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You stood by the front door, arms and legs crossed over each other, leaving enough space for the movers and sevika to carry your furniture in. You weren’t being lazy, you offered to help but she denied you. She was always like this, never wanted you to lift a finger, always wanting to be at your beck and call. She treated you like a queen and you were grateful (especially when they started unloading the bulkier furniture).
It was hot, the sweat stains on sevikas top evidence of this. Your head tilted as you watched her arms flex every time she’d lift a chair or a box of clutter. She’d come towards you routinely after taking in three or five things, rubbing your arms, absentmindedly as she’d say,
“You sure you're not hot, baby? I can run and get you some lemonade if you want?” As she wiped the hair stuck to your face, tucking it behind your ears or raking it back into the ponytail it’d escaped from.
“No, i’m okay babe” You’d reply, a hint of amusement in your voice at her urgency to do self-appointed tasks for you.
Eventually the movers had left, leaving a cloud of grey smoke from the rundown van’s exhaust. Sevika hurried you inside the moment you started to cough dryly in the smog. She shut the front door behind her, The air immediately lifting in your cosy townhouse. You walked on, turning the corner into a beautiful living room, one of your wildest dreams. It had a beautiful fireplace, the mantle piece above it carved so delicately by the finest artist in zaun, God rest his soul.
You felt Sevika’s warm hand graze your back gently as she came to stand by you. You looked up at her with an easy smile before taking in your surroundings again. Her eyes stayed on you, not caring about the fine details you were so enthralled by. She truly only cared about you, more than anything else in this world. A trait she thought to be a weakness, caring, had become something she couldn't live without. She couldn’t live without you, and you, her. She placed a soft kiss on your forehead, pulling you in closer to her as she did.
Your arm gravitated around her waist as she pulled you in, wanting to be as close as you could to her, regardless of the hot temperature rising in your home.Your fingers ran across her abs, rolling over the indents of her toned section as you looked up to her,
“Which room do we do first sev?” You questioned, looking at the heaps of boxes, paint buckets and expertly wrapped larger pieces of furniture.
“The most important space, no?” She hummed as she nuzzled the top of your head with her chin. You tilted your head up to face her, your lips coming in line with hers. You hum into a small kiss, your lips lingering on each other for a while before they part again.
“What's that?” You whispered as your continuously lips drafted over hers. Your eyes closed, you felt her lips curve into a smirk as you asked. “Cheeky.” You smiled back, pecking her lips once more before moving towards the bedroom. You look over your shoulder at her as you do. She stood in the same spot for a beat, one hand gingerly rubbing the back of her neck as she looked at you, in part lust and in part love. You smiled to yourself turning back, knowing how smitten she was over you made you feel unbelievable. It was almost unexplainable, having the hottest, strongest, scariest woman in Zaun become flustered just by looking at you.
You leave her hanging in the living room as you move to the shared bedroom, the sound of your shoes against the tarp taped to the floor announcing your entering. The old colour on the walls was a faded brown, once belonging to a still life painter, Armond The Great, he called himself. You had the pleasure of meeting him, he was a sweet old man, who had a great appreciation for classical music. His dream was to attend the Medarda Hall. Armond was one of the few lucky ones whose talent was deservingly picked up by the bigun’s in Piltover, he’d been offered a place with some of the top senior artists in Piltover, a life's dream.
However, as great a man Armond is, the colour he’d picked, wasn’t so much. You’d told Sevika to pick out a nice colour, something timeless, you remember telling her. You tended to steer away from trusting her with design choices and she tended to avoid conversations about them completely. You opened the paint can, hoping, praying she’d been sensible.
Navy blue. Okay, sensible enough and timeless indeed.
“Did I do well?” You heard a voice boom from behind you. You turn to see Sevika leaned against the doorframe. You stood up from the floor, leaving the lid clattering on the floor. You walked towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck as you looked up at her,
“Very well, baby.” Your voice gilded from your lips like velvet as you looked at your beautiful wife. She looked down at you coyly, flustered by your praise. Something you came to learn about her, she loved praise, even went out seeking it sometimes, and you’d give it to her every time, just to see her knees go weak for you. You placed a teasing kiss on her lips, causing her to lean back into you, holding the back of your head as she returned it with passion. You felt your core build up a familiar feeling you’d get around her. She must have felt the same because she pulled away, but not before placing a final peck on your lips.
“Mmm,” she hummed as she basked in your taste. “We need to stay focused baby.” Her words are not entirely coherent with her body rubbing against yours. You didn’t respond, only combing your palms to her cheeks as you rubbed them lightly before sliding them off, your thumb skimming over her dark lips.
You watched her mouth hang slightly agape as you moved away, she shook her head in disbelief, as if she was waiting to wake up from a dream she really didn’t want to leave. She moved over towards you, slapping your ass as you bent over, pouring the paint into a tray. You shook your head, smiling as you picked up two rollers, handing one to her. She twirled it in her hand as she looked up at the walls. You shot her a concerned look,
“You know how to use one of those right?” You said,
She scoffed offended as she leaned over, coating the roller in paint. You watched her studiously as she did, peering over her hench shoulder as she tapped the excess paint back into the tray, some of the paint still dripping onto the plasticated floor. She moves closer to you, holding it between you,
“Maybe start with the wa-“ you start but are interrupted by Sevika smearing a wad of paint across your tank top.
“Oh my god!” You shriek, Sevika cackles, stepping back to avoid consequence. Your tongue presses the side of your cheek as you watch her laugh to herself as she begins to paint the walls. You weren’t going to let her get away with that. No way.
You place your roller inside the paint tray, dragging it back and forth, watching her paint strokes peacefully over the murky brown colour. You sneakily place your hand inside the silky liquid, shaking off any dripage silently.
“Sev?” You say innocently as you place your tainted hand behind your back, holding your roller out where she could see it. Her eyes narrow in on the roller before she looks back at you,
“Hmm, yes baby?” She says trying to conceal a smile, thinking that she’s got you.
“Can you turn on the radio, hun?” You say, your smile is falsely simple.
“Yes, of course.” She played along, turning dramatically away from you, towards the little radio player in the corner of the room. She knelt over slowly, toying with the nob before twisting it to the channel she knew was your favourite. You smile becomes genuine as you recognise it, but you don’t falter, moving light on your feet towards her. She stays in her spot, perfectly positioned for your impending attack.
You swing the roller towards her back causing her to whip around grabbing your wrist as she does, you gasp forcefully, her hand and attention occupied by the paint slipping from the top of the roller. She smirks proudly, as you stare at her with false conviction. Suddenly, you reveal the hand covered in paint from behind you, aiming directly for her cheek.
Her mechanical hand practically teleports to it, grabbing your other wrist tightly and abruptly causing a spit of paint to stain her face. You press your lips together, dissatisfied with the result of your cunning plan.
She moves in closer to you, lips grazing your ear,
“You forget who I am, my love.” you can practically hear the cocky smirk on her face. She pulls away as you look at her, a demure expression painted on your face.
She takes the hand covered in paint, moving it ever so slowly to her chest, as she guides it down her torso, stopping before she reaches the exposed skin in line with her v-line. You blinked profusely, trying to hide a flush, you felt growing in your chest. You hold eye contact with her as she does with you, tilting her head to the side as her slightly open mouth cocks a genuine smile.
“You got me.” She whispers as she completes a smile. You roll your eyes, turning your head away from her, bashful. You knew she was trying to get you ‘excited’, and trust, you wanted her, but your ears caught wind of your favourite song and you couldn’t pass the opportunity up,
“Dance with me, Sevy,” you replied, your voice still light in a whisper. She chuckled faintly, pulling you into her, causing you to drop the paint-covered-roller onto the tarped floor. Your head looked to it, forgetting the tarp was even there but Sevika immediately turned your head back to her,
“My love.” She said in a hushed tone, leaning her forehead against yours as she swayed with you to the music. Her hands traveled down to your lower back, causing you to stand on your tiptoes, moving closer into her as your arms anchored themselves on her shoulders.
The piano, tickling gently in the background calmed you, your eyes closed as hers did too. You felt so loved by her. More than ever before, no love you’d experienced in the past could even come close to what she made you feel. As she held you, the music swirling around the empty, half painted room, you focused on her touch. She taught you that, touch. It was the most important thing to her, she wanted you to understand it the way she did. To her, touch was something she couldn’t live without. She’d talk to you about how you touched her, the feeling of the tips of your fingers over the scars on her skin, never leaving a blemish unloved. The feeling on your legs entangled with hers, the warmth of your body’s becoming one, a single energy.
She was one with you, she’d tell you. She felt whole. You squeezed her tighter, remembering that. You listened to her steady breathing, the feeling of air streaming from her nose to your upper lip. You began breathing in rhythm with her, yearning to be one with her. You felt her fingernails, scraping your back as she rubbed you gently. She was always so gentle with you, when she wanted to be. She’d always hold you close to her, no matter where you were, a reminder that she was yours and you were hers.
“I love you.” She whispered.
“I love you more.” You breathed,
every worry you’d ever felt in the past, magically disappeared when you were with her. You’d love her for as long as you lived.