Chapter Text
Flora, with her bright eyes and curly hair, helps with scheduling and buys whatever you request, usually comes to let you know your appointment has arrived. She will lead you down to your appointed room, introduce you, and set up anything you or your client has requested.
So, it understandably startles as you’ve just woken up, knowing you won’t have any appointments until the evening, that you hear commotion outside your door. Normally this is a few of the workers engaged in lively conversation but you can hear Miguel in a warning tone and then the door to your bedroom is tossed open.
Sevika walks briskly in your room, her eyes chasing around until they land on you. “She is awake.” She turns to remark at Miguel, who is trying his best not to look murderous.
He quickly tosses a look at you, and you nod in agreement behind Sevika’s back. You can deal with this - whatever this is. She hadn’t shown for her last appointment but had sent someone with payment, confirming her next week.
You haven’t seen her since the alleyway and your body is buzzing with her being close, in your room, with no explanation.
“It’s fine Miguel.” You say trying to keep the weary edge out of your voice. “Can you have Dot bring some extra tea?”
Giving you a reluctant look, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. You know that several of the workers entertain their clients in their private rooms. Wither it’s for privacy of the back door entrance or that they like the cozier accommodations, reasons vary. But you’ve never had her in your own room, or anyone else for that matter. You’re guessing it’s because you’ve just woken up, but you just feel weary. You want to feel in control of something, around someone you usually don’t, before your emotions start to spin out of your control.
You finally take a look at her and you realize she is bloodied and a protective edge in you draws up. “You are bleeding.” You remark setting down your hairbrush.
She doesn’t answer you but removes her poncho and pulls off her harness. She is visibly agitated, so you wait, you wait for her make up her mind. Looking anywhere but where you are she finally moves to the pitcher of water near your bed and pours herself a glass.
You feel like you could wait a lifetime to get her to say something out loud that she is not ready to say so you make up your mind. Standing, you grab your medical kit out from under your bed.
“Come over here please.” You say moving items aside to make room on the low table near your small sofa.
“I’m fine.” She slugs back another gulp of water and goes to poor more into her glass.
“Well, that’s apparent but I won’t have you stain my bedclothes with blood.” You get up, moving to your small side table and grab your sewing kit then pause to pour her slug of liquor. Walking over to her offering the glass, she trades you, allowing you push gently at her shoulder towards the couch. She wrinkles her nose at you and the expression on her face threatens to knock the air out of your lungs. It’s something you haven’t seen her do before. You wonder if anyone else would take it as snarl, but towards you it’s like a little girl fussing.
She allows you to prod her back onto the couch and you organize your medical supplies. Cleaning liquid, bandages, scissors; She might need a stitch or two, but she probably won’t let you do that.
You pull out an herbal vile and start to work.
Sevika is eyeing you, curiosity written on her face. “What is all of this? How do you have it?”
“I was a healer before I came to Piltover.” You say as pull a length of bandage and prepare it, Peering over at her you assess the cut over her eye, the gash on her arm and nick above her heart. “You will need to take off your jacket for me, and your vest. It will make it easier.”
She pulls of her layers, leaving them as a pile next to her. Her clothes with a few errant knives and other weapons scattered in. Leaning back, she places her metal arm over the back of the couch, leaving you a space to slot into.
You get on your knees next to her, leaning in and set to work, all the while feeling her eyes on you. You clean her cuts and place some mending tape on the gash on her head. She allows to you wrap bandage along her arm and finally you are cleaning the scrape over her heart. You open her shirt a bit more and your fingers drag down. Applying a cleaning salve, you hear a hiss through her teeth.
“Almost done.” You tell her, your eyes venturing up to meet hers and her expression is soft, open, just taking you in. “Do you normally clean your own cuts?”
“Usually.” She divulges to you and your eyes follow her gaze down near your knees. She has been playing with the edge of your nightgown as you’ve been working, her fingers twisted in the lace.
“Well, you’ve done a pretty good job. Most have healed well.” You keep cleaning the wound, using a bandage to help the salve dry then applying the mending tape and covering it up.
You place stopper in the bottle of solution, placing it back on the table and move to start packing up but she stops, and you're surprised her control lasted this long.
She reaches out and threads her warm hand into your hair, pulling you onto her lap. Smiling into the kiss she gives you - trying to be gentle - you lay your palms gently along her shoulders. What ever happened, you know it was more than just cuts and bruises. She might have a cracked rib or worse.
“I’m fine.” She tells you, her mouth murmuring the words along your neck as she tilts your head back. You grasp harder at her shoulders, balancing yourself as she bends you back, making more room for herself in your space, more room for herself everywhere. You can’t help harsh breath you take when she reaches to slide her fingertips over your underwear, wasting no time. She finds you wet and wanting. You can’t stop the whimper that tumbles out of your mouth as your knees tighten around her hips.
The next thing you know she has you by your thighs, practically tossing you in the air as she stands with you, wrapping your legs around her and she moves towards the bed. You wrap your arms around her shoulders and while you are impressed as this display of her physicality you are worried about how your thighs might be dislodging a broken bit of bone.
She tosses you down onto your bed and leaves you there, looming over, taking you in. You move to reach up for her and she responds by pushing your shoulders back to the bedclothes.
“I want this.” She lets you know as she kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed. Taking in the view from between your legs, eyes raking down your body, she reaches up and slides both hands up the inside of your thighs.
You are so ready for her. Were you this turned on the whole time, but you are just realizing it? Or is the feeling you have just reeling from how hot you’ve gotten this fast? Your body rattles with the sensation of her hands on you. You moan out something unintelligent and you really couldn’t care.
The contrast between her hands feels exquisite, the fine coolness of metal and the scorching heat of her open palm as she grasps the softness of your legs near the apex of your thighs. You are more than ready for her, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve said this all out loud.
You beg for her to touch you. Looking down to see her push your nightgown up around your waist and tug your underwear down and off, tossing them somewhere over her shoulder. She doesn’t give you a minute to adjust, just leaning in, her nose barely brushing your sopping wet cunt, her hot breath fanning out over all of you. So exposed, you can feel yourself pushing out the slurpy wetness, dripping down the back of your thighs.
Making an obscene moaning noise as Sevika dives into you, her mouth over your scorching heat and you can’t help your hands flying down to tangle into her hair. Her matching moan against you makes your hips stutter up to meet her mouth.
She is good at this - very, very good. Her mouth laps at you like she is starving, coming up and around to circle your clit then back down to where you are the messiest and sliding her tongue into you. You make an indecent noise, your body shuddering with the sensation.
It’s ruthless. She isn’t pulling any punches. For several long moments you are completely helpless, just under her mouth and the burning wildfire that’s scalding your limbs.
You chance a look down between your legs and find her eyes fixed on you, burning into your skin, and you melt back under her gaze. Fuck, she fits a finger into you, quickly with another and damn, it’s going to be over way sooner than you would like.
“I’m close…” you manage to get out, hoping she will be merciful and let you linger a little longer. The bite of her metal fingers against your hip tells you, no, she is not inclined to be generous with you.
You only retribution you have is to let your thighs snap closed over her head as you come.
As you wind down, she pulls her fingers out of you, cleaning them off in her mouth. You moan in response.
“Can I…” you start to ask, and she is crawling over your body, a strong arm under you. Pulling you up the bed with ease and you only get a second to enjoy being handled when she slides down on her back next to you.
Tucking you under her left arm, she wraps your thigh around hers. You shiver at the contact of the metal along your back, and she shifts to wrap her fingers around your wrist.
“This,’ then she is grabbing your hand and sliding your fingertips under her waist band, as she moves to undo her pants.
You haven’t touched her, not like this. You had your hands over her shoulders, fingers on the skin of her waist, kissed her while she has touched herself, and played her with breasts over and under her clothes.
You can’t help but gasp as your hand travels down and you find the thin edge of her undergarments. She makes a frustrated nose, trying to shove down her pants, but you can’t wait. You feel like you are getting a present and you can barely wait to unwrap it.
Fingertips dipping lower, you brush against the course curls and then slide over her and - fuck.
Her groan reverberates along your side as your blood melts fire into your skin. Her arm tightens around your back and her other still tries to push her pants down to give you room, but you can’t be bothered. You want her to forget everything else.
Your kiss swallows the sound she makes as your fingers dip deeper – finding where she is wettest, aching, pulsing for you and you can’t help the surge of power that threatens to overwhelm you.
You lose yourself in the feeling of her: the harsh breath along your cheek or moaning into your mouth, her hands either grabbing at your face, curling around your jaw or grasping onto your wrist, her hips rolling up to meet your hand, and her aching, arching, softness under fingertips…
She unravels beneath you, under your gaze, your care, and the breath of it threatens to overpower you. She is lost in the sensation for several moments and you wonder how many people have seen her like this…ever.
When she finishes, she removes her hand from her pants and cleans your fingertips, one by one.
Afterwards, she lays with you, pulling your body so it’s tucked into her side. You watch her eyes start to drop closed with sleep threatening to take her. Finally, she catches herself and gives you one last, deep kiss before rising and straightens up her clothing, moving the couch to dress herself.
You get up to see her out, wrapping your robe around yourself. She is moving to leave the room, she gently grabs you by the side of you neck and brings you close, giving a soft kiss to the skin of your cheek. Leaving her usual tip on your table by the door she out the door… and it’s the first time you hate it. This feels different, this didn’t feel like her coming to visit her favorite whore… it felt like….
Dangerous… that’s what it is - dangerous thinking, emotional entanglement…
It’s another moment, in hindsight, you’ll remember, and think, yeah, I should have known.
“What’s this one?” Sevika asks pointing with her metal arm to a muscle along her bicep.
You come up along the headboard she is reclining against, sitting on the bed she had just fucked you into with her strap, after you'd come begging and whining underneath her. Running your fingers delicately over her skin you give her the medical name of the muscle.
She smiles at you, grabbing your fingers and bringing them up to her lips, brushing your fingertips over the softness. The tenderness of this bursts something in your chest, something you weren’t aware you had been guarding.
If are guarding it, you are doing a terrible job. The malicious voice in your head provides.
It’s too big, too whole, a large bubble welling up inside of you, sliding up your spine and settling in under your ribs, threatening to push the air out of your lungs.
You drag your fingers down her neck to her chest, naming the muscles as you go. She really is an impressive sight. Her physique so built up, strong and toned, the muscles twitch and flex under your touch. You slide down the flat pane of her stomach, taking in the bumps of her abdomen, feeling a small serge of power as you feel her breath hitch. You press in slightly and name her diaphragm, it is a muscle after all.
Your body slides over her. Thighs bracketing hers, ending up in her lap, your fingers playing with the top edge of her pants. She has slipped them back but not done them up. You brush the edge of her undergarments and lean in, sliding your fingers down underneath.
Shifting your bodyweight forward you get close her, as she still leans back on the headboard but now with your fingers gently brushing down the patch of tight curls above her heat.
“What’s that one called?” She asks, her gaze hot on you, and you're melting, like warm oil, in a hot pan
“This one?” You ask, trying to infuse as much innocence into your voice as you slide into her slickness, and - oh, is she slick. You had gotten her off before she fucked you, but she must have liked that show, or this one.
You make her come while your palm flattened against her swollen clit, fingers buried deep in her cunt, your other hand tangled in her hair, mouth pressed into her cheek, and you drink in the sounds she makes as she comes down.