#canon setting

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.”

Nie Mingjue wants to hit something, wants to slam his fist into the next wall, and only the thought that he has already hurt Jiang Cheng beyond belief with his actions stops him.

It wouldn’t do to hurt Jiang Cheng’s home as well.

Nie Mingjue scrubs a hand over his face, the regret still putting a sour taste on his tongue, and he wonders where they will go from here.

It’s clear to him that he just lost Jiang Cheng—and rightfully so, with what he did—and the thought makes his heart stumble painfully.

Nie Mingjue has been in love with Jiang Cheng since the Sunshot Campaign and he doesn’t understand how he could lose control like this after all this time. There is no excuse for it; it’s not his first visit to Lotus Pier, it’s not the first time he has been alone with Jiang Cheng and it’s certainly not the first time Jiang Cheng smiled at him.

There is simply no good explanation for it, and Nie Mingjue feels like that only makes it worse. There wasn’t even a trigger and that means he can never trust himself again.

“Zongzhu, I—” a disciple suddenly says as she steps into the room, but she falls silent when she sees that Jiang Cheng is no longer there. “Where is Jiang-zongzhu?” she asks, her eyes already narrowed at Nie Mingjue.

“He left,” Nie Mingjue rasps out and then bows to her. “Please tell him that I’m—” he wants to say sorry but it doesn’t feel like enough, doesn’t feel like it could even begin to put everything right.

“I will take my leave,” Nie Mingjue says instead. “Please reassure him that I will not return unless he asks me to.”

It feels like the least he can do, to stay away from Jiang Cheng until the other man wants to see him again, if that case should ever happen.

“What did you do?” the disciple asks, her voice noticeably colder and Nie Mingjue shrugs helplessly.

“Something I shouldn’t have,” he finally whispers and he was not prepared for how fast she suddenly moves, but the next thing he knows, her sword is at his throat.

“Did you hurt him?” she asks, her voice dangerously low and Nie Mingjue keeps himself completely still.

“I think so, yes,” he mumbles, afraid to speak too loudly in case the movement makes her sword bite into his throat.

“Then you will leave,” she tells him, almost sweetly now, and Nie Mingjue has to admit that he hasn’t been this afraid of someone in ages.

He absolutely believes that she is going to kill him should she find out what he did to Jiang Cheng.

“You will leave and you will stay the hell away from him. And if you don’t, if you show your face here again, if you dare to hurt him again, you will be a dead man.”

Nie Mingjue swallows at her words, and just like he thought her sword bites into his throat. The pain is minimal but it’s the least he deserves.

“Understood,” he gets out and despite everything he is beyond glad to see that Jiang Cheng has good people at his side.

“Then scram,” she tells him, finally taking the sword away from his throat and Nie Mingjue should be offended by her behaviour but instead he bows deeply to her.

“If you think he wants to hear it, tell him I’m sorry, please,” he says, even though it’s still no excuse.

It’s not like there could ever be an excuse for kissing someone against their will.

“We’ll see about that,” she haughtily tells him, and Nie Mingjue supposes that’s the best he can hope for.

He bows to her again and just in that moment the door opens a second time and in steps Jiang Cheng.

“Zongzhu,” the disciple says, her sword still in her hand and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at her.

“What is going on here?”

“I am leaving,” Nie Mingjue says, not daring to come out of his bow and meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “Words cannot express how sorry I am,” he still forces himself to say. “Rest assured that I won’t be back until you explicitly ask me to.”

“Like hell you will,” Jiang Cheng snaps and Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.

“Zongzhu,” the disciple starts but Jiang Cheng cuts her off.

“If that is his blood on your blade, then we will talk later,” he tells her and now Nie Mingjue finally comes out of his bow.

“Please do not punish her. She was justified in her actions.”

“I doubt that,” Jiang Cheng says, his eyes falling to the no doubt shallow cut on Nie Mingjue’s throat. “Leave now.”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue says exactly at the same time the disciple says it and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at Nie Mingjue.

“You are going to stay,” he tells him and of course Nie Mingjue nods.

He’ll do anything Jiang Cheng says, in an attempt to make up for what he did.

“Zongzhu, Nie-zongzhu,” the disciple says but her tone is still as frosty as before.

Jiang Cheng watches her leave before he turns to Nie Mingjue.

“I’m sorry about her,” he says. “She’s my second in command and she can get a little bit overprotective.”

“No need to apologize. It’s good that you have loyal people like that,” Nie Mingjue says, unable to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

He wonders if Jiang Cheng is going to yell at him, or if he’s simply going to tell him to get out and never come back but in the end it doesn’t matter. He’ll take whatever Jiang Cheng deems an appropriate punishment for his actions.

“You’re bleeding,” Jiang Cheng mutters, already reaching for a handkerchief but when he steps forward Nie Mingjue moves back.

“That’s alright,” he says. “It’s just a shallow cut, there’s no need to concern yourself with something like this, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Mingjue, what the hell,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and moves forward so fast that Nie Mingjue doesn’t have time to step back. “Just let me clean it.”

Nie Mingjue can do nothing but obediently tilt his head back to give Jiang Cheng easier access to the wound.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but please rest assured that it won’t happen again,” Nie Mingjue can’t help but to say as Jiang Cheng dabs at his throat.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snaps at him and Nie Mingjue snaps his mouth closed.

If Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to hear him speak then he won’t.

“Mingjue, I—”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t dare to look but he’s reasonably sure that Jiang Cheng is no longer cleaning the cut, but instead resting his hands on his chest and he doesn’t know what to think of that at all.

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue whispers yet again and Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath.

“Will you stop saying that, for heaven’s sake,” Jiang Cheng groans out.

Nie Mingjue shakes his head as he takes a step back, making Jiang Cheng’s hands fall away from his chest.

“No. Never. Because I am so incredibly sorry. I never meant to—” he takes a deep breath and scrubs a hand over his face.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng suddenly says and Nie Mingjue freezes.

“What?” he whispers and finally looks at Jiang Cheng.

It seems like now it’s Jiang Cheng who can’t meet his gaze, but Nie Mingjue is fascinated by the light blush on his cheeks and it’s a sight he surely will never tire of.

“I’ve been in love for you for a very long time,” Jiang Cheng admits, his hands nervously playing with the handkerchief. “So when you kissed me, I just—I didn’t deal well with it. I’ve wanted that for so long and I just—I didn’t know what to do with that. Leaving seemed like the safer option.”

“You love me,” Nie Mingjue repeats, his heartbeat tentatively taking up speed as the words truly sink in. “You are in love with me.”

“Stop saying it!” Jiang Cheng hisses at him, now definitely red in the face and Nie Mingjue laughs.

“Never. Say it again?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng says, sticking his chin out. “Not before I hear you say it. Or isn’t that why you kissed me?”

There’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and that is something that Nie Mingjue cannot allow at all.

“Of course I love you. I wouldn’t kiss you if I didn’t,” Nie Mingjue immediately reassures him, taking a step forward and pulling Jiang Cheng close with a hand on his hip. “I love you,” he whispers into the space between them and when Jiang Cheng raises his head a little bit, Nie Mingjue doesn’t hesitate.

This kiss might even be better than the first one, because at least now Nie Mingjue knows that Jiang Cheng wants it as well.

“I apologize for my second,” Jiang Cheng says when they part, his fingers drifting over Nie Mingjue’s throat again. “I’ll talk to her.”

“No need,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and captures his hand to kiss his fingers. “She thought I hurt you, so there’s nothing to hold against her. I’m glad you have her.”

“She overreacted,” Jiang Cheng sighs out.

“She thought I hurt you,” Nie Mingjue reiterates. “If I thought someone hurt you, I would have done way worse. Hell, I would have cut myself if I thought it would make it up to you.”

“Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng whispers, his eyes wide. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I thought I did. I thought I took something you were unwilling to give. Her reaction was mild in comparison to what I deserve for that.”

“It was willingly given,” Jiang Cheng softly says and Nie Mingjue pulls him into a hug.

“And I will forever be grateful for that,” he mumbles into Jiang Cheng’s hair, the stress and worry finally falling off him.

“If you still want to make up for it, though, you can do so with more kisses,” Jiang Cheng shyly says into his shoulder and Nie Mingjue allows himself to smile.

“I will want to make up for that for the rest of my life,” he promises Jiang Cheng and pushes Jiang Cheng just far enough away to get started on that immediately.

If kissing Jiang Cheng is his punishment, then Nie Mingjue will gladly take it. And going by the smile that curves Jiang Cheng’s lips as Nie Mingjue kisses him, he is just as glad.

He turned his head a little to look at her, and to acknowledge her presence.  She hadn’t changed much in appearance, he thought; it was most likely imagination that suggested she was even thinner now than when they’d arrived.  He felt guilty for bringing her to this desolate place, as useless as that sentiment was, and it clouded his judgment.  It was frustrating that he allowed emotion to rule his thoughts like this since his release from internment at the end of the war.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Saitō-san—”

“Hajime.”

“Oh! I keep forgetting… I mean, Hajime-san.” She pronounced the syllables of his first name with special emphasis, and then smiled shyly.  He smiled in return, feeling the usual twin rush of satisfaction with her and dissatisfaction with himself for allowing his emotions such free rein.

“Is there a problem?”

“Ah, well, it will be getting dark soon, and it’s not very warm out today already, so I thought maybe you’d like to come in and have some tea?”  She squared her shoulders, and continued, “It’s really too cold for sitting on the ground you know, H-Hajime-san.”

“Hmm.”  She was right of course.  The air didn’t yet smell of snow, but tonight they would have frost.

“Or perhaps I should fetch water so that I can start heating a bath—”

“No—I mean, it isn’t necessary for you to fetch the water.  I’ll get it.”  The full bucket was heavy, and awkward for her to carry from the well they shared with their closest neighbours.  But that wouldn’t stop her, once she’d made up her mind that he needed a hot bath.

“Okay! Thank you, Hajime-san.”

“Chizuru… You do not need to thank me for fetching us water.”  He couldn’t help the amusement he felt creep into his tone.  “Especially not when it is water for my own bath.”

“Ah—”

“Although of course you are welcome to bathe first, if you wish.” Saitō kept a perfectly straight face, and waited for the inevitable reaction to such a shocking breach of custom (not to mention Chizuru’s manifest personal inclination).

“Oh no, Saitō-san! I could never do that!”  Sure enough, his beloved—his wife—was appalled.  But after only a moment she returned, undeterred, to her purpose. “So you’ll go fetch water now, then? And drink some tea while I heat your bath?”

Helpless before such determined care, Saitō rose from seiza, and pressed a light kiss to Chizuru’s forehead. That wasn’t quite enough to convey his gratitude, so he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest.  He ignored her faint—very faint—protest of embarrassment.

“Yes, dear one.  I will fetch water now, and then we will have tea while it heats.”  He’d endured so much worse than sitting for an hour on cold ground in the past—days and weeks of sleeping injured and without shelter during the war in Aizu—but he knew that she knew this, and understood that it was why she was determined to spoil him (his word, not hers, of course).

“…Well, good then. … I mean, thank you for fetching the water.”  Her words were muffled by his kimono, but neither of them moved to break the embrace right away.

There would be frost on the ground tonight, but Saitō knew that he wouldn’t feel it in either his body or his heart.  Chizuru was a surprisingly stubborn woman, and she had appointed herself his guardian in these matters.  He would be able to grieve his losses in his own time, and in his own way, and she would make sure that he stayed warm.

[END]