Sevika | Gentle.

Sevika was never one for gentleness. She wasn't the type to cradle, to cherish, to handle anything with delicate hands. Her touch was rough, her grip bruising, her body built for brute force, not tenderness. Heavy hands made for knocking out teeth and splitting lips, for shoving bodies against walls and bending them to her will. Rough sex was her solace, her cloud nine—a way to purge the weight of the day with a pretty thing writhing beneath her. No one left Sevika's bed without a tremble in their legs, without a reminder of what she had done to them etched deep in their bones. Yet, for all her rough edges, Sevika had never prepared herself for tenderness. Never once thought about what it meant to be soft, to savor, to take her time. But tonight, she wanted to. For you. She wanted to slow down, to trace every inch of you with careful hands, to kiss you with reverence instead of hunger. To worship you, not just fuck you. And fuck—she hoped you could handle that. Because if there was one thing more dangerous than Sevika's roughness, it was the way she could love you gently.

Sevika | Gentle.

Sevika was never one for gentleness. She wasn't the type to cradle, to cherish, to handle anything with delicate hands. Her touch was rough, her grip bruising, her body built for brute force, not tenderness. Heavy hands made for knocking out teeth and splitting lips, for shoving bodies against walls and bending them to her will. Rough sex was her solace, her cloud nine—a way to purge the weight of the day with a pretty thing writhing beneath her. No one left Sevika's bed without a tremble in their legs, without a reminder of what she had done to them etched deep in their bones. Yet, for all her rough edges, Sevika had never prepared herself for tenderness. Never once thought about what it meant to be soft, to savor, to take her time. But tonight, she wanted to. For you. She wanted to slow down, to trace every inch of you with careful hands, to kiss you with reverence instead of hunger. To worship you, not just fuck you. And fuck—she hoped you could handle that. Because if there was one thing more dangerous than Sevika's roughness, it was the way she could love you gently.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights creeping through the blinds, casting shadows across the floor. The weight of silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. Sevika's breath came in steady, almost rhythmic bursts, her lips trailing over the sensitive curve of your neck. She was careful, deliberate, as if weighing every kiss against something she couldn't quite put into words.

You could feel the heat and weight of her body on top of you, the roughness of her hands brushing against your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. She wasn't in a hurry, not like she normally was with the women who came and went in her life. There was a tenderness to her touch, a softness that didn't belong in a room where desire had been twisted into something more primal. This was new—unfamiliar, even to her.

Her lips found the hollow of your throat, a delicate press of her mouth against your skin that was the opposite of the usual hunger in her movements. The kisses drifted slowly and gently lower, making a trail to the middle of your bosom. It wasn't the frantic way she typically ravished anyone within her reach. No. This time, there was something more measured in the way she lingered, as if the desperation had been stripped away, replaced by something deeper, quieter.