#bambiluu

Vi had prepared herself for it the moment she stopped taking rut suppressants. She hadn't expected the blood-curling, salivating warmth and need that took over her body.

From the moment Vi had presented as an alpha, she took to taking rut suppressants. They were awfully uncomfortable in the beginning, and she certainly didn't enjoy having to spend three days at home, useless and worked up, with something new in, or rather on, her body to take care of.

Most alphas got off them every few months, simply as to regulate hormones and avoid a catastrophe.

Said catastrophe being the situation she is in now. She presented at fourteen, and she's now twenty-one and in college. Seven years worth of suppressed ruts are not kind on her body.

She's a mess on her twin-sized bed. Vi can't help the sob of genuine pain that spills from her lips as she rolls her hips down against a pillow, desperate to alleviate the throb beneath her sweatpants. Her knot's still so swollen, even after having had ejaculated twice in her pants from mere humping. If there's one thing she's grateful for, is that she never signed up for a roommate.

"Vi?"

Vi stills on the bed. She's not quick enough to call out for you to leave and not enter. The door's already opening, and with it, you.

She'd forgotten that she had given you a key. You, her girlfriend and the one woman she's been close with for years. The one who's been with her through thick and thin, reprimanding her when Vi flattened her chest by any means necessary and instead offered safe alternatives.

You two have done many things. Kissing, feeling each other up, and seeing each other naked with the lights out. Going all the way, though? No.

"You didn't come to class today," You call out. There's no ignoring the cloud of pheromones that settle deep in your lungs as soon as you close the door behind you. "The Professor— Oh."

Vi barely manages to sit up. She's clad in nothing more than sweats, her chest flushed and bare save for the binding tape. Pink, damp hair sticks to her pretty forehead. Maybe it's the puffy eyes from her obvious crying, or the way a whine works its way up her throat but— God, you itch to jump her.

"It's my rut..." Vi clarifies the obvious, her words a soft rasp. She scooches back on the bed, resting her spine against the wall, and places a pillow between her legs. As if you hadn't already noticed the bulge down there. "Got off my suppressants and— please help me."

"Shh, it's okay," You hush her gently. Quick to drop your bag, you move over to the bed and climb onto the mattress. She doesn't just look good, but her scent... It's heady and heavy; rich with the warm scent of ginger, smoke, and cherries. "Bet you're real swollen..."

"Uh-huh..."

A whimper escapes Vi as your lips fall on her throat, right over her scent glands. Her hands splay over your hips, fingers digging into the soft cushion to steady herself. She needs to breathe, in and out, hard and slow, or else she'll come untouched again because your breasts are pressing right up against her arm. And your scent...

Your mouth works its way down Vi's throat. Her palms, shaky and warm, slip under your shirt and grip the hem. There's no need to voice your consent, as you only pull back and raise your arms. She leans back against the headboard now, holding back a moan when you settle your weight on her lap.

She's so fucking hard it hurts. She wants nothing more than to be inside of you, feel your warmth around her and bury herself to the very hilt. Vi just hopes she doesn't finish in two damn seconds.

"I really need you..." Vi whines, rolling her hips upward to grind her cock against your clothed cunt. She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting between pulling you closer or pulling you away to get her shit together.

She's meant to be... dominating. Pinning you to the bed with her canines on your throat, and telling you how pretty you'll look with her knot stuffing you full. Instead, she's reduced to a flushed, whining mess. You'd think you've never had your hand down her pants by the way she jerks when your hand wraps around the base of her cock.

"Fuck—" Vi shudders, holding her breath for a few seconds. Honestly, that just makes it worse. There's that tight coil in her belly, ready to snap any second now. "Don't do anything yet, please—"

"Or what, puppy?"

You give her a few pumps, swiping your thumb over the sensitive, pink head. The knot at the base is already swollen, though has yet to have anything around it to catch against. Vi tries to speak, but she stammers, babbling nonsense as your hand keeps working— pumping and pressing, and—

"No— I... I don't wanna cum yet," Vi pulls back before another orgasm can crash through her system and render her stupid for a few minutes. She presses her palm against your chest, guiding you to lay back with her free hand still on your hip. "Wanna..."

Her chest heaves, a bead of her sweat dropping onto your arm. It's endearing, watching her reduced to such a damn mess. She can't speak, and can only manage a whine when you undo your brassiere to toss aside.

"Wanna what? Save it for me for when you're in me?" You finish the sentence for her, guiding Vi's hand down to your skirt. She doesn't need much of an instruction, and is quick to shimmy the fabric down your thighs and feet. Her head shakes the moment the smell of your arousal hits her nose, and again, she shudders. "Want to knot me, puppy? Yeah?"

Vi whimpers with a nod of her head. She's already worked your panties off by the time her fingers meet your warmth. The pads of her middle and ring finger collect your slick as they dive between your folds, spreading it over your clit before lowering down to your entrance again. She ruts her hips against your knee as she works one finger inside, then two once you relax around the digit.

"There you go," You croon, a heavy breath falling from your lips. Your head thumps back against the mattress as Vi curls her fingers, easing them in and out only by a little in a smooth motion. "Just like I taught you. Press your thumb against my clit."

Vi does as instructed, quick to be rewarded with a moan from your mouth. She rolls her hips against your knee yet again, but keeps most of her focus on you. It's hard to do thing properly when her head's swimming and buzzing. She feels dizzy, really.

She works you open like she has in the past, making that warmth deep within your abdomen burn brighter and brighter. Her mouth descends on your breast, tongue flattening over your nipple until it perks up against the warm muscle. You groan, eager to chase the feeling by arching up beneath her to press your tit further into Vi's mouth. Her hands ghost down your sides, eventually guiding your legs to part so that her body can slide between them. She still leaves a space between you two, if only to move her hand and wrist comfortably.

Vi whimpers as your fingers curl into her hair. She knows that you're about to go over the edge, and she knows what to do after much guiding from you in the past. She keeps the same pace of her fingers, the right pressure of her thumb against the sensitive bud of nerves that's peeked out from beneath the hood.

The delicious, toe-curling crest of an orgasm crashes over you with one final curl of Vi's fingers and a tentative lick over your other breast. Your chest tightens with a breath before releasing into the humid, pheromone-thick air between you two.

Vi pulls her hand back, parting her lips when you bring her hand up to her face. Her mouth wraps around the two digits, and Vi groans at the taste of you on her tongue. She wishes she was going down on you, really, but she can't think straight.

"Good boy."

"Stop..." Vi breathes. Her spine bows with another shudder as she inhales, pressing her face right up against your throat yet again. Your scent's overwhelming her senses, and she has to stop humping your leg or she really will— "I'm gonna come."

She inches backwards, clumsily dragging her sweatpants down her hips and knees. The thick trail of hot-pink hairs at the base of her abdomen lead down to the most aching part of her body. The head of her cock weeps with pre, and Vi bites the inside of her cheek as she wraps her hand around herself.

"'m not gonna last long..." The words leave her in a near tremble, cheeks pink as she guides herself to your entrance. Brushing the tip over your clit damn near makes her jolt. She doesn't want to be one of those alphas who doesn't make their partner come during intercourse, but honestly, she doesn't see herself lasting anything beyond two minutes.

At least she's already made you finish.

"It's okay, puppy," You soothe her nerves, brushing a hand behind Vi's ear before splaying your fingers across her damp and tattooed back. The muscles there tense up, the contours shifting beneath your fingertips like hills. Vi brings her head down, enough to brush her cheek with yours. "You've already been so good. You won't disappoint."

And really, Vi won't. There's something awfully sweet about her like this; in the peak of her rut, yet whining like omegas do when they're in heat. It's not the first time Vi's been like this — begging for your touch, needy for the praise that enters her ears like dripping honey — but never this badly. Her eyes, that powdery shade of grey, almost blue, are glossy from tears she's yet to shed.

Vi bites her lip as you guide her inside, and she does the rest by rolling her hips forward. She's slow, awfully slow, and not because she's too concerned about the stretch. She just doesn't want to come in two fucking seconds.

Your arousal eases the burn as Vi presses forward, filling you up until she's buried to the hilt. She cries out a sob — a real, deep, but pleased sound — when you tense around her on purpose. She's big, but what you really want and are only slightly worried about is the size of her knot.

Her breath stutters against your ear as she draws her hips back, then thrusts forward again. Vi's a bit quicker now, but no less careful. Your hands land on her shoulders, and she curses under her breath when your fingers curl over her buzzed nape. She stretches you properly now with every thrust, drawing back only halfway before sheathing herself fully inside again. She whimpers and babbles, and if not for how close she's buried her face against your neck, you'd be wiping her little tears away.

"Y'feel so good..." Vi murmurs, eyes closed shut in concentration. She keeps moving, not bothering to hide the high-pitched grunts and whines with every roll of her hips. Her knot's already catching at your entrance, so very close to slipping inside and locking you two together. The thought of it — the intimacy, the idea of filling you up and the threat of something happening because of it — is damn near enough to bring her over the edge. "Am I doing good? Do y'feel good? Can I come inside? Please..."

"Yeah," Vi knows you're not lying by how tightly the words leave your lips. How breathless. "So good, baby. Wanna knot me? Go on, fill me and—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Vi's hips snap forward, forcing her knot all the way inside just as her orgasm crashes over her like a wave. Or two. She cries out a moan against your shoulder, gripping the sheets to keep herself upright. The way your cunt clenches around her, eager for her release, is enough to make her whine again.

Sevika's head pounds with an ache. The cigar that hangs from her mouth remains unlit. Just her luck, forgetting to bring a lighter. At least the red hues of the room help relax her eyes. The cushion feels nicer than being slammed into a wall in a brawl. Not that Sevika gets in fights often, considering how much people respect — fear — her down here in Zaun, but that pink-haired woman certainly caused her some trouble a few hours ago. Is blood still on her clothes? Who knows. Truly, Sevika couldn't care less.

The Last Drop is a place Sevika frequents. What better way to drown away the throbs in her limbs and mind than with alcohol? Gambling is another thing that she likes to indulge in. But that won't help tonight, not with the tension in her body. Watching someone crumble beneath her fingertips in a different matter will help. Someone to sit pretty on her lap and entertain her so.

It's why she's here, in the more secluded and hidden gem the tavern has: a brothel. There are other sounds Sevika can pick up on from the other rooms of this place. Giggles and whispers. The occasional grunt or groan. It reeks of incense here. Too much so, in Sevika's opinion. To drown out the scent of smoke or sweat from bodies mushing together, she assumes.

Everything is too much, however. Silco this, Silco that. Jinx is a constant thorn in Sevika's side, causing constant problems that her boss doesn't bother to mention and chide. With Vi out of prison? Sevika wants something else in the palms of her hands, not so many problems.

The beaded curtains clinking against each other make Sevika perk her head up, grey eyes narrowing. Seated on the couch with legs spread, a thick brow rises once her gaze falls on you. So, you're her entertainment for tonight. The one thing that'll relax her, hopefully.

Perhaps you consider yourself lucky. Perhaps not. It's not the first time Sevika's been a customer here, and it certainly won't be the last. Have your co-workers shared their experiences when she's their client? Maybe. Sevika never allows herself to care for the women who have had the luck of being perched across her body. She doesn't have the time on her hands to indulge in relationships. Love isn't her thing. Fucking is.

Whatever the case, Sevika doesn't care. She's come what she's here for; you'll provide it. That's your job.

"Do you have a lighter?" Sevika questions, tone even. Her gaze goes up, then down. The outfit you wear is pretty, she notes. A lingerie piece that's light blue and white, connecting at the abdomen in an 'X'. Frills on the panties that hug your pretty hips and light stretch marks. The gown of sheer, white organza doesn't hide anything, but it's enough to serve as a tease. That mask, however, she longs to not be in the way.

But Sevika knows the rules of this place. They're pretty tame and basic— no abuse of the workers and no asking the workers for personal information, which includes not seeking them out outside of the place. Smart, considering the shithole state Zaun is in right now. Of course, her least favorite rule of this place is how you must pay extra to have a girl sit on your face or have toys be in use. A cunning play on Margot's part, though. It gets more money in.

Sevika's hips shift, a subtle way to signal she wants you there. The prosthetic fingertips drum along her thigh. Sevika's restless. She's patient with some things, though not many. "I hope your services include more than just staring."

Because, of course, you'd been staring.

How could you not?

It's not often clients make you pause for a moment— stare a little longer. You've had to entertain men and women of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Some have been a bit more fun to entertain, but in the end, you never allow yourself to get hooked on those who seek your services. It's all for money, it's always been. Zaun has seen better days. There's not really a place to just rent and sleep in down here, is there? Working at a brothel provided that: a home, a shower to take in between sessions, and all. There's no shame in it either— people do worse than work at some whorehouse.

The point is, you don't quite care about the people who want someone to distract them from the state of the underground. You do as you've learned; pretend to be interested in a client's life, be coy and tease, and occasionally indulge in sex if they pay that pretty extra penny. Most times, you hope they don't. Clients that do care little for your pleasure. They simply take.

This time, you hope the woman on the couch does, in fact, have extra cash. You don't doubt she does.

Sevika's known around down here, both around Zaun and the place itself. Your co-workers — friends, if you will — that have had the pleasantry of having the enforcer as a client have shared their experiences. You've always been curious about how those metal claws would feel against your skin. Those thick lips against your neck. That—

"Hello?"

Ah, right.

Mentally slapping your brain back into place, you saunter over to where Sevika sits. That shift of her hips and spreading of thighs certainly doesn't go unnoticed behind the slits of the mask you wear. A lighter's provided on a coffee table that perhaps she had missed, though you don't point out. Your job is to provide, not correct.

"Trust me," You drawl, tone soft and airy, perching yourself sideways onto the woman's lap. Oh, it's nice. The muscles tense under Sevika's trousers for a moment before relaxing, her shoulders drooping. Wordlessly, she shifts the cigar between her teeth to the side to bring the tip to the flame of the lighter you've lit. "I provide more than just gawking. But you can't blame a woman for staring at someone so beautiful, can you?"

Sevika scoffs, though the raise of her brows gives away the amusement she feels, however small. Beautiful. That's not a word people usually associate her with. Rough, rugged, stoic... all of that, she is. Handsome is a term Sevika would much prefer for herself, but beautiful?

"You trying to butter me up already?" There's a certain accent to her voice that you like. A curl of her lips gives a view of a cute gap between the front of her teeth. Flesh fingers curl around the cigar as Sevika draws in a puff, head tilting to the side as the smoke escapes through her nostrils. She's assessing you, the pretty thing on her lap, if the way her eyes run up and down your frame is anything to go by.

Her other hand settles on your hip, though Sevika's at least mindful of the sharp, copper claws that could very easily tear through the organza and into your skin. Not that she would care if she left a bruise or two. For two hours, you'll be hers.

Then, she'll just dust her clothes off and forget all about you.

"I don't usually "butter up" my clients so early into a service," A lie straight through your teeth, though perhaps with how easily the words fall from your lips, Sevika buys it. Not that you'd know. Her gaze doesn't give much away as to what's going on in the older woman's mind. The slight bags under her eyes only give you a hint that she's a bit exhausted and stressed, though.

"Hm," A hum from her, head lolling to the other side before Sevika sits up straighter. "Sure you don't."

Clawed fingers skim up your back, making a point to follow the line of your spine before reaching your shoulder. It's not too strange a feeling, given some of your past clients come in with prosthetic limbs. Still, it brings a slight shiver to your skin. Once at the side of your throat, they slide down to your sternum to cut the lace ribbon with an easy curl of a finger. The gown you wear slips off easily, and you, of course, bring forth no complaint.

This is your job, after all. Allow whatever the client wants.

Perhaps that's been the mistake of your co-workers who've shared a few hours with her, though. Sevika likes a challenge. A soft thing to tame and have fight in their eyes.

Grey eyes scan you more properly now, making a point to pause at your chest and stomach. It could be that Sevika doesn't say anything that makes warmth already coat your skin. Maybe it's the intensity in those big yet narrowed eyes.

With another puff of the cigar, Sevika leaves it to sit between her teeth to touch you with her right hand. Her palm's large and warm, callouses brushing against your flesh. It makes you grunt for a moment when a thumb briefly slides under the band of your bra before heading south to your waist.

"What's your name?" Eventually, Sevika breaks the silence. She's not asking for your real name but rather your stage one. She doesn't usually care for it, given that workers often whimper out her name. But still, the question leaves her.

A soft huff leaves you, hips sliding forward and upper body leaning back to allow Sevika's hand to map out your body properly. Her fingers curl around your side, following the curve towards your hips. It's a pleasant touch— a little thrilling, with how a harder pressure could very well cause a cut into your skin. "Mallow."

"Mallow, huh?" Sevika muses, a grin briefly curling the edges of her lips. It fits, in her opinion. She's never met someone as soft as you. Smooth, even with those stretch marks, which are a shade lighter than the color of your skin at your hips. A grand portion of Zaun's people have a few scars on them, whether from fights or accidentally cutting into rusted metal. You don't. "Your manager gave you that name because of how soft you are?"

Sevika makes a point to squeeze your hip after that question. It's not too tight a grip, but the strength it could have shows. You hope she'll get to show it, honestly. Having arguably the strongest woman from the undercity as your client? Yeah, you're curious.

Curiosity killed the cat. At least you'd die with a blast.

Usually, whatever titter that spills forth from your lips is feigned. Something to boost the ego of your customers and have them believe you found their joke funny. With how experienced you are, it’s easy to do so. Sometimes, it earns you a nice tip.

But, the question still make you snicker. There’s certainly a charm to the woman. The confidence she protrudes and danger that still sits patient in her belly; like a pantheress waiting to strike to sink their claws into their pray.

“Maybe,” You humor Sevika, a hum echoing within the depths of your throat as your fingers rise to trace the sharp contour of her jawline. She allows you to do so, and shamelessly, you watch the rise of her chest as lungs take in another puff of that cancer stick. Not that you can see much, given the many layers of clothes. “But you can call me whatever you’d like.”

Sevika gives a roll of her left shoulder in a half-shrug. It’s something you tell all of your clients and you both know it. She’ll call you by that “name” for now.

Two sets of hands — one cold and one warm — settle themselves on your hips, adjusting your body to instead straddle Sevika’s properly. Now facing the woman, your knees dig into the soft cushions of the couch by the sides of one thigh. It presses up, if only briefly, to provide a second’s worth of sweet pressure.

"So if I called you a bitch," One of Sevika's brows gives a raise, though her facial expression is more deadpan than anything. "You'd allow it?"

Now it's your turn to shrug. Your clients were allowed to do as they so wished so long as the rules of the place weren't broken. Some were more degenerate than others. "Sure, but you don't strike me as the kind of woman to get off on degrading."

Sevika snorts at that, head shaking. No, she's not. Granted, she likes to watch her women writhe and bite her only to double down and sink her teeth even deeper. But there's a line, you know? Even someone like Sevika has some sense of decency. That's what she likes to think, at least.

Too much small talk, though. Sevika's still tense and her head still pounds like a bull's horns against a wall. She only has one-hundred and twenty minutes of your time and fifteen have already passed.

You watch as Sevika takes another drag of the cigarette, momentarily taking it out from between her lips to hold it by copper fingers. Her right hand remains on your waist, no warning — no squeeze or hum — before the thigh between your leg canters up once more in a gentle, firm motion. The thin cotton of your panties is a layer that doesn't make the friction against thick trousers hurt. It's a nice pressure. Your hands perch themselves on Sevika's hips to steady your body and provide a sense of leniency. Thumbs feel for smooth and hard skin that only briefly peaks out from a red coat, though you only have so much time to appreciate the touch before Sevika denies you of it.

Too distracted, you'd been, to notice the scent of tobacco had begun to snuff out. Sharp claws curl over one of your wrists, then the other, guiding them behind your back to keep them there. Briefly, you shoot a look towards Sevika. A grin and narrowing of your eyes behind the mask you wear. It's masquerade in style, and whilst Sevika can't quite catch those cunning eyelids shutting, she can certainly catch those lips pulling upwards.

That's what she likes. Yet, she wishes to crush it.

Sevika sits up even straighter now, the hand at your hip guiding it to roll as her thigh presses up. Only when a moan leaves you does she know the force is being put against the right place.

The silence is deafening, save for the occasional pant or grunt that slips from between your lips as your hips shifts back and forth. It shouldn't embarrass you so, given how many people you've had to entertain. Still, Sevika's gaze feels much too penetrating. She watches intently, only ever grinning or giving a slight tilt of her head when a sound a bit higher in pitch leaves you. It doesn't take long for your gaze to drop— anywhere else would be better than to stare at the one who currently controls whether your body will tip over the edge or not.

A quick, hard pull at your arms by the wrists held behind your back is enough to force your eyes to meet Sevika's again, though. It's a warning, obviously. Sevika wants your eyes on her. Watch your half-covered face twist in pleasure and lips purse together in futile attempts to keep it down.

Your hips keep moving, albeit a bit more clumsy now. Warmth pools in your belly, the kind that makes your thighs a bit weaker and movements therefor a bit more messy and less coordinated. Unfortunately for you, the hand that had been supporting your hip leaves to instead slide up from your stomach to your chest. Fingers pause at a strap, giving the thin fabric a brief raise to then let it snap back into place. At last, Sevika hums.

"How much for it off?" She inquires. It's a question Sevika knows the answer to, of course. She's visited the brothel enough times to know how much it costs to slip off the pieces of a worker's lingerie. In the end, it's a tease. Not that she doesn't expect you to answer.

"An extra twenty," The words leave you breathlessly, jaw clamping shut after a moment. It's difficult to concentrate as the heat between your legs grows, cunt aching. Two rolls of your hips earns you a firmer press of Sevika's thigh against your clothed clit, serving enough pleasure to spring forth a moan between your lips. "Another thirty for the panties."

Sevika huffs, though it's in amusement. She has more than enough coin to get that pesky lace out of the way for both her eyes and mouth to feast in. Thus, her fingers her fingers slide to your back in order to quickly work the hooks free. Only briefly are your wrists set free, though you know it's only to give Sevika the liberty of sliding the straps down your arms. Once your breasts are free, prosthetic fingers come around your wrists again.

An orgasm has yet to hit you. It's there, leaving you teetering on the edge of a cliff. So close, yet so far. It's cruel, but then again, how long has it been since you've been edged and teased? The control clients have over workers like you has always been there. They're allowed the freedom to see and do what greedy eyes and hands want, so long as gold is dropped onto a counter. It's a little different now, however. The power Sevika has here is a bit more subtle but quite literal— she's a woman people fear down here.

And here you are, on the border of falling apart from humping her thigh like a rabbit in heat.

Sevika knows what you need. An extra something on another part of your body to have your body feel just the right amount of pleasure to finally crumble. The clock's ticking, and so, she provides. Her head dips, silky bangs skimming over your collarbones before her lips take a nipple into her mouth. A nip and suck to the soft peak is enough to make both harden under Sevika's tongue. It's difficult to suppress a whine this time— it escapes from your throat and out onto the small space of the room. You feel a brief scrunch of Sevika's nose before she grunts, head tilting to take your other breast into her mouth.

Another nip. Another suck. A pull at your arms and a hard jerk of her thigh upwards to your sensitive clit and you're done for.

Your toes curl under the sheer thigh-highs you wear, chest rising with a keen as the knot inside your stomach finally breaks. Warmth spreads from between your legs and up, down your shoulders to connect at your belly. It's blissful, enough to leave you shuddering and whining for a moment before your hips finally cease their movements.

Once your body stops its squirming, Sevika pulls back. The claws of her prosthetic fingers give a final jerk to your wrists before letting go, leaving faint lines of warmth behind. She hums — again — before leaning back against the couch. The cigar at the ashtray is picked up, pulled between her lips once more. It's always like this; watching someone fall apart before her is enough to satiate that hunger and relieve her of the stresses in her mind. Even when she books a lady for two hours, Sevika leaves before the clock strikes more often than not.

But perhaps indulging herself for a little longer is just that. More entertainment. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I won't be charged for leaving a mark or two, will I?" She drawls the question out, even when knowing the answer to it. Yes, she will be. Not many clients like to have a worker with proof of someone else on their body, even knowing the kind of place their in. An extra five out of her pocket. Ten, if she leaves another. Fucking Margot. Money's not exactly tight, but then again, it's Zaun.

You huff with a raise of your brows in an expectant look, earning you a grin and warning glare.

Much to Sevika's dismay, her cigar dies out. She tosses the bud to the ashtray, not giving you much of a warning before her hands settle on your hips to guide — drag, more like — you onto your back on the couch. She doesn't bother to kick her boots off, merely sliding between your legs and watching the rise and fall of your bare chest. One hand, the prosthetic one, keeps a secure grip on your ankle. The other slides up your leg calf, skimming across the thin lace to then tap at a ribbon at the very top of your tights.

She's a pretty sight to behold. Even clothed, the broadness of hers isn't missed. With how relaxed Sevika's face is right now, her eyes appear a bit bigger. There's a feminine charm to her in spite of the masculinity she protrudes. If only that damn cloak wasn't in the way.

"This place is a fucking joke," She muses, a scoff following suit. As you hum and shrug your shoulders, long fingers make it to the warmth between your legs. A brief press there, which causes your bound ankle to twitch a bit from the sensitivity, before they continue their patch to your left hip. "They'll charge me for breathing next time."

"You still come here, though," You point out, lips pulling into a grin. Sevika doesn't have to ask you to lift your hips, for they do the moment fingers hook into the band of your undergarments "Like, every two weeks."

You're right, of course. With nothing to say in her defense, Sevika pulls down your panties quickly, tossing them and the entire piece of lingerie to the ground without much though. At least the view between your legs is worth that extra thirty. Cunt slick from your release, the pads of Sevika's middle and ring finger press briefly at your entrance to collect it. What makes your breath hitch is when they slide up your mound, having no difficulty in finding and instead pressing right onto your clit. A rumble rises in the woman's chest as she watches you writhe, the hand at your ankle pulling you closer and forcing your knees to bend to your sides.

"You know," Sevika begins, changing the conversation as if discussing something over tea time when her fingers are rubbing circled into that bud. Her upper body bows, leathers and fabrics rustling against each other. There's the occasional clink from the prosthetic, though truly, all of that is drowned out by the pleasure currently being given to your body. "The only complaint I have about this place are the curtains."

Your head nods in agreement. Yeah, the beaded curtains didn't offer much privacy with what went on in the rooms. Everyone comes down here for a reason, though. No one takes peaks into other rooms.

As your lips part to speak, a strangled groan leaves you instead when both digits at your clit slide back down to the entrance of your cunt. A single finger slides in first, giving you time to relax against the slow intrusion before the second joins in. Sevika doesn't waste much time before attaching her lips onto the side of your neck. She can't and she won't. Looking at your face for too long isn't making her feel something, no. She's just here for a distraction.

Thick, soft lips press against your skin, tongue flattening out over your throat before giving a suck. You allow yourself to brace your palms against Sevika's back, and although your fingertips can feel the muscle under the clothes briefly tense at the contact, they relax a few seconds later. With teeth now no doubt pressing into your flesh with the intent to leave a bruise, a moan spills from your mouth. With a sharp breath you take in more than just the incense of the room. The scent of smoke lingers on the clothes of the woman above you, as does musk. It's nice, and she's warm.

So warm.

"Fucking-" A curse dies on your tongue as Sevika's fingers curl to press against that little spot within your walls to make your hips buck a bit. A grin and amused huff is puffed out onto your throat. Sevika presses the pad of her thumb against your clit, drawing circles that aren't firm enough to hurt but not light enough to not have an orgasm build. She knows what to do. Which strings to pull to play a woman like a harp.

Another groan from you when teeth find another spot on your throat to press into. A groan from her, however, when your fingers weave into the short strands of black hair to give a pull.

Ah-ha.

Sevika pulls her head back for a moment, a single pant causing her breasts to strain against the confines of binds under the layers of her clothes. You don't know it— truly, you don't with how blissed out you look under her and unaware of what that just did to her. Or maybe you do, with that cocky grin across your lips Sevika wants nothing more than to wipe off.

Her gaze briefly darts to your parted lips, fingers absentmindedly still curling and working you open. But Sevika's mind doesn't act before the wants of her body, much less her heart. Thus, head head dives back to press a kiss to your neck again. A brief second of softness that's drowned out the neck second by her teeth sinking into your flesh, followed by a suck and huff.

The sensation brings you to keen, body tightening around the two fingers stuffed into your cunt. Again, your fingers give a pull to the strands of Sevika's hair. It's a test, of sorts. One that you pass with an A, given that another hickey is delivered to your throat on another spot.

Fifteen more pennies secured into the bag. That's what you did it for, right? The pleasure is simply an added bonus.

It goes on like that for a while. You pull and Sevika pushes. She's not quite sure when her hand at your ankle slid up to your waist to cradle it, her body causing yours to tuck under her own. Your legs around her waist, any and every breath or moan she fishes from your throat is delivered right into the shell of her ear— swimming into her brain like a siren's call. You're not sure where your dignity has gone either, allowing your throat to be painted like a canvas of red and purples.

The coil in your lower belly tightens and burns faster than the last, causing your breaths to come in shorter. Sevika's fingers curl and move at the same pace, though her thumb works a bit faster. With a grunt, a final kiss is placed at the junction of your neck and shoulder before Sevika withdraws, watching her fingers disappear between your legs. Her prosthetic hand at your waist moved to your stomach, giving the slightest of pressure at your navel.

You watch the copper claws press into your skin, though they don't cut. They can, however. One jerk of your hips on your part and the sharpness would leave more than just a bruise on your flesh. That's the thrill of it, though. Clients don't typically interest you so much. You never pay much attention to whatever differs them from others. That gaze is a little too pretty, though. Those fingers too perfect in the way they shift and press.

Pleasure builds quicker than your body can keep up with. Your hand shoots down, clasping around the flesh of Sevika's right wrist as her ministrations draw an orgasm from your body. Sweat has built up a bit on your flushed skin, head lolling to the side as your walls clamp down around the girth of two fingers. Her thumb continues to draw circles, firm and consistent, if only to watch your body writhe for a bit longer.

To hear your whines turn a bit more incoherent as overstimulation overtakes your body so. Nothing more, nothing less. Not that Sevika has done as such with other workers. Not for this long.

After a minute, Sevika pulls her hand back, watching that final heave of your chest once she allows your body to rest. Your knees fall to the sides, allowing for a shameless and pretty view of your body. She takes in the sight of it before bringing those two digits up to her lips, pushing them between her tongue to wipe them clean. Humming at the taste, Sevika only offers you a brief grin before sitting up. Her pants feel too hot and cloak too tight, though she hopes you don't notice the adjustment she gives the material covering most of her upper body.

Coming down from your high, you roll onto your side to swing an arm over the couch and reach for your undergarments. Limbs still a bit too weak and warm, it takes you a bit longer to slip on the one-piece on properly. By the time you do, however, a bag of coins drops onto the coffee table before you.

"A tip," Sevika informs, nose scrunching for a moment. The scent of your perfume no longer lingers in her nostrils, though the incense does. At least her headache's gone. "How much will I have to pay for the service, though?"

A whole fucking lot, she knows.

"Ah. About..." Trailing off, you sit up to give a look at yourself in the mirror. Yeah, those aren't going away any time soon. "Two-hundred and ten."

Sevika scoffs at the price. Too damn expensive, though it's her own fault, really. She could've just had you sit on her lap and bore her with some story to get her mind off things. But that's not exactly her thing.

"Right," She grunts, rolling a single shoulder before turning on her heel. Sevika can't quite stand seeing you stand there any longer. "Thanks, baby."

'Mallow', you want to correct her with, but don't bother to. With a sigh, you drop back onto the couch. "See you, Sevika."

The woman huffs, offering you a brief glance over her shoulder before disappearing behind the beaded curtains.

Hearthstone Ranch has stood mighty and tall for as long as you’ve known. It’s had its ups and downs, with what the neighboring town of Piltover does, but all in all, Zaun thrives through the smothering summers and harsh winters that render some crops brown.

The fence that divides your land from Violet Spur’s, however? Cattle have dropped like flies, the last you heard. It can’t be easy, running a ranch on your own with only one arm and workers who don’t live up to expectations. This particular summer has been rougher than most, and though your uncle has a good water supply, Sevika’s own land hasn’t been so lucky.

There’s always been some sort of tension between the two of you, which is strange, considering she’s twenty years your senior. But from barrel races to nights in taverns to wind down, your gazes always seem to meet. Once, never twice. An unspoken, mutual rivalry that even Vander is aware of.

Even so, he’s recently hired Sevika as a new ranch hand. Why? Other workers were simply not as dedicated– nowhere near as loyal to the care that goes into the dirt and the hooves that trample on it. And she needed water to get her land up and running again. You’d argued, and as had Vi, but it was his word that went in the end. She’s been here for a few months now, and the two of you have yet to share a word.

There’s only those five-to-ten-second glances she spares. The kind of glance that makes your knees weak, and once made your grip on your utensils falter mid-supper.

Dirt crackles underneath your steed’s hooves as it comes to a sliding stop within the arena. Sunlight beats down on your sweat-clad neck, staining the white blouse on your person with damp spots in too many areas to count. Your breaths are nearly in sync with that of the gelding’s, and you can only hope the fruits of your endeavor haven’t been in vain this time.

“Well?” You prompt, looking over to Vi. She stands on top of one of the rails, holding up a timer in her left hand. At least this time, she’s not doing that little pitying grimace.

“Fourteen seconds,” The woman announces. She huffs, stuffing the timer into the pocket of her jeans before striding over to the fence gate. After pulling it open to have you pass, she gives the animal a few pats on its neck. “I think you have the upcoming competition in the bag.”

“Mhm.” You agree, but only for a fleeting moment. Your only competition? The damn new ranchhand your daddy’s hired, who chose to also join the barrel race this Saturday. And who just so happens to meet your gaze from a distance before she retreats to the barn, a single haybale held up over a broad shoulder. “Unless she beats me.”

“Please,” Your cousin scoffs, eyes rolling as they often do. “That wanna-be cowboy ain’t got nothing on you.”

“Wanna-be? Vi,” You deadpan. Sevika is far from some… wanna be anything, unfortunately. “She hasn’t gotten beaten in ages.”

You’ve heard things about her– whispers that carry themselves like the dust the wind picks up to take to another land. Sevika owns the ranch neighboring your own, but the only interactions the two of you have ever had have been through glares under hat rims.

Or, well, glares from you.

She doesn’t ever bother sparing you an extra glance in the rodeos. It’s infuriating how she carries herself with so much poise and silent strength on the saddle. Sevika doesn’t speak. Hell, she doesn’t even stick around to be congratulated on her wins and opts to go to the town’s tavern.

But on the rare occasions that you and Sevika have made eye contact amidst a competition, she’s smirked twice. Once, right after you’d finished your round and came in second after her. No words spoken, but the chuckle that vibrated deep within that broad chest of hers had made your fingers tighten on the reins. Another, when you would’ve won had it not been for a barrel you’d made the clumsy move of tipping to the ground.

The Lord would strike you down for lying straight through your teeth if you went ahead and said she wasn’t attractive.

And now she’s working for you. Your uncle, technically, but she’s in your land. Staying in the guest bedroom that shares a wall with yours. Eating the dinners you prepare, and making you hope for a slight sparkle in her eyes from the taste. But it never comes.

“That old stud won’t beat you,” Vi digresses. Ever since Sevika came into the picture, she’s always looking for an opening to insult her. “Now go and put this one to rest.”

You wave her off, loosening the girth of the saddle to let the animal’s belly loosen a bit more. His pinto coat is in the same state as your skin– sweaty and warm from the heat. Taking hold of the reins, you lead Strider into the barn and let him stand in the middle as you untack him. He stomps a hoof against the concrete, demanding a treat, but what catches your attention is a grunt from the hayloft.

Glancing up, you’re met with the – mouthwatering – sight of Sevika. The flannel around her frame strains against the bulk of her muscles, one sleeve tied into a knot before the stump of her left side. Those broad, sharp hips buck forward as she nudges a haybale forward to tuck it against the others. She breathes, pushing back the silky, sweaty bangs that curtain the sides of her face back and away.

Then, glances down.

Ugh, fuck.

“You need help untacking, or what?” There’s that timbre to her voice– deep, throat a bit dry from a lack of water, yet so very smooth and naturally sultry. Soft, almost.

“What? No,” You scoff. You were born and bred on a ranch, and as much as you like your cotton blouses and jeans embroidered with hearts on the back pockets, you’re not one to shy away from the dirty work handling a horse is. And no matter how many times dirt ends up staining your pretty clothes, you won’t change it. “I can do something as simple as untacking my horse myself.”

You hear that chuckle again. Short, but audible. Like a slip of the tongue Sevika didn’t mean to let out to hide her amusement. And as slightly degrading it comes off as, you feel goosebumps arise over your skin to make the hairs at the back of your neck stand. You steel yourself, however, and take to removing your gloves to toss them onto a surface before turning to your steed again.

“Oh, sorry, darlin’,” Sevika drawls. She climbs down the ladder, a heavy thud marking her descent. Her boots, not nearly as polished as your own, come into your view just as you bend down to pick Strider’s hooves clean. Momentarily, you look up– and oh, what a mistake that is. “Didn’t think you’d want to chip one of those nails.”

Said nails which are almond-shaped and with a white French tip and pearlescent shimmer.

Straightening your back, you meet Sevika’s gaze properly. The string of her cowboy hat is tied loosely around her bare neck, allowing for the hat to sit at her upper back. Grime stains her cheeks and clothes, and that shirt. It doesn’t do much for covering when she raises her right hand to scratch at her buzzed nape.

Your eyes, curse their own mind, momentarily flicker to her navel. It’s taut, yet smooth and soft-looking save for the patch of hair that begins right underneath her belly button. Was she trying to kill you?

“My nails–” You cough to return your pitch to normal, shaking your head. “– have nothing to do with how well I do my work around here.”

“Right,” Sevika drawls, but she doesn’t sound all too convinced. She lays her gloved hand over your steed’s rump, patting it as she steps closer. Like a dance, you step backwards and steady yourself on one of the poles meant to tie a lead around. “Maybe if you trimmed em’, you could hold onto your reins properly and beat me at my own game for once.”

For once. Oh, she was so fucking smug.

“Please,” In an attempt to ignore how hot your cheeks feel, you look away and fold your arms over your chest. Much like your eyes had strayed, Sevika’s grey gaze follows the movement. The delicate skin of your sternum. The outline of a bra strap underneath. “I’ll win this time. Just you watch.”

And when you turn your head to meet her eyes again, it’s done just in time to watch them flicker up.

Hah.

“Do you always tell yourself that when you stand before a mirror?”

The nerve.

“Are you that lonely that you can only pick fights with people half your age?” It’s a jest, partially, but you catch the slight narrowing of Sevika’s eyes. The tightening of her jaw.

And the outline of her tongue poking against her cheek.

“Tch,” She scoffs, turning her head to give you a side eye. Sevika places the cowboy hat atop her head, obscuring the view of where her gaze goes. “I’m only humoring myself here, girly. You’re the only one who can give me competition.”

A compliment?

“But not quite,” Not a full-hearted, wholesome compliment, then. Sevika looks to her left, a hum passing through her thick lips as she admires the horses within their stalls. She seems to be pondering, and of what, you’re almost certain you know. “You still got a long way to go.”

“Why don’t I race you, then?” You prompt, bringing Sevika’s gaze back to you with your proposition. You take note of the way her brow raises, then furrows in sync with the other. But her lips don’t part to protest, and she doesn’t immediately scoff or turn away. For once, she’s holding a conversation. “To the creek.”

It’s a place that’s still within Hearthstone Ranch’s property, and an area that provides privacy. With miles’ worth of open field, the only others present would be the bugs in the ground and critters in the water, and trees.

Sevika hums, looking off to the side and over her shoulder. It reveals the delicate, bronze and damp skin in all its glory. The sharp line of her jaw and the scars that mar the left side of her face. You’ve always wondered what kind of accident caused such beautiful blemishes and the missing limb.

In a town like this, gossip goes hand-in-hand with the boots everyone wears. From a horseback riding fall to a more gruesome speculation that Sevika was involved in an incident involving a tractor, the whispers have never ceased. But you’ve always longed to know the truth from her lips, no matter the rivalry between you two.

“Your daddy expects me to work.” At last, Sevika answers. She looks back to you, unfolding the undeniable truth like a deck of cards before you. Vander would most certainly not take a worker slacking off kindly, and Sevika? Her pride isn’t too keen on it, either. But–

“I’ll just tell him we saw some caddle wander off,” You suggest. “And that I helped you wrangle them.”

This, Sevika laughs at. She tries – really does – to suppress her humor through pinched brows and tight lips, but the chuckle spills out nonetheless. It’s hearty and full– a sound that echoes within the barn to taunt your ears with the amusement it drips with.

“You,” Sevika says after a breath, tipping her chin down as her lips curl. “wrangling cattle? He wouldn’t believe you, sugar. Those hands of yours have never known callouses, I bet.”

She’s got you there. You’ve always favored wearing gloves in order to avoid turning your palms to shreds.

“Well–” Frustration makes your tongue get tied. Or maybe it’s the way that Sevika’s looking at you– it’s not new seeing that cocky expression on her face, but never has she kept eye contact for this long. And you know she wants it, too. Why bother fighting it? “What? Are you just afraid your old back’s gonna give out on ya?”

Sevika tuts. But alas, she bows her head to obscure half of her face before grunting, “Alright. But bring something. Somethin’ cold to help with this…”

She pauses. Rises her head– not fully, just enough to catch your gaze once more, “– heat.”

Lord.

“Right,” You agree, clearing out the dryness of your throat. Yeah, you really do need something to help with the heat. “I’ll wait for you by the gate. Tack up Esperanza for me, yeah?”

Not that you wait for confirmation before making your retreat out of the barn. Sevika’s here as another working hand.

But you don’t have the balls to order her around completely.

Going in and out of the ranch house is a quick endeavor. Thankfully, Vi’s in her bedroom to question you about where you’re headed with four beers and two apples. As for your uncle, he’s too endorsed in the show he’s currently watching to spare you any attention.

Thus, soon enough, you’re trekking towards the gate that leads to the open field. Your mare, as you requested, is tacked up and ready. Sevika even used her pink saddle pad that goes well with her palomino coat. At her side, you shove the beers and fruits into the satchel attached to the saddle.

“Need a hand getting up?” Sevika’s voice nearly makes you jump.

You scoff, already rising your left leg to slip a boot into the stirrup, “No, I can do this on my own.”

“C’mon–”

“I don’t–”

But Sevika’s right hand has already reached for your right leg, and instinctively, your knee bends to help give yourself that little extra boost. And for all times for you to nearly slip, it’s this one. Your back doesn’t end up in the dirt, though, for Sevika’s hand slides up right against your bum to steady you and just push you onto the saddle.

All with one arm.

Fucking hell, you’re already wet.

“Thanks.” You mutter. Glancing over to your left, you watch as Sevika grasps the reins in one hand and lifts herself onto the saddle with a grunt. Adjusts her hips by shifting them backwards and loosens her spine. Her thighs, clad in jeans and brown chaps that mirror your white ones, hug the sides of her mount as she kicks it forward.

She bends down, opening up the gate and pushing it open. Her head jerks to the side, “Don’t go just yet. I ain’t giving you a headstart.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

And after some maneuvering, Sevika’s steed halts by your right. The horses nudge and sniff each other’s noses, but before either of the two pin their ears back, Sevika jerks her reins to the right with a gentle pull.

“On my count.”

Sevika only grunts at your announcement. The second the number ‘one’ leaves your lips, both of you are kicking your mounts into a gallop. There’s enough distance between you two to keep things safe, but not enough to not hear her breaths. Just enough space to watch the ease in which her hips follow each stride, much like your own do.

And as you lose yourself in the sight of Sevika’s bicep, just for a fleeting moment, she does the same with your hips. But soon enough does your gaze snap back forward, and you apologize under your breath to Esperanza for pushing her just a little more to get a little further ahead than the other beast.

Hooves beat down against the ground in an unsynced rhythm, and this feeling – this chase – is like no other. The adrenaline of it all beats the one that has your heart racing before you enter the arena in your competitions.

The creek comes into view, and before long, your mare zips past the tree. You pull at the reins and draw your hips back and into the saddle, pulling her to a stop and slowing down into a canter to do a circle. Sevika comes in second, trotting past the tree as her chest heaves some.

“Why, it does feel mighty good to finally beat you in something.” Arrogance gets the better of you– of course it does. It’s a first, beating Sevika in something that involves horseback riding.

Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you know she’s not offended. You can’t quite get a good read on her face, considering she’s doing that thing again– bowing her head just enough for the black wisps to fall free and cover even more than the brim of the hat does.

Dismounting from your mare, you give her a few pats and loosen the girth. Sevika does the same with a little less grace, though she’s rather quick about making her way over to you. Quick. Really quick, and she’s already reaching her right arm out and leaning down just enough–

But she reaches for the satchel, not your waist. And her lips don’t seize yours in a kiss.

Sevika isn’t blind to the way your shoulders droop with a breath, but thankfully, she keeps quiet about your not-so-subtle disappointment. She fetches one of the beers with one hand, and before you can mention the bottle opener that’s at the bottom of the bag, she brings the neck of it to her mouth, takes the mouth between her teeth, and cracks it open.

Then, spits it out and hands it over to you.

Casually, as if that was a normal thing to do.

“You’re going to ruin your teeth doing that.” You note, taking the bottle into your hands and appreciating the warmth her hands – now free of gloves – briefly provides.

Sevika grunts, rolling a singular shoulder in dismissal before doing the same for her own drink. And when she tips her head back, you stare a little too long at the expanse of her throat. Watch as the brown skin gleams under the sunset and the way it bobs with each hearty gulp.

And Sevika’s eyes, yet again, meet yours. And she grins, enough for some of the alcohol to slip out and drip down her chin. She doesn’t quite bother wiping that single droplet away from her chin.

“You brought a blanket, I hope.” She doesn’t mention your staring, not when it’d been so obvious.

You nod, clearing your throat and jerking your head towards the extra satchel on the other side of the saddle. You don’t speak, opting instead to freshen up your own throat by taking down half of the beer in a few gulps. Sevika bends down, momentarily placing her drink on the grass to pick out the item from the bag.

And you stare, again.

Sevika takes the checkered blanket in her hand and moves to stretch it out under the tree. But the wind blows too strongly, and you can hear her grumble and curse in frustration as the fabric whips against her handsome face.

“Here,” You offer some assistance, leaning down to recline your beer against the trunk of the tree before straightening yourself up. Taking two corners of the blanket, you aid Sevika in laying it down against the soft grass. Pat it and set it properly once its down, like you would a rowdy mustang after its bucking ceased.

Sevika grunts, “Thank you.”

Your shoulders only give a shrug as you settle on top of the blanket. The heat is still thriving, but not nearly as strongly. The one deep in your gut, though? It’s only been growing with each passing second, and it’s uncomfortable enough to make your thighs press together.

Sevika notices, but she looks away before you catch her gaze and turns to pick up her drink. She sits down at your side with a groan, letting the back of her head rest against the tree with a sigh. For a while, it’s silent. And though you don’t glance to your right to admire her face, you do peer down at your boots. They’re different in size and style.

Whereas yours are white – a little browned by the dust and wear – and have a higher heel, embroidered with delicate features, Sevika’s own are wider at the toe box and have a much plainer, darker finish in brown.

“How does it feel to know I’m better than you?”

Sevika’s eyes flutter open. She side-eyes you, her chest puffing out with a single huff of air leaving through her nostrils.

"...I've been riding before you were even in your mama's womb, girl." Sevika grouses, glancing down at your hips. She stares. Ponders. Longs for that soft flesh of your tummy that’s revealed by your blouse that’s ridden up.

"Yet I beat you here," Your hand gestures to the open field around you both. "So much for having twenty years in the saddle of experience over me."

But Sevika allows you to boast. No need to tell you that she only let you get ahead to get a glimpse of your ass.

And again, silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but certainly the tense one. The kind where there’s that unspoken tension, but not from the long-lived rivalry between you two. It feels different this time, with no eyes or ears to pry in.

“Can I ask you something?” You question.

“You just did.” Sevika notes.

A huff leaves you now.

“I’ve always been curious about your arm,” The words leave you a little more quietly now. But you see Sevika shift out of the corner of your eye. How she rolls her neck to the side and keeps her gaze on the side of your face. “About how it– you know.”

Sevika hums. It’s a sound as calming as the wind, and one that eases the way your heart races after the bold nature of your question.

“I’ll spare you the gory details,” She says, lifting her right hand to loosen the knot of her free sleeve. This time, you do look her way, but your eyes follow the way the sleeve blows slowly against the wind. You’re tempted to push it upwards to properly reveal what’s always hidden underneath, but Sevika beats you to it. “Got too confident breakin’ in a mustang for a friend. Fell right on my ass and had the bad luck of getting the reins wrapped around my arm. A harsh jerk of the animal’s head and–”

She finishes her sentence by raising her right hand in a slicing motion. Whether it broke beyond repair or was ripped off in the literal sense, you don’t fry for, but the question you’ve always had about your rival is, at last, answered.

“And the mustang?”

Sevika tuts, jerking her head towards her steed. Her mare grazes alongside yours a few feet away by the creek, “She’s fattening herself up.”

Huh.

“And you’re comfortable enough telling this to me… why?” You probe. After all, before this, all you and Sevika shared were heated glares and glowers on your end.

“Well,” She rolls her head to the side and looks into your eyes. But her gaze drops to your lips, stares just long enough to have you notice, then looks back up. “It’s not like my past will make you win this Saturday. Will it, sugar?”

Yeah, your panties are ruined.

You don’t speak. Your hand only slowly, tentatively, rises to brush over the stump of her arm. When Sevika doesn’t say anything either, you press your fingertips into the flesh, finding it has a curious amount of give.

And before you can poke at it again, Sevika’s hand finds your side. Her palm, broad and rough, cups your waist and gives it a squeeze. When your answer comes out as a single, soft breath, she seizes the opportunity to reel you in and bring you onto her lap. Your weight settles over her hips, and Sevika groans. Her right arm wraps around your frame fully, brings your chest right against hers.

She stares at you. Waits for your lips to part in protest, but the moment your head bows just a little, she takes that as her cue. Her lips, thick and soft, molds against yours. Sevika’s head tilts to mirror yours, allowing her better access as her tongue slips between your teeth. It presses against yours– renders it useless as she consumes you and ignites that warmth in your belly into a fire.

She doesn’t rush– doesn’t shove her tongue in too deep and into every crevice of your mouth. No, she savors the taste of you; the taste of you, and the lingering bitterness from the beer. Her hand slips down to your lower back, splaying over it before slipping south to cup your ass. She squeezes the cheek, urging your hips down as her thigh shifts to settle right between your legs.

And the friction against your clothed mouth serves just enough to spill forth a moan from your throat.

Sevika savors the sound– allowing it to settle deep into her lungs and letting it brand itself into her mind. But she longs for that sound, and again, her right hand urges your hips to roll down against her thigh. You take the hint, steadying your hands on her broad shoulders and curling your fingers around the warm muscle underneath her flannel.

Slowly, steadily, you roll your hips down, bringing your mound against the broad, strong expanse of her thigh. Sevika groans against your lips, momentarily pulling away to watch you. Her hand drops to the front of your blouse, thick fingertips ghosting over the sensitive patch of your skin that is your navel. When you shudder, hips faltering for a moment, she grins.

That smug, knowing grin.

Slowly, Sevika sits up, maneuvering you both until your back meets the blanket. She hovers over you, steadying herself up with one arm. Her head bows, and she ghosts her lips over your cheek before she trails them down to your throat. Like a crane unfolding itself, you tip your head back to reveal the skin.

Sevika doesn’t waste another second. Her mouth closes around the side of your neck, tongue pressing against the tender, warm flesh before she sucks it into her mouth and gives the slightest of nips. One. Then another slight bite. It warms you from the inside and out, and you squirm underneath her.

Before your palms can connect with her shoulders again, though, Sevika speaks;

“Unbutton your blouse,” She mutters against your throat, then pauses. Lets her breath wash over your damp skin before bringing her mouth right against your ear. “Slowly.”

Without a word, you comply. Your fingers, usually so steady in their movements, fumble with the buttons of your shirt. All the while, Sevika watches as each button pops open. She takes in the sight of your heaving chest and hums in satisfaction once your bra comes into view. She sits back on her haunches, bringing her hand against your sternum before trailing it further down.

And you don’t need another order.

You roll a bit, awkwardly searching for the hook of your brassier whilst on your back. But once it snaps off, Sevika’s fingertips are all too quick at sliding the straps down your shoulders to toss the undergarment away. You don’t care for where it lands, much too eager about how she lowers her head down. She kisses the hollow of your throat, raining down slow, open-mouthed kisses against your skin as she nudges herself backwards.

And soon enough, her breath splays over your right breast. Her hand rises, landing over the left side of your chest. She doesn’t cup it – barely can – but rather splays her palm over it to cover it in its entirety. Again, you shudder, feeling your stiff nipples harden further under Sevika’s mouth and hand.

Her lips take one bud between them, and when your hips buck with a gasp, she presses her face further against your skin. She sucks greedily, pulling more out of your whines for her ears to listen in to. She doesn’t leave the other unattended to– her thumb pinches your nipple, further adding to the stimulation.

“Fuck,” A curse flies from your lips, and soon enough do your hands travel to the top of her head. You rip the cowboy hat off her head, relishing in the way the silky strands of her black hair fall between your fingertips. Sevika groans when you pull at the strands, lashes fluttering against your chest as she continues her assault on your tits. “Sevika–”

“Hm.” She hums– not in question, merely as a sign that she’s listening. Her lips part away from your nipple, and she gives your tit a kiss before trailing her mouth down south. Her mouth is warm and wet against your heated skin, and she chuckles when she feels the unconscious movement of your belly sucking in for a moment.

“Care to give me a hand here, sweetheart?”

You peer down at her, swallowing hard as she rests her chin over the waistband of your jeans. You nod, all too eagerly, and bring your hands down to the button of your jeans. Sevika rises and sits up, watching as you raise your hips and begin to pull them down. Down, past your hips and soft thighs she longs to feel around the sides of her head.

She helps you rip them off completely once they pool at your ankle, tossing them over her shoulder. Sevika leans down again, parting your legs with one hand to press her cheek against your inner thigh. Her fingertips swipe over the lace trim of your panties, and she grins against your skin when you squirm yet again.

Her fingers hook into them, and after looking into your eyes for a few seconds to receive a nod in confirmation, she slides them down and does the same as she did with your jeans.

Once your cunt is bared to her, she groans, “So pretty.”

To say you’re drenched would be an understatement. Who knew your rival – and one twenty years older – would make you this wet?

Sevika brings her thumb against your slit, collecting your arousal to smear it over your clit that peeks out from underneath its hood. You groan softly at the contact, letting your head rest back against the blanket.

“That’s it,” Sevika coos, the drawl to her words as smooth as honey. She leans down again, parting your folds with her hand to reveal you to her properly. “Just lay back for me.”

And once your hands find their home on the top of her head again, Sevika brings her face forward. She seals her mouth over your clit, prompting a soft cry from your throat as she presses her tongue against the sensitive bud and gives it a gentle suck. You close your eyes shut and focus– really focus on not coming just yet because that’d be embarrassing as all hell.

Sevika groans against your sex, keeping her gaze on the way your stomach and chest rise with each breath. She’s calculating– testing for what makes you keen and what makes your toes curl into the blanket just a little tighter.

Her head lowers, and you shudder with a whimper as her tongue swipes between your folds.

Sevika didn’t rush– this was no competition, and both of you would come out as winners in the end. She nudges your legs further apart with her elbow, her tongue working its way into your cunt and unrelenting in its movements. You could feel that warmth pool at your lower belly, getting tighter and tighter. Your hips bucked against her face, but Sevika’s right arm curled around your thigh to hold you down.

Relentless. Firm. Insistent.

She worked you up and pushed cry after gasp from your throat. Her groans vibrated against your slick flesh, the thick hook of her nose nudging sweetly against your sensitive clit. How annoying, that she was good at everything– claiming ribbons and eating pussy.

Your orgasm was just at your fingertips. So close, so very–

Sevika pulls back.

And you keen.

Frustrated, you bang the back of your head against the grass, gasping for dry air as the warmth built in your core dissipates little by little. “Fuck you.”

Sevika hums, sitting up and parting your legs after they close. Prevents you from rubbing your thighs together in hopes of chasing something long gone. Controls you.

Fucking owns you, at this point.

“You think I don’t know you get sleepy after one orgasm?” It comes off as a question, but it’s a subtle way to remind you of something. Make you remember that one time you– “Your bedroom shares a wall with mine. And the walls aren’t exactly thick.”

You stare up at Sevika, flustered beyond measure. You recall that one night you couldn’t sleep. You’d been restless at two in the morning, and after tossing and turning for hours, you took to slipping a hand up your nightgown and pulling down your panties.

You hadn’t thought about someone in particular. Just envisioned the touch of someone as both of your hands busied themselves underneath the sheets. You’d thought your quiet gasps and breaths would be heard by no one but you, but little had you known that someone was just as restless that night.

And indeed, you get sleepy after you finish.

“I’ll have you come on my fingers instead.” Sevika says it so plainly– so surely. And you? You’re in shambles, and shameless.

“Please.”

Sevika breathes in. Holds the air in her chest for a moment to control herself.

She jerks her chin down to herself. Gestures silently, as she has in the past. She won’t speak for her wishes, but you follow the command eagerly. You sit up, bringing your hands up against the front of her chest. Your fingertips make quick work of the buttons to her flannel, but after her lips seize yours amidst the action, you loose yourself.

Sevika allows you to taste yourself on her tongue.

You’re unsure of when your hands eventually meet the bare skin of her back. How your fingertips followed each contour of muscle and the slight markings of her binder – now tossed in the grass alongside your garments – on her heated skin.

But once your bodies pressed together, the taut plane of her abdomen flush against your tummy, you reeled your head back and took in the sight of her. Sevika hovered over you, naked as the day as she’d been born. Your hand traced the stretchmarks on her hips as hers did yours, and though stiff, Sevika allowed you.

Most of all, you simply wished to see her.

And she growled – actually fucking growled – when your hand skims over the stump of her arm yet again. The touch, however fleeting, made her shudder and dark nipples harden further.

Her right hand moves then, cupping your mound. And just as the heel of her palm pressed flat against your clit, one finger worked its way into your warmth. You moaned, the sound carried against the rolling wind. It stretched you– filled you up nearly just as much as two of your own fingers did.

Sevika didn’t speak– she watched, and again, tested how you liked to be touched. But it didn’t take long for her digit to find a rhythm that had your body twisting and your hands curling into the sheet below. And as she added a second finger, she muffled your whimper by pressing her lips against yours again.

She shushes you gently, coaxing your body to loosen and relax around her again. Your hand curls over her shoulder, and you felt the slight jerk of her left side– as though forgetting for a moment that there was no limb to bring you closer. To hold you properly, as she wanted.

So you settle for holding her instead.

Your leg wraps around her hip, opening yourself up further to her. You whine into her mouth as her fingers began to work you open. They pumped and curled just so, just right– pressing right into that spongy part inside of you that had your insides twisting and burning up all over again.

But Sevika wouldn’t pull away this time.

Her thumb presses right over your clit, rubbing circles– slowly, at first, then climbs in tandem until she finds the speed to help you climb that edge. Her tongue swipes against yours, taking each whine and gasp right into her lungs. That satisfies her just enough. For Sevika, there was nothing that’d beat watching a woman crumble beneath her fingertips.

And watching the one that she’d always enjoyed crushing under her thumb? Even better.

“You close, sweetheart?” She breathes against your lips, parting from the kiss for a moment. Her eyes drop to the apex of your thighs, and she groans at the sound emitting from the area. Wet squelches produced by your arousal and the air she was pushing into it.

You can't speak. You only nod, bringing your arms around her frame and pressing your palms flat against her broad back. Hold her. Dig your nails into the firm skin as your belly began to tighten. As that warmth builds tighter and tighter and your thighs begin to tremble.

Sevika presses her thumb down against your clit. Curls her fingers just right. Presses a smooch against your ear, and– “Atta girl.”

Your orgasm crashes like a wave against your frame. The warmth from before that’d been denied blooms from your gut and spreads out to your very fingertips. Your hips buck weakly against Sevika’s palm, chasing the feeling for as long as you can. And as your legs begin to shake from the overstimulation against your clitoris, your head shakes.

You can't speak just yet. Just gasped against her ear.

Sevika gets the hint. She withdraws her hand, watching as you clench around nothing as her fingers slipped out of your cunt. As you catch your breath, you watch as she brings her fingers against her lips. Her tongue pushes between the two that she’d used, then pushed between her lips and into her mouth.

Sevika groans, unsure if from your taste or the vision underneath her. No, not a vision.

Because this was real.

Sevika didn’t say a word as she dropped to your side. Her arm wraps around your waist, bringing you close. Your hands smooth up and down her sides, and though sleep hovers over you like the clouds do over the horizon, you fight it.

For as long as you could, at least.

You’re unsure of how long you were out for, but by the time your eyes flutter open, there’s no light to adjust to. Crickets sing their tunes in the grass, and a chill passes through you. Sevika sits at your side, now clad in jeans and the fabric that renders her chest a little flat.

She dressed you, too. Her flannel over your frame does its job of hiding your bra and panties on your person, but modesty has long been thrown out the window.

“How long was I asleep for?”

Sevika exhales a plume of smoke from her nostrils, puckering her lips for a moment before giving a shrug, “An hour, or so.”

You sit up against the tree like she does, bringing your cheek to rest over her right arm. She opts to raise it and tuck you underneath it instead, mindful of the cigarette hanging between her fingertips. Sevika only grunts when you pluck it and bring it to your lips.

“Will you let me win this Saturday?”

The cigarette in your hands is the only thing that provides light, save for the flickering, dimmed lights of the alley. Part of you hopes it takes your mind off her, but unfortunately, the scent of smoke itself is one that the woman carried with her like a fog.

Sevika.

It’s been a few days since that particular night. Customers never drew you in too much. Sure, some were more handsome or beautiful than others, but they didn’t hook you. In fact, this job of yours was one you sometimes dreaded. Feigning smiles or satisfaction gets tiring.

With Sevika, moreover, none of your sighs of bliss or titters had been faked. The skin can’t flush on command, now can it? The heart won’t beat a little faster unless something stimulates it so.

Cursing under your breath, the thin paper of the cigarette wrinkles between your fingers. An inhale too sharp earns a protest from your lungs, triggering a fit of coughs. You don’t even like smoking. The aftertaste is too dry on the tongue and disgusting on the nose. You’ll have to drown yourself in perfume for your next client.

Thankfully, you’re on your well-earned hour break. Your past two clients of today had been draining. Or, well, maybe they weren’t. They were just people looking for quick release and a distraction like any other person who comes down to the brothel. But lately, clients get on your nerves more easily.

One pushed you off yesterday because you pointed out their breath stank.

The truth of the matter is that you can’t forget about her. The pointed claws and how they’d skimmed over your flesh. The look in Sevika’s eyes when she had momentarily drawn her head back and glanced at your lips before diving for your throat again.

It’s the only time you’ve wanted someone’s lips on yours.

You were whipped. A mess over a woman who didn’t so much as remove a single article of clothing when she had stripped you as naked as the day that you were born.

How pitiful.

The cigarette dies out just in time as a rusty door to your side opens. The manager of this place and essentially your boss — some pipsqueak of an older woman who looks like a fuzzy rat; a Yordle — peeks her head out. The jewelry on her pointed ears clink as she jerks her head to the side, “[Name].”

Of course, she calls you by your name out here. With a huff, you meet her gaze and raise an expectant brow.

“We’re out of drinks.”

“So?”

“So” Babette parrots, scoffing. “Get some more from the bar.”

“I’m on break?”

“And I’m on my last nerve, dear. So get to it.”

Not that the woman gives you a chance at protesting before the door is slammed shut. Why did you work here again? Free food, warm showers, and a comfortable bed to lay on. And of course, another thing that gets you going is the odd chance that the one you long for comes back again.

A breath in, one out. It won’t take you long, anyway. The Last Drop is essentially shared with the brothel.

Not that you’ll go into a more public place in what you wear now. A two-piece lingerie set of black with gold accents and frills at the straps and hips. Partially see-through. Pulling down the matching mask into place to cover most of your face, you head inside the brothel to fetch a fur coat.

It doesn’t hide your legs, but they’re covered in sheer, black stockings. It’s enough. You’ll be in and out of that place and will return to your break, which is shortening by the minute.

With the cloak over your body, you hurry out of the incense-filled hallways of your workplace, went up a flight of stairs, down another hallway in which you tried to ignore a couple humping against each other, and out into a door that led to the bar. It’s full tonight, by the looks of it.

The music from a jukebox that plays in the background is a soft tune— that being the only calming thing amongst the clinks of glasses, laughs, billiard balls slamming against others, and boasting grunts or cheers from gamblers.

You don’t stare at the crowds for long, instead opting to head for the bar to climb over the small door. The worker currently cleaning glasses is some blondie, offering you a nod of his head. It’s not the first time you’ve invited yourself in to steal liquor from the place, and by now, he recognizes you.

“What are you taking this time? Gotta keep track of what goes in and out of this place!” His tone’s a little too cheerful to your liking. How someone can be all smiles down here is beyond you, especially when dealing with customers who nag and shout for more drinks.

“Tequila. Some of your wine…” Trailing off, the items you list off are ones you pluck from the small fridge to tuck under your arms. “Bourbon, too.”

“Hm. You’re in luck we’re in full stock,” He muses, passing out a few shots onto the counter before his gaze returns to you. “Importations are harder to get through these days.”

You scoff, though it’s in agreement. Yeah, Zaun’s not doing good. You have Piltover to blame for that. Either way, you only give the bartender a nod and grunt in thanks before kicking the door to the side of the counter open with your heel.

“You need help carrying that down there, girlie?”

Oh, brother. The last thing you wanted was some drunkard taking more of your precious time. Your patience’s already thinning as is. Not that the bartender — or anyone down here, for that matter — will help you. He’s too busy tending to others already.

Turning and shifting the bottles of liquor in your arms, your face twists into a scowl. Holy fuck, he’s ugly. You know, some people down here aren’t the most charming. Turning a blind eye to a missing limb, a face marred with scars, and over-the-top hair colors is easy.

But yellow teeth, unkempt stubble, and crinkling eyes? Hard pass.

“No,” A simple response, though it’s one many don’t ever take for an answer. “I’m fine.”

Before you can turn to leave, a pull at the sleeve of your coat causes your feet to stumble. Damn these heels. “Aw, you that good with your hands? Can take many things at once?”

Truly, you can’t even find it in yourself to be disgusted by the comment. You’ve heard it all. Not that it irks you any less, though.

Without giving the man an answer, you take a step back to pull yourself free from his grip. Not that it works much, considering he only pulls hard enough to have the front slip and show a glimpse of the black lace. It prompts the creep to whistle.

“Come on,” He slurs, his body tipping forward with a chuckle. God, his breath stinks. “How much for your servic—?”

Not that he gets to finish his question, for glass shatters on the back of his head from a bottle, sending him to the ground.

Well, okay.

Some patrons spare a few glances your way, then back, trying to find the culprit — your savior, actually — of who just knocked out the guy. He’s not dead… you think. Not that you care.

Much like everyone, though, you try to find the source of where the bottle came from. There are too many people, however, and truly, you just want to return to your break and have another smoke. Grab a bite.

Adjusting your coat to the best of your ability, you saunter out of the place and go back to where you came from. By the time you make it back down to the brothel, you sigh. The incense isn’t as bad when you come back from a place that reeks of sweat and alcohol.

Only, you struggle to open the latch to the door whilst handling three bottles. You twist and turn, trying to use your elbow to pull it down. It doesn’t work. Maybe it’s the frustration of not having what you’ve wanted for the past few days that’s made your patience run on thin ice, but it takes a lot to not just smash the bottles onto the ground.

A voice comes up from behind you.

“You need help carrying that in there?”

“No!” You snap, eyes narrowing behind the mesh slits of your mask as you turn to face the person. “Didn’t you get knocked out? How many times—!?”

Oh.

There’s no mistaking that build. Those broad shoulders that resemble mountains under a thick, washed-out red cloak. The strong jawline with cracks along the left cheek. Thick lips pulled into a grin that revealed that gap between teeth. Or that brown skin.

Sevika snorts, a thick brow raising as her chin lifts and head tilts. It could be considered a scrutinizing stare if the amusement wasn’t so obvious in her gaze and body language.

“You know,” She begins, leaving over to clasp a prosthetic hand over the head of the wine bottle tucked under your left arm. It makes you sigh a bit in relief. “I thought you’d at least thank me for helping you back there.”

Oh.

So it was her, then.

“Right. Thank you,” Huffing, you turn back to face the door and pull down the knob, pushing it with your side and a grunt. The metal slides open a bit easier with the aid of Sevika’s palm against it. “I thought you were– nevermind.”

“Ah-huh.”

Your eyes roll as silence consumes you both. Once inside, your heels make little noise against the floors of the hallway of the brothel. The same goes for Sevika’s boots. You weren’t stupid enough to assume that her build would work as a disadvantage to stealth— she can move as silently as a pantheress waiting for the kill.

After walking past the many rooms to the left and right of you, you slip into the office of Babette after slipping through the curtains.

“Here” You put down the bottles a little too roughly on her desk, earning you an unimpressed glare from the elder woman. “Happy?”

“Just two?”

Her question doesn’t go unanswered for long. Sevika tosses the wine bottle into Babette’s hands. It’s almost the same size as her, but at least she didn’t stumble or fail to catch it.

“Good. Thank you, dear.” Babette hums, placing the drinks aside. Her ears twitch, gaze flitting from you to the woman behind you. “And this is… your next client? Again?”

“Would be,” Sevika grunts, rolling a shoulder. “If this place wasn’t so expensive.”

Babette scoffs, waving a hand in dismissal, “Oh, please. Silco must pay you enough to ask for Mallow here for a full night and then some. You’re becoming as greedy as the topsiders!”

Sevika doesn’t find herself particularly amused at being compared to such a group, but she lets it slide. She didn’t come here to fight with some rat who could use moisturizer more often.

Eyes rolling, you turn and leave the room, wrapping the fur cloak a little tighter around yourself once you return outside again. Sevika follows, though she doesn’t say anything to you just yet. She’s an odd woman– a bit of an enigma if you will. Not one to bite her tongue but not one to speak much, either.

Perhaps she’s just here to ask for another two hours of your services. You doubt it, though, considering her thoughts regarding the prices.

It’s only once your back reclines against the wall and she stands before you that she speaks.

“So,” She pauses only momentarily, plucking a cigar and lighter from her pocket and bringing the former between her lips. At least she didn’t forget to bring the lighter this time. “Are you allowed to entertain a potential customer outside your working hours, baby?”

“Mallow,” This time, you do correct her on your stage name. Sevika only purses her lips. “And…”

Technically, no. If a potential customer wanted you, then they’d have to pay with Babette and have everything go down in the brothel.

It’s strictly business. That’s how things go. That’s how you get your money in, too. You’ve never really done the whole “take me home for a one-night stand” thing. Your flings are within your workplace.

But it’s not completely forbidden. Would Babette be a little angry over not getting money in? Maybe.

Did you care? No.

“Yes,” At last, you answer. “But I’m not off my shift yet. I’m on break.”

Sevika doesn’t bother to hide her displeasure, lips curling around the cigarette before her chest heaves in a sharp inhale of the contents. Right, she thinks. You’re still on the clock.

She doesn’t want to wait, however. Patience is something she has— prides herself on sometimes. Not with this, though.

“I’m friends with the owner of all these places,” Sevika says, taking a step closer. Not that you can move anywhere. “I’ll tell her to tell your boss to cut you some slack for tonight.”

Is Sevika actually friends with Margot? No. They’re… acquaintances, at most. Still, she’s certain the woman will listen her out on this one thing.

Sevika’s not being straightforward, though. She’s hinting at things, but not saying them.

So you play dumb, too.

“Okay,” With a shrug, your arms cross under your chest. There’s a silence you purposefully let stretch out for a few seconds. “What for, though?”

Again, Sevika scoffs. She likes coy women— someone to pin down and pull out teasing remarks from their lips to instead replace with groans.

She’s at her end here, though. You’re just pushing her more. Poking the bear by pretending you don’t know what she wants.

Even if you want it, too. It’s stupid of you to assume her keen eyes don’t notice how close your legs are together under that coat.

“Because I want to take you back to my place,” Sevika responds, letting the cigar fall to the ground to crush under her boot once she steps forward again. How much heat pools between your legs when the woman bends at the knee a little is annoying. “Out of your own will. None of that shit you say to every customer of yours. No other rooms to listen to you,”

Sevika’s not done, though it’s her turn to have a silence grow. It adds to the tension.

Her copper hand rises, flicking at the edge of your mask, “And certainly not with this thing in the fucking way.”

Sevika doesn’t have to say more to convince you. You’re already wet—a bit of an uncomfortable feeling considering how thin the lace and cotton of your panties are.

And frankly, given how you’ve been aching to feel Sevika all over you again, you don’t hesitate to answer with an “Okay.”

Satisfied, Sevika leans back to stand to her full height again. Her chin jerks to the side before turning to leave the alley, expecting you to follow. Which, you do.

Others make way for Sevika to pass through the crowds, and therefore you, sparing the occasional glance your way. People know you’re not one of the woman’s goons, given that most trailed behind her like loyal dogs.

And, only workers from the brothel — as to not call yourself a whore — ever dress as you are out here.

“So,” While trying to keep up with Sevika’s brisk pace, you speak up, “You have an apartment down here?”

Her nose gives a slight crunch to the side, gray eyes peering down at you from the side, “Silco owns this whole damn city. What do you think?”

When you only raise a brow at Sevika to signal that she didn’t quite answer your question, she huffs, “Yes. It’s not anything fancy, though.”

You give a hum and nod. It’s not like you expect a bed with a canopy and golden details– this isn’t Piltover.

At some point, a hand lands on your lower back to guide you through the crowds and down an alley to go into a building to enter from the side. The walk is silent, though not necessarily awkward. It hits you here and now, in the elevator with lights that flicker, that this isn’t just some client you’re entertaining.

When’s the last time a person has seen you without the mask? That didn’t care for what you felt and merely saw you as what you were– an entertainment worker? Maybe years, given you’ve been working at the brothel for five, beginning at the fresh age of twenty.

Which, reminds you of the bigger question; How old is Sevika?

“You never told me your age,” Feeling bold, you voice your thoughts. It brings forth a snort from Sevika, her hand pushing into your spine to guide you out of the elevator once it dings.

“It’s considered rude to ask a woman that,” She jests, the grin on her lips stretching out the scar that mars the left side of her cheek. “But if you’re so curious, I’m fourty-two.”

Sevika’s not blind to the way a shiver rakes down your back. Whether it was from the revelation or the copper claws dancing along the area, she isn’t sure of.

“Haa,” Your head tilts back briefly to meet her gaze, feet stopping once you’re pulled to stand before a door. Sevika pulls out a key, jamming it into the hole before kicking the door open with her boot. Either she’s eager or aggressive– or both. “So I got myself a cougar?”

That earns you another snort and a tightening of the grip on your lower back, “If it humors you, then yes.”

Once inside the apartment, you look around for a moment. It’s not too bad, honestly. A kitchen with one or two dishes that could use cleaning, empty bottles on the counter, a dark living room, and two doors. One that led to a bathroom and another to the bedroom– the latter of which you’re guided into.

The room falls silent, tension consuming you both. It’s dark, save for the faded neon lights that enter through a window. Cold, too, though it’s safe to assume you’ll be warm soon enough.

There’s a thump of boots being dropped onto the floor, signaling for you to too, remove your shoes. The heels have been killing you, anyway.

Sevika circles your frame as you stand in the middle of her bedroom before coming to a halt before you. Her right hand rises, fingers gracing the apple of your cheek before grazing the edge of the mask you wear. She can feel the flush to your cheek. Hear the hitch of your breath when her thumb and pointer finger grab onto the edge of the mask.

Slowly, she pulls it up, all the while her copper arm extends to slide the fur coat down your body. In any case, you could say no. Insist that you want to keep your identity a secret. Perhaps, have some form of control over her. After all, if she wished to see you again, she’d have to pay.

But that idea was doomed the moment you agreed to come here during your break, was it not? Sevika had you hooked around her finger the moment they plunged into your cunt days ago.

What provided you warmth falls away onto the ground with a quiet ‘thump’, and alas, your vision becomes a bit more clear once your mask is too removed. Your gaze falls away for a moment. You’re not used to this kind of vulnerability. You’ve forbidden yourself from actual intimacy for the sake of keeping your heart safe.

Sevika’s right hand hooks under your chin, forcing your gaze back into hers.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding under that,” Sevika’s not talking about your body, obviously. She’s seen it bare before your face, after all. Her thumb skims under your eye, the heel of her palm directing your cheek to lean into the touch. “You have pretty eyes, Mallow”

“[Name],” You correct in a mutter, lips pursing for a moment when the woman hums in question. “My name’s [Name].”

“Ahh,” A sigh, the sound leaving Sevika’s chest in a thrum of satisfaction. “How lucky I am. To see your face and body and have your name in one night? You sure you don’t want me to pay you for it?”

That last question drips in sarcasm which makes you scoff.

But you don’t say anything else. You want it. Sevika wants it, too. Her left hand has been curling around your waist for the past two minutes, growing tighter and tighter and causing your flesh to give under the claws.

Sevika bends enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes drop to your neck, just like they had that one night, and instead feasted on your skin instead of your lips. Not this time.

Her thick lips mold into yours, taking your breath into her lungs as her head tilts to mirror yours. It’s rough– her tongue slipping between your lips, cold copper sliding to your rear to squeeze it and force a muffled groan into her mouth, and breaths making your chests heave.

Aggressive and dominant, but not suffocating. Sevika doesn’t plunge her tongue down your throat or poke at your teeth with it like some of your customers have in the past. She kisses with expertise; sliding her tongue against your own and allowing the warm muscles to mold before coaxing yours to give.

With a flesh hand at the edge of your jaw and another on your ass, your feet are forced to take steps back as Sevika’s body moves forward. Your own hands keep busy– one at the back of her head and sliding the short tufts free from that little bun and the other tugging the leathers and layers away from her frame.

Much like you had anticipated, the cold air of the room is no match for how much heat builds between the two of you.

Sevika’s body looms over yours once your back sinks into the mattress, two hands shifting to your hips to shift your head onto the pillows. Your knees give away to the sides, making a home for Sevika to settle into between them.

Copper claws skim along your stomach, sliding up and under the lace of your bra to brush against your nipple. It brings a shudder and whine out of you, forcing your face to pull back from the kiss to glance down at her ministrations.

“Fuck,” Sevika curses under her breath, gaze flitting from you to her left hand on your breast. A claw flicks it again, prompting your chest to heave and hips to buck. “You know how easily I could cut into your skin with this? And yet you’re mewling,”

Not that she’s complaining. Sevika’s merely pointing out the obvious.

“Shut up,” Flustered, your head shakes. Perhaps it is a bit odd to get so worked up over something like that. But it’s the fact that Sevika very well could create a scratch on your flesh but doesn’t that gets you going. The possibility. The threat.

Sevika taps a clawed finger on your flesh before sliding it back from under the lace, though that’s only to allow her to hook it under the bow at the middle and cut it free. Babette would complain about getting you a new set of lingerie for it.

Not that you cared.

“Tell me,” The woman begins, sliding away the torn bra from your frame with the help of her right hand and tossing it to the side. With your torso bare, she uses that same hand to slide down that flat space between your breasts. It navigates South, a thumb skimming over the line of your panties. “Have you thought about me these past few nights?”

Sevika would’ve slapped herself for asking such a question not even two weeks ago. It’s not that she doesn’t care for people – she does, having sacrificed an arm for Silco and dedicating her whole life to the citizens of Zaun – but a woman like her doesn’t do relationships. Intimacy isn’t for her.

And yet here she is, leaning above you and sitting between your legs. She’s been in the same position with other women before, but never in this context. Her bedroom has never felt so warm as it does with you on it. Her hands have never itched to trace every curve and dip and stretch marks on the hips so much as they do with your body.

“Aw,” You coo, albeit sarcastically. Your breath momentarily hitches once two fingers hook into the elastic band of your undergarments, though you don’t raise your hips just yet. “Will you be mad if I say no?”

A scoff, “No.”

Yes.

You choose to keep the question unanswered, even if the answer is a shameless ‘Yes’. Sevika’s been on your mind for the past few days. It affected your work a bit, even. You couldn’t focus.

And now, you focus too much. On the right hand that slides along your hip under your panties and the copper one that is currently busy removing your heels. Once your feet are bare, the claws curl around your right foot for a moment to give it a squeeze before letting it fall.

“Are there any things you don’t like?” Sevika questions, finally sliding down what kept your lower half covered down your legs to have you all bare before her eyes.

It makes you pause for a moment, lips pursing. Quite frankly, you forget your naked state. What did you not like? Your customers from the brothel essentially had free reign over your body other than removing your mask and hurting you. “Uh. No?”

Sevika gives you an unimpressed look. Rough as she likes to be and tough of a woman as she is, she has decorum and basic human decency. She’ll kill enforces and those who stand in the way of whatever her boss wants, sure – slice the head off someone’s neck without question –, but she’s not a complete monster.

“This isn’t the brothel, [Name].” The way your name slides off her tongue has a bit of that accent which makes your toes curl. Sevika’s not blind to the reaction, for she spares a glance down before meeting your eyes again. “Tell me what you don’t like, and tell me if we’re doing something and aren’t enjoying it.”

This time, you don’t reply with something witty or coy like, ‘What? Are you that much of a freak?’

“I suppose I wouldn’t like to be slapped,” With a shrug, your eyes drop to watch Sevika’s hand. It’s curled around the upper part of your inner thigh, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze to test out the fat. “Nor degraded.”

“Hm,” Sevika hums, patting your leg before raising her right hand to your lips and coaxing them open with her middle and index finger. She doesn’t have to instruct you to wrap your tongue around the digits with a shuddered breath– you do as hinted. Once warm and wet from your saliva, she withdraws it to return it South and cup your mound. “And this?”

Her left hand moves to wrap around your throat, forcing your head to tip back with an intake of air as the copper cools your skin. It doesn’t give too much of a squeeze to save your skin from getting a cut, though it does apply pressure.

Sevika bends, brushing her lips over your cheek to feel the flush of your skin, “I assume you don’t mind it?”

“No–” A quiet cough from your lungs, throat bobbing with a swallow. There’s too much going around your body to focus properly;

Sevika’s mouth on your skin. The pads of her fingers collecting the slick between your legs to then spread it over your clit. Her hand around your neck.

Your head shakes a little after you clear your throat, “No. No, I don’t. I like it.”

That’s what she wants to hear.

Sevika rewards you by pushing her middle finger into your heat, the second following after allowing you to get used to the stretch. A breath leaves your lungs with a heave of your bare chest, the long-awaited touch one that makes you melt away into nothing.

The woman above you clenches her jaw, the lines down her nose showing a bit more under the little light in the room. Truly, Sevika isn’t sure just what drew her to you. Part of her wonders if you’ll just go back to the brothel after this and that it’ll allow her to forget all about you.

But how could it? She’s craved you since that night when her tongue lapped away at your essence from your fingers. Curse you, causing her mind to drift off on occasions whilst on the job.

Sevika might be loyal and true to her boss, but she’s certainly no saint. She’s only human– a woman who craves another every so often to relieve stress. Except tonight, she’s far from it.

Her head dips once more, capturing your lips in a searing kiss and taking your moans into her mouth. A thumb works away at your clit, keeping the pace and curling of her fingers inside you slow and steady but building up the speed and pressure of the former.

Sevika’s tongue in your mouth doesn’t allow yours to take the reins. It pushes and forces yours to give, though it’s not suffocating. Your hands find themselves burying into her hair, the silky strands falling between your fingertips as you pull them free from a bun at the top.

She sighs in relief and pleasure.

“How come,” You begin, words breathed out between smacks of lips. Your right hand slides down Sevika’s shoulder, following a path to her sternum before dropping to her left breast. It earns you a brief squeeze on your throat, though it’s not like she’s stopping you. “I’m the only one naked?”

“Hmph” Sevika huffs into your mouth, pulling back to gaze down at you as the middle phalanx of her two fingers presses right against your g-spot, pulling a mewl from your throat like a rod to a fish. They push up against the area in gentle pulses, building up an orgasm as her damp thump continues to work. “We’ll get to that in a bit.”

Her faux hand drops away from your throat to land on your stomach, the flesh ensuring the claws wouldn’t dig in so easily as she pushes down on the area to prevent your hips from bucking.

She watches in silence, her own chest now heaving at the sight of you– panting and flushed beneath her gaze, pulling at her hair and pressing against her chest the more warmth builds up inside of you.

Sevika works you open properly– mindfully and carefully but thoroughly. She’s a woman of experience. If you focus enough and allow your eyes not to flutter in the haze of pleasure, you can see the slight flex at her forearm. The clenching of her jaw and curling of her thick nose.

Gazes meet again, grey eyes boring into your irises. You’re both enthralled.

Your orgasm hits with a final curl of Sevika’s fingers and push of her thumb against a puffy clit, eyes closing with a whine and shudder down your spine as your shoulders tense and relax. Sevika grunts upon feeling the clench around her fingers, feeling every pulse within your heat, and keenly aware of your reactions.

“There you go, pretty,” Sevika drawls, offering one final tap of her thumb before slowly withdrawing her hand. She’s longed for this– the taste of you on her tongue.

You watch as Sevika pulls her right hand up to her lips, taking the two digits within her mouth and pushing her tongue between them before giving them a slow suck. She’s slow and methodical about it– teasing you if you will.

Giving you a show of what you could have if you had the heart to ask.

And considering embarrassment and awkwardness has long been thrown out that window, “Can I sit on your face?”

Sevika pauses, eyes going a bit wide for a moment before she snorts out a chuckle. Her smile lines look a bit more defined. “And here I thought you’d be a bit more subtle in asking me to eat you out. You’re as crude as they come, huh?”

“You did tell me to cut the bullshit I tell all my clients.”

“Please,” She scoffs, though it’s lighthearted. “As if you’ve ever begged someone to go down on you in that whorehouse.”

You want to protest. After all, what does Sevika know about you and the job you’ve been working in for five years? Nothing, but enough.

“I didn’t beg you, though,” You come up with a retort, using your elbows to sit up and keeping your legs spread as Sevika sits on her knees between them. “I asked.”

“And you’ll receive.”

Once more do gazes not tear away from each other. Until Sevika chooses to finally, finally begin to unclasp all those damn leathers and fabrics. She starts with that damn cloak, revealing the full length of her prosthetic arm. It’s just about as thick as her right, which, you know, speaks volumes about the sheer mass on her body.

Next is the right shoulder plate, which she uses her left hand to remove it so and breathing out a sigh once the weight comes off.

“Now,” She hums, a grin curling at the edges of her lips. “Will you help an old woman out here?”

“Old?” You echo, pushing yourself up further. Sure, the woman’s a good seventeen years your senior. The only signs of her age are likely scars you’ll get to reveal in a bit and the lines on her face and bags under her face. “I think older would be a sweeter word. Do you not recall I called you beautiful?”

Sevika tuts. Yes, she remembers. It’s not that she’s insecure about her looks– she’s prideful in it, after so many years of carrying this damn shithole on her back. But she’s always looked at herself as a more worn-out, rough kind of woman.

Her skin clean but cut like the sharp, smooth tone of Piltover’s statues.

She supposes, however, that you’ll be the soft to cushion her rough.

Your hands push up her shirt, lips pressing against the defined planes of a broad abdomen that hardens under your kisses. Sevika doesn’t usually allow others to touch her as such, especially not so gently– treating her like a porcelain doll that’ll break when she’s far from it.

Then, teeth sink into her brown skin under her ribs. Sevika groans, a hand curling into the back of your head to press your cheek into her flesh before tipping it back. Her eyes narrow, peering down at you. At least, they try to. Her breasts are a bit in the way.

“Brat,” She spits, a breath huffing out from between clenched teeth. “You want to try that again?”

You hum, the sound vibrating into her skin. It’s hard not to chuckle a bit. Perhaps you’re threading too close to crossing a line, but when will you get to have such freedom over her body again?

Nonetheless, you don’t take the warning for granted. Your lips press a smooch to the place you had bitten into, then two. Sevika’s fingers loosen on your hair, instead rubbing into the back of your scalp. A reward, if you will.

Once your fingers properly curl into her shirt and Sevika lifts her arms, you push the fabric up and away. You could moan, really.

Fuck that, you do.

“So not only do you hide these guns– or well… gun,” Your head tips to Sevika’s right arm. She’s not lost on your joke– she only has one bicep, after all. Still, she lets it pass. “But these, too?”

Gently, your nails skim up Sevika’s abdomen, palms and fingers eventually coming to cup her heavy breasts that rise with a breath at the contact. The bandages keep them covered, and Sevika swears on her life they’ve never felt so tight around the flesh before.

“Are you done being cheeky?”

“What?” Pulling back to properly peer up at her, a snicker slips from your lips. “You can tease me but I can’t tease you?”

That’s enough of an answer for Sevika; No.

Her left hand curls around the back of your neck this time, the coppers and mechanics on her shoulder clinking a bit this time. Another warning.

With that, you pat around the bandages before finding the end that’s tucked between the rest. Pulling it free, they begin to fall away with your guidance. Sevika breathes out another sigh, carefully raking the claws of her prosthetic down your bare back.

You watch for a moment, admiring the rise and fall of her chest and gawking at her tits. They’re pretty– full and heavy as they spill to the sides, with already-hard nipples a few shades darker than her skin tone.

Before you can take one into your mouth, Sevika leans back. You hope she didn’t hear the whine at the back of your throat.

“Don’t be so disappointed now.”

Sevika drops both of her hands to her sharp hips, unbuckling the belt of her pants with a huff and following your eyes as they drop to watch her actions. She shifts enough to allow her pants to fall alongside the many straps of leather around them.

She’s naked now, save for the boy shorts that keep her shorts covered. There are a few tufts of black hairs at the base of her navel that peek out and lead South to the area you want to see most.

Which, Sevika doesn’t waste time in giving you a view of. Her undergarments fall and are tossed away with the rest of her clothes. There’s a brief shudder from her once the cold air of the room meets the warmth built between her thighs.

Sevika leans back, laying flat on her back with a groan and planting her feet onto the mattress. Her right hand raises, a single finger pointing down at her face. “You won’t keep me waiting, will you?”

Ah, right.

“Coming.”

Not yet, you’re not.

Slowly, you crawl over her body. Your palm skims up a firm thigh on the way, following a path up to a taut abdomen to get at least one squeeze on one breast. It causes Sevika’s hips to shift for a moment, though she says nothing.

Once your knees are by the sides of her head, her eyes peer up at the small gap between your thighs and then to your cunt. Both of her hands fall onto your hips, guiding you a bit more properly so that she can press an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. A bite, however gentle.

Your breath is held in your lungs, leaving in a soft groan once a kiss is pressed to your mound and the hook of Sevika’s nose briefly nuzzles into your clit hidden into its hood.

“Ride my face like you mean it.”

That’s the only heads-up you get before fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips before they pull you down.

Sevika stuffs her face between your thighs, groaning into the warmth as her tongue pushes in. Your knees spread a bit further to the sides, allowing your weight to fall further onto her face and giving the woman under you more access.

You do as told, rocking your hips back and forth between huffs of breaths and whines from your lips. It feels heavenly– large hands at your hips to support your frame from toppling forward, a nose with a perfect, smooth hook to grind into, and a warm muscle pushing into you as much as it can.

One of your arms goes behind your back to place your hand on Sevika’s abdomen, giving you a bit more leverage on the movement of your hips and weight you put down on her mouth.

“Fuck,” The curse leaves you in a high, breathy pitch. Momentarily, you apply your body weight onto your knees to sit up properly and remove Sevika’s face from between your legs. Heat’s already pooling under your abdomen, piling up much too quickly for your liking. She’s going to make you come in under a fucking minute. “Sevika, I don’t want to finish just–”

Sevika groans, keeping her left hand on your hip and dropping her right onto your mound to spread your lips apart to further reveal your clit. Her mouth latches onto the bud with her eyes squeezed shut, reveling in the way your body drops back onto her face from the sheer pleasure that wracks through your body.

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and if it weren’t for Sevika’s hold on your hips, you would’ve long ripped your body away from her starving mouth. Even after the warmth rakes from the top of your head to the very tips of your fingers, she keeps going.

The older woman groans, freeing your sensitive clit from between her lips to dive her tongue back into your cunt and keep stimulating the bud with the help of her nose. Her fingers flex, forcing your hips to rock back and forth.

Your knees are too weak to push your body up this time. Once more does your arm reach behind your back to place your palm flat on Sevika’s abdomen, only this time, your nails scratch into the hard flesh. A groan is muffled between your thighs, and you watch as thick brows furrow with a hint of pleasure before the hand at your right hip leaves you to instead wrap copper claws around your wrist to pin it to your spine.

You’d think that one hand wouldn’t be enough to keep your weight on Sevika’s face. That you’d be able to get a breather and let your overstimulated body rest.

Wrong. So very wrong.

“Sevika,” You try to warn the woman between heavy breaths that you can’t. The knot inside you coils tighter and tighter. Pleasure has never felt so good it hurts in a good kind of way, leaving your skin as flushed as a feverish ember ready to burst. “Please–”

“Come on,” Sevika croons against your sex, tipping her head back to press her lips against your clit so that her nose sits snugly over your mound. “You can give me one more, I’m sure.”

Not that she gives you much of an option by pressing her tongue flat against your clit to draw firm circles against it, pulling your third orgasm of the night with a flick and suck on the bud. You fall over the edge with a sharp cry, muscles tensing and sweat built up on your skin.

At least, this time, Sevika pulls back. Her left hand leaves your wrist, using both to guide your body to fall against the mattress by your hips.

Falling back onto the bed on your back with a groan, your body turns to the side a bit. You have to catch your breath for a moment– let the sensitivity between your legs cease before going any further. It feels like every fiber of your being is alive.

With a hum, Sevika gives a pat to your calf before sliding off the bed, striding over to the nightstand, and pulling a drawer open. Her back is to you, muscles rippling along the brown skin that glows with the occasional brighter flash of light from the outside.

Her shoulders look like mountains, each bump a sharp edge but skin smooth. There’s the occasional scar on her body, all a shade slightly lighter than her tone. Some are bumpy, others with the occasional ridges.

Usually, you don’t take too much interest in the bodies of your clients, much less the stories old wounds could tell.

But Sevika isn’t a client tonight.

You watch under the dim light as Sevika straps a harness around her hips. It’s not made out of leather, or nylon. If anything, it resembles the copper of her arm. There’s the faintest hint of bright purple along the middle, resembling the vibrant shimmer many of your co-workers go as far as to smoke.

Granted, you’ve indulged in it here and there.

But you’ve never seen it used in this context.

With a groan, Sevika attaches the faux cock onto the harness, a shudder causing her forearm and bicep to flex. The metal belt of the strap-on sits heavy on her hips, light-weight as it is to make movement easier.

“So those are the contraptions you and Silco’s goons make with shimmer?” You muse, though really, the remark is sarcastic. “A shimmer strap-on?”

“You say that now,” Sevika turns to face you, watching your throat bob in a swallow once she gives you a proper view of the not-so-little “contraption”. “But I’m sure you’ll like it.”

She prowls back over to you, her heavy frame dropping onto the bed with a knee on the mattress to then smoothly sling her right thigh over your body. Sevika straddles you so, her right hand on your left hip and the other sliding up your torso. It moves to your shoulder, claws following a path down your arm before carefully curling around your wrist.

“Will it feel different?” You can’t help but wonder.

Sevika hums, a single shoulder shrugging. “Probably. You’ll get used to it, and I’ve got lube.”

“Do you feel anything from it?”

That makes the brute snort, though she nods, “Yes. Quite.”

Your head turns to the nightstand, and after a moment’s worth of consideration, your right arm extends to catch the bottle of lube in your hand to pop the cap open with your thumb. With how your left hand is currently pinned, Sevika uses her flesh hand to pry the bottle from you and squeeze some onto your palm.

After she tosses the bottle to the ground, her right hand smooths down your hip once more. Your own – the one now coated with the lubricant – falls to the side of the shaft, earning a groan from Sevika once your fingers wrap around it properly.

She shudders at a squeeze, even if it doesn’t give away much under the pressure.

“Shit,” A hiss between clenched teeth, Sevika bends her upper body down, her breasts smushing against your own. Her hips rock, the electric response from the strokes leaving her body aching for more. It applies some sort of pressure to her clit– a much more satisfying feeling than when the chemical is pumped into her prosthetic arm before a fight.

Without a word, your head tilts, bringing the two of you into a kiss. Sevika complies, parting your lips open with a soft groan before pushing her tongue into your mouth. Each pump of your hand is a stroke of her tongue against yours. A squeeze to your wrist when your own fingers squeeze.

It’s a few seconds of warm-up, allowing yourselves a moment of relaxation and pleasure.

Eventually, Sevika’s hand guides your left thigh to curl over her hip. You comply by doing the same with the other and letting your hand fall away. She sighs into your mouth at the loss of contact, only briefly pulling back from the kiss to look into your eyes.

A pause. Your head nods, and with that, Sevika takes your lips right back against hers as her hips shift forward.

The head of her dick pushes into you slowly at first, a mutual groan between you both. The stretch and slight sting are soothed by the lubricant and previous preparation. Your own hand drops below your navel, giving your clitoris a few rubs to further relax your body.

“There you go,” Sevika’s words are murmured against your lips, her mouth pulling back to slide down your throat and latch onto the side of your throat. As she sucks at the flesh, her left hand leaves your waist in favor of dropping them both to your hips, rising them off the bed to guide herself in deeper. When you whine, she rewards you with a nip of her teeth. “Keep touching yourself.”

You do as told, rubbing the pads of two of your fingers against your clit as Sevika fucks herself into you. With you relaxed, you’re able to take all of her. A moan spills from your lips once Sevika’s hips go flush against yours for the first time, and she allows a sound to leave her as well.

Only, once the woman picks up a rhythm, you don’t have it in yourself to keep your hands to yourself. Gods, no.

Sevika plunges into your cunt with a shuddered groan, her back flexing once your palms fall flat against the surface of her warm skin. She hides her face into the crook of her neck, brows pulling together in pleasure as your nails rake down her back.

The sting is what she likes.

Her hands lift your hips a bit higher, forcing your hands to the middle of her back as her upper body lifts up. She gazes down at you, watching herself disappear between your legs with each delicious and sharp thrust of her hips. Her eyes are calculating, watching for when your breath will hitch and eyes roll back.

Only when she folds your knees back into your chest and bends her body over yours does she get that reaction.

Your arms fall to your sides, bare chest rising before a cry in bliss leaves your throat. Sevika pushes into you with precision, the right hand that drops between your legs to rub at your clit making an already-building orgasm to rise quicker.

Sevika’s breasts move with each of her movements, her right bicep flexing as pleasure rolls down her body through the strap. It warms her skin, feeling your warmth wrapped snug but relaxed enough around her,

Her head tips back with a particular thrust, a vein at the side of her neck stretching out against the brown skin. You react all the same, your palms finding support by pressing flat against the hard planes of Sevika’s abdomen– not that it slows down her tempo by a smidge, though. Your thumb brushes over her pubic hairs, earning another shudder from the woman.

With one hand against Sevika’s navel near the belt of the harness, the other rises to grasp into the now slightly damp and silky strands of black hair. Sevika dips her head down to give you more leverage in doing so, lashes fluttering as she pushes in deeper by bending her body over yours further.

She’s in deep. Your legs feel weak, toes curling as a sharp sensation wracks your body from within to the base of your spine. It’s from the shimmer, no doubt.

Sevika doesn’t have to tell you she’s close. The muscles of her abdomen grow a bit tauter, thick brows drawing together. She’s lost in bliss, keeping the tandem of her thrusts at the same pace and depth to keep your orgasm from falling away from your fingertips.

Your lips skim over Sevika’s left shoulder, panting against the flesh that’s still left before it connects with the prosthetic. Her right hand still works away at your clit, though her left curls and tears into the sheets of the mattress.

Your body’s warm. Too warm from the past three orgasms. Not that the pleasure ends, even if Sevika’s thrusts grow a bit shorter– she doesn’t separate herself from you fully now, too addicted to the way your cunt feels around her cock to fully withdraw herself from.

Sevika grunts into your neck as her orgasm builds, her chest heaving against your own and the short strands of her hair tickling at your skin. She’s not sure of when her left hand comes up to hold and cradle your waist, the fingers of her right hand applying more pressure to your bud.

With your end nearing, your teeth sink into the flesh of Sevika’s shoulder, sending her over the edge with that spark of pain and pleasure combined with the intentional tightening of your insides around her. She moans into your skin, back muscles rippling as your nails slide from her hair down to her spine as if following the shudder that runs down the bone.

Your orgasm hits soon after, the shimmer from the strap sending yet another spark of pleasure and relief into your system. The sound of ecstasy that leaves you is much quieter, muffled into the flesh between your teeth as your body writhes and pulses.

A silence settles in the bedroom, save for the pants shared between Sevika and you both. Stuffy as the atmosphere feels with the scent of sex and heat of bodies, your teeth take some time to pry away finally. After coming down from your high, your legs fall limp and drop back onto the mattress with a quiet ‘thump’.

The woman above you lifts her head, pushing her upper half to straighten and peer down at your frame. Ever so slowly, Sevika draws her hips back, shuddering at the loss of warmth with a shake of her head.

Neither of you speaks, though it’s not an awkward silence. Sevika removes the harness, tossing it to the floor before sliding her right palm from the side of your thigh, up your hip, and over to your stomach.

You admire her body– brown skin dotted with the occasional bead of sweat and muscles taut. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath, relaxed as they are now.

She admires yours, even if she won’t allow herself to admit it.

“You good?” Sevika questions, breaking the silence at last. Her pointer finger taps against your abdomen, just once.

Your head nods before letting it relax against the pillow, “Yeah.”

“Are you going back to the brothel?”

“Not if you hire me forever.”

.✦ ݁˖ controlling your socials

.✦ ݁˖ pathetic sierra

Ash has never been this tired from practice before. Even her coach ─ a hard-headed and tough woman ─ has given not one, not two, but three pats on the back from how hard she's pushed herself today. Her hair, short as it is, is glued to her nape. She doesn't even need gel to push her bangs back; the sweat does it for her.

"Last time you were this winded was when your parents came to your first practice, Barker," Amber drawls. There's a teasing tilt to her tone, and Ash grumbles when her friend elbows her side. She jerks her chin towards the bleachers, where you are. "Are you trying to impress your new girl?"

"Pfft. What? No," Ash isn't lying. Not exactly. Sure, it's nice that you're here to watch her, but you're just doing your part of the deal. No one knows that you two aren't actually dating. Ash just pushed herself extra hard today because the cheerleading team is also practicing, and where there's the cheer skirts and pom poms, there's Evie. "I'm just... trying to keep my form up."

"Uh-huh."

After the coach clears everyone out for the day, Ash makes her way over to you. She removes her jersey with a groan, wiping the sweat collected on her collarbones and abs before tossing it over to you. Her eyes roll with a grin when you shriek and scoot away from it, "Oh, come on. How's anyone to believe we're together when you won't even wear my jersey?"

"Ash, it stinks," You retort, eyeing the damp piece of cloth like it's an enemy. It doesn't really smell. It reeks of deodorant and some fancy cologne ─ probably some Tom Ford shit ─ but it's sweaty. You signed up for kisses on the cheek and hand-holding, not that. "I've done you the honor of wearing your hoodies. That's enough."

"Sure, sweetheart," Ash doesn't push on the matter. She swipes her thumb beneath the band of her sports bra with a grimace before jumping over the fence to land on the bleachers. She takes a seat next to you, making a show of placing an arm around your waist to tuck you against her side. "What do ya have there?"

"Your lunch?"

Ash blinks.

"Lunch?"

"You're not having me tutor you on what lunch is, are you?" The sarcasm is thick on your tongue. With a huff, you pass over the bag of goodies to Ash's lap. "I figured you'd be hungry. Plus, it sells the bit, doesn't it?"

It does. Evie had never been the type to bring Ash lunch, much less one that looks homemade. It's simple, really─ the kind of lunch her mother used to make her back when she was little; a sandwich stuffed with protein and some lettuce, an electrolyte, an apple, and some cookies. White-chocolate chip, too. Her favorite.

"Yeah," Ash answers after a minute of going silent, slipping the sandwich from its ziplock baggy to take a bite of. She's used to being on the campus all day, and with it, the low-quality cafeteria food. It explains the moan of bliss Ash lets out around a mouthful, though she's mindful enough to chew and swallow before speaking again. "Holy shit. I'm forcing you to bring me this every day. And an electrolyte? You care for me already, don't you?"

That little croon shouldn't make you shudder, but it does. It's only been a few weeks of this─ the pretending. Given that you're on the same courses, Ash has actually been making an effort to attend to class and pay attention. She's come over to your house for study sessions. You two are never not seen holding hands, though it's Ash who always links fingers first.

"Whatever lets you sleep at night." Your palm carefully pushes Ash's face away from yours. She laughs, though the sound dies out when her attention drifts to the left.

Evie's there.

Honestly, it's a little strange how angry her ex looks considering she was the one who broke things off in the first place. From what Ash has told you, Evie wasn't even a good girlfriend in the first place. You're not sure why Ash wants her back.

And you're not sure why you accepted to this whole little deal in the first place, either.

"Evie's looking, babe," Ash points out. She finishes her sandwich in two more bites, wiping any crumbs with the back of her hand. To remove the taste, she fetches the drink, cracks it open, and is quick to down the entire thing in a few gulps. It's hard not to stare at the way her throat bobs with each swallow. How some of the liquid rains down her chin and onto her sternum. Ash ruins it with a burp. "Sorry. Okay, so─"

She doesn't give you much time to think before her hands are on your hips to haul you onto her lap. For someone so slim ─ lean, sure, but rather skinny ─ she sure as hell is strong. Your hands land on her shoulders awkwardly, and you try to ignore the sudden feeling of being stared at by the rest of her mates.

You're not used to such attention. Ash knows that.

Ash also doesn't care.

"Can I leave a hickey on you?"

"What?! No."

Ash whines like a puppy, "But why? It's perfect. Evie's there, and I can assure you she'll stomp out if I leave something riiiight─"

Her thumb brushes the side of your throat, right over your jugular. You shudder, then smack her hand away.

"You forget about my rules, Ash," You remind her, eyes rolling. She deflates visibly, but her hands on your hips keep their grip. "No─"

"No hickeys, nothing spicy. Yeah, yeah... What about a kiss?"

Your nose wrinkles on purpose, "After a shower, maybe."

Ash groans, finally letting you go enough for you to stand. She takes her bag ─ and her lunch ─ as she follows you down the bleachers and to the locker room. Her free hand, however, delivers a light smack to your backside on the way down. She huffs a humorous laugh when you shoot her a glare.