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If there’s anything that’s guaranteed to put you in a good mood, it’s watching Sevika drag some cheap, lying bastard off his feet by the collar of his shirt to deliver a good old-fashioned bitch slap right across his stupid face.
“Don’t pull this shit again,” Sevika sneers, nose-to-nose with the poor guy and you can see the pants-pissing fear in his eyes from fifty feet away, “or the next visit won’t be so forgiving.”
On some level you feel for the guy; Sevika is hands-down one of the scariest people in all of Zaun, but you’re certainly not sympathetic enough to tell her to stop. No, this is your free entertainment; a bonus perk of the job.
You turn back the way you’d come to survey the rest of the damage, and not three seconds after do you hear metal meet flesh, then flesh meet concrete. Footsteps and the unmistakable sound of dragging along the dusty floor come right up next to you and Sevika tosses the man’s limp body onto the pile of thugs who’d gotten the same treatment five minutes prior.
“You know, you’re pretty hot when you threaten people.” A sharp metal elbow jabs you in the ribs.
“Shut up for one minute, won’t you?” Sevika barks, gruff and mean. Eight months ago it would have terrified you–now it’s endearing.
You approach the heap of bodies and the crack of your knees echoes through the empty warehouse as you squat down to stuff a hand into a pocket of one of the unconscious thugs.
Sevika's scoff is nearly as sharp as the ache in your joints.
The hand not digging through pockets throws a stiff middle finger in her direction and elicits a gruff chuckle from your partner.
“Well, you’re the one making me do all the work here.” It gets under her skin just like you know it will, just like you want it to, and leaves you with a self-satisfied grin only you’re privy to. You can practically hear the steam jetting from her ears.
“All the work? I didn’t see you lift a damn finger when—“
“Got it,” you cut her off, pulling your hand from somewhere deep within the pile to hold up exactly what you’re looking for, what you’d specifically been sent out here to find: a tiny vial of bootlegged shimmer, more blue than purple, swirling in angry little spirals against the glass.
Sevika stalks forward and takes it from your offered hand, holding it up to the dim emergency light.
“You think that’s it?” You ask. Sevika shrugs and taps the vial with her organic hand.
“Looks like it. Same color as the shit they brought in last week.” She tucks it into her breast pocket.
“Wow, look at us,” you jibe far too sarcastically for your own good, “a couple of Sherlocks. Teamwork really does make the dream work, Vik.”
The look of sheer irritation on Sevika’s face—from your terrible jokes or the nickname, you can’t tell—is absolutely worth the shove she delivers straight to your forehead that knocks you straight on your ass. Doesn’t even look over her shoulder to make sure you’re following as she heads towards the exit.
You stand and brush yourself off but bend back down to stick your hand into the pile, feeling around before you find your acquisition and quietly tuck it away into your pocket.
__
The trip back to The Last Drop is spent in comfortable silence. Sevika’s never been particularly loquacious, even after you two had become friends (“we are not friends, you imbecile”), but you don’t mind. It gives you the much-needed opportunity to mentally prepare for your next stop. Sevika may not scare you like she did when you started this job, but the same cannot be said for your boss.
Well, maybe it’s not fear that makes your hair stand on end around him, but it sure is something.
Sevika moves towards the bar the second she’s through the door with the confirmation she’ll meet you upstairs shortly. Your determination dips without her backup, but you find your way upstairs regardless.
It’s been a while since you’ve needed to knock, but the idea of just waltzing into Silco’s office unannounced feels like asking for a bullet to the head, so you knock. Always the same tap taptap so maybe he knows who’s coming.
“It’s open,” comes the smooth invitation and you waste no time entering.
Silco’s sat the way he usually is when you come in to give your nightly debrief; hunched over his desk, cigar poised between two fingers of the hand that rubs at his brow, furiously scrawling across some document. He doesn’t look up to greet you and you’re halfway to his desk when you’re ambushed from above. Nothing but a cobalt streak for warning before skinny arms wrap tightly around your waist.
“I missed you! What did you bring me?” Jinx beams up at you.
“I knew you only liked me for the gifts,” You sigh facetiously and ruffle her hair. She looks at you expectantly and locks eyes with you, the little staring contest pulling her grin even wider as you reach into your pocket to procure your find: a shiny copper sprocket. Her eyes turn to saucers.
“Yes, it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for!” She swipes the gear from you, turning it over and over in her hands before crushing you in another tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!” The unbridled excitement painted across her face softens your own. You'd do anything for this kid.
“Where did you find this?” She asks, once again focused on the sprocket.
“One of the dudes Sevika pulverized had it in his pocket. Weird, right?”
Jinx snorts. “How many did she beat up today?”
“Six,” you guess. You don’t really know how many men there were in the warehouse, but the pile Sevika left had been substantial.
“Oh yeah? And how many did you beat up?” Jinx pokes a finger into your bicep. You lean down conspiratorially.
“All the rest of them.”
“I heard that,” Sevika grumbles as she enters the office. Both you and Jinx whip your head towards her, and the blue-haired menace dissolves into a fit of giggles as she darts through the open door behind—
“Sevika,” Silco drawls in greeting and it sends a wave of apprehension rippling across your skin. You’d almost forgotten he was there. How could you forget?
You look over to him in just enough time to catch the subtle softness in his expression before it hardens into his signature scowl once again.
Jinx has that effect on people. Even the meanest of kingpins.
“Bountiful night?” Silco's voice lilts with expectation. Sevika retrieves the vial from her breast pocket and stands it atop the paperwork sprawled across the desk. He studies it a moment before he plucks it up and lifts it towards the light the same way Sevika had.
“Hmm,” Silco hums after a few moments, lowering the vial. “And who possessed this?” The question is directed at Sevika, but you answer instead.
“Nils.”
Silco’s eyes dart over to you and you’re ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t notice the way it pins you to the spot for a split second, that same liquid tension rolling over you once more. The corner of his mouth quirks up just barely as he tips the vial towards you.
“Well done.”
You think you see his expression soften as he appraises you, but it’s been a long day and your brain is notorious for playing tricks on you. Silco opens a drawer and deposits the vial.
“Yeah,” Sevika huffs, “She’s a real Sherlock alright.”
Your eyes light with triumph and you twist around to point an accusatory finger at her, “I knew you thought that was funny.”
“Whatever,” she waves you off and heads towards the door, “Need a drink after a day with you.”
“I’ll be there soon, Vik.” Now it’s Sevika’s turn to flip you the bird and you can’t help but snicker, and you know for a fact you hear Silco rumble a single chuckle as well. It settles over your skin like aloe to a burn.
Have you ever heard him laugh before?
“Anything else to report?” Silco asks, looking at you over the top of steepled fingers.
“Not really. It was pretty routine.” And despite your better judgment, you decide to test the limits of Silco’s good humor tonight, “Borderline boring.”
One eyebrow arches. “Is that so?”
You nod, curious to see just how far he’ll let you push.
“Yeah, mercenary work just isn’t what it used to be, you know?” You’re careful to keep your tone light. “Bunch of pansies running around nowadays.”
Silco’s lips curl into a rare half-smile.
“Be that as it may, you don’t know true boredom, I assure you.” He gestures a sweeping hand over the paperwork before him. “But you’re welcome to test which is worse anytime, my dear.”
It’s truly impressive, your ability to maintain a poker face while being swept up in the tidal wave of mixed emotions that slam into you. The same ripple from before is back and now it's much too warm.
Silco returns his focus to the work before him and you take it as your cue to leave, but you don’t even make it a step before he speaks again, voice measured and casual.
“You do remember that you have the day off tomorrow, yes?”
“For sure,” you answer without any words wavering, “Thanks, by the way. Gives me a chance to start my new book, maybe visit the flea market.”
Silco looks at you again, a hint of humor dancing at the corners of his eyes, “Ever the party animal.” You can hear the rare bit of sarcasm behind his words, “And are tonight’s plans just as riotous?”
“Oh yeah, I’m going totally wild,” you play along, gaining bravado as you go, “gonna grab a couple drinks downstairs with my bestie Sevika then go to sleep at a reasonable hour for the first time in, I don’t know, months probably. Denn’s out with friends tonight so I have the whole bed to myself.”
Whatever humor had been upon Silco’s expression vanishes in an instant, hard lines and downward turn of lips returning and your face falls in unison.
Was that too much? Did you overshare without thinking about how it would sound? Damnit, you hadn’t meant—
“I see,” it’s clipped and monotone and wow, you really fucked up a good conversation, huh? It had taken the entirety of your employment to find the line you could toe with Silco; a delicate scale balanced one grain of sand at a time. But now you’d gone and kicked your end, gone and made it weird.
“Yeah, I’ll just—I’ll…go now.” You want to claw your tactless tongue out of your mouth. Might be less painful than the whiplash you’ve caused in the last few minutes. “Have a good night, boss.”
Legs carry you out of the office swiftly, not waiting for a response. Not wanting one, you decide. The way Silco’s face tightened, the way his tone lost any casual warmth, it all plays on repeat like a scratched record stuck on the worst part of the song.
But instead of the loop embedding your embarrassment deep into your psyche, halfway down the stairs, you stop and just…laugh. It’s self-deprecating and hollow, but it feels appropriate. It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? How comfortable you’ve become with your unmerciful boss, how prone you are to oversharing bits of your life as if he actually cares. Only a real and true idiot would be capable of such a critical blunder, and yet—
Sevika’s sat in her usual spot at the bar, pounding some ethanol-tasting concoction that’ll make her breath smell like a rusted tailpipe. The new bartender lifts his chin to you as you sidle up to Sevika and hold up two fingers, then lay your head down to rest against your arm. She chugs the last half of her drink and slams the glass down on the bar top hard enough to dent the wood.
“My company really that bad, huh?” You want it to sound lighter than it does, but your humor falls flat. Sevika drops her eyes to you.
“Only sometimes.” There’s clear mirth in her voice. You give her a close-lipped smile because you’re too irritated with yourself to mean anything else, and for all the times she's been painfully obtuse to your emotional state, you wish this was one of them. She cocks her head towards you with a stern look.
“What’s up with you?”
You lift your head off your arm when the bartender slides two glasses across the bar top; one for you and another double shot of gasoline for Sevika. You take a long, eye-watering swig of tequila and lime that burns all the way down, spreading itself through your lower abdomen. A poor substitute for the warmth of Silco’s praise.
“Well done.”
The rest of the glass empties in an attempt to derail that train of thought.
Sevika now looks equal parts concerned and impressed as you set the empty tumbler down and motion for another.
“Oh, you know,” index finger traces the edge of the tumbler, “bit my toe when I stuck my entire foot in my mouth up there.”
“So the usual, then?” Sevika takes a drink from the new glass but it does nothing to hide the smirk that pulls at the edge of her mouth.
“Pretty much.” You stare at the new glass in front of you. “I didn’t mean to make it weird, it’s just sometimes I—“
“No, nuh-uh. Absolutely not,” Sevika shakes her head as hard as she shakes her hand in front of your face. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
Your jaw snaps shut. Her reaction seems unnecessary, but when you think about it, it’s a blessing in disguise. Sevika already thinks you’re a half-wit and she’d never let you live it down if she found out you’d overshared your personal life to the Eye of Zaun himself.
“But,” she says, holding her glass up to you, “I’ll drink to it.”
Sevika truly has a knack for lifting your spirits whether she knows it or not, and it’s with this fond thought that you give her a genuine smile and tap your tumbler to hers.
Cheers.
An hour passes in the blink of an eye thanks to Sevika’s recount of her first weeks as a revolutionary and a steady flow of alcohol.
Apparently, Vander had been quite the thickhead in the early days and Silco had saved his ass more times than anyone could count.
Always able to talk his way out of a situation, that one.
You can imagine a younger Silco, full of vim and vigor, set out on his mission of sovereignty, using that silver-tongue of his to smooth-talk his way around detainment. The image brings your glass back up to your lips in search of a different kind of warmth to spread through your chest.
Your glass empties for the third time this evening and the bartender tips his chin at you again.
Another?
You’re by no means a lightweight, but you know your limits and the hangover game is not one you can win anymore.
Flipping your tumbler to sit on its rim is the only answer he needs and brings your tab over. Sevika plucks it out of his hand before you can and plops down enough coin to cover both bills. You shoot her a look that she completely ignores.
“You’ve had a rough enough day,” she says around a fresh cigarette. “On me.”
There’s just enough alcohol in your system for you to reach out and give her a friendly pat on the shoulder, “Aw, and you say we aren’t friends. Thanks V—“
“Do not,” Sevika sneers and yanks her shoulder from under your hand. A thick cloud of smoke blows directly into your face and you cough, eyes stinging just enough to water, and when the smoke clears she’s gone.
The bartender grabs your attention before you even begin looking for her. “Hey, Miss?”
You smile politely, “Howdy.”
“You work for Silco, right? I mean, I see you coming and going from upstairs a lot so I thought maybe…” He trails off.
“Yeah, I do,” you nod. He nods back, eyes looking anywhere but you. A heavy, awkward silence stretches between you two; the guy is clearly having a rough time with something, and in your buzz-induced benevolence, you decide to put him out of his misery.
“Is there something—“
“Would you take this upstairs?” He sets a bottle of top-shelf Ionian brandy in front of you with shaky fingers, still unable to look you in the eyes. “I have a ton of r-restocking to do, and I was hoping you’d, uh, well…can you?”
Even without making eye contact, you can see the glint of fear shining behind his nervous, darting eyes.
Restocking. Right.
On some level, you empathize with him; you’d felt the exact same way the first few times you’d gone up to Silco’s office for debriefs. So much so that it’d made you tremble outside his door. From fear, of course.
You give him a reassuring smile and grab the neck of the bottle. “Sure thing, pal.”
His shoulders sag in relief and a hand runs over his bald head. “Hey, thank you. Really. Drinks on the house next time.”
“Did Silco approve that?” you tease and the look of sheer panic on his face makes you laugh the first genuine laugh you’ve had all day. You turn away from the bar to the sea of patrons overflowing on the dance floor.
Eyes trail over the crowd and you spot Sevika leaning against one of the tables across the bar, chatting it up with some unsuspecting woman; and by the looks of it, she’s doing a damn good job. The woman in the booth smiles brightly and laughs at whatever smooth line Sevika had served up. Flirt.
You start to slither through the crowd to make your way toward the stairs. A drunken gaggle of Zaunites pushes past you as they hurry along, bony shoulders bumping into yours and making you stumble backward.
“Watch yourself—“ you look back at the group but the words quickly dry up on your tongue. The pulsating strobe lights illuminate the undulating crowd of partygoers just enough for you to catch the unmistakable image of Denn, your boyfriend of three years and counting, pressing a woman to his chest as he slides his tongue down her throat.
The world collapses in on itself for an instant, narrowing into a cold and biting tunnel before splintering into a million jagged little pieces of anguish. The sight sears your lungs, burns at the edges of your eyes, and sobers you up in an instant.
No, no no. Not again.
Everything around you blurs from the welling tears as some masochistic part of you stares for a lot longer than you should, your entire reality crumbling around you.
It takes conscious effort to snap out of your heartbroken haze and bolt for the stairs, but the evil little voice in your head is already gnawing at you.
You knew this would happen. It always ends like this. Shouldn’t you know better? You’ve never been—
“Enough,” you plead with yourself in a horribly small voice. Feet propel you up the stairs on autopilot as you desperately try to stave off the tears that threaten to spill.
You’re in front of Silco’s door before you can rationalize why, and your trauma-induced sobriety forces you to stop outside and collect yourself. Silco can’t see you like this, can’t see that even you have a breaking point and it found you downstairs. You wipe your sleeve over your eyes and take a shuddering breath.
In and out, that’s it. You can do this.
The familiar tap taptap sounds far too loud against the wood of the door and you hope against hope that maybe he’s out somewhere else. Maybe you can just leave the bottle on his desk and—
“Come in.”
Fuck.
There’s no room for hesitation. It’s not like you to dawdle and you’re hellbent on drawing as little attention to your current state as possible. Half the time Silco doesn’t even look up from the task at hand and you’re betting on this little bit of predictability to come through.
“Hey, boss. Sorry to bother,” your voice cracks infinitesimally as you enter. “New guy asked if I could bring this up to you.”
It takes every ounce of guts you have to chance a glance at him, and in some stroke of divine bad luck, he’s already looking at you. You hope your cheeks aren’t too red or eyes too puffy, that you look for all intents and purposes like maybe you just had one too many drinks with Sevika.
Maybe he buys it, you can’t tell—he’s looking at you with that impassivity he’s so terribly gifted at, as you set the bottle down on the edge of his desk. He doesn’t even look at the brandy; eyes on you without waiver and the charade of unfazed, unhurt, unbroken is not something you can keep up much longer. You force a smile that feels more like a grimace.
“Night for real this time.” It’s strained, but you’re quick to turn on your heel and high-tail it to the door, hand already reaching for the doorknob when Silco says your name. It’s not stern or angry, perfectly indifferent to the untrained ear, but it’s firm enough to raise the hairs on you arms and stop you dead in your tracks.
“What’s up, boss?” you throw over your shoulder. A quietness settles over the room that makes you finicky. You know this game, you’ve witnessed it many times during meetings with the Barons and it’s a particular favorite of his to play with Marcus, but you’d never been on the receiving end of it. Never given him reason to put you there. But here you are now, waiting for a reply you know you won’t get until you submit to the rules and turn around.
It’s too much for your deteriorating emotional state to bear the sight of him again, so when you do turn back, you keep your eyes trained on the bottle that sits right where you left it. Just low enough to keep Silco floating in your periphery without having to focus entirely on him. You’d done what you could; any more may shred the paper wall you’re hiding behind.
“What’s up, boss?” It’s much quieter this time. He lifts a paper from his desk and folds it neatly along the middle, holds it between two fingers the same way he does his fancy cigars, out just enough to get the message across.
Your eyes don’t leave the paper as you make your way back over to his desk, and this time you can’t help but tap your knuckles on the surface in a nervous fidget.
“Look at me.”
A zip of panic grips you, but your only hope of getting the hell out of here any time soon rests in your ability to follow the rules set forth and not only play the game, but win.
Jaw clenched, you flick your eyes up to meet his and in doing so realize just how hurt you are, just how desperate you are for kindness because you swear the hard creases at the corners of his eyes look softer, trademark glower smoothed into a passable look of concern. You almost believe it.
Your face starts to crumple and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth to stop the pout that threatens to blow your shoddy cover. Silco’s eyes follow the movement and you take it as your chance to drop your eyes back down to the proffered paper.
“Take this to Sevika when you return downstairs.”
Downstairs.
It hits you before you have a chance to brace yourself.
The music. The lights. Denn’s profile so clearly outlined in the crowd.
His hand in her hair. His mouth on hers. The way he held her body so close to his.
Why didn’t he ever hold you like that?
The paper crumples where you grab it, unable to keep hand or lip from quivering as the final thread of your heart frays, spilling stinging betrayal into every crack of your fractured dignity. Vision blurs once again with the rapid welling of tears and this time one falls in a heavy rivulet down your cheek. A broken apology is all you can offer before your head dips and the onslaught truly begins.
Your head pounds as you hold your breath to curb the vicious sobs that try to claw from the deepest wells of your lungs. So focused on holding the last shreds of yourself together that you don’t notice the movement on the other side of the desk until two arms wrap around you.
Even if your brain was capable of processing anything other than the pain coursing through you, there still wouldn’t have been enough time to understand what was going on before you’re herded into a firm chest. Cheek meets thick fabric of a vest at the same time your head tucks under a sharp chin, and the heady smell of smoke, brandy, and Silco fills your nose.
You know you must be imagining things, figure your aching soul has finally caught up to you and broken your mind just as badly as your heart. But not even a crazed mind could imagine the way a warm hand cradles the back of your head as the other encircles your waist, or the deep-timbred voice that rumbles straight from his chest into yours.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
The words shatter what remains of your heart and the dam truly bursts. Jagged sobs wrack your entire frame and both hands fist into his vest as your wails carry on without relent, refusing to let you catch your breath to the point your vision darkens around the edges. The hand holding your head lowers to cradle your neck, thumb brushing across the base of your skull.
Your knees give way under the pressure of his gentle touch but the arm around your waist curls tighter, and the hand previously caressing your neck disappears to anchor behind your knees and scoop you up into a strong embrace. Your arms immediately circle Silco’s neck when your feet leave the floor and the position leaves you to press your forehead into his collar as he carries you over to the couch. It’s only a moment before he settles, brushing his nose through your hair and murmuring soothing words into the top of your head as he holds you in his lap.
“Shh, breathe.”
You suck in a strangled breath, then another, neither calm nor regulated but better than the shallow little inhales that had threatened your consciousness. Silco’s hand strokes gentle patterns across your arm, your focus pulled to the motion enough to even your breathing just a bit more.
“That’s it, darling.”
You heave a deep, shuddering exhale and mutter something into his shoulder.
“What was that?” He asks quietly.
“Is it me?”
“Is what you?”
“Is it me?” Your voice is terribly small, trying to stave off sobs. “Am I n-not—“
Forehead presses to his neck as another sob wrestles its way from your chest.
“Not wh—“
“This always happens!” you cry, pain surging violently as tears stain the collar of his shirt once again. “This alwa-ays happens. Everyone gets tired an-nd leaves me.”
Silco’s brow pitches. “What are you referring to?”
“No one stays. They don’t want to be around m-me anymore a-and,” more tears trickle down your cheeks as your heart clenches, “and they leave.”
“Who are you talking about, darling?” Silco’s voice is incredibly soft as he speaks to you and it’s simultaneously wonderful and horrible that this is the kindest anyone has spoken to you in a long time.
His name is on the tip of your tongue but the mere thought of Denn sends you into a bout of tearful hiccups. A part of you wants to blame it on the pain his memory induces, but a deeper, candid part of you knows it’s because you still have the knee-jerk reaction to protect him.
From what?
From Silco? He doesn’t care about you, much less your cheating plus one.
But that thought falls over you with crushing force when Silco’s head turns just right to rest his cheek on the top of your head, effectively cocooning you in his embrace and it shouldn’t relax your screaming mind the way it does, let alone cloak you with a sense of peace. But here you are, feeling more cared for by your contemptuous, vindictive boss than you have in the last three years by your boyfriend.
Well, ex-boyfriend now.
Fuck that guy.
“Come again?”
Did you say that out loud?
“Nothing,” you mumble and Silco clicks his tongue. The fingers at the base of your skull move to card through your hair in slow, soothing motions.
“It’s clearly not nothing.”
Fingers brush across your neck and the warmth of his touch offsets the ice in your veins. You let your eyes slip shut, enjoying the steady rise and fall of Silco’s chest beneath you, the strong heartbeat beneath his ribs, the tenderness of the moment that grants you a momentary reprieve from the world that’s fallen out from under you tonight.
“He was with someone. Downstairs. All over her. Kissed her like he loved her." A humorless attempt at a laugh. "Maybe he does. Maybe that’s why I get the whole bed to myself tonight.”
Silco tenses beneath you. The arms wrapped around you tighten just so, and if you didn’t know any better it would almost feel possessive. Like a python constricting its prey before devouring it whole.
“You will not be returning tonight,” Silco tells you matter-of-factly.
“Well I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.”
The words claw at your tattered heart as they leave your mouth. You have precious little friends in the undercity, and the one friend that might consider letting you stay the night will likely be too preoccupied with the woman she’ll undoubtedly be taking home.
The hand stroking through your hair slides down to your chin, the other still firm around your waist. He tips your head up to meet his gaze, injured eye glowing like embers of a dwindling fire, warm without the danger of being burned. It catches you off guard.
“I’ll make arrangements.” He leaves little room to argue but you do so anyway, if only to stoke the embers back to the inferno you’re used to.
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” The embers glow brighter, still without a lick of flame.
“Really, Silco.”
“I insist.”
Brighter.
“I’ve already inconvenienced you enough tonight.”
“It seems you’re the one that’s been inconvenienced.”
Brighter.
“It’s—I’m not—”
“It will be quite simple to make accommodations.”
The mounting heat is too much.
“Don’t. Please.”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
Panic.
“Because I’m not worth it.”
If the heat of his gaze had alarmed you, the breakneck speed in which it’s extinguished nearly stops your heart. All the warmth drains in an instant, replaced by something you don’t recognize.
You start to draw away from his hold, afraid of the expression you can’t name, wanting nothing more than to leave this office and drown yourself in so much booze you wouldn’t be able to think about tonight if you wanted to. Maybe you’ll buy a ticket to Demacia, somewhere where no one knows about you or your terrible little meltdown in the arms of your employer.
But every thought racing through your head breaks when one hand moves to slide across your jaw, thumb swiping away a tear you hadn’t felt fall.
“Don’t say that.” It’s wholly unexpected—the hushed tone that glides across your cheek, the way he cups your face and beholds you in the gentlest regard like you’re worth the trouble you’ve caused him tonight.
It has your eyes flicking to his lips, head tilting towards his without thought and there’s hardly an inch between you when his grip tightens on your jaw hard enough to halt your movement. A cold jag of rejection shocks your system a split second before pure, unbridled fear takes over.
You’ve ruined everything. Again.
You clasp onto his wrist and try to remove yourself from his hold, remove his hold from you, but he only tightens his grip to stop you from fleeing. Time slows to a crawl as you’re held in place; razor-sharp tension coiling deep in the pit of your stomach, heart pounding a deafening cadence in your ears as laborious breaths mix in the scant space left between you. You’re suspended in the moment for a split second and eternity all at once, but time comes rushing back to greet you when Silco leans forward and closes the gap between you.
For all the times you’ve imagined this moment, it’s never been like this.
Kissing Silco is the antithesis of the man himself—warm, soft, and unassuming. It has you frozen for only a moment before your hand slides around the back of his neck to pull yourself impossibly closer. His hand wanders along your thigh and up to your hip as he deepens the kiss, the movement causing your shirt to ride up just enough for fingers to skim across the sliver of exposed flesh.
His skin on yours stokes the flame building within you and you can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes. Silco takes the opportunity to run the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip and you practically whimper at the sensation, which pulls a heady groan from Silco. His hand slips under the hem of your shirt and glides from where it rests on your hip to your back, pressing your torso flush against his, enveloped in each other’s arms and moving your mouths against one another in slow, languid movements.
It’s unclear how long you continue like this, but it’s long enough for your burning lungs to force you apart to draw in breath. You can’t bring your eyes up to meet his so you fixate on his mouth; lips kiss-swollen and glistening. His fingers trace a slow line up the curve of your spine and goosebumps break out under the trail of his touch. Eyelids flutter as your body sings under his ministrations, nearly closing when his hand migrates from your spine to flatten just below your shoulder blade. You curl your fingers into the fine hair at the base of his skull and drink in his shallow breath of response.
His free hand raises to your chin, tilting your head up until you’re made to meet his gaze yet again. Liquid heat pools deep within you at the sight of his good eye, pupil blown so wide you can hardly see the color. The fingers at your chin move to tuck an errant lock of hair behind your ear.
“You’re worth everything, sweet girl,” he tells you so softly that there is no room to doubt his sincerity.
It’s too much for your tattered heart to handle and your bottom lip wobbles against your will. The sting of tears returns to the corners of your eyes and you drop your gaze down to his chest.
Too good to be true.
That terrible little voice is back and you physically recoil from its cruelty.
He doesn’t want you, he’s just saying that because he feels sorry for you. You’d never be enough for him.
You pull further from Silco, hoping that this little slip up won’t cost you your job, or worse. You avert your eyes as you remove yourself from his lap entirely, bringing your legs up to your chest and pushing back against the armrest to put as much space between the two of you as the chaise allows.
“I’m sorry,” it’s barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have–”
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he reassures. “I’ve overstepped.“
His hand reaches toward you but you pull your knees into your chest even tighter. If you’d been able to look at him, you might have caught the flash of remorse across a blue iris before he drops his hand back down to his lap.
“You couldn’t,” you say into your knees. The enormity of the moment comes crashing down around you, momentarily impeding your filter. “I’ve spent one too many nights thinking about…” you catch what’s about to come out of your mouth before it does; you’ve overshared enough for one day, and there would be no turning back if you were to finish this particular line of thought.
You flit your eyes back to his and there’s not a hint of anger in his gaze, just boundless patience and the faintest flicker of—
There’s already no turning back.
It’s the first time that little voice has been right.
“Thinking about you. Just like this.” You let your head roll to settle against the armrest as everything you’ve bottled up for the better part of the last year spills forth. “What it would be like to touch you, how you might hold me,” your eyes dart back down to his lips, “what it would be like to kiss you.” Each word lessens the emotional weight you’d been carrying until you think you may float away entirely. “It was never meant to be anything serious, I mean, I have–well, had…” your throat constricts around the rotten name.
Silco regards you silently, his expression giving away nothing. You worry that he’s just waiting for you to finish, waiting for you to reveal every last secret so he can weaponize them against you down the line, but that icy tendril of doubt melts away when Silco brushes the backs of your fingers with his before lacing your pinkies together. The gesture makes your chest ache.
“But I shouldn’t have done that, because now I know what it feels like, I know that it’s better than anything I ever could have come up with in my head, and it just,” your voice cracks and Silco’s pinky squeezes yours. It shouldn’t ground you the way it does.
“It hurts so much more now.”
The pathetic way your voice cracks brings your head back down to your knees, trying in vain to hide the way your heart keeps splintering.
“Why do you say this?” Silco’s calm, measured voice washes over you and it would soothe the pain if it weren’t coming from the person now causing it.
“Because it wouldn’t work. I’d never–” you struggle to keep your grief from gripping your lungs. “I’ve never been enough for anyone.”
The office falls silent, not even the sound of breathing permeates the air. The only thing you hear is the blood rushing in your ears at your overwhelming bout of honesty. It’s embarrassing, you’re embarrassed, but you just can’t stop cycling through the heartbreak and anger.
The cycle halts mid-swing, however, when Silco’s pinky unlatches from yours to wrap his fingers around your wrist gently, the other coming up to swipe another tear you hadn’t noticed from your cheek. You lean into his touch unconsciously and his fingers press just firm enough to have you looking at him once again, the unbridled disbelief he wears burning an agonizingly beautiful picture into your mind.
“Who has told you this?” Anger simmers at the edges of his molten eye and sharpens his voice fractionally. You shake your head in his hand.
“No one,” you reply weakly, “but all of the times I’ve been cheated on say it loud and clear.”
Something shifts in Silco’s expression; where there was gentility and concern, there’s now a hard glint of rage, hardening the lines of his face. It’s uncannily similar to the expression you’d worn as you’d watched yet another relationship evaporate before your very eyes.
“Idiocy runs deeply in some,” Silco swipes another stroke over your cheek, “most deeply in those that have made you feel this way.”
His gentle words nestle deeply in your chest and you want more than anything to believe them, to know he truly means what he’s telling you. The evil voice rears up yet again but doesn’t get the chance to sink its claws into your mind, not with the way it blanks as Silco shifts to lean into your curled legs, raising your hand to brush a sweet, lingering press of lips across your knuckles.
“But make no mistake,” he turns your hand over to press a kiss to the center of your palm.
“You are clever,” lips trail up to your wrist, rotating your arm to give him more access.
“Bright.” A kiss to your forearm sends a shiver across your skin.
“Innovative.” Lips press to the bend of your elbow and your breathing becomes increasingly shallow.
“Luminous.” He shifts closer, pitching his chest over your knees to run his mouth along the cut of your bicep as you curl your free hand around his.
“Irreplaceable.” Your knees part to allow his weight to settle between them, your other hand spreading fingers across the back of his neck as his lips skim across your shoulder, leisurely moving on to pay close attention to your collarbone. Teeth drag along the sensitive junction of shoulder and neck, and there is no preventing the strangled whimper that has your grip tightening.
“Exceptional.” His words mixed with the sensation of his lips roving along your neck to lave his tongue over your pulse concocts a dangerous cocktail of yearning and lust that pools in your lower abdomen; it’s not the first time his praise has left you basking in the warmth it injects directly into your veins, not even close, but perhaps this time the warmth comes from his hips slotted against yours and the unmistakable pressure of his hardening cock grinding against you with each movement of his journey up your body.
“But most importantly,” he says, slightly breathless, bringing his eyes level with yours, “you are so very much more than enough.”
The reverence of his words blankets you in a heady layer of desire, compounded even further by the way his breath flows across your cheek before his lips are on yours once again. Just as slow and exploring as the first, but scorching in its passion.
Silco’s hands drag down your ribs, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts in a gentle caress that has you arching into him.
A low rumble travels from his throat to yours and that alone is enough to have your hands grasping at the back of his neck once again. Silco’s fingers trail further down your waist until they slip beneath the hem of your shirt, following the same path back up and bringing your shirt up to expose navel, ribs, underside of breasts. His skin against yours burns in the most delicious way as he traces the natural curve of your chest, mouth parting from yours as you release a shuddering sigh.
How long has it been since someone has touched you so gently, so touch-starved that the simplest of contact unravels you?
You don’t think about it long, not when Silco’s fingers dance along your ribs as he looks at you with an ardent, undeniable longing that ignites mortal and monster eye alike.
“It’s apparent you’ve not been given the credit you’re so obviously due,” Silco purrs above you, “and have been made to feel inferior.”
Fingers skim ever closer to hardened nipples without ever fully brushing against them. You’re about to plead for the torment to end, for him to touch you properly, but he beats you to the punch.
“I intend to remedy that.”
A single, ragged “please” is all it takes for his lips to descend upon your jugular, thumbs finally swiping over stiff buds in slow, deliberate rolls.
The zip of pure, sensuous fire his touch delivers directly to your pussy has you keening sweet praises as Silco hooks his fingers under the hem of your blouse, divesting it from your form to bare your naked torso to his molten gaze.
“Breathtaking,” Silco murmurs, eyes roving over every inch of your bare skin.
Heat rises in your cheeks at his words but it goes unnoticed as his lips return to trail down your neck, stopping to taste the dip between throat and clavicle before dragging hot, open-mouth kisses down the center of your sternum in a way fit to drive you mad.
He finally shows some mercy as he moves to pepper wet kisses along the inner swell of your breast, along the soft underside, before dragging his tongue warm and slow over a stiff peak.
Your back arches of its own accord, body desperately searching for more, and Silco obliges by wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking just enough to have your eyes rolling back. The sound that tears itself from your chest is not one you’ve made before, and entices Silco to move to the opposite breast, paying it the same agonizing attention.
It’s not long before he begins his descent across your abdomen, muscles twitching beneath the scorching press of his lips as they traverse over your navel and lower, stopping only when the waistband of your pants impedes his progress. Long fingers hook between waistband and hips, eyes finding yours in silent question. You answer by lifting your hips and Silco wastes no time peeling the last of your clothing from your body, leaving you on full display before him.
You’re already soaked; you can tell by the way the office air feels cool against the most intimate part of you and Silco’s unwavering, ravenous gaze upon it.
He adjusts to lift one leg over his shoulder followed by the other, pressing a kiss to the inside of one knee as hands slide down your bare thighs to rest at the creases between legs and hips.
“Look at you, my perfect girl,” thumbs slide inward to part your folds, baring your dripping core to his hungry gaze, “glistening for me already.”
His words sizzle at the tips of every nerve ending, heightening the electric charge that surges through you when his thumb grazes over your clit. Your entire body convulses at the sensation, far too sensitive to control your reaction.
Silco presses another kiss to your knee as he swipes across your bud once, twice, before rubbing a slow circle over you, basking in the honeyed way his name falls from your lips.
“If you could see yourself as the stunning piece of art you are, you’d never question your worth again.” He shifts himself closer to press an alternating line of kisses down the inside of thighs, ending on either side of your aching core, light little pecks that hold promise of what’s to come. Your hips cant toward him in a silent plea to touch you, and after a final, teasing kiss, his mouth is on you, slick tongue gliding from entrance to your clit with perfect, toe-curling pressure. You’re certain you’ve transcended time and space with the way your vision instantly blurs, hands gripping white-knuckled at his silvering hair.
A deep, pleasured groan vibrates through your core in response, followed by his tongue dipping into your entrance to taste you directly from the source. Each twist and curl of his tongue elevates the tension coiling in your core, sparking flashes of pure ecstasy along rapidly-fraying nerve endings. If a higher existence exists, you’ve found it in this office.
Silco’s hands curl over the tops of your thighs to pull you closer, tongue lapping even deeper within you to make your walls flutter around him; the first and only sign of your impending release.
His eyes find yours, tongue slowly dragging out in a horribly teasing way before his mouth pulls from you entirely. An embarrassing little whimpering protest escapes you and he hums, deep and silky-smooth.
“You taste just as sweet as I’ve imagined.” His words streak blazing fire straight between your legs and you don’t have nearly enough bandwidth to register the simmer become a boil when he sucks your clit between his lips. The world shatters around you, much the same way it had not an hour prior, but this time it’s the blinding surge of pleasure that renders you breathless and shuddering.
Your hips buck wildly at the first rush of orgasm that rips through you, each clench of your pussy met with a sweet lap of Silco’s tongue along your throbbing bundle of nerves, held in place by the gentle suction of his lips. His fingers dig into the plush give of your thighs, holding you steady as wave after wave of heat floods through you, letting you grind your pussy against his tongue until you're boneless.
Breath comes in shallow, hiccup-like lungfuls as you come down from your orgasm. Silco removes his mouth from you entirely to press a single, featherlight peck to your clit before kissing his way up your form, fingers rubbing slow, soothing patterns into your flushed skin while your arms tangle around his torso. He stops only to nuzzle the hook of his nose to the hinge of your jaw.
“You make the most beautiful noises when you come, sweetheart.”
You sigh shakily, his words making quick work of rekindling the fire within you. The blade of Silco’s nose traverses the cut of your jaw and up to skim along your cheek, bringing his half-lidded eyes level with yours.
Unable to repress your longing any longer, you lift your head to mold your lips to his once more. This kiss is different from the others—stokes the very embers of your soul with its languorous motions and unhurried pace. A warm lick of affection sweeps across your chest and lights you from within, followed quickly by another throbbing bloom of heat settling low in your belly when Silco nips at your lower lip.
The heat spreads like a wildfire across every inch of your body, one arm unwinding from his torso to slide a palm over the prominent bulge beneath his fancy pressed trousers. A deeply-satisfied groan tumbles directly into your mouth and it encourages you to stroke him with more determination, leaving no room to misinterpret your intentions to walk away with two satisfied parties tonight.
“And will I get to hear all of your noises, too?” You ask so genuinely it could have been considered innocent if it weren’t for your hand popping the intricate buttons separating you from Silco’s cock.
His hips thrust into your hand, need displayed clearly in the heat of both his gaze and his hardness. The last button opens and your hand snakes down to feel him properly, without the interference of fabric.
The two of you release twin gasps as you feel each other's heated flesh. Another desperate, involuntary jut of his hips has you pushing his waistband down enough to free him fully. He’s thick and heavy and absolutely gorgeous, mouth already watering at just the image alone.
“Enjoying the view, darling?” He asks in a facetious tone undercut by the desire dripping from every syllable. Your eyes meet his again, watching with rapt attention the way they darken when you grip him fully and swipe the pad of your thumb over frenulum. Slick wet precum saturates your finger from just that swipe alone and you use it to coat the rest of his throbbing cockhead.
A ragged pant leaves his parted lips, hips jutting into your palm once again and you finally stop your teasing to wrap your fingers around his shaft and start up a slow twisting stroke.
Silco’s head bows to press his forehead to yours.
Having Silco, the man that’s taken up permanent residency between your ears, pressing into you from all angles has your body reeling as you bring your other hand to cup his cheek and pull his mouth to yours.
It’s a sweet dance of tongues and lips and sighs, and before long you’re both vibrating with unabashed desire. A long-fingered hand strokes along your hairline and if you could purr, you would.
“You're sure?” Silco asks as if you haven’t been keening under his every touch, but the care beneath the confidence makes it that much easier to nod up at him.
“I want you, Silco. Please, I’ve—“
A gasp interrupts your admittance as you feel the head of his cock catch at your entrance. He guides himself through your slit a handful of times, covering himself in a thick layer of your arousal before pressing back against your hole.
“The feeling is mutual,” he murmurs and pushes into you in one long, breathtaking stroke. The feel of his cock seated inside you is glorious and nearly topples you off the edge of another orgasm solely on its own.
Silco’s strangled exhale breezes along your cheek as you both take a moment to find yourselves in the burning pool of want you’ve become. One of his hands plants itself on the armrest beside your head while the other slips around the nape of your neck, holding you steady as you both adjust to the nearly-overwhelming sensations.
The stretch is downright sinful—filling you to the brim without spilling over into pain or discomfort. Just the feel of him sheathed within you has little tendrils of pleasure curling down to your toes.
Fingers loosen their dig into your hairline to rub more soothing patterns into your skin, patiently allowing you to adjust to his cock. After a few moments of labored breathing, you shift your hips, pulling a hiss through Silco’s grit teeth.
“Ready, sweetheart?” Oh, that voice—It’s already splitting along the edges. You look at him through hooded lids and drive the final nail into the coffin.
“I’ve been ready for the last six months.” Shock flits across his gaze for a millisecond before unbridled hunger sets in and he pulls out almost entirely.
Contrary to what the untamed expression painted across his face leads you to anticipate, he does not slam back into you with force and vigor. His hips roll into you with something you might have described as tender if your brain wasn’t flooded with overwhelming euphoria. Another undulation has your mouth dropping open as Silco sets an unhurried pace thrusting into you.
Every sensation from the sinful slide of skin to the velvet chaise cushioning your back feels amplified exponentially. This may be the most relaxed you’ve ever seen his expression, so used to the ever-present glower that you’d sometimes wonder if he could relax, and you memorize every inch. The softening of his furrowed brows. Eyes alight with something other than impenetrable ice. The soft curve of his lips so often hidden in a pursed scowl. He’s art, something you would admire every day if given the proper chance.
A particularly deep thrust pulls you from your admiration, echoing moan of his name ricocheting from the office walls and Silco’s lips turn up at the edges.
“You’re divine,” he purrs, “so warm and soft wrapped around me.”
You clench around him at his words and feel his cock twitch deliciously. A longer thrust to the hilt has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“OH, do you like that, darling? When I tell you how perfectly you take me, like you were custom-made for me? Such a good girl. My sweet, perfect girl.”
Silco’s pace quickens as you approach new heights together. What were once gentle rolling hips are now deep and probing thrusts. Hands trace skin wherever they can, leaving burning streaks in their wake. Everything compounds to create a mind-searing pleasure that pulls strained little gasps from your throat.
Before you know what’s happened, you’re pulled up from your sprawl to straddle Silco as he fucks up into you, lips crashing together as you roll your hips in time with his. The new position creates a myriad of new sensations, the head of his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that has little bursts of light flaring your vision. Silco begins to pant below you, his rhythm faltering and you can feel your own undoing surging towards the surface.
Silco’s lips detach from yours and he cranes his neck to pull a nipple between his teeth, snaking a hand between your bodies. A single swipe of his fingers over your clit tilts the world on its axis before your vision goes white with the blinding power of your release. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer and you vaguely process the feeling of him spilling hot and hard inside of you, clinging to each other as you ride out your highs, chests heaving against each other as you return to earth once more.
Your head drops to his shoulder and he turns to place a soft kiss to the side of your head.
“That was…” you trail off, truly at a loss for words.
“Up to the standards of your nightly musings?” He asks with a clear hint of humor, but your head lifts off his shoulder to fix him with a glare nonetheless.
“Closer to–what was it? Oh, just as sweet as I’d imagined?”
Silco blanks momentarily at his own words being quoted back to him, but the softened expression returns as he presses his lips to your chin, your cheek, and finally your lips.
“I’ve told nothing but the truth,” he mumbles against your lips before lifting you off his lap gently, the light stimulation of his cock sliding from your depths beckoning a shudder from the deepest parts of you. He makes easy work of lifting you as he stands and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically, pressing loving kisses to the underside of his jaw as he carries you through the door along one sidewall and into his bedroom. The resulting growl reverberates in your ribs like the grandest of tolling bells.
All too soon you’re deposited onto a plush mattress. Silco retreats into an adjoining bathroom before returning with a warm towel, cleaning the slick mess of your combined release between your legs and tossing the towel into a corner. Sheets are pulled down and you’re gathered in a strong embrace against his chest. Limbs tangle with one another and the afterglow of two earth-shattering orgasms mixed with the undeniable sense of belonging you feel wrapped in Silco’s arms lulls you into a sleepy haze.
But before you succumb to the pull of sleep, a single thought enters your mind.
“I never did take that paper down to Sevika,” you mumble sleepily. A warm, lingering kiss is pressed to the crown of your head.
“I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow. You’ve done quite enough tonight. Get some rest, sweet girl, I’ll be here when you wake.”
A dopey little grin curves the kiss you press to his chest before sleep takes hold and you’re lost to the emotional and physical exhaustion of the evening.
Silco follows you not long afterward, the last thought on his mind the the folded paper you’d been instructed to deliver, still sitting upon his desk, pondering exactly what expression will bloom across your features tomorrow morning when you find the paper to be completely blank.