Chapter Text
Quill is always happy when they finally get home at the end of the day. The streets of the Undercity are as overwhelming as they remember Piltover being, but in a different way. Rather than being stressed by the brightness and crowds, they have to watch their back and make sure not to upset anyone. And as convenient as their mobile setup for odd jobs is, it's damn heavy having a small desk strapped to them under their coat.
They shut and bolt the door to their workshop first, then whistle to Calliope to signal to the corvid that she could fly up to one of the many perches Quill has set up for her. They shrug off their leather duster and hang it, then kick off their boots before they start loosening and undoing the elaborate set of straps and belts that secure their writing utensils, rolls of paper, and finally the desk.
It isn't until they sigh with relief at not being weighed down by anything that Sevika makes her presence known. She shoves back the sheet that surrounds Quill's bed and stands.
"Should check if you're alone before you strip," she says. "This place has terrible security." A cocky smirk curls her lips as Quill walks over to her.
"Does it? Or did the weirdo who lives here give you a key?" they say. Even with them being six feet tall, she has a towering presence. And it makes their heart flutter as she reaches out with her organic arm to grasp the side of their face. They lean into her touch, soothed by her rough, warm hand against their cheek.
"Your sense of self-preservation is shit," she says. Sharp, mechanical fingers come to rest on their hip. They tighten when Quill's hands slide along the wide strip of exposed skin at her midsection, palms resting against her lower back.
"Is it? I don't get the sense you're here to hurt me," they say. Their smile widens when she bows her head. But instead of giving them the kiss they're expecting, she yanks their head back with a fistful of their wild pink curls and bites their neck.
"Wrong again," Sevika says into their ear. Her teeth have left a slight indent in their skin; she rarely bites or scratches hard enough to split them open. She's also learned to keep her mechanical hand away from their hair. They like to wear it long, and she would rather have control over how she guides their head than jerk them around while they wince and complain she's hurting them. In the not fun way.
Quill tightens their grip on her- one hand braced against her lower back while the other clings to the waistband of her pants- and snickers at the veiled threat. "Oh no," they say in a teasing tone. "Whatever shall I do?"
Sevika scoffs. "Cut it out and get on the bed." She uses the grip she still has on Quill's hair to correct their posture and gently shove them in the right direction.
Quill unfastens the loops and knots along the side of her skirt. They let it fall into a puddle of fabric on the floor and step out of it. They hear some rustling behind them and have to resist the urge to look over their shoulder and watch Sevika reveal her gorgeous body. They pull their compression gloves off and tug their shirt over their head instead.
They turn around to sit on the bed- a pair of cots they secured together using a quilt they wrapped around the thin mattresses that cover both. Sevika has already closed the space between the two of them, looming over Quill with an expectant sparkle in her slate gray eyes. Quill decides they want her to pounce again. So they remain standing.
Scarred lips smeared with the same black that shadows her eyes turn downward. "Do I gotta spell this out for you?" She shoves Quill's shoulder with her organic hand. Hard enough to knock the scribe off their feet and onto their back. She braces her mechanical hand against the wall to keep herself balanced as she bends her knee and crams it between Quill's thighs.
Quill grins up at her and makes themself comfortable against the squished pillows. "Nope. I just got what I wanted." Their eyes flutter shut when Sevika's reply to that is grabbing them by the throat.
"Dealt with enough brats today, doll. Don't need you being the next one." She pinches her fingers, squeezing both sides of Quill's neck.
Quill hums out an agreement and does their best to nod with Sevika's hand still under their chin. That's what finally earns them the kiss they've been after.
Sevika is a ravenous lover. She always kisses Quill like she's trying to eat them alive, drawing their lips and tongue between her own, sucking in shared breaths when she can.
Quill doesn't try to respond in kind. They just revel in the feeling of her pressing more of her weight down on them. Her fingers winding into their hair again. The quiet grunts and panting sounds she makes as they run their hands down from her broad shoulders to her chest. She's left her undergarments on, but from the pleased, almost purring sound she makes low in her throat when Quill touches her, it isn't as a deterrent.
Sevika leaves off kissing them like her life depends on it just long enough to give them a single order. "Take it off."
Quill scrambles to obey her, sliding their hands down to splay across her ribcage as she shifts back, balancing her weight on her knees. She raises her mechanical arm first, glancing off to the side as Quill tugs the fabric over the rounder shoulder piece. They're careful not to let it catch when she pulls the arm down and slips her hand through it. Getting her other arm and her head through is far easier, of course, which gives Quill the chance to get bold and start trying to devour her.
They manage to land a few kisses to her neck, her collarbone, and one to her sternum before she shoves them onto their back again.
"Next time," she says, and pins them beneath her again. This time she tucks one of their thighs between hers, locking their legs together. She's still got a thin layer of black fabric keeping her bare skin from grinding against Quill's, but they both know that will be solved later.