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Published:
2021-11-28
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2022-02-20
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3/?
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Welcome To the Playground (formerly Not Tonight)

Summary:

Curiosity gets the better of Jinx one evening, and she follows Silco to the very last place she expected.

Notes:

Uhhh... so I wrote this, I guess. Please heed the tags. If you see something in there that you think might bother you, don't read this, that's all I can tell you. I'm not going to apologize for the fact that I'm pairing them, nor am I going to apologize for making Jinx's age intentionally ambiguous in this (but she's young, so if that squicks you out, this ain't for you). Thank you to all of the other lovely authors out there getting their Silco fics out, they are giving me life.

EDIT: I changed the title, 1) because I think it works better and it's from my favorite damn song on the soundtrack (AND SHOULD ALSO HINT AT WHERE THIS IS GOING), and 2) because the original title worked for a one-shot, but this is no longer that, so, here we are.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

It’s already late by the time Silco rises and shrugs his coat on, but Jinx is quick to set aside the scrap she’s tinkering with, clambering to her feet to join him.

It isn’t until he holds up a hand to stay her that she realizes, with a sinking disappointment, that tonight is one of those nights.

“Not this time, Jinx. Stay here. Finish what you were doing,” he instructs her with the gentle firmness she’s become accustomed to, nodding his head toward the half-finished contraption at her feet.

A bubble of frustrated curiosity swells in her chest at this ongoing, periodic secrecy of his, but she knows by now that arguing will get her nowhere.

She watches him leave in sullen, dejected silence and he’s scarcely been gone thirty seconds before the jeering begins in her head-- voices like the discordant shriek of violin strings being abused, fraying her nerves.

He’s keeping things from you.

He doesn’t trust you.

“That’s not true. He just… needs some time to himself. Everybody needs privacy once in a while,” she reasons aloud.

Or he just needs a break from you. You’re obnoxious. He must get so sick of it; putting up with you day in and day out.

“You’re wrong,” she insists, but a note of uncertainty in her tone belies her vehemence.

Why don’t we see for ourselves? Then you won’t have to wonder anymore.

Jinx hesitates. She doesn’t relish the idea of blatantly disobeying Silco.

Don’t be such a baby. He doesn’t have to know. You’ve tailed someone plenty of times without getting caught.

*
She catches up to him in minutes.

Impulse control has never been her strong suit.

As she follows him from the docks and deeper into the Lanes, she is keenly aware of what happened the last time someone told her to stay put and she didn’t.

But, she assures herself, this is different. He’s just running an errand-- the height of mundanity.

Then why didn’t he send Sevika? Traff? Rethe?

“Will you shut up? That’s what we’re finding out,” she mutters irritably under her breath, keeping the back of Silco’s distinctive coat within her eye-line.

Her bewilderment is nearly paralyzing when she watches him disappear into the brothel not far from Last Drop just a short while later.

Jinx stares in near uncomprehension as a tumult of unexpected emotion begins to roil inside of her. She feels sick; feverish and nauseated as she struggles for breath--- it’s like someone just kicked her in the stomach. When the shock begins to wear off, however, there’s just… anger. Seething hot anger with a knife’s edge of betrayal and something… something else. She doesn’t immediately recognize it for the venomous jealousy that it is.

He’s in there fucking someone! Mylo’s voice crows with boorish entertainment.

“No he’s not,” Jinx growls through her teeth. “He doesn’t… he wouldn’t do that. He’s not like that.”

What, you think the guy’s a monk? This explains everything.

“He’s probably just… collecting dues or--or-or--” she searches wildly for another possibility, no matter how improbable.

Or-or-or he’s about to give it to someone good. ...And why do you care so much anyway, you little freak?

“I don’t. I don’t care. I couldn’t care less. I…”

Jinx’s voice gets stuck behind the lump that rises in her throat.

“I just don’t think he would do that.”

Why don’t you find out for sure? You came all the way here. If you go home now, you’re gonna whine and mope and wonder and pick at it like a scab, so why not just spare yourself the trouble?

Jinx knows a bad idea when she hears one. But she also knows how futile it is to pretend that she hasn’t already made up her mind.

*

She’s never actually been inside the brothel before-- it’s one of the few things that Vander had ever forbidden in no uncertain terms, and she----- Powder------had never harbored any burning desire to flout that rule to find out the particulars of what went on in there.

Between an awkward, nervous, somewhat abstract explanation from Vi and having eavesdropped on a few of Mylo and Claggor’s conversations, she had managed to get the jist.

She half expects to be stopped and turned away at the door because of her age, but no one says a word to her as she furtively slips inside.

Immediately, she’s enveloped by a cacophony of raucous, lurid noise and an overpowering miasma of perfume and incense that makes her nose and throat itch. Her senses are utterly overwhelmed for several moments as she tries in vain to process the sheer amount of naked flesh teeming around her. Jinx had not anticipated her own undeniable interest in looking at bodies that are not her own, or the titillation that it sparks low in her belly, making her heart pound and her skin feel hot and cold all at once.

Standing there in the front parlor, she realizes distantly that she must be gawping, but there’s just too much to look at. Everywhere she turns her eyes, there is something new and illicit; a woman with her thighs spread wide open to display the pink delta at their apex and all the piercings that adorn it; a young man, bound and gagged, with what appears to be a cage around his genitals; a slender, androgynous creature in an ornate mask undulating to a beat throbbing beneath all the noise like a pulse.

Jinx is only freed from her incredulous hypnosis when she spots Sevika in a corner with a lissome young woman grinding rhythmically on her thigh. She utterly freezes for a moment, panic rising in her chest as she realizes that Silco will definitely hear about it if she’s spotted. Fortunately, she’s far too preoccupied to notice the girl and Jinx backs out into a dimly lit corridor.

The startling spectacle of seeing Sevika clearly enjoying herself that way renews her sense of purpose-- that anxious, sick feeling swiftly returning to the pit of her belly as she becomes even less certain about what Silco would and would not do.

Moving through the hallway, her eyes dart back and forth as she peers into each room-- only looking long enough to confirm that he isn’t there. It’s tempting to linger and watch, but a gnawing sense of urgency outweighs her burgeoning fascination.

At least, she thinks to herself, all of the doors are conveniently open. Not only does it make her search much easier, but the unshakable certitude that Silco would never allow himself to be lasciviously gawked at by passersby provides some small sense of relief.

...Until she comes to the only door that is closed.

*

It’s the very last door on the left, and somehow Jinx knows-- just knows-- with a dreadful certainty that Silco is in there, and she can scarcely breathe for the vicious stabbing sensation in her chest.

Of course she has to see for herself.

Just a regular old glutton for punishment, huh?

“Shutupshutupshutupshutup,” the girl hisses distractedly, her mind a disjointed flurry of thought as she considers how to get inside the room.

Why can’t you just accept that the man’s got needs? Needs that you can’t fulfill. ...Or is that what this is all about? You want that to be you in there with him? You want him to f---

“Got it,” Jinx whispers, her eyes snapping open abruptly as she recalls one of those tiny, insignificant details that sometimes get lodged in her brain.

Almost all of the rooms have laundry chutes.

Rushing back down the hall, she searches in a frenzy for the stairs that will lead her to the sublevel; where all of the laundry gets dumped.

When she finds them, she takes them two, three at a time, nearly tripping forward and coming to a clumsy halt at the bottom as she catches herself against the wall.

She doesn’t take as long as she should to contemplate which chute will bring her to the correct room, but once she’s chosen and is squirming into the tight space to begin the upward climb, she feels that same sense of terrible assuredness that this is the one.

This is pathetic. Scrabbling around like a rat in the walls because you just have to see it. You’re so beyond messed up.

Jinx pauses in the dark to slap herself hard across the face, hoping it will silence the commentary for a little while-- just a little while. The stinging pain is worth the temporary quiet… when it works.

Resuming her crawl, she soon comes to a dead-end that can only be the door to the chute.

*

Holding her breath, she reaches up and presses gently at the metal barrier in front of her, willing the hinges not to squeak. Light begins to filter into the cramped space as the girl eases the door down in tiny, torturous increments.

Details of the room become visible; it’s a parody of opulence with its antiquated, plush red furniture.

Jinx doesn’t just feel like her heart stops when she finally sees Silco, it clenches to a shuddering halt behind her breastbone.

He’s seated on a settee not unlike the one that furnishes his office-- though it’s much more worse for wear. Jinx has a perfect view of his profile; the unscarred half of his face as he looks downward at the girl kneeling between his knees.

She can make out dark hair, pale skin… the girl is young, she realizes. Shockingly young. As young as Jinx is herself, and that detail sends a painful surge of covetous fury coursing through her body.

But the thing that is certain to sear itself into her memory--- the thing that makes her want to claw the whore’s eyes out and utterly wreck her stupid little face is the fact that Silco’s hands are moving methodically above his lap, patiently braiding the other girl’s long hair.

The way he braids her hair; two thick ropes that will hang down her back.

One is already completed and he’s close to finishing the other.

You thought it was special--- him doing that for you, huh? Guess it’s not. Not if he’ll do it for a whore.

Or maybe she’s special. If he does the kinds of things with her that people come here to do.

She must have something you don’t. Otherwise he’d be at home with you now, wouldn’t he?.

Jinx watches, both frozen and burning, as Silco silently coaxes the girl to turn around and face him, relaxing against the back of the settee with a familiar, indolent repose.

But there is an underlying tension in his body that indicates expectation.

Or anticipation.

The girl kneeling in front of him reaches for the buttons of his trousers almost as a matter of course, Silco’s gaze fixed intently on her small hands.

Despite the red-hot fire iron of rage plunged into her chest, a dizzying wave of arousal crashes over Jinx when the other girl works him free and he stands rigidly erect with an intimidatingly unassailable masculinity.

She isn’t supposed to see this--- watching him like this is a betrayal of his trust.

And yet part of her feels furiously entitled to watch, given her unshakeable sense of some betrayal on his part--- something that she’s having a great deal of difficulty understanding, let alone processing. She knows it doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t lessen the intensity of what she’s experiencing for the first time… not her viciously possessive outrage or the new and alien but explosive desire for the man who is--- for all intents and purposes--- her father.

It feels like the girl’s entire body begins to throb as the prostitute angles him down and dips her head forward to take the crown of him into her mouth.

Silco’s chest expands with a sharp inhalation, the muscles in his jaw tensing. He’s no longer looking down; he seems to be gazing off into the middle-distance now as he almost absent-mindedly winds one of other girl’s braids around his hand with an elegant, sinuous gesture. His other hand slides beneath the other braid to cup the base of her skull.

The prostitute’s head begins to bob--- slowly at first and then building toward a rhythm that Jinx discerns Silco is controlling by the tension and flex in his arms. For all that her heart is pounding, she feels hypnotized by the motions.

Silco’s posture shifts, his shoulders rolling forward just slightly-- it’s a minute thing, but it proves to be the only warning given before the hand on the back of the girl’s head abruptly tips her forward, angling her chin toward her chest and then forcing her down with the inexorability of a hydraulic press. It happens so fast and with such smooth, controlled violence that it’s reminiscent of a snake constricting its prey.

The girl’s face disappears into the crux of his thighs, the other half of Silco’s length that had previously gone untended driven home in a single, swift motion.

Jinx is struck dumb, watching the prostitute’s spine arch like a cat’s as she heaves mutedly and begins to struggle in panic.

And Silco, with calm, measured, merciless strength, holds her in place with her face flush against his pelvis, his hands tight and his arms only faintly straining with the effort.

His good eye goes lidded after a moment and his head rolls back in the first display of genuine pleasure he’s shown.

He inhales slowly as the girl between his thighs bats frantically at his knee with another heave.

“You’ll never trust me enough to know just how much you can take… will you?” he murmurs throatily, lifting his head and turning his gaze downward to watch the girl claw helplessly at his legs. His exasperated disappointment is belied by an almost palpable, predatory enjoyment of her desperation that Jinx can see gleaming in the blue of his untainted eye.

He finally pulls her back a moment later, the girl flushed and gasping for air with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Breathe,” he instructs tersely.

“I’m--I’m sorry--I--” she attempts thickly.

Silco gives a single shake of his head, curtly rejecting anything that might follow. “I don’t pay you to apologize.”

She withers beneath the intensity of his relentless stare.

Jinx knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that look; how much more effective it is than raising his voice or striking someone to express his disapproval.

Grasping the girl once more as she takes him back into her mouth, he doesn’t give her the luxury of working up to anything this time; her head is forced downward in a motion that seems almost effortless, save for a single hitch when he hits the back of her throat and her body goes tense with a guttural retch.

It doesn’t stop him from sinking her the rest of the way down an instant later.

As he holds her in place this time, she makes a visible effort to resist struggling, her hands clenching and unclenching where they rest at his sides.

“Better,” he praises on an exhalation, his features smoothing with enjoyment.

The hot ache in the low of Jinx’s center becomes nearly unbearable as she watches his hips tilt upward. They begin to roll sensually-- slowly at first, but the pace begins to increase as the girl starts to heave uncontrollably again.

It suddenly strikes Jinx that the vigor and speed of his serpentine thrusts correlate directly with how the girl is choking on him. As she drops any pretense of composure and begins to squirm once more, Silco’s breathing becomes an audible, shuddering pant.

There is an electrifying tension building in him and Jinx swears she can feel it in her own hips--- she wants to buck, grind, match his motions in perfect empathy as he holds and presses the girl’s head ever more relentlessly between his thighs.

His jaw is tensed, his teeth tight, his brow furrowed and his good eye closed while the other slowly dilates, his pupil threatening to eclipse the bright ring where his iris used to be.

The girl turns frantic, beginning to fight in earnest to free herself from his grasp as she grabs for his wrists.

“Down,” he orders through his teeth, his voice a low, tense growl. “Stay down.”

It’s like he’s been taken over by something and he’s too close to seeing it through to stop.

Jinx forgets herself for a moment and shifts her weight to push the metal door open further, wanting a clearer view of the inevitable culmination of all of this.

She abruptly falls forward, the hinges shrieking wildly before giving way to a deafening CLANG when she instinctively pitches backward and the door snaps back into place, throwing her into complete darkness.

A near swoon of terror overtakes her as she catches herself and just barely avoids sliding all the way back down the chute. It occurs to her in the instant before the metal door is ripped open that maybe that would have been a better bet---- with any luck, she’d break her neck and avoid the fallout this is going to cause.

Before she can think to do anything, a hand closes in a vice-like, bruising grip around her calf, savagely jerking her out of the chute with an alarming, wiry strength and sending her spilling onto the floor.

“I’m sorry--- I’m sorry--- I’m sorry---” she repeats desperately like a warding spell, chancing an upward glance.

Silco has hastily redressed himself, but his hair has fallen slightly out of place and he is clearly apoplectic as he stares down at her.

“Get up,” he tells her, the low rumble of his voice and the seething calm of the words falling on Jinx’s head like a blow.

His ward is apparently too slow finding her feet for his liking, so he snatches her foream in that same shockingly steely grasp and yanks her off of the floor, almost dragging her behind him as he throws the door open and storms down the hall.

*

He says nothing on the way home, the silence growing exponentially worse as it claws at her, giving those jeering voices in her head plenty of time to mock her; to insist that this is it--- she’s done it now. Messed up again! He’ll hate you for this!

When they reach the Lookover, he lets go of her arm and begins shrugging out of his coat.

Jinx can’t take it anymore.

“Well?! Say something! Would you say something?!” she says sharply, but it’s more plea than demand.

“Go to your room,” he tells her flatly, not pausing as he climbs the stairs.

Jinx is frozen for several moments, her head a nest of angry hornets that makes her want to pound her skull until the chaos dies down.

A moment later, she’s rushing up the stairs after him, finding him already seated at his desk when she bursts into the office.

Flinging herself into his lap, she feels his entire body tense as she snakes her arms around him with a series of hiccuping sobs. “Please please don’t hate me. I’m sorry. Just don’t hate me. Please…”

Instantly, he wraps her in an embrace--- the same embrace that saved her life the night everything fell apart. He cradles her to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I don’t hate you,” he assures her gently but firmly. “I will never hate you, precious girl,” he continues in promise, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her brow. He lets that sink in for her; lets her body relax and her trembling cease. “But Jinx,” he goes on when she has calmed, catching her chin under his finger and tilting her head up to look at him. “You disobeyed me,” he reminds her sternly.

Her expression grows sheepish and wary; the very picture of guilt. She contemplates trying to explain why she followed him, or why he’d found her spying, or why his visit to the brothel had upset her so much, but it’s far too daunting. Instead, she lands on: “I don’t want you to go there. I don’t want you to see that-- that girl. ...I want to be the one who makes you feel good that way.”

Silco goes very still. It seems to Jinx that even the rise and fall of his chest halts for a moment.

Her hand slithers down between them to splay against his crotch and she’s surprised-- thrilled-- to find that he’s still rigid beneath his trousers. She can feel the powerful pulse of him even through the heavy fabric.

The moment she touches him, he inhales sharply with a little jolt. His hand dives for hers a moment later, clutching her wrist to draw it away. He intertwines their fingers instead. “You needn’t concern yourself with those matters, Jinx.”

With a pang of frustration, she pulls out of his affectionate grasp and reaches down to palm his erection more aggressively. “I want to,” she insists firmly, lifting her head and leaning in to graze her lips against the shell of his ear. “I want it,” she reiterates on a hot exhalation, stroking him inexpertly but insistently...pleased when she evokes an uncontrollable shudder and he seems to flex beneath her fingers.

Sliding from his lap to the floor, she kneels in front of him and swiftly begins to pluck at the buttons of his pants. “I can do it,” she assures him, “I’ll show you.”

“--Jinx,” he murmurs, striving for reproach but faltering as he stares down at her. His expression wavers between dismay and feral hunger.

Encouraged by the fact that he isn’t stopping her, Jinx hurries impatiently, only slowing as she carefully draws him out.

His flesh is a livid, dark color and feels like steel wrapped in silk.

“...You didn’t finish at the brothel,” she realizes abruptly.

He gives a curt shake of his head. “You might remember that I was rather rudely interrupted,” he rumbles archly, still looking as if he might push her hands away and tuck himself back into his pants at any moment.

Understanding she does not have time to hesitate, Jinx runs her tongue over her lips and with no further warning, leans forward and fits the thick crown into her mouth.

He’s fever-hot against her tongue and lips.

She begins to suck almost instinctively, her mouth sealing tightly around him. She’s rewarded with a hiss as Silco inhales sharply through clenched teeth above her, his hips jolting. His hands fall to the armrests of his chair a moment later and he squeezes until the wood groans beneath his punishing grip.

“Jinx,” he grunts lowly---- though it no longer sounds like he’s attempting to stay her.

Assessing the way he is grasping the armrests from her peripheral, it occurs to her that he is trying desperately to control himself.

She recalls what seemed to incite him at the brothel.

Her mouth slides down the length of him until he bumps the back of her throat. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she reaches out and takes Silco’s right hand, guiding it to the back of her head.

It splays there, but remains impassive and immobile, frustrating her.

Jinx forces her head down on her own, pressing him harder into her soft-palate and triggering her gag reflex. She is irritated by her own limitations and inexperience, but she can hear Silco panting above.

Squeezing her watering eyes shut, she makes another attempt and is unsuccessful, giving up with a muted retch.

“...Chin down. Relax your throat,” Silco instructs, his voice low in his throat, like a purr.

Angling her jaw, Jinx makes a concentrated effort to avoid tensing and gives another insistent downward push with her head.

It happens with far more ease than she could have anticipated, the thick of him becoming an intense, bruising pressure as it moves into her throat. Instinctive panic grips her as she heaves, immediately attempting to tug her head back, but the hand on the back of her head goes abruptly tight, applying a relentless pressure that forces her forward.

In another instant, the other hand joins it and he’s clutching her to him in a vice grip.

 

“Swallow,” he snarls.

Jinx obeys instantly and automatically, swallowing repeatedly the way she would if she had taken too big a bite of food and was desperately trying to get it unstuck.

Silco’s hips roll up a single time. “Good girl,” he praises, the word lurching in his throat, strained by pleasure as he begins to surge. “Don’t stop--- don’t stop,” he warns in a ragged pant.

Jinx continues, her head pounding and her entire body throbbing with the intensity of her arousal and elation.

“Good girl,” he exhales, as if with some great relief as he uncoils and tips his head back, allowing the girl to pull back.

She draws off of him with a gasp, her head reeling dizzily as she rests her cheek against his thigh.

For several moments, they’re both left panting in silence.

After an interim, Jinx crawls back into his lap, nuzzling into his neck. Silco welcomes her, curling an arm around her back and sliding a hand up her leg.

“...I did a good job?” she wonders quietly.

“A very good job,” he growls in reply.

“It felt good?”

“Yes, Jinx, it felt good,” he sighs.

There’s a pause as she lifts her head to look at him.

“...Can we do it again?” she asks in hopeful expectation.

Silco scoffs incredulously. “No,” he replies automatically. “...Yes,” he amends half a second later. “---Not tonight,” he clarifies firmly.