand holding her breast slips beneath her skirt. "We've made our beds-" slender fingers find her clit. "And we will sleep with the consequences."

Head lulling back against his shoulder, back arching, pleasure spikes as he stimulates her thrice fold. Circling her clit while throbbing inside her, and acting catalyst is the experienced hand around her throat. It limits the bloodflow and multiplies her pleasure. "Fuck," she whimpers, hips squirming, flesh randomly spasming around him.

Silco groans at the sensation, gaining his own pleasure from the whole ordeal. But that is not his goal. "Be still," he warns.

The collossall amounts of pleasure blinds her, it grabs hold of her senses and refuses to let go. Her nerves burn and fingers curl. Its all too much, yet not enough. Tears of gather in her eyes, slowly spilling over to roll down her face. "A-almost . . ."

Silco adjusts his grip around her throat so uses his thumb to tilt her face toward him, then watches how the tears streak her makeup, leaving watered down mascara in their wake. He places his lips on her skin, kissing the tears away while enjoying their salty taste. He studies her rosy cheeks and knitted expression, memorising the small whimpers she breathes.

The girl can no longer keep still and her back prepares to arch, limbs preparing to surge with blinding hot pleasure. "Im-- mhh, I-" She mewls, and the knot releases.

. . .

Until it isn't. She feels Silco retract his hands, causing oxygen flood her brain and irritation to anchor her mind. The knot in her stumach re-ties, loosely adjusting until the pressure completely dies down. "I see callousness runs in the family," she complains, almost in pain from the sudden lack of stimulation.

Silco circles an arm around her waist. "It's essential to survive," he says and stands up, still swollen member slipping out of her. Supporting the girl as her knees wobble, she's unable to stand on her own due to the afflictions he's caused her. Turning her around, he helps her onto the desk. Chest to chest, he braces against the wood, one hand on either side of her, effectively boxing her in.

She lays a finger beneath his chin, and he looks up at her through his eyebrows. Exhaling, he moves between her thighs. Silco reaches out to her, loosely cupping her face as his thumb smears the streaked mascara. "There is no white knight," he says, pushing reality on her, weather she's willing to listen or not.

She nods. "I know." Tainted by the impure air of Zaun, branded by the touch of it's Eye. If she ever is to be saved, it must be by her own hand. Her smile is faint as her eyes fall from his.

He grabs her face and squeezes her cheeks. "Look at me," he tells her with a gravely tone. Their eyes lock. Dissappering between them, his other hand lines himself up with her core.

Taking a gamble, she grabs his tie and pulls him in, properly locking lips for the first time. Because he doesn't pull away, and neither does she. Her bottom lips begins to tremble, surprised he ever let it go this far. Their initial moment passes, evolving into seconds until they realise neither is breathing and they tear apart for much needed air, not straying far. Their lips hover, ghosting as previously. "You steal whats not your's to take."

She nudged his nose with her own. "Does survival not apply here? I never took you for a hypocrite."

His top lip twitches, and she feels him bare his teeth in a silent snarl as his fingers apply pressure to her cheeks. "How clever," he murmurs, and pushes inside her once again, catching her off guard.

They share a reflexive gasp, and as he starts to move, every thrust exchanges breaths between them. The girl's lips curve, heavily enjoying the tiny sliver of emotional intimacy he's finally giving her.

Her legs circle around his hips as he grabs her waist one handed, adding further levrage as his fingers dent her flesh. Silco starts a heavy pace and their lips reconnect, mirroring their bodies, it reflects their feelings. The kiss growing needy and rough.

"Get on your back for me," he mocks and releases her face. "Prove them right."

She bites his lip, tugging on it as she lies back against the desk and pulls him with her.

Hand suddenly free, he hooks it beneath her knee and pulls it up against his side to gai better access. Slowing down the pace, he manages to take her deeper, harder. She groans, head lulling to the side as her climax begins to build. "Dont stop." Not again.

"Look at me," he breathes, warning in his tone as he's inclined to watch her topple over the edge. Her brows knit together, but her gaze finds his. The knot closing as his thrusts begin to grow erratic.

Pleasure burns her fingers and quickens her pulse. "Close, c-" she begins, but he cuts her off with another kiss, tongue slipping between their lips to explore her mouth.

And just like that, she bursts. Traveling through her from top to toe. Silco following short thereafter. "It's alright . . . Good, girl," he whispers.

Once they've caught up with their breaths, Silco straightens out, and rearranges his clothes before helping her to her feet.

-

"I understand," she says, halting by the door.

He looks up from his seat but is quick to stand, slowly stalking toward her. Stopping just short of her smaller frame, he reaches behind her back to grab the door handle. "I don't control her. She is my daughter like you are your father's," he says and meets her eyes. "But I will speak to Jinx." Leaning down, he kisses her cheek, catching her off guard. Affection is newly discovered territory between them, but from him to give it so freely after battling it out is a very big surprise. But as quick as ot started, it's over. His soft expression morphing into his usual stern disposition. "Dont be late again girl," he says and opens the door.

-

Somehow, they've become entangled. Silently sharing affection their respective people would deem unfit. Silco wont hurt her, if he can help it. But such is nature. They'll stand on opposite sides, prioritising their own families, cities. But not without a thought of the other, wishing it could be different. It probably never will be, for such is faith and such is time. If only it could rewind.