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Soft black locks wove between your fingers, occasionally snagging on tangles before you gently unravel them. Your eyes keep track of her place on the page from where your chin rests on her head. Each rise and fall of your chest heightens the feeling of a muscular back against you, your other hand wrapped around a strong abdomen to keep her as close as possible.
“The forest opens in an ir-irreg-regular and very pic-picture-“ Sevika sighs. The book drops to her lap sullenly as she snarls over her shoulder. “I prefer the one where the old lady croaks.”
“Is it because she dies?” You giggled, kissing her cheek. “And hey, I thought you’d love reading a sapphic vampire tragedy more than The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly."
Sevika rolls her eyes, her whole head rotating with the movement. It’s clear she’s prolonging the blissful moments where she doesn’t have to choke out anymore obscenely long words. In an effort to console her, you offer:
“It’s got blood, boobs, and suffering. Your favorite.”
A quick, exasperated puff of air against your arm has your hair standing up. You never miss an opportunity to make a jibe at her love for women, especially when you found out she was a regular at the brothel before you came along.
“Not when it involves this many words.” Your hold on her easily breaks when she turns around, arms bracing themselves by your hips and caging you in. Muscles teased your hands as they were shifted down to offer additional support, not that she needed it. Her not-so-subtle attempt at distraction isn’t lost on you, and your breath certainly does not catch when she drags her eyes so, so slowly down your face to land on your lips. Nope. It does not. Nor do your eyes linger on her mouth when she quips, “I’m a woman of action.”
“Stop trying to distract me. You promised me a chapter.”
“Made some other promises, too.” Gods, it wasn’t fair to have lips that sinful, that enticing. Stray, messy strands framed her face, inciting your traitorous brain to conjure up all kinds of scenarios. In an effort to distract yourself, you took your hands off of her waist to smooth back her hair, fingers acting as the leather strap she uses to keep it out of her face during the day.
“Sevika.”
Her groan was that of a very scary lady and not one of a toddler getting told ‘no’. When she sulked back against your chest, your hands wrapped around her to clasp below her breasts, caressing the band of her sports bra. (Thankfully, she decided to forgo her usual topless-boxer combo after you kept getting distracted with playing with her chest enough to not notice when she needed you to help her sound something out. Slut, she’d called you. Teasing you with your objectification of her until your face was red. Not that that was true, but they are just so nice and oh my gods how do they sit like that?)
The discarded book found itself back in her hands. Your gaze was captivated by her large features, specifically her long, calloused fingers thumbing the pages until they found where she left off. Yours went to the creases on her forehead that surely formed from the pout frown she wore, experience causing you to instinctively begin smoothing them out.
“C’mon, sound ‘em out.”
“Ir-irregular and very picture-picturesque? Picturesque glade.” Encouraged by your nods, she was able to get about 3/4 of the chapter done until you decided to have mercy.
“I thought I promised you a chapter.” The words held no genuine protest and Sevika relinquished the book fairly easily. You reached over to place it on the nightstand, using your free hand to grip hers.
“You did.” She easily saw through the fabricated sternness as you sighed. “But I think you deserve a break.”
Perhaps your favorite part of these lessons was the end, when the rare occurrence of her relaxing back into your arms made all of her moments of frustration worth it. The two of you weren’t together when you first began your sessions, and it took a while for her to finally take you up on your offer to teach her when you discovered her illiteracy. As much as she tried to remain patient with herself, disappointment in her progress led to outbursts. Never on your end. Your understanding and composure was probably the reason she kept returning four times a week. Somewhere along the way your relationship blossomed into the comfortable affinity for each other you both shared.
“Look at you.” Your reminiscing coaxed you to voice your pride. Gray eyes opened and narrowed at your smile. “A few months ago, the only word you could read was your name. Now, you’ve graduated to smut.”
Her eyes closed once more, humming in response.
“I was told there’d be boobs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There was no boobs.”
“Technically, they’re there. Just not mentioned.”
“I was deceived.”
“You misunderstood-”
“You willfully misled me.”
“Fine.” Her shirt that you donned took a bit of wrestling to raise under her weight. You took one of her hands and placed your breast into her palm. “There’s your boob.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“I thought so.”