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Sevika had given up her left-arm, and in response, Silco had been made his right-hand.
A far trade, though she took the role of secondary leadership begrudgingly, knowing damn good and well it didn't so much equate to a role commanding respect, as it did equate to a role more akin to a glorified grunt.
A higher-up goon, a henchwoman with an official job and a million more headaches. Gratefulness was a foreign concept in Zaun already, but the idea of thanking the Eye himself for propping her up to second-place, was simply asinine.
All she wanted was to do her job. Get Zaun's shit together. Keep the streets in line. Fuck with Topside for all their fuckary, and maybe have a good round of booze in-between before she bites-it.
Still, Sevika admits there are some perks in being the initially unwilling second-in-command of the Nation of Zaun. Her orders are following as unquestionably as if they kept from the devil's-mouth itself, so when she stationed herself in the back-most booth in the bar, with a drink, a smoke and a look that threatened pain-of-death if interrupted, the goons knew to leave her the fuck alone.
They also knew not to pay attention to the sweet-little thing that had crossed the room to join her, half-heartedly flicking the booth-curtain closed. They knew not to look, and you were good at your job with keeping quiet.
Most of the time.
Nursing something hard, dark and bitter as sin, the burn is almost as soothing as the salve that your hands make as they travel over the back of broad-shoulders, prodding at knots that have developed over the years, and would take just as long to knead out.
"Long day?"
"A long fucking day." Sevika confirm, and you hum, grinding a thumb down on a muscle that's as solid as steel.
That hand travels though, and soon passes over her shoulders entirely, down to her front, playing at the collar at her shirt. Your voice, always so sweet, has taken on a familiar tone that almost has a smile at her lips, "You want to me to make you a long night as well?"
It's tempting. And unlike Mr. Uptight upstairs, Sevika has fewer qualms with giving into temptations, evident that her reputation doesn't exactly rely on charisma, a scary-face and a fancy-title like The Industrialist.
Anyone who knows her, who needs to know her, just know her as Sevika. No need to sweat over a public image, when they already know all they need to, and know to be wary of her name alone.
Still. "Nah. Long day, don't need to double it."
It's not a dismissal. And you've been coming around long enough to know that it isnt, but just in case something gets lost in translation, Sevika lowers her drink the the table with a tap, reaches up to grab the hand playing near her collar, and guides it further down.
Down, down, until your fingers now brush against the buckle of her belt.
She only has to tilt her chin slightly to the side in order to breathe against your cheek, as a faint smirk accompanies the simple order, "Make it quick."
Words seem harsh, but you grin something stupid, almost eager in the way you slide from your seat at the booth - and slide down, down onto the floor between her spread legs. Eyes barely visible as you duck your head beneath the table, but even in the shadows, your grin is nearly blinding as your palms smooth up her inner-thighs, "Whatever you want, princess."
Grey-eyes roll to the ceiling, and her head nearly rolls along with it as she shoves a stick of tobacco in her mouth. She had grabbed the good-stuff, looking to treat herself... training the bomb-happy brat, diverting a supply-run, checking up on the docks and a handful of run-ins with wannabe gangs had made her day long-indeed, and a good reward seemed due. Sevika knew she was unlikely to find such thanks anywhere else, let alone at the Drop, let alone in the world of Zaun...
So, she was content to take her self-given reward in the form of a more high-end cigar between her lips, and a pretty girl tugging down at her clothes from between her legs.
You grow more teasing with your hands once the belt is undone, nimble fingers playing at buttons and the zipper as a lighter clicks on from above you. It's only at the first exasperated, potentially impatient huff of smoke that you dip your fingers on the hem of jeans, and start working the pants down in earnest.
More than eager to see you work for it yourself, Sevika gives half an effort of rising off her seat, letting you pull the jeans down to her ankles.
You stop then, eyes flicking up to her with an exaggerated bat of your lashes. Angelic, she assumes you try-for, but Sevika's lived in the modern-day embodiment of hell itself, and knows there's some sort of devil behind those doe-like eyes of yours. It shows in your innocent question, "Wet already? I'd say you were a bit needy."
"And I'd say you're wasting my damn time-"
Smoke sputters out with her words that are choked off, suddenly, and the metal-armed woman bites down hard on the cigar to keep it from falling out as you drag your tongue slowly, firmly over her slit. Eyes remaining fixed on her expression as you settle closer, hands needing at inner thighs as you do it again with bright, daringly-smug eyes.
Sevika decides not to give you such a reaction again. Instead, she gives you her metal-hand - fingers reinforced with smoothed and tempered-copper, but she knows damn-well the joints still pinch a little as they curl into the back of your head.
Your eyes flutter though, almost pleased at the faint sting from the tug on your hair. "Kinky bitch, aren't you?" Sevika says lowly, grey-eyes hooded as you trace her outer-mound with her tongue, thumbs rubbing circles at the junction between her thighs.
A tug on your hair, before you raise your eyes to her attention. Sevika raises a brow at the unfiltered lust she finds there, and decides to ignore the glimmer of mirth there as well. If addressed, she imagines she'll have to brush aside your taunts in regards to the darkening of her cheeks and ears, and she'd rather not have her blushing-status be pointed out.
"Go on, then," She retorts around the cigar, reaching with her flesh-hand to blow out a ring, in time with a sharper-tug on your hair with her metal-one. "Wasting time."
You strive not to waste anymore.
Rewarded with a short, low hum as you press closer, tongue parting between folds in order to lap at the wetness to beckon forth more, it's more out of reflex then spite that has copper-fingers curling tighter on your hair. And it all only strives to encourage you, nestling your mouth ever closer to tease at her sex with your tongue.
Trailing up, down, Sevika is quick to pluck the cigar from her mouth before she bites the damn thing in half, as your tongue flicks upward to catch on her clit. Teeth grind on teeth, and faux-nails dig into your scalp as you lavish at her centre, lips closing around that bundle of nerves to suckle with abandon.
Sevika feels, rather than sees the grin you make against her when she lets out the smallest of curses between gritted teeth.
Your hands are almost assuring as they smooth against her thighs, not attempting to sooth away the slight shake they give under the unrelenting attentions of your mouth and tongue, but moreso as encouragement to give in. Obviously, you should be able to tell that she's well on her way to, as your tongue explores between her dripping entrance and pulsing clit.
But you seem eager to reach the destination, and Gods, if she isn't just as eager. Pressing impossibly close to lap against her hole, one hand travels further up and Sevika, proud of her self-control, immediately loses any semblance of it with a rocking of her hips as your thumb presses and grinds tight, rapid circles around her clit.
Still, she has enough not to growl out your name like she might want to. Or make any other embarrassing small whines or groans at your ministrations, because Hell knows your pride doesn't need a boost, and hers doesn't need that sting.
But what she does need, and chases without restraint and with quickening-rolls of her hips, is to cum, and you seem all too eager to oblige as you grip said hips. Not to still or even slow, but as leverage as you rock your face in-time between her openly-shaking legs.
Head falling back with a faint thump against the wall behind her, Sevika has enough presence of mind to swallow back a loud moan, instead letting out a long, loud exhale from her nostrils as you are far more open. Groaning against her cunt as her juices coat your tongue, and you're eager to lap up every drop, that sound turns almost whiny as her fingers dig tighter into your hair at her orgasm.
When the world comes flooding back into her awareness, and she has enough presence of mind to crack open her eyes again as she pants raggedly, Sevika muses herself at the idea that you might just get-off on having your hair-tugged alone.
Pitying the fact that there's not enough time to find out, she grinds out her cigar into the empty glass, before reaching down to tap at your cheek with the back of her fingers when the sensations start to feel sharp, senses overwhelming and causing a second-round for sweat t build on her brow.
You've got enough cheek to glance up at her, and pout, but another tug on your hair has your eyes fluttering, and mouth unlatching from her cunt with a wet, ragged breath that leaves her twitching before your departure.
That mirthful glint in your eyes is back, and despite her panting, the metal-armed woman scowls breathlessly at you. You did that on purpose, and once pulling out a handkerchief to clean off any remnants from between her thighs, she knows you damn too-well to know taking your sweet time on her sensitivities is also on-purpose.
"I said m-make it quick-"
Another low hum as you dart forward, barely ghosting your tongue over her slit for a last taste, pulling back with a smug grin at your lips, and a pointed swallow.
"I am quick... see?" You purr as you guide her pants back up once she is cleaned, and Sevika uses her metal-hand to prop herself back up to tug it the rest of the way. "Quick as a bunny."
"Then hop along," She grunts, but you pay her no mind as you take your time, carefully buttoning up her jeans, re-doing a belt buckle, and even smoothing over her thighs, this time to relax any creases made.
They travel up as you do, palms smoothly traveling up her hips, waist, and chest as you emerge up from under the table. They squeeze once at her covered-breasts, and even under the thick reinforcements of leather and thick-fabric, Sevika feels herself stiffen at your touch there. "You don't mean that," You chide, attempting to pout, failing with a smirk. "I daresay you like me."
"And I daresay you've got other clients to go fuck with," It comes out more like a tease, then gruff, but any borderline-fondness melts away with her gruff sigh, "Got night-patrol, anyway. Shit like that means I got another half before I'm back on the streets, if that."
She's thinking about hitting the bar once more before then - maybe even a quick-round to cheat some chumps out of their coin, when your breath passes her cheek, and ghosts against her ear as you kiss almost chastely at the skin behind her ear.
There isn't a damn thing chaste about your words, "Gotta find time one of these days, sweetheart," Your murmur against her skin, and there's a smirk there, like you've absolutely clocked the flush on her skin. "Bring you by my place, and fuck you day 'n night, till you can't even remember what work used to be."
Gods.
It's tempting.
"Maybe another time," Sevika says, this time, a true dismissal. Not one she gives happily, but a necessary one. A small, thoughtful hum, but you accept it obediently, leaving behind one sweet little kiss to her skin, and a string of low, rolling parting-words that, no matter how focused and good at her job she may be, Sevika knows damn well she'll be hearing your voice throughout the rest of her work for this night, and the rest to follow.
Maybe, that's exactly what your goal is.
"As you command, princess."