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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

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Partition

Silco x Fem!Assassin Reader NSFW

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @six-feet-sleep !!

Six asked for a birthday gift that was basically you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid featuring Silco and a very brassy assassin in his employment. In a car. Two tops trying to top each other. (And yes, one of them does say the quiet part out loud lmao.)

No Y/N reader, dirty talk, angry sex, car sex, two tops trying to top each other, lots of sass, should be s/d but its d/d lmao, public-ish sex I suppose, bit of a power imbalance but don’t tell them that, some parts could be construed as dub con but trust me they are both into it.

“You had one job.”

“And you of all people ought to realize there’s a lot of moving parts to one job.” You shot back, rolling eyes at your own transparent reflection in the glass of the window, the undercity passing by outside the motorcar. “And if you don’t stop grousing and let me do my work I’ll accept one more job.”

A snap of your head over one shoulder brought his cold mismatched glare into focus and you bared teeth at him in a feral approximation of a smile. How many men liked to tell you to smile for them? Like they didn’t understand what it meant when a predator showed its teeth. At least Silco had never done that. Yet.

“You think you don’t have a lovely price on your head, oh newly minted Eye of Zaun?” You scoffed, flicked gazed up and down in him in a way that couldn’t fail to be translated as appraising and turned back to the window. He didn’t need to know this was your very first ride in a motorcar and you would rather be entranced with the feeling of motion not under your control, watch the world go by faster than you could run. “You’ve got a few people want you gone.”

There was a moment of tense silence in which you could hear the leather of the gloves he wore straining over his knuckles as his fist tightened.

“And I hope you know I would pay handsomely for their names. More handsomely to return the favor of their request.” The sound of his voice when he spoke through gritted teeth was music to your ears. Sure it was a perverse delight, pushing his buttons, but a girl had to get her jollies where she could.

He just sounded so... good, when frustrated. A timbre to his anger that was delicious in a way you didn’t care to interrogate too deeply. Just accepted it and then tried every which way to provoke it while still keeping your neck firmly attached to your shoulders.

“Mmn. We both know you can’t afford it.” Leaving your fascination with the window you turned in the seat beside him to offer him the full weight of your attention since he so obviously craved it. “Yet.”

Oh yes he smiled thinly, tightly, at that, teal eye narrowing as that horrorshow red just bore into you motionless.

“Let me do my one job and maybe you will, soon enough.”

He sat back at that, stared up at the ceiling (or was it roof?) of the motorcar in longsuffering impatience.

“Oh indeed? And do tell; when is soon enough? A year from now? Two?”

He rounded back on you, all that heat he kept balled up inside leaking at the seems, fire licking at the grates of the searing hot furnace. Suddenly too hot, he yanked those gloves off one finger at a time.

“You were employed because I had assurances you were the best. I’m starting to think your reputation came highly inflated. Not the least because you are without a doubt the most insufferable employee I’ve ever had the dubious joy of working with.”

“Oh but it is a joy, isn’t it?” You shot back, all sugar coated venom and a sharp grin to match. “I am the best and you know it. It’s hardly my fault you need to micromanage every tiny detail. You are the one impeding my work, not me.”

“Oh? I forgot its foolish to want things done on time.”

Teeth grit so hard you swore molars would crack as you leaned forward, grip of hands tightening on the plush velveteen edge of the bench seat of the motorcar.

“Oh?” You mimicked his dripping-with-derision tone and inflection. Perfect mynah bird and knew how to use it to best effect. Watched with pleasure as it drew him back slightly to practically hear his own voice out of your mouth, “I forgot its foolish to want things done right instead of rushed.”

He didn’t sputter at your flawless imitation, but it wasn’t too far off. Perhaps blustered was a better word, but then again he didn’t debase himself that far. Still, it gave you no end of delight to watch him gall.

“I..!”

“Uh, uh, uh...I...” You mocked him openly, and peeled one hand from its grip of the seat to push a finger into the oversized lapel of his ridiculous coat. Watched the rage absolutely come to a head. Any second now steam would start whistling out of those adorably large ears. “You want a heavily protected entire syndicate family dead and none of it traced to you. You think I can just, what? Drop from the ceiling and garrote them one by one in one night and that looks like natural causes or unfortunate accidents?”

One gloved hand came up, quick as a snake, you had to give him that, and simultaneously slapped the point of your finger away and grabbed your wrist. Fingers tightened until you could feel your bones grind together and in spite of yourself it made your mouth purse and had you hunching forward a bit against the delicious little spike of pain shooting up your arm.

“Treat me like an idiot one more time...”

“I’m the one being treated like an idiot here! You paid for my skills, bloody trust them already. Unless you’d rather reneg? You know the policy. No security deposit back. And then no other cleaner in this city will trust you to accept a contract. You’ll be stuck with your big knucklehead muscle and good luck doing things...how did you put it? Surreptitiously then.”

Chipped teeth bared and you knew you had him dead to rights, knew he knew it too. The agonizing tightness of his grip eased, slightly, but he still kept hold and jerked you forward right into his personal space. Of course he smelled like the citrus of lime cream slicking back that dark hair, expensive cologne with a base of cedarwood and layered over it all the spice of cigar like a stocked humidor. The rich ones always smelled so good, always had a fresh shower and the latest scents. At least his was subtle, not nostril searing or ostentatious.

“I swear to Zaun, if you do not stop insulting me I will-“

He cast about for consequences to assign to your actions and you smiled, though the curve of it faltered when you were struck with the sudden realization that he was not glaring into your eyes or even at your face in general. No, he was gazing quite steadfastly at your mouth. At how your tongue had darted out to wet your lip in anticipation of sassing him once more. The pupils of both the monstrous eye and the pretty colored teal one blown ever so slightly.

Oh that was interesting.

“Or you’ll what?” You taunted dryly, tone a bit less shrill and pitched lower than your previous haranguing. “Kiss me?”

Thin lips peeled back further from ruined teeth as he gave the wrist he held a little jerk.

“I was thinking more along the lines of throw you out of this vehicle at maximum speed and find someone who could finish the job.” He returned in a low growl.

“Really?” You reached forward with the hand he held by the wrist, grazed fingertips down his throat and watched with elated satisfaction as both those pupils dilated all the wider while he struggled to try to tear attention off the shape of your mouth and back to your eyes, failing each time after a few seconds. Down you stroked and caught hold of his silk tie, gave it a little tug of your own.

“You could, I suppose. But no one else you get will give you the same satisfaction as I can.” This was getting more and more fun. You’d thought bratting and irritating him to no end was the height of pleasure. Upstart gutter rat trencher just like yourself all high and mighty and too full of big words for his own good. No, this was even better. Now there were stakes.

“I’ve had more satisfaction from a five dollar blow than I’ve yet to get from your so-called professional work.” He spat back. Still had that grip on your arm though, still suffering your toying grip on his tie.

“Ohoho! I knew it! I knew you patronized the cheap sex houses. You’ll want to watch that in future, those are favorite hunting grounds for people like me. So easy to get your mark when both his guard and his pants are down.”

All the blood drained from his face at once and for a moment as he reached for the door you were certain you’d finally crossed that invisible line you’d been toying with. He was most assuredly reaching for the door handle and going to pitch you out onto the cobblestones.

Instead he hit a button hidden under the armrest ledge of the door and a metallic brass partition slid upwards between the spacious back seat and the cramped driver’s quarters up front, gears grinding until it locked in place, and blocked sight and probably most sound from one of those massive, muscled goons driving the car and the other crammed into the passenger seat beside him.

“I have never!” Ok now he was almost sputtering, drawing his face back to look affronted you’d even suggest he might darken the doorstep of a house of ill repute, let alone one of the cheap ones where you were as likely to be paying for the pleasure of catching the clap as you were for any kind of sexual gratification from the poor creatures that worked there.

“No? Then I suppose its not the memory of what a good time you had with Toothless Tilda the Wet Whistler that’s got you so excited.” Your gaze dropped to the indolent spread of his lean thighs and the obvious start of an erection straining against the placard of his pants. “So then... that must be for me, hm?”

Silco steadfastly ignored the strain in his pants that was currently the focal point of your delighted stare, chin lifting haughtily and good eye narrowing.

“I’d rather stick myself in a sausage grinder.” Still through his teeth, regardless of his attempt at a cool and collected affect. And the fact he just seemed to be completely incapable of letting go of his grip on you. Fully unconscious of how the blade of his thumb had stroked absently over the pulse point just above the thick black leather cuff bracelet you wore.

Your grin doubled in size as eyes flicked up from your admiration of his uncomfortable pants situation and you pulled on that tie you held, bringing him nose to impossibly sharp nose with you.

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” Free hand snaked forward and you curled fingers to drag the tease of short nails over the obvious line of his hard cock, both of you listening in the pin-drop silence that followed your insult to the light susurrus of the sound they made against fabric.

It was a moment of perfect stillness.

A scant second before the shit hit the fan.

Then you were both a whirl of furious motion, a perfectly evenly matched fight of strike and deflection, grab and shove, at each other’s throats like street mongrels; snarling and laughter and grunt and groan. A mad pull at each other and clothes. You feinted a lean in for a kiss and he snapped at your face like a shark before he dove for his own attempt and you jerked face aside, leaving him to land on your throat. He mauled it and you grabbed for his crotch again, hard palming squeeze that had him gasping half pain, half want.

The motorcar rocked with the effort of the tussle between you both and eventually he caught you, got both wrists in his hands and you on your knees between his thighs, glaring happy hatred up at him like a mad thing as he held your hands slightly aloft.

“Insolent, insufferable, aggravating little -”

“How badly did the person who bought you that thesaurus regret giving it to you?” You interrupted, thrilled to watch his face flood with heat as you cut him off yet again, “And was it immediate, or did you make them wait a day to wish for death instead of having to listen to you?”

Silco snarled and you made to jerk away whilst his anger distracted him, only to have him yank you back, twisting you in his grip so that you landed in his splayed lap, facing outward, arms crossed over yourself, pinned. Nothing for it but to writhe and listen to breath leave him as your bottom ground against his constrained cock.

His face shoved into your throat again, sharp blade of that nose a hard nudge behind one ear, at the hook of your jaw, his mouth a hot press, hard suckle and teeth digging into delicate flesh anytime you had the temerity to make a soft little grunt of pleasure when he hit a good spot or sucked just right over pulse point. Tongue rolled wet over the indents he left behind and you were wriggling.

Quick as you please his legs came together under you and then spread again, having hooked your knees up under his, spreading you over his splay of a lap. One hand released a wrist, content to keep using your arm he had crossed over your other to keep both pinned tight.

His free hand came sliding forward, slipped under the short hem of your dark skirt and caught a mercilessly tight grip of your inner thigh that had you squeak in spite of yourself. He kneaded at the tender flesh in his grip before letting that hand slide out down the length of your thigh toward your knee, startlingly slow caress you had to stop yourself from purring at.

“Filthy fuck. I knew it. What is it? You like being talked down to? Just wanna be a little man after all, huh?” Getting harder to keep up that domineering bratting at the warmth of those long fingers and how their touch tickled deliciously at the inside of your leg.

“If you don’t shut up I will find some permanent and unpleasant remedy for that smart tongue of yours.” He rasped against the nape of your neck, front of teeth pressed to delicate skin. “Think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

His hand came snapping back up your leg and buried itself under your skirt as his grip caught the shape of your cunt. And hard as your legs tried to reflexively close, his own kept them spread as his fingers cupped, slid against what you both now knew was sodden fabric, and it was your turn to have heat flood your face as he chuckled softly behind you, stroking the damp fabric into primed folds to ruin it further.

“Wanted so badly to act like this is one sided, didn’t you? That greedy cunt of yours is calling you a liar.” Elegant long fingers curled on the gusset of panties and in one swift jerk he’d torn them open, left them hanging off one thigh and fully destroyed.

You were a liar if you wanted to say the thrill of that roughness didn’t send you spinning, have heart hammering joy fit to break your ribcage. He flipped the front of your skirt up to bare your spread embarrassingly and fingers found you again, delved into silk slick glistening folds in a caress that was far gentler than it could have been, toying with your clit in little brushes and brief circles that had you arching back against him, head draped back over his shoulder as he released his grip on your other wrist and used the opportunity of your unwinding arms to slide his now free hand up under shirt, hand splayed over the soft outward arch of your stomach that the curve of your spine made, and fuck, you knew he could feel the soft, fluttered convulsion of muscle within that each toying pass of your clit earned. The sweet electric thrill of skin on vulnerable skin trailing lines of lovely fire across your abdomen.

“You want to keep lying, little pest?” Mouth found your ear, bit ticklish along it before his head dipped and he caught a hard, deep bite of the muscle that rose between shoulder and neck as his finger zeroed in on your clit and set your hips rolling as you whined. He released the bite just long enough to speak again. “Dripping cunt as if this is what I’m paying you for instead, and you want to tell me I look stupid?”

Mouth worked but words wouldn’t. He was so fucking good. None of the fumbling, messy, sticky gross pawing you’d suffered with boys in your youth or drunk bar conquests when you got desperate enough to want a quick roll. Your head lolled on his shoulder but that bite wouldn’t let you get far. Did let you turn head to nuzzle into that short-shorn hair over his ear, lick at the shell of his earlobe, hand opposite coming up to take a grip of the longer strands slicked back atop his head and scrape nails at the nape of his neck.

Felt the grumble in his chest reverberate against your back.

You almost whined when he left off the quick, precise, exquisite little circles of your clit and slid his fingers lower, vee’d them out to spread your folds and the hungry gape of your entrance between fore and ring finger. Middle digit dipping across, gathering the juicy wet you were practically drooling in tormenting passes as the open press of his other palm stroked slow upwards from navel to the curve of breasts.

The grip of his teeth released as he raised his hand and slid the sticky slick wet of his middle finger into his mouth to suck it clean with a soft hum of approval that had you sucking on your own lower lip as you watched him in profile.

“So much sweeter than all your bitterness would have someone believe.” That red eye rolled, fixed you out of its corner as he smiled cruelly. “Probably the only sweet thing about you, I’ll wager.”

Fucking bastard. You shoved off your lolling arch and lurched forward, determined to turn this situation to your favor, grab the upper hand and make him bow to you instead. He caught you too quickly, grabbed wrists once more and pinned them neatly behind your back as you struggled in a half crouch under the low roof of the motorcar, not enough space in front of you with nose nearly pressed to the elegantly bas relief etched brass partition to get free.

There was the pop of buttons and he hauled you backward again. Straight onto his cock.

Air caught a choking gasp in your throat as the hot stretch of him spread you unceremoniously and it was only how messily wet you were that allowed for the give that slid you down him and buried him to his hilt in the eager grasp of your cunt. And you sat there, mouth agape, eyes wide, looking fuck-dumb before anything had ever even begun. Sweet Janna, he was huge.

The bulge you’d ran fingers over and ground against had felt substantial but... you hadn’t fully realized. Just the stretch of him was enough to keep solar plexus in a taut clench that prevented breath from restarting, and when you felt the length of him twitch inside of you there was no helping how you rocked forward slightly, curled comma as a long, low moan finally escaped.

And he laughed behind you, the bastard. Tightened his grip on the wrists pinned at the small of your back and let you just sit there on his cock.

“Go on, pest. Fuck yourself. That seems to be what you’re good at with how you run that pretty mouth. Or maybe it’s fucking me? Sure seems that way with how you’re dragging your feet on your work.”

It had you grit teeth and glare coldly dead ahead. And not move an inch.

“Yeah, you like it that way don’t you? Me working my ass off while you just sit there being snide and bossy.” You spat back at him, refusing to rise to the rather delicious bait. Instead you straightened and clenched. That had him suck a breath and broke a dangerous, deadly grin across your face once more. And so you sat there, feeling yourself dripping down onto his balls as you squeezed and squeezed in slow waves that had him crushing your wrists in a desperate grasp as he stifled some absolutely wonderful noises behind you.

And then the motorcar hit a pothole or some kind of obstruction in the road and bounced you both.

The gasp that escaped each of you was simultaneous and the way you kicked the back of the driver’s seat under the partition was pure reflex, and hard.

“Boss?” The deep rumble of a voice from the front seat was exceedingly muffled in spite of how loud it must have been on the outside, “Everything ok?”

“YES!” A tandem shout from you both stopped any further queries before Silco raised his voice, nearly deafening your right ear.

“Lock! Take a right on Old Levy Road and stay on it!”

His grip on you flexed finger by finger and you felt a cold little sweat prickle on the nape of your neck and small of your back. Old Levy was one of the most ancient roads in the undercity, still covered in messy cobblestones that could turn a careless walker’s ankle. The car lurched right in a hard turn and you were done for.

Bouncing didn’t begin to describe the way the motorcar rattled along, jolting the pair of you in an erratic up and down that had you practically keening as you bobbled on his cock, impaled again and again and again in a motion you could not control or predict, driving him up into your belly hard. And sweet Janna, it felt divine. His grip relaxed, shifted to one hand to hold both wrists as he caught a grasp of one bouncing breast and thumbed over nipple until you were rocking antithesis to the jerking ride.

“There we are pest. Stop being so contrary.” He sucked a breath at one significant bounce. “Hnnm... aren’t you tight? If we didn’t have to answer for your delay I’d have the car just drive up and down this road all evening until I was sure you were used up and that tight little cunt was nothing but a sloppy mess. I think I’d love hearing you beg instead of mouth off for once.”

Silco’s hand fell to span your stomach once more pressing like he might feel himself from the outside buried and impaling within you with each new cobblestone. And then down again to find your clit. Didn’t have to do much, just hold in the right spot and you rubbed against fingers with each inevitable motion.

“You...you’d be the one begging before I would.” You shot back as teeth rattled and a stammer helped keep too much of moan from your voice. “I’d squeeze the cock right off you...”

Big words as you shimmed and jolted and bounced on him, not every motion the fault of cobblestones as you tried for length and depth, riding him hatefully hard, coming down crushingly and hoping he could feel it like a kick in the belly each time.

“Hateful little pest.” He groaned against your shoulder blade and made it sound like praise. All the fine buttons and clasps and ornaments of his ridiculous coat and that intricate waistcoat digging into your back and arms. His grasp was failing however, and you could practically feel the tension stringing through the tops of lean thighs you sat upon mirroring the wonderful taut clench building in the pit of your stomach. You pulled wrists free and braced hands on his knees to bounce hard, harder. Fuck, so good...lifting nearly off him each time only to come back down hard. Faster, more, his hands a grip on your hips until you landed hard on him and came undone, curling forward as every muscle convulsed a chorus of ecstatic release, leaving you clenching the girth of him in fitful hard flutters as he pulsed and growled out a breathless groan behind you. Glorious constellation brilliant and blinding spangled across the backs of your fluttering closed eyelids.

Hot flood in the pit of your belly that had you rock back against him bonelessly and thank god that damned old road came to an end on a far smoother surface.

He had arms wrapped around you and face buried in your neck as he twitched out the last of his orgasm within you. Keeping you close as hands smoothed up to cup the underside of breasts, down to slip along the insides of still quivering thighs. His mouth warm on your jaw, nudge of his nose against the hollow of your cheek and breath a fan over sweat-beaded skin.

“Don’t move, pest. Don’t move.” His voice gone ragged and panting in a way you hated to admit you liked almost as much as the way it sounded when you got him mad.

You did move, however, just to turn your head and were rewarded with him catching your mouth, cruelty he wanted to pour into the kiss softened with his own delicious release. Still, it was ravenous, nipping, tongue a roll and press against your own eager one.

He broke it to draw breath and again came that echo of his soft, mirthless laughter. Like he was so proud of himself.

Well, if he was smart he wouldn’t give you a next time to get the upper hand. Something told you he wasn’t going to be that clever. Something in the way he drug fingertips slowly across the line of your jaw, in the way he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid you spread back on the seat to clean you up before he did himself, yet left enough of a mess that you’d be sure to feel it dribbling down one thigh as you stood at the meeting later when you both finally arrived. In the way he pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, terribly trusting that you wouldn’t take the ripe opportunity to further crack a few more of his teeth, and in how his thin smile quirked at its edges to watch you fight the stiffness in your gait later.

No, he was a prideful, hateful, hungry bastard and you’d get your chance soon enough, you knew it, to show him who was boss.

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