Archive of Our Own

You weren’t exactly expecting to get thrown out of the bar tonight, but in fairness it was kind of your own fault.

Most people at the Last Drop know better than to make a bet against you at pool at this point. Maybe that’s exactly the reason you let the guy do it, in the end. It’d been so long since you’d hustled somebody properly that part of you was kind of itching for it. Or itching for something, anyways, anything to break up the monotony of the last few months.

You’d been getting steady jobs doing errands for smugglers and, sure, it could be dangerous sometimes, but even that got boring after long enough. Another day, another shipment of shimmer, another handful of cash to get you to the next week. You couldn’t say it was honest work, exactly, but it was what was available to someone like you. Unfit to work topside because of your tattoos and lack of connections, unfit to work at the brothels because of your general temperament; you took what you could get. Sometimes you let yourself hope you could stand out enough to catch the eye of Silco or one of his core crew—you knew there was greater stability there, if you could swing it, not to mention proximity to something closer to genuine purpose—but you’d long given up on trying to orchestrate something like that. Maybe one day you’d get lucky, but in the meantime you needed to focus on getting food in your belly and not pissing off the slumlord that controlled your apartment building. You’d never have the money to go to the Vyx, but it wasn’t exactly your style even if you could’ve. Not that you didn’t like the girls there, but your taste ran a little rougher around the edges. When it came to having fun and blowing off steam, playing the tables at the Last Drop was as good as it got most weeks.

So that’s where you were, nursing cheap vodka and watching one of the empty tables, when the guy came up and asked if you wanted to play a game. He eyed you up in that way you were used to men doing, like he thought you were an easy target for a little humiliation to make him feel better about himself. Wouldn’t be the first and probably wouldn’t be the last. He was an unfamiliar face, which also played into why you offered to play for money. It was obvious he didn’t know who you were or how well you played when he gave a cocky smile and took you up on the bet. He balked when you set the bet high—about half a week’s pay for you—but clearly didn’t want to be seen backing down against a kid like you. He squeezed your hand hard when you shook on it like that would intimidate you and you returned his grip in kind. After that your fate was pretty much sealed.

The game starts off normal enough aside from a few looks other regulars tossed your way—a raised eyebrow here, a rolled eye there—but gets weirder as it becomes clear you’re going to sink him. The guy, Ven, gets progressively more agitated with every ball you pocket and every shot he misses.

“Startin’ to think I shouldn’t have taken that bet,” he mutters when you sink your third ball. You try not to let him see your smile.

“Havin’ a good night I guess,” you comment, like you ever had a bad one when it came to this.

He scoffs, taking aim again and finally sinking a shot. Five more for him to go. You, meanwhile, have just three.

After you sink your last ball before the 8-ball, he practically yells in dismay, having gone fully red in the face. That was probably the point at which you should have backed off, ended the game and let him off the hook, but there was still that itch inside you, the same instinct that drove you back to work week after week even when people you knew were getting hauled in by enforcers. You knew better, and yet it didn’t feel like you had a choice.

You think you can hear Ven grinding his teeth when you finally put the 8 in the corner pocket and bring the game to an end. He sucks his teeth as he finishes off his beer and you start gathering up the balls to re-rack them for the next players. You’d let him stew while he got his cash together and that would be that. You could go home with your pockets a little heavier, maybe get a shot of the nice vodka up at the bar where Silco’s crew hung out and drank for free.

“Alright,” Ven says, breaking you out of your little daydream. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Technically I’ll have had my fun when you pay me,” you mutter.

“Like fuck am I paying you.”

“Seriously?” You push him. “We shook on it.”

“You hustled me,” he snaps, getting up in your space.

“You hustled yourself,” you say back, voice going hard. “Not my fault if you thought you could win.”

“You shouldn’t have set the bet so high and you know it.”

“You shouldn’t have taken it. Sorry if it hurt your pride, but—”

To his credit, Ven doesn’t telegraph the punch at all. Viper-quick, he decks you across the jaw and leaves your head ringing. You stagger into the edge of the table, grabbing for purchase as much as you were able to and barely avoiding going down. You definitely taste blood.

The fight doesn’t last long even if it feels like the seconds stretch forever. You swing back at him before you can think and he grabs you by the lapels of your leather jacket, swinging you around to knock against the wall. You kick him in the knee and he howls, shoving you back into the wall harder. That’s as far as it got before others finally intervened, three or four sets of hands trying to pull him off of you.

“Let it go, man!” You hear someone yelling as Ven lets go of you with his left hand and moves to wrap it around your neck. “Let ‘em go!”

You think he’s going to really try to strangle you, but the other patrons—a few regulars you suspect had been watching the whole game go down—do manage to pull him away and hold him back long enough for you to get your feet back under you and establish that you can still breathe normally.

“I’m not fucking paying that cheating little shit,” Ven shouts, pointing a finger at you.

One of the regulars standing behind him shoots you a look, shaking his head as he makes eye contact. Don’t push it, that look says. “That’s alright, man, you don’t have to.”

Your head pounds awfully, ringing like a bell, and you flex your hands, checking for broken knuckles. They hurt, but you don’t think you’ve done any serious damage.

“I wanna hear them say it,” Ven says, eyes narrow and teeth bared.

You swallow blood, feeling the inside of your cheek for where the skin’s broken and your whole mouth throbs. No loose teeth, though, thank god. “Fine,” you say, annoyed but defeated. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Good. Piece of shit.”

Something flashes in you, irrational and hot. You shouldn’t say anything else, and yet. “We’ll call it a free lesson.”

Ven surges forward again, but the other guys catch him. He’s clearly more annoyed than he is serious about hurting you again.

The bouncer, Seal, finally arrives to see what stupid stunt you’ve pulled and put an end to things. Though he’s clearly still agitated, Ven seems more cautious in the large man’s presence, clearly knowing he’s gone overboard.

“You all done?” Seal says, stern.

Ven looks pissed but keeps his mouth shut.

“I said, are you all done?” Seal repeats himself, shooting a glare at each of you in turn.

You give him a look that isn’t exactly apologetic but isn’t defiant, either. You don’t like making his life difficult even if you’ve done it before and will probably do it again.

“I’m done if they are,” Ven says, jutting his chin in your direction.

“Good,” Seal says. “Then I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Fine.” He says, shaking off the hands that were still on his shoulders.

Seal lets you stay behind for a minute while he takes Ven outside, clearly knowing better than to release both of you out of the same door at the same time. It also gives you the opportunity to catch your breath, which you appreciate. You feel a little better by the time he comes back, your heart rate finally having gone down.

“Glad that’s over,” you comment to him. “Sorry about the trouble.”

He shakes his head and waves a hand in your direction. “I won’t say it’s fine, but it’s at least over. You’re out for the night, though. Sorry, kid.”

Your heart sinks to your feet. “Come on,” you plead. “It’s not even eleven yet.”

“Then you’ve got plenty of time to think about what you did.”

“Please, Seal.”

“I’m not banning you or anything—Janna knows he shouldn’t have played you for money—but I can’t let you stay after that little stunt. Come back in three or four days.”

The thought of having to spend the next few nights sitting on your ass at home is not appealing in the least but you know you have no chance in hell of changing his mind. You’re honestly lucky he isn’t banning you, a fact which you’re capable of recognizing despite your irritation.

“Yeah,” you say, “okay. You’re right.”

He at least doesn’t feel the need to keep a hand on you as he leads you out.

“There you go,” he says as he opens the door. “Get home safe, alright?”

You kick at the gravel of the street, glad to see that Ven seemed to have disappeared. “Alright.”

“Alright. ‘Night, kid.”

You stand there in the fall chill feeling sorry for yourself for a while and tell yourself you’d get going soon enough. Maybe just a smoke before you left. You reach into the hip pocket of your jacket only to find it empty of the pack of cigs that were supposed to be there. Fuck. They must have fallen out when you were fighting, or you left them on the table or something. You’re way beyond crying about little shit like that but it smarts all the same. You wonder if the store near your apartment is still open this late. Probably not. You lean up against the side of the building and let your head fall back against the wall. So much for a night out.

Warm air wooshes to your side as someone else exits the bar and you kick off the wall, figuring you should get going before someone comes out and tells Seal you’re still hanging around and gets you in more trouble.

Before you could split, though, a voice beside you says, “That was a stupid thing you did.”

You turn, ready to say, petulantly, I fucking know, only to find your breath caught in your throat. You recognize the person who’s joined you. Everyone knows Silco’s right hand.

“Not my fault the guy was a sore loser,” you say.

She chuckles. “Not the first time that’s happened, either.”

You turn to give her a questioning look only to find her looking back with amusement in her eyes. “How do you—?”

“You think I’ve never seen you playing the tables before? I’m a regular, too.”

“Bit of an understatement.”

She reaches inside her pocket for a little silver case from which she produces one of her signature cigarillos. She tucks it into her mouth. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Friends call me Rex.”

“Cute,” she says and you can’t tell if she means it or not. It makes you flush all the same. She lights up, the end of the smoke glowing bright in the darkness of the street. “Sevika.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

She takes a puff, the smoke muffling her next few words as it flows from her mouth. “Good for you.” You eyed her cigarillo jealously, feeling even more acutely the loss of your pack of cigarettes. Her eyes narrow as she watches you watching her. “You smoke?”

You nod, shuffling a little. “I’m out. Lost ‘em inside, I think.”

She reaches back into her pocket and pulls out the cig case again, flicking it open with her right hand as she takes the cigarillo out of her mouth with her left. That look of amusement is still there, like she likes seeing you like this. You couldn’t imagine why. “Bad luck. Have one on me.”

That surprises you. The one thing everyone knows about Sevika was that she’s a hardass—doesn’t take shit from anyone, doesn’t go around handing out favors—she couldn’t afford not to be, with her job. Even so, here she was, holding out her little case of perfectly-rolled smokes, waiting for you to take one.

“Thanks,” you say as you remove one from under the holder, tipping your head in acknowledgment.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, flicking off a bit of ash. Your heart quickens when you see her pull out the lighter next. On the one hand, thank god, because you’re pretty sure you’ve lost yours. On the other, she doesn’t hold it out very far, which necessitates you drawing in much closer than you would otherwise. It’s hard not to take notice of how much taller than you she is. You aren’t short, but she must be pushing six-five.

As always, you relax at the first pull, sinking into the familiar ritual. Damn but that’s some high-quality stuff. Sweet and rich like pipe tobacco, nothing like the cheap shit you smoked. It helps that they’re rolled in leaves, too, not paper. “Woah,” you say, “that’s nice.”

Sevika nods. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I don’t usually share.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really think you did.” You straighten up, feeling more curious than cautious. This is probably your only chance to get to talk to her, so you figure why not make the most of it. “So, why share now?”

There’s something about the way she’s looking at you that makes you nervous. Not judgmental, but steady, constant. You can’t help but wonder what she sees. “Seemed like you needed it. Besides, I have to admire your balls. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

The tobacco is starting to go to your head. “Him? Maybe if he’d had friends, but nah. Besides, I had you watching out for me.”

“Is that what you think?” It’s not an out-and-out come-on but it’s not not that, either. Considering sharing the smoke and lighting it for you, you think it’s worth being a little bold.

“Is there something else I should be thinking?”

Sevika laughs at that, and it’s a deep, pleasant sound, her mouth open enough to show her teeth. “Like I said, ballsy.”

“You’ve watched me play before?”

She nods again, letting a stream of smoke out of her nostrils. “There’s only so much to do here. You get to know the other regulars.”

“Then how come you’ve never asked for a game?”

“I’m shit at pool. And I like the view from the bar better.”

You swallow, mind racing to figure out how to take that bait. There’s always a possibility that she’s fucking with you, but as far as you know she’s not the type. “You yanking my chain?”

“Depends. You like that kind of thing?”

“I might.”

She flicks the cigarillo again, taking a moment to look at it more closely. “I’m gonna say you have about three minutes to give me a straight answer. No hard feelings either way, but I’m almost done here and I get the feeling Seal doesn’t want you sticking around too much longer.”

You take another pull, letting the taste of tobacco fill your mouth as you consider how to answer. “I assumed you’d be more into the whole, you know, girls in dresses thing.”

She shrugs. “Can’t eat the same thing every night.”

And you know you should probably feel a little weird about that—being described as something to eat, like cheap takeout—but instead you find you kind of like it. You imagine she doesn’t have much time for things like serious relationships, so this is kind of it. This and, of course, the Vyx. “Guess I should be flattered.”

“You can be whatever you want, kid, as long as you know what that is by the time I’m finished with this.”

Well, no point in making her wait.

—

Sevika takes you to a little building tucked around the back side of the Last Drop, a three-story stone thing that’s in surprisingly good repair on the inside. Still kind of old and dingy like everything is here in Zaun, but there’s actual furniture in the rooms that you can see. It’s mostly dark in the hallways that she takes you down, but you can see soft light emanating from the cracks under the closed doors that you pass. Do people live here? It’s much nicer than your little hovel.

You don’t stop at any of those rooms, though, striding through hallways up two flights of stairs to an impressive-looking wooden door. Sevika fishes a key out of her pocket and opens the door with a soft creak. Inside is…an office? There’s a large, heavy-looking desk at the back of the room, with a tufted leather chair sitting high and straight behind it, a couch perpendicular to it closer to the entrance with a couple chairs facing it, and a chest of drawers across from that. The walls have wood up to about hip height—you can’t remember what that’s called, if you ever knew—and a dark patterned wallpaper above that that you can’t quite make out in the darkness. She flicks on a lamp that does little to dispel that gloom, although it does reveal that the couch is a deep red velveteen. Fancy.

Sevika drags one of the chairs back a few inches and gestures at it. “Sit. You want a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Whiskey or beer?”

You think about that. It’s not that you feel you need the liquid courage, but figure it couldn’t hurt. Besides, you’re not sure if you want to sit here and wait to finish a beer before you get to the main attraction. “Whiskey.”

Sevika nods. She takes a few long steps over to the wall and kicks the wood paneling near the floor. To your surprise, that section pops out, revealing a little secret compartment from which Sevika produces two bottles—one large, one small—and a lowball glass.

She comes around the chair you’re in to deposit herself on the couch and drop the whiskey bottle and glass on the low table between you. You spend a scant second wondering if you should reach out before she beats you to it, uncorking the bottle and pouring you a generous two fingers of liquor. Taking the unmarked beer bottle in her right hand, she slots the cap into a gap between two panels on her left arm and pops it with a hiss. It drops to the table with a pleasing clink!

You watch her tip her head back and take a long swig of the beer, her eyes never quite leaving you. Holding that gaze is a challenge, but one you welcome. The longer you hold it the more tension seems to build in the air between you. You notice for the first time that her eyes are a light steel-grey. You’d never been close enough to see that before, much less made eye contact.

Unsure what else to do, you pick up your glass, tilt it towards her in acknowledgement, and knock half of it back in one go. There’s too much to shoot the whole thing, which begs the question of why she poured you so much in the first place.

Sevika’s mouth hangs slightly open and she gives you a disbelieving, brow-raised look. “Are you stupid? You’re supposed to sip that. It’s nice stuff.”

You shrug, having no real defense. “Never had anything above rail before.”

“Yeah, well, take your time with the rest of it. No need to get antsy.”

Too bad her saying that doesn’t make you any less antsy. You drink in silence for a few moments, just doing your best to keep up with her intense gaze. What’s she sizing you up for? What does she have planned? The muscles of your legs twitch as a heat starts building in your cunt. Will she do it on the couch where she already looks so comfortable? Or will she bend you over the desk? You let your eyes slide from her face down the exposed skin of her right arm, wondering what kind of a fuck she is. You know better than to judge on looks alone. After all, you like to take it as much as you like to give it, maybe like it even more.

She takes another long pull of the beer and continues to stare you down, daring you to say something.

You lick your lips after your own sip, feeling the whiskey settle low in your stomach. You’re getting down to the bottom, now, the end of your glass in sight. “You said you can’t eat the same thing every night.”

“And?”

“So what are you in the mood for?”

“Besides you? Haven’t quite decided yet.” She sets the beer bottle on the table and leans forward, elbows on knees. Her mechanical arm hisses as the joints move how she tells them to. It’s a beautiful, impressive piece of machinery and you wonder briefly if she intends to use it on you. She tosses you a look. “You?”

“I was gonna let you take the lead.”

She seems pleased at that based on the way her lip quirks at one corner. “Alright. You like to take or give?”

“Both,” you say easily, then take a moment to consider. As long as she’s asking, why not be honest? “Wouldn’t mind getting fucked, though.”

“I can work with that. Hard limits?”

You shiver a little. So that’s what she has in mind—something that requires knowledge of hard limits is very different from something that doesn’t. “Nothing that would break the skin, but bruises are fine. I don’t want it to hurt hurt. Other than that…not much. Just don’t call me ‘babygirl’.”

“How about ‘slut’?”

You try to hide how that one makes you blush behind your drink, draining what’s left in the glass. Part of you fears what she might do if she notices how much that affects you. “Kind of am one. So.” You jerk your shoulder in a minute shrug.

“Alright.” She sits back and pats the inside of her right thigh. “C’mere.”

You get up on legs that feel slightly wobbly, though whether from the liquor or the nerves you’re not sure, and step directly over the narrow table between you to stand before her. You have to stretch to fit your knees around her hips with her legs as spread as they are. Even covered in two layers of fabric, your cunt feels exposed, the feeling of your wetness apparent as the fabric of your underwear stretches beneath it. You settle your ass down on her thighs and let your hands fall to the tops of your own thighs, not yet sure if she wants you to touch.

She looks you up and down, apparently satisfied with what she sees, saying softly, “You’re pretty obedient for someone who starts bar fights.”

The observation goes right to your needy cunt and you can’t help but let out a subtle gasp. “Different incentives, I guess,” you reply.

She nods at that like she understands, and maybe she does. Her hands come up your thighs to reach around your ass, the right one venturing further and further in between your legs.

“What can I use?” The side of a thick finger traces up the center seam of your pants, using exactly the right amount of pressure that you can feel it without it being quite satisfying. “Cunt?” she asks as she probes for where exactly that is under your jeans.

“Fair game,” you answer, eyes cast down to her lips because direct eye contact is just too much right now.

Her finger recedes, moving back a little. You can see her lip quirk again as she asks, “Ass?”

You feel your hole twitch at the suggestion. It’s been a long time but that doesn’t mean you won’t. “Depends, but I can be persuaded.”

“We’ll see, then.”

You want so badly to grind down onto the fingers underneath your spread legs, but you know you’re not quite done with the questions yet. “Any limits for you?”

“Don’t slap me unless it’s to tap out.” She pats the side of your thigh. “Here.”

You nod in understanding.

“And don’t fucking call me ‘Mommy’.”

The low light of the lamp off to your side throws the planes of her face into sharp relief, accentuating the hard edge of her jaw and the curve of her nose. She looks fearsome, even up close like this, even with eyes half-lidded. The realization that she intends to fuck you staggers you all over again, making you feel simultaneously off-balance and giddy. Not that you don’t have a fine sex life, but it’s rare you have someone as…much as her worming their way between your legs.

“What about touching, kissing?”

“Hands there for now, but why don’t you come closer and find out about the second one?”

You let your eyes sweep over her face once more, finding her waiting to meet your gaze, which makes heat rise in you. That total lack of apprehension. You watch her lips as you lean in close, eyes finally drifting shut as your mouths slot together.

Her lips are soft on yours and she opens without hesitation. It’s a slow kiss, but not a subtle one. Your tongues press against each other in the warm space between your mouths and you can taste the mix of smoke and beer on her breath, sure she can taste the whiskey on yours. Her hands grip your ass and urge you down further, in closer. You can feel your pants creak as you try to comply, the seam riding up between your cunt lips and pressing into your already throbbing clit. You grunt into Sevika’s mouth and she bites your lip hard enough to sting.

It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, but you respect her request, fingers curled in the fabric of your pants. All the while her hands move up from your ass to your back, slipping between the hem of your jacket and your shirt. She scratches gently at your back with her metal hand and goosebumps raise all over your back and arms. Will she put that in you? You’re not sure if you want that or not.

Before you can ask her, she brings her hands around to your front to slip under the lapels of your jacket and push it back off your shoulders. You lift your arms to assist her and let it fall back, leaving you in the tank top you’re wearing underneath. You wonder if she can see the way the hair of your arms has risen on end.

“Tits?” She mutters against your mouth.

“Go for it,” you say back, pressing forward to take one more kiss before she can say anything else.

Then she’s pulling away, turning her head to the side and giving a soft order right into your ear. “Pants off. Top, too.”

You’re quick to obey, standing and slipping off your shoes and pants before you pull your shirt over your head to reveal nothing underneath. Your nipples tighten at the brush of the cool air inside the office. The building is heated, but not that warm. Sevika lets out a soft whistle.

She taps a boot against the underside of the table behind you and nods. “Finish that for me, while you’re up.”

You glance down to see the beer bottle still sitting on the table before you. “You don’t want it?”

“I’ve had enough.”

You think you might have had enough, too, but the power play of it—the casual way she asked, not even in a question—makes your guts clench. “Yessir,” you mumble, hoping she’ll tell you off if she doesn’t like that.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It’s not bad, as beers go, although it’s not usually what you go for. But you’re capable of guessing that it’s better than the swill they serve at most undercity bars. You have a hard time imagining Sevika would keep it in a secret stash if it weren’t. Tilting your head back, you take the last few swallows.

“Anything else?”

She shakes her head, and the scars on her left cheek glow in the low light for just a second, pulsing along with her heartbeat.

Sevika lets you drop back into her lap again, kissing you breathless with her hands on the backs of your thighs, both sets of fingers teasing at the hem of your underwear.

“You still gonna play with my tits?” You ask her.

She smiles. “Told you not to get antsy.”

“I need—” You choke on your words as she shoves a warm finger up the left leg of your underwear, getting closer and closer to your cunt. “Fuck. That. Please.”

She removes her hand and you almost curse her out, but then she’s shoving it down the front of your underwear while she grasps the curve of your asscheek with the other.

“This?” she asks as she scratches at your pubic hair gently. She moves slowly, slowly down to find the seam of you and presses even more slowly inside where she finds your stiff and aching clit already slick with your wetness.

“That,” you gasp out, jerking into her touch.

She clicks her tongue against her front teeth at that and grips your thigh harder from behind. “Stay still.”

“Only if you actually—”

She cuts you off with another circle of her fingers around your clit, ripping a soft moan from the back of your throat.

“Are you gonna trust me or are you gonna mouth off the whole time?”

“I’ll—sorry.”

“That’s right.” She circles your clit one more time and then moves lower, rubbing along your lips with spread fingers as the middle one searches for your entrance. “Damn,” she says as she inches that finger inside to find out exactly how wet you are for her. “You really do wanna be fucked, don’t you?”

“Told you so.”

The look she gives you is enough to shut you up, even if you get the feeling she likes it when you mouth off a little, something about the chafing against it making it mean more than if you fully behaved yourself. You wouldn’t be you if you did, and that thought makes your chest flutter along with your stomach. Sevika ejects this tangent from your head when she shoves a second finger along with the first and starts to fuck you with a rolling motion of her arm. “Focus,” she says, even though your ability to do so has been practically destroyed by the sweet stretch of her fingers inside you.

“Can I—can I move?”

“Hmm. No,” she says, smiling, as she continues to fuck you on her hand, her bicep flexing in front of you with every thrust.

You lean your head down as you try desperately not to hump her arm, resting it on her right shoulder and mouthing at the fabric you find there. You mumble to yourself as she fucks you, flesh fingers curling inside you while metal ones trace stinging, cold lines along the back of your leg.

“Got something to say?”

“No, sir,” you slur out, meaning the title a little more than you did last time you said it and breathing hard through your mouth. “I’m—it’s good.”

“Think you can take another?”

You nod against her shoulder and she pulls out to give you exactly that, her head tilting down as she readjusts. She settles with her nose pressed into the hollow behind your ear and you shiver at the sound of her breath coming hard and fast in time with her arm’s movements.

You’re not close to coming yet, but the thought of her stopping makes you want to bite your tongue off. She’s hitting your g-spot perfectly with every thrust, making your clit twitch and throb with want. You can even hear yourself, the wet sounds of your cunt barely muffled by your underwear. Which, of course, means that’s exactly when she starts to slow down, her hand slowly withdrawing.

You fuck up, then, snatching her wrist in one of your hands and stammering out a harsh, “No, fuck!”

“Shh,” she admonishes you. “You’ll live.”

Sweat drips down your temple to your neck, leaving a cooling trail in its wake. “Don’t wanna be done yet,” you admit, feeling a little pathetic about it.

Sevika laughs softly against the skin of your neck. “Oh, I’m not done with you. Get up, if you can.”

You nod against her shoulder and try to do as you're told, ultimately needing to push up off of her shoulders to do it. The skin at the back of your thigh burns with the hot-cold after-feeling of her metal hand.

“These off now,” she says, tugging at your underwear.

You nod again, unable to say anything coherent. Your underwear are full-on uncomfortable with how wet they are, so you’re happy to oblige. It takes half stumbling into the table and hopping pathetically on one foot, but you do manage to get rid of them and stand there, naked at last.

Sevika stands and the size difference between you takes you by surprise yet again. She’s a whole head taller, at least, leaving you at eye level with her sternum and her rather impressive tits.

She works the buttons of her vest deftly, popping one after the other to reveal warm brown skin that smells faintly of sweat. You have the fleeting wish that she’d let you stick your face in there. Maybe you’ll ask when she’s done with whatever she clearly has planned for you.

“Eyes up here,” she says, and chuckles.

“Can’t exactly blame me.”

She doesn’t answer but her smile tells you she knows what a sight she is. “Boots,” she says, nudging your bare foot with her covered one. It takes you a minute to find the buckles and zippers, but you have her stepping out of them soon enough and then she’s peeling down her pants and, fuck, you don’t even have to get close to smell her in the air.

“Want me to—?” You start to adjust, moving to get up on your knees, but she shakes her head.

“No. The desk.”

“You sure?” You press, swallowing down the spit that’s started to gather in your mouth at the mere idea of getting your mouth on her.

“You wanna find out what happens if you make me tell you twice?”

“Kind of.”

“All the more reason not to give it to you. Go.”

This time you listen, making your way over to the desk on wobbly legs.

“Other side,” she says, gesturing that you should go around to the side with the chair. “Just push it out of the way.”

The side with the window? Oh, hell, why not.

Sevika tosses her clothes up on the couch with yours and comes over. It’s not until she’s rounding on you that you realize she’s brought the beer bottle with her. She sets it down with an ominous kind of thunk. Your eyes go wide.

“You took three fingers pretty easy,” she says. “Thought we’d see how much more you can take. How’s that sound? Think you can do it?”

You look at the bottle, trying to do the mental calculations necessary to reason if you can take it, but your cunt doesn’t seem to get the message, pulsing with want at Sevika’s words.

“Uh-huh. Do you have anything for it?”

She retrieves something from the pocket of her pants and holds it up before you. A little foil packet, a kind you’ve seen once or twice before. “Got a couple more of these if we need them.”

“Okay, yeah.”

She smiles and you notice for the first time the little gap between her two front teeth. Fuck, that’s cute. Reaching around to pat you on the ass, she says, “Good. Up.”

“You want me this way?” you ask, having assumed that she would want you bent over.

“You think I’m gonna do this and not watch your face? No, sit up, face me.”

You do as you’re told, then, grateful that the desk is at least clean of papers. Whoever works here is fastidious. You shove the thought out of your head when Sevika spreads your legs and steps between them. You’re about to ask what to do next when she drops down to her knees, wraps her arms up around the backs of your legs, and jerks you closer to the edge of the desk.

When she puts her mouth on you, you moan long and low, cunt pulsing around nothing. Her tongue traces along the folds between your inner and outer lips, just teasing around the hood of your clit with every pass. It makes your hole ache with renewed want.

“Can I have your fingers again?” you ask, hoping she won’t take that as brattiness. To you, it sounds too desperate to be.

She hums against you, pulling back just enough to answer. “Gettin’ there.”

Her flesh hand recedes from around your thigh and reappears at the juncture of your leg and cunt, massaging gentle circles into the crease there.

“Gonna start with three,” she says, and does exactly that.

With how wet you are there’s barely any resistance, even though you can feel the stretch. Her fingers are so much larger than yours and longer, too. You clench around them once, twice, three times, at first voluntary and then not. Finally she takes your clit into her mouth and sucks, running the flat of her tongue up the underside in little pulses that have your thighs shaking around her head.

Now the wet sound of her fucking you is unmuffled and loud in the silence of the office, and it would be embarrassing if it weren’t so fucking hot. You haven’t felt so full in ages, usually not getting up past two fingers with yourself or other partners. And still, you know how much more there is to come.

Sevika hums again and you give a questioning sound in response, assuming she has something she wants to say.

“Want you to cum before I give you the next one,” she says and gaze intent on your cunt.

“Then just keep doing that thing with your mouth and I will.” You can hear the trembling in your voice as you say it, hoping that conveys your enjoyment along with the way you’re leaking all over her face.

She grunts in response and thumbs at your clit before pushing her tongue back between your lips. The deep pressure of her fingers inside you combined with the sparking pleasure of her tongue on you has heat coiling in your gut that tells you you’re capable of cumming from this. It doesn’t take much longer after that.

When you finally finish, Sevika fucks you through it with surprising gentleness, slowing her hand and sucking with the most careful pressure. You moan through the aftershocks, all of the sudden aware of how sweaty and loose you are, below and everywhere.

Her hair has fallen into her face a little, some strands having come loose from the small ponytail she wears at the back of her head. Watching her eyes from behind those loose strands has your heart beating fast.

“What’s that?” She asks, apparently sensing your interest.

“Nothing,” you say, and she shakes her head a little, not buying it. “Just…wondering. What you’re thinking.”

She huffs with an amused little sound and strokes softly at the edges of your hole with the fingers still buried inside. “Thinking this greedy cunt is ready for more.”

You give a hoarse, airy laugh. “Not even gonna give me a minute?”

“Don’t think you need one from the way you’re still sucking me in.”

The fourth finger is shocking at first, stretching you beyond what you’re used to, but you’re so aroused it doesn’t actually hurt at all.

“There you go,” Sevika says, “keep taking it like that.”

The moan you let out as she thrusts in for the first time is wobbly and harsh, an animal kind of sound that comes from all the way down in your belly. You want to say something back, thank her for the praise, but it’s getting harder and harder to form thoughts. All you can do is nod.

The moments start to blur as you stop thinking and just feel. Feel yourself shuddering and clenching around her, feel the continuing aftershocks that buzz through your clit and your legs every few seconds. It’s meditative, in a way, just relaxing into it and letting it happen. It becomes easy to forget what’s still waiting for you.

When she finally pulls out, you let her go with a little pulse and a sigh. Standing with a soft grunt, she holds her fingers up before her face and you can see them glint in the light with your cum. You have the brief thought that you wouldn’t mind if she used that hand to fuck your mouth, too, but she beats you to it, bringing it up to her own mouth and licking between each finger. It’s not enough to truly clean off, but enough to take care of the worst of the mess.

When she leans in to kiss you it takes you by surprise and you find your chin wobbling with something that’s half physical and half not.

“Look at you,” Sevika says against your mouth. “Fucked you out already and you haven’t even taken my cock yet. Still think you can?”

“I think so.”

“There’s a good slut.”

The next minute or so passes in a haze as Sevika retrieves the bottle from its resting place and sets it next to your spread thigh. You want to pick it up, re-estimate its size, but you’re more turned on by the idea of letting her be the one to handle it. Even though it’s worn you out and left you feeling somewhat achy and used, you’re grateful for the prep as you can tell you’re much looser than you were ten minutes ago.

She picks the bottle up and, with the other hand and the help of her teeth, rips open the little packet of lube to drizzle it over the body. It’s cold enough to make you shiver as it first makes contact with your skin. Sevika doesn’t try to push it in yet, but spreads the lube around your vulva and between your lips, readying you just a little more.

“Hold yourself open for me,” she instructs.

It’s exposing and makes you flush with something between embarrassment and anticipation when you reach down to hold your hole open as wide as you can. When she touches the base of the bottle to you again, you seize a little, feeling your hole shudder. Then she begins to push.

The first few centimeters are shocking in a way you can’t even describe, cold and hard and so, so wide. You thank god and Sevika for the lube, knowing there’s no way you could possibly do this without it. She pauses as you adjust, then begins to push again.

“You ever taken anything this big before?”

You shake your head, mouth agape, completely unable to form words.

She smirks. “Too bad it’ll ruin you for anything else.”

“Don’t.” You gasp.

“What? Afraid I might be right?”

You practically shout as she starts to pull out, only to push back in a little further than she did before, making your back aches with the effort of staying upright.

“Can I—?” You ask, falling back onto one elbow.

Sevika nods. “Go ahead.”

It’s both easier and harder this way, not having to hold yourself up but not knowing when another thrust is coming, either. You let yourself moan as loud as you need to, almost sobbing with it when she pushes in further and further. Even as fucked open as you are, it’s no small feat to take something of this size, and so hard and unyielding besides.

At one point, her metal hand trails up from your hip to your breast and gives a cold, sharp squeeze. The frigid metal on your nipple makes your back bow in shock and your cunt clench in sympathy, which in turn makes you moan long and low. A mixture of your own wetness and excess lube drips down your taint and over your asshole, the chill making you hiss.

You hear Sevika make a noise and then the hand on your breast disappears. There’s a soft clink as she—presumably—grabs the bottle with it. She smears that dripping wetness down along your perineum to your ass and your legs start to shake. Drawing a circle around your asshole with her thumb, she slowly begins to push inside, just the slightest bit.

The new, doubled sense of fullness makes you cry out, all of you clenching down, and then several things seem to happen at once. You go from feeling full to feeling impossibly so, the muscles of your cunt seizing up hard around the unforgiving bottle and a pressure builds up hard and fast in the space between your front wall and your clit. Another sound rips itself from your throat as that pressure continues to increase to a peak that has you knocking your head back against the surface of the desk. You feel something happening down in your cunt and it doesn’t occur to you what it could be until you hear the pitter-patter sound of liquid falling on hardwood.

Somewhere far, far away Sevika groans. “Fuck, kid. Didn’t expect that.”

You want to say fuck. You want to say, me neither. Instead you just babble and moan, still impaled on the bottle, afraid that if you move something else will happen down there that will sap even more of your energy or fluids.

“Want me to take it out?”

“Yes,” you manage in a croak. “Slow.”

She traces a finger around the edge of your cunt, admiring how far you’ve stretched for her, and slowly starts to slip the bottle out of you. It’s both a relief and a new type of torture, your muscles sore in ways you don’t think they ever have been before.

You let your legs fall down and Sevika runs her hands over them in a way that feels surprisingly tender and reassuring. You think, thank you, and try to make a mental note to tell her later when your brain is less fried.

Staring at the ceiling, you let your mind wander only to find it completely quiet, completely empty. It takes a while, but your breathing finally starts to slow and even out and thoughts start to drift back one thread at a time.

Sevika leans over you and you tremble at the feeling of her lips pressing to the side of your navel. “You good?” She asks.

You let out a long sigh. “Haven’t been fucked like that in…ever.”

Her hands rub up and down your hips to your waist and she kisses you again, closer to the bottom of your ribs. “Glad to do it. Gonna pull you down.”

It’s a relief to get your feet back on the ground again, even if your legs wobble even worse than they did before. You hardly notice, though, as Sevika keeps kissing her way back up your body. You wonder whether or not she can see your blush in the low light or if she just intuitively knows how that must affect you.

She keeps her metal hand on your hip to steady you while the other comes up to touch the side of your neck. Her eyes are tender as she looks down at you. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you say, swallowing against a desperately dry mouth. You could really use some water. “What about you?” You ask, fingers coming to rest lightly on her hips, half to hold you up and half to play with the waistband of her underwear.

She smiles again, an eyebrow lifting. “You really got that in you right now?”

You consider it, wanting desperately to say yes but knowing you probably can’t. You’re not sure your legs would support you if you tried to get on your knees now. “Maybe if you feed me?” You kind of regret it as you say it, not wanting to press or overstay your welcome with her. This is supposed to be no-strings-attached, right? You wouldn’t mind if there were, honestly, but the idea of letting that be known right now when your cum’s still dripping down your thighs is mortifying.

Sevika looks thoughtful as she thumbs at the underside of your breast. “I…think we can do that.”

Something in you sparks and for the first time you don’t try to quash it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Get dressed. I have a place in mind.”