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The way Sevika had been staring at you for the last minute made you want to burst into laughter. With her arms crossed, her fingers twitched and tapped her bronze arm. Her eyebrow cocked.
“You sure you don’t need any help?” she said.
Funny.
“Yes, hun, I’m sure. You asked me already. Now go relax while I finish up.”
She said nothing, but her eyes flickered between you and the cutting board.
You had always cradled kitchen knives in your fingers exactly the way your dad taught you: three on the grip, two at the base of the blade. This time, Sevika caught you before you settled in. Asked if you were okay. You kept up the charade for no other reason than to watch her squirm.
The corner of her top lip quivered with each awkward slide of the knife. You held the chunk of potato with your opposite hand, keeping your digits just out of reach in case of an accidental slip. The blade was sharpened well, mind, but you played up its dulled edge well enough to make Sevika fidgety.
The potato dwindled down to a scrap, barely enough room to fit the tips of your fingers. The final slice cut close. Sevika winced in your periphery, and in half a second she was nudged against you, massaging the knife from your hand.
“Lemme help. Please.”
Hilarious.
“Vika, it’s fine, I got it,” you said, smirking, though you made no attempt to refuse.
Sevika set the knife aside. She clicked her tongue and trapped you against the counter. When she leaned in, she brushed her nose right up against the back of your ear. You couldn’t help but roll your neck back a few degrees.
“I know you’re doing that on purpose, you little shit.”
“Doing what on purpose?”
“The knife shit. Thought you were tired or something. Don’t be careless.”
“Am I making you nervous?”
You shivered at the puff of air masking a scoff or laugh.
“Yeah. You are making me nervous,” she whispered.
You turned immediately. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
Many moons ago, Sevika would have dodged the question. Her gruff exterior wasn’t a front—she waved off any verbal expression of affection or care in favor of action. As much as you loved how action-oriented she was, any affection uttered directly always made you swoon. Buuut…you were still fine throwing her a bone.
The height difference between you never failed to make you melt. You felt small beneath her worried gaze. Not powerless, but definitely small.
And well, maybe, the combination of all three made you a little…needy. And hot.
She glared at you playfully before her expression softened. Her wolf-grey eyes twinkled. When she leaned in, your body followed the script. She gave you one quick peck on the lips before she delved deeper with lips and tongue. You returned with equal fervor as you pulled her closer by her pants waistband.
The kiss was fleeting but enough to leave you reeling when she pulled away. She glided her tongue over your bottom lip as a memento. You quickly moved from the waistband to her zipper, but she caught your hand and spun you around slowly. She placed your hand back on the counter. Her own trailed up your arm to your shoulder. From your shoulder blades down to your ribs. Waist to your ass. She squeezed you, shook you gently. Rubbed and squeezed again and again and—
Smack!
Your ass clenched and you sucked air through your teeth. It was a gentle, but loud swat that didn’t do your situation any justice. Before you could even respond, Sevika grazed your ear again and whispered.
“Be more careful… please.”
She pecked the space behind your ear and left you to finish dinner prep.
You stared at the mess of chopped potatoes and onions on the cutting board. Your cheeks and ass burned. Sevika played you at your own game, and you had no one to blame but yourself.