#chickenparm

"Or it's a vague insult to the both of us on the paper," You comment lightly, and a bit more of the veiled, but still present tension in his eyes melt at your joke. "Think Vander's enough of an artist to draw a bird for us?"

Silco snorts, knowing full-well you don't mean the kind that can fly. Your smile widens at the sight of his smirk, and you lean over beside him to look down at the paper in hands, knowing the proximity to The Last Drop meant it was safe to read it in the open. You'd get closer, if you knew that it wouldn't mean to have to suffer the Hound's distant growls, but enjoyed your spot regardless of whether it was inside the Children of Zaun's headquarters or not:

Right beside Silco.

"Looks like we'll run into Enforcers."

"That's new."

The joke is meant with a small sigh, and an eye-roll before it turns serious as you look over the paper, leaning even closer. You feel the leather shoulder-guard of his brushing your jawline as you speak lowly, Silco offering his own commentary as you make your plan together. It'll be a simple job, observe and watch over an complex during the suspected time Enforcers plan to do an search of the building, make sure civilians aren't frisked more than the usual, see if you could find out what neighborhood the Topside dogs plan to sweep next...

It's more of an intel-gathering mission rather than a supply run.

However, it was new that you were given a more stealth-reliant mission. Sure, the very first task the rebellion had given you had included sneaking through the Piltover chemical facility to gather the necessary materials for your work. But this seemed closer to espionage work, than anything the Children of Zaun would normally dabble in.

"We can pull this off," As if sensing your hesitance, Silco came quick to reassure any quiet discomfort as you took in the idea of your new mission. "Tighter quarters than we'd normally handle, but I don't think either of us our claustrophobic." He phrases it with certainty, but gives you a small glance for confirmation, which you respond to with a nod.

"Heaps have their fair share of small-spaces. I'm sure the Mines weren't known for their wide and open spaces." Breaking records today, apparently, as you see another quirk flicker on Silco's lips. "The company is much more preferable," He assures you, and now it's your turn to scoff in amusement as you elbow him lightly.

"Preferable? Careful, or I'll ask to trade with Benzo. Let you guys roomie-up."

This makes Silco shudder, only half-jokingly, and then he says all-too casually, "No, thank you. You're the only one I want to work with."

Of course, he means it as a joke. Something casual, something shared between partners-in-crime, sobering up and heading off to go get started on this new mission...

Still, your heart can't help but warm, along with your face, at the fact that Silco had looked right into your eyes when he describes you as the only one.

And the fact that it took you both an extra second to move away from one another.

---

Of course, the lack of space between you two is the least of your worries now. You don't even find the ability to stop and appreciate the firm, calloused warm hand wrapped in your own, the feel of the Son of Zaun's body pumping and alive beside your own, as the shout of a patrol only grows closer the more the two of you run away.

"Damn it all," Silco snarls, jerking ahead and turning his body to slam into the door. You distantly remember, back when you were still socially-allowed at The Last Drop, of Benzo off-handedly complaining about the portion of funds set aside for collateral damage.

You imagine he won't be thrilled to find out that Silco single-handedly took out a door, even if it's to get away from a much-larger squadron of Enforcers than both of you had been prepared for.

Of course, Vander couldn't have known the scouting force had been doubled. Or that

Thoughts turn to the immediate situation when Silco, clearly a bit stunned by his own strength, staggers, and you swear quietly as you catch him when he stumbles. Gaze flashing wildly around the room you'd managed, you doubt Silco would make it gracefully though the third-story window, even if he was managing to get back onto his feet.

That left the smaller door to the right, which you half-lead, half-dragged Silco over to, just as you heard the storming of iron-clad boots thundering up from the second-story. One hand through the door open while the other shoved the Son of Zaun inside, before you turned and darted away from the room you shoved Silco into.

A hiss of your name sounded the moment your touch left him, but even though note of worried alarm in his voice would make you pause in any other scenario, you knew that Topsiders weren't as stupid as one would hope.

A door busted wide-open, no revolutionaries, and unopened windows to indicate their escape? It would be obvious of the direction you and your partner-in-crime would have taken, and so you make the swift, but calculated move to shove open not one, but two of the windows in the room.

One in the east, one in the north.

The squadron would hopefully split up, looking in two different directions, while you and Silco waited in the exact same spot until the coast was clear. It was a clever plan, and one you sent a swift prayer to Janna for it to work as you turned and darted back into the room.

Just as the Enforcers broke onto the third floor, you slammed into the room with Silco... or rather, you slammed straight into Silco.

The door, blessedly, swung shut behind you just as your face crashed into his chest, nose smarting as he let out a quiet grunt. Arms caught and trapped around your waist, but not in a capture; beyond his forearms, the dusty and cobweb-coated shelves of the supply closet gave him only another inch or two of space, with another shelf digging into his lower-spine. Now close to puncturing flesh from your unintentional barging into his body.

An action you instinctively opened your mouth to apologize for, but perhaps feeling your lips part on his chest, one hand managed to squeeze and slither in the mere millimeters between you to catch your lower-face in a warm, calloused palm.

Words were unnecessary. For him, because you trusted Silco and knew he did not mean to muffle you out of malice, but because the barking of Topsiders was separated only by a thin wall or two. Speech was also unnecessary for you, not only because of the tense, potentially disastrous situation unfolding around you, but because any idea of words died on your lips with his touch resting firmly upon them.

Air slipped between his fingers in silent huff before you thought to hold it in. His small shudders at the exhales you managed out did not go unnoticed, but your attention soon tuned to the sounds beyond this tiny, cramped closet, instead of the warmth of his hand and Silco's unusual reaction.

"Male and female, I'm sure... their headquarters is further East, ma'am, we can cut them off."

"They have some intelligence, lieutenant. They'll circle around and throw us off by going North, we shall do the same."

The ploy was working, thank Gods.

You felt your body sag a bit in relief, and the chest beneath you suddenly expanded, the silent and sudden inhale closing the already cramped space between you and him. The smell of smoke, sweat, and a more pleasant but curious tinge of sea-salt filled your senses, even as you expanded your others to try to understand what had startled Silco so suddenly-

Your leg shifted at that moment, and in the dim, nearly pitch-black gloom of the dusty old closet, a more clearer picture of the position you and your partner were stuck in.

Specifically, the fact that your thigh was firmly pressed in between Silco's legs.

Your face was surely leaving third-degree burns into the flesh of his palm, but his other arm squeezed nearly to the point of pain when you tried to move your leg from between his own. Freezing in place, eyes darted up to see if they could find his in the dark, try to convey that... well, what could you even say here?

Sorry I hadn't thought about splitting up during the run?

Sorry we didn't take the window?

Sorry I'm grinding my thigh against your groin, I'm really just trying to give us even a bit more breathing space?

Gods. Silco HAD to be feeling your scorching face under his palm at that thought. And perhaps, though you couldn't quite make out the piercing bright cyan of his gaze in the darkness around you, he could see the panicked and apologetically look in your gaze. The hand on your side, a fist, unfurled for fingers to gently brush down your side in an almost understanding, calming motion, as if saying, 'it's okay. Please stop moving, we'll get through this, soon.'

Alongside the heat from your skin, you hoped Silco could feel your small comforted smile at the action as well.

The distant buzz of the Enforcers, rather dumbly and loudly vocalizing their internal investigation, returned to the forefront as you heard them pass right beside the door. Body freezing further, you unconsciously leaned closer against Silco in an subconscious eagerness to move further from the Topsiders, and closer to your one source of comfort and security in this situation.

A source that suddenly stumbled back, knees nearly buckling with nails digging into your shirt as he worked to catch himself in the silence.

A silence that had you squeezing your eyes shut, praying, pleading that those damned helmets not only gave the damn Enforcers extra blindspots, but also obstructed their hearing as both you and your partner froze in awkward place.

"Hm... Take four, I'll take three. You go North, I'll take East. If nothing's found, we take a stab at their little pub, clear?"

The confirmation almost made you sob, and you felt nothing but pure relief when you heard the heavy marching continue past the closet, and soon fade into echos that also faded away.

Oh, there was dread, of course. The first thing to be done, once the coast was truly and surely cleared of being spotted again, was to get to The Last Drop ASAP. If you weren't already unofficially banned from the establishment, you could imagine this would be your last visit to the famous heart of the Undercity, once you and Silco came with a warning of potential Enforcers coming to search the place for two nosy revolutionaries, matching your description.

The idea of being banned didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Dawes would no-doubt be enraged at you even further, and Vander's cold shoulder would now be frosty, but what actually bothered you, was the fact that you found you didn't care.

It just didn't matter to you that you'd be cut further and further from the rebellion-forces. Perhaps that would change, when you're standing before either of those men and telling them of yet another fuck-up you've managed on a mission that could endanger, or hinder the entire operation.

But now, even wedged in a dusty closet and in the arms of Silco, the idea of their ire just didn't bother you, not as much as the fact that Silco was now stiff-as-a-corpse beneath your touch, halfway to the ground with your leg also wedged, firmly between his legs.

Worried, you didn't find the air of the space particularly stiffling, but you still raised your head up to gaze through the darkness to catch his expression, his palm sliding from your face.

At the same time, you moved to lower your leg, and felt heat flare up your body at the sudden feeling of something... stiff, that had been pressed in place from where your thigh once were. And the moment you moved your leg, like a puppet on strings, Silco sagged even further down with a hoarse exhale, that brushed directly across your lips.

Then the rough air was closed off, with flesh against flesh. Lips against lips, as you raised your face around the same time Silco lowered his.

"...Oh." Softly, you managed to work this out, feeling his mouth move with your lips parting briefly to let the soft, surprised, and yet also wholly unsurprised sound that worked itself out of you in between the...

Kiss, was too extreme of the word. Your lips weren't firmly pressed to his, nor were they squarely upon one another, closer to the corner than straight-atop the other's set.

But it was the first time you felt anyone's lips under your own. More importantly, it was the first time you felt Silco's and you couldn't stop the small, thrillingly-tinged repeat of "Oh," from escaping you, as you realized it.

Perhaps it wasn't quite a kiss, but Silco's thin, yet soft lips were brushing against own, and it didn't matter what it technically qualified as.

It felt good. Silco, against your mouth, felt good.

And perhaps the Son of Zaun shared the same sentiment about you, for about five seconds passed before fingers dug into your side in earnest, and Silco leaned further down to more firmly press his mouth to yours, and suddenly, this was a kiss.

You were kissing Silco. More importantly, Silco was kissing you.

The next small sound that escaped you, in the now enclosed space that was your shared mouths, was even more astonished, breathless than ever before, tinged with a laugh following as you felt teeth scrape just on your bottom lip.

"... sorry." He took the laugh as admonishing, for he pulled back the half-inch he was able to move away from you. "I... sorry I just... I've wanted to..." Wanted? The need to chase Silco's mouth doubled, tripled at that suddenly beautiful, confusing and incredible two-syllable word, and you worked up onto your toes to firmly press your lips to his, silencing his words.

But not his sounds, nor the vague breath that sounded suspiciously like 'fuck yes,' before his hand snaked from your waist to loop around the back of your neck, and press you even closer.

The gasp that left you chest-to-chest with him, only made the space grow smaller as Silco took the initiative of your mouth parting open. The feel of teeth against your own, such a bizarre concept that was making you feel light-headed in the moment, was nothing compared to the first time you felt his tongue slip out to brush and wet your lips, before delving into your mouth.

"Fuck yes..."

There's a rumble of laughter beneath your chest as you echo earlier sentiments, then a quiet groan as Silco shifts, pulling you even closer when you slowly start to repeat not only his words, but his actions too. Tongues not quite wrestling in the deep kiss you shared, but something incredibly intimate. Passionate, close to one another, something that you knew you had never gotten so close with someone else before this, and weren't sure if you ever even wanted this with someone else, after having it with Silco.

The young Son of Zaun in question, suddenly pulled back, leaving you chasing even as he moved his mouth just out of your reach, though, even in the dark, you knew the string of saliva between you two took an extra few seconds to breath as he breathed out, "I... I know this isn't the most ideal place for this-"

"It's Zaun, Silco, n-not like... there's a picture-perfect spot for a first make-out session at every corner."

A breathless laugh rumbled against your, bemused at your own airless banter. "I've wanted to to do that for a while," He admits, something warm in his tone, yet also something hesitant. Your breath hitches at both, but mostly at the words as you gaze up, your eyes finally adjusting enough to see the glint of greenish-blue in the dim lighting. "You... have?"

"Yes," He says, immediately. "Yes, I... there's a lot I want to do with you. So much, too much, probably but... I wanted that." A pause, and the air, already stiffled, feels sufficating as you guess his next words.

You guess, and though you're proven correct, it still feels like knocks the air right out of you. "I want you."

Air seems to freeze, only moved by the invisible particles of dust-layers disrupted by the presence of the two of you.

Then, the air moves again as you breath out, "I want you too, Silco." Another sharp exhale, half in a laugh at the sound of your quiet confession, before the other half is muffled as you lean on your toes again, kissing him firmly. Silco takes it with another brief, breathless laugh agaisnt your lips, as his fingers curl into the hair along your neck as he kisses you back with equally desperate, longing vigor.

The passion of wanting is what quickly gets your mouth to put open again, not just beckoning for a deeper, passionate dance of tongues, but seeking out your own as you nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Perhaps it's too much, for there's a jerk of his body beneath yours, before you feel a rumble from his chest in a deep groan at the sensation, and he tugs you even closer.

"Gods, you're incredible..." The next words are twisted, and tangled in the mess that becomes your joined months. Words are lost in the pants from both, whimpers from you, and deep, tortured groans as Silco gets what he's wanted, finding it not nearly enough and too much at once.

You know words will need to become important later. Words like when, words like how long and, what now, but the idea of verbal communication seems ridiculous in such a small, cramped space, where the only language is the fact that there's no room for anything else, but your two bodies flushed together.

And growing even closer, as Silco's free-hand slips down your front, and fingers graze purposefully on the hem of your pants.

"I want," He breaks your mouths apart again, and the bastard has the nerve to snicker at your short, irritated whine. "I want to give you so much, sweetheart. Everything, and anything, do... can I start here?" The long thumb trails down from it's place along your pants-hem, and there's a meaningfully brush of it agaisnt the center-seam of your pants.

Breath hitching, you don't even think about denying him, but have to ask for his sake, "D-do you want me to start anywhere with you too...?" "Later," He promises, and you feel lips, slickened, brush your cheekbone as he thumb presss just a bit harsher against your crotch, rubbing meaningfully in a circle against you. "Let me do what I've wanted to do to you for a while, darling."

A while...?

Again, words aren't necessary now, but you manage out a croaked, "Yes, Silco, please," and manage to remind yourself to bring up the 'a while' comment at a later time, when the desire of want isn't clouding the need for speaking to an impossible level.

Fingers work from the tucked shirt around your hem, and dip low, truly muffins you as Silco's head tips lower, teeth and lips finding your jawline as his fingers find your mouth beneath clothing. The space around you is already so tight, but his hand feels nearly embedded into your skin under the confines of lack of space, and clothes keeping his flesh agaisnt yours as his fingers dance and trace along the lips of your already-soaked pussy.

"So ready for me already... like you were made for me, doll, made to feel me," He murmurs as your head tips back, letting him close his mouth on a pulse-point as his index gently pushes into your folds, and catches your clit with a gentle, than insistent, grazing circles as you let out a shaky moan at the sensations. "Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, just like you were made to."

And he does indeed, make you feel like you were made for this. It's slow, hot, cramped and sufficating, and incredible. It's something you don't ever want to leave this closet for, if only to immerse yourself in this moment, in this space and time with Silco, forever.

It's more than you ever wanted from him, and as he shush you while first pushing in one, than a second, third finger into you, you wonder if Silco is more than you can handle...

"I've got you, baby," He rasp into your ear, taking your lobe gently between lips to suck and nip as he curls his fingers deep within you. "I've got you, I promise, and I'm not letting you go..."

It's impossible, surely, to want even more from him at such perfect promises. But you do. As much as you can imagine Silco has wanted you, you know that, with this as simply an introduction, you want so, so much more from this man.

And you know he will absolutely deliver.

Everything fades away, as you feel his thrusting fingers, swiping clit and groaning, babbling-praising mouth fade into bliss.

Everything, the fact that this is a dusty, cramped closet, the fact that you're surely loud enough to send the Enforcers back your way, that you're facing potential demotion or heavy-penalties for screwing up another mission.

All of it, it all fades, and melts away as your world narrows and explodes at the same time, as you cry out Silco's name as your climax hits you hard and sudden to his cooing, loving murmurs against your lips, "That's it, that's it, sweetheart..."

All that's left, in this moment, is what you and Silco want; each other.

And in this moment, that's all that matters.

-

You are 18 weeks along when you wake up one morning to find the front of your shirt soaked and embarrassingly cried in his arms. Silco holds you through it, shushing you gently and assures you that, according to the books you had both been reading, it was perfectly normal.

Bras were uncomfortable to wear now and so were shirts. Everything about it aches and brushes against your oversensitive nipples, you’ve been forgoing shirts altogether as you stayed and did paperwork in your shared room rather than the office.

You had gone to Singed for advice. The good doctor assured you that, just as the books had said, what was happening was perfectly normal for first time mothers.

"How do I fix it? It's getting to be unbearable."

"Simply supplement breastfeeding." You raise an inquisitive brow and he waves a hand. "Pump it out."

Your brow remains raised and you shuffle in place.

"Do you have a…?"

"I have said it multiple times. Maybe this time you'll listen." He gives you frustrated glare. "I am not that kind of doctor."

That had been that.

So, you try to find a pump but before you can even begin to look, Silco pulls you aside.

"May I suggest an alternative?"

You raise a brow.

Alternative? You're willing to try anything if it means getting the ache and dribbling to stop.

He looks down at your chest then back at you with his own raised and suggestive brow. You see his throat flex with a heavy swallow.

It clicks and your face flushes.

"You want to…?"

"I'm not put off by the idea."

And surprisingly, you weren't either.

Neither of you would have ever guessed just how into the idea both of you were.

Heat, wetness and longing gathers between your thighs and the walls of your cunt throb and clench around nothing. You wiggle your legs, shifting your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the desire.

You whimper as you roughly run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and earning a pleased groan. You bow your head to pant against the back of his neck as you keep him firmly in place if not pull him closer than he already is.

The room echoes with the sounds that can only be described as wet debauchery. Neither of you are really keeping quiet, you with your broken whines and moans of relief and pleasure and Silco with his wet slurping. 

Another firm suck at your nipple has your toes curling and your walls clenching again. You would not be surprised if you could come from this alone but that wouldn’t be as satisfying as something stuffing you. You need something firm, you need him but can’t tell him to let go. You don’t want him to. God, it feels amazing and judging by his groans and his firm dick pressed against your thigh, he shares the sentiment.

"Oh god." You shudder as his hand gently massages and rolls your other tit, the nail of his thumb brushing strokes against your nipple, not pinching thank heavens but giving a gentle little tug that causes it to leak and you to whimper.

His mouth breaks from around your other tit and he takes a breath, lathing his tongue gently against the bud. You know there is a bruise forming around the point of your mound, skin turning red and purple. You know but you can't look. Despite the pleasure you remain embarrassed as you feel liquid trickle down from your sensitive nub over the curve of your aching chest. It's quickly lapped up by your lover with another almost primal moan.

He is laid against your side, careful for your swollen stomach and his long legs are wrapped lovingly around yours. His hips grinding against you, and you can feel his dick twitch with every moan you let out, gently rocking as he treats your breasts like a feast.

Because it is.

And that's where you are now, face red and tears of oversensitivity leaking down your cheeks as Silco sucks out your breast milk as vigorously as a man dying of thirst.

You give a broken sob as he latches back onto your nipple and your walls clench again and you can't take it anymore. You need something inside you. The one hand digging crescents and scratches into his back surges down between your legs and you slide your finger against your clit, crying at the touch.

His other hand quickly snatches from your other tit and slaps your fingers away before replacing them with his own. Both his middle and ring finger stuff into your wet cunt with no need to gently prepare and he curls them against your spongy walls, hooking them directly into your g-spot. He expertly rolls his palm firmly and sets a punishing pace against your clit.

You are actually crying now, the pleasure far too much, climbing higher and higher. You back arches and you throw your head back against the pillows. You scream his name at a sharp pitch as he coaxes you through the most earth shattering orgasm you've ever had.

He released your nipple to let out his own moan, his hips rolling against your thigh in jerking motions before coming to a complete halt. He throbs against your leg as hot spurts of cum land across your thigh.

The both of you pant from your shared orgasms, everything drawn to a halt. You sigh in relief and he rests his cheek between your breasts and with his own content and pleased purr.

In your boneless state you manage to release your death grip on his hair and apologetically dig your fingers into his scalp, a thankful massage. He hums in appreciation before rolling onto his chin and looking up at you lovingly.

"Thank you for the meal." And he kisses you on your collar, then your cheek and gives you a raised brow. 

"You okay?" He asks, because that's what he always asks after. Are you okay? Self assurance and reassurance. You give him a soft smile and tired nod.

"Yeah."

And then a dark look crosses his face and he gives a devilish grin.

"Well then," And he carefully rolled over you to the other side, still wary of your growing stomach, even giving it a single tender stroke. He settles against you once more, just as he was to your right as he is now to your left.

You look at him with half lidded eyes and hiss as his fingers start to stroke at your folds once again.