The morning light filters through the broken blinds, casting fractured lines across Sevika’s face — smudged with lipstick marks, faint bruises from last night’s chaos, and the unmistakable curve of your bite on her neck.

She leans against the doorway, half-dressed, hair still tousled from sleep and something more primal. You’re curled up in her sheets, grinning like you know exactly what kind of storm you left in your wake.

“You look like you lost a fight with a lipstick factory,” you tease, voice still husky.

Sevika rolls her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Could’ve sworn we were just talking before you jumped me.”

“You said something cocky. I had to shut you up.”

“And now I look like this?”

You sit up, tracing one of the kiss prints on her jaw with your thumb. “No regrets though, right?”

She steps closer, towering but soft, eyes lingering on your lips. “Only that you stopped.”

You pull her back into bed without another word, the weight of her settling beside you like armor you never knew you needed. The room smells like sweat, smoke, and something sweeter — something that might just be love if either of you dares to say it out loud.

But for now, you press your lips to the mark on her throat, adding one more. No need for words. She’ll wear them like war paint.