finalflight | psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

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psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

THE AUBEL ESTATE is located in Derbyshire, England, a stately old home reminiscent of centuries long past. Long ago, it had fallen into disrepair and abandoned until previous generations of the Aubel family purchased the land for themselves, having found their fortunes in matters of real estate. Since that time, the outside has been restored and the inside has been renovated at least three times. Four, if you ask the uncle who remembers the one summer where the chandelier fell from the dining hall, taking a large portion of the ceiling with it. How embarrassing, if such a thing is true.

In its present state, it straddles the line between the old and new. The large, prominent rooms are ostentatious as they are filled to the brim with austere English culture; the smaller quarters, traditionally used by the servants and staff, are far more modest, and over time have allowed the tendrils of modernity to creep in as a result. Regardless, the home is impressive no matter how you look at it, and there are few who do not cast an envious glance at the estate as they pass by Derbyshire on their way to town, or perhaps northwest to Manchester, if they've even farther to go.

PHILIP AND JAMES AUBEL, father and son respectively, are the owners of the home, though only the father remains for any extended period of time. And even then, he only stays perhaps one or two seasons at a time, until he returns to his home in London, spending one or two seasons there, before returning again, living out his life of retirement to the fullest. James visits nearly every week (driving in from Manchester, and back) in the Spring, until the first freeze of Winter, when nothing will grow. Though they have a staff of two dozen -- give or take, depending upon the time of year -- taking care of the estate and its grounds, James is more diligent about keeping up appearances of the house, showing a special interest in maintaining the complex hedge maze on the land directly behind them. Only he keeps access to its center, a literal walled garden of seasonal flora.

AS RECENT DEVELOPMENTS WOULD HAVE IT, James has been drawn into an arranged marriage by his father and an old business acquaintance. She is scheduled for an extended visit soon, and the staff have done a meticulous job of preparing the hall for her arrival -- and the rest of the rooms, as well, if she is expected to make her living here permanent, one day. Today, the weather is clear and the help is eager to aid her in unpacking. The grounds are green and the family dog, an old greyhound with cataracts in one eye, bounds up to her with a slow wagging tail. The father will greet her, of course, with all the usual formalities, and though he doesn't know her all that well at all, she at least seems nice enough. He disappears soon after, leaving her to her own devices as she sees fit. James himself is nowhere to be found.

Somewhere, sooner rather than later, a collision course of first impressions will take place.

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D I R E C T O R Y;

➤ shitpost.
➤ first impressions.
➤ diamonds.
➤ text her, texter.
➤ saviour.
➤ flirt.
➤ closer.
➤ cross-examine.
➤ PARTY CRASHERS.
✶ elle + devon
✶ elle + corvus
✶ ian + james + corvus
✶ devon + james
➤ alien abduction.
➤ sleep now.
➤ bathe.
➤ remember.
➤ drink.
➤ welcome home.

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[The warm water envelops her body and it comforts Devon. The wine glass is accepted and she grins at James' remark.]

I did try to find something cheap, but they all ended up costing more than the total sum of my art supplies. And that's saying something.

[She takes a sip and the wine warms her insides as well.]

Hey, when I sent you the text, did you think I was trying to mess with you at first?

[Keeping the conversation casual so she isn't overtaken by weird feelings when he takes off his towel of course.]

[He makes a "hm" noise, considering his response. He sets down his own glass.]

I did. But I wanted to be safe -- and admittedly, a little sly -- by simply accepting your offer rather than questioning it.

[He turns to her, grinning, (and, oh, by the way, removing his towel now) and picking up the glass of wine again.]

Appears to have worked in my favor, one way or another.

[He's going to work on slipping into the tub now, wine glass delicately balanced in one hand. Enjoying the view, Devon?]

[Oh, hell yes. If there's something to be thankful for, it's that she had life drawing lessons so at least she won't act stupidly virginal at the sight of a naked male body. On the other hand, none of those models looked like James. Her cheeks are colored, but that's probably because she just flushed down half of her wine, don't mind her.]

Yeah. Well.

Here we are a few months later. Weird how things work out, huh?

Serendipitous, don't you mean?

[He's slid into the water now, on the opposite side of the tub from her. (For now. He intends to close that space soon.) He holds out his wine glass, offering a toast.]

To us.

[He notes to himself how flush her cheeks already look, but doesn't say anything about it yet.]

[Devon beams and clinks her glass against his.]

To us it is.

[She takes one more sip and then decides she's depending too much on it and puts the glass behind her before sinking into the water a bit more.]

... I kind of got the idea of the bathtub because I realized I haven't used it at all since I started to live here.

[She stretches her arms upwards and some bubbles slide downwards.]

But then I decided it wouldn't have been fun to just enjoy all of it by myself.

Which is funny, because before I got engaged to you, relationships were the last thing on my mind, admittedly.

[The toast is made, and he takes a sip from his glass. It goes down smoothly.

Have no doubt that James is examining every curve of her body that she reveals to him through the bubbles, but he's very subtle about it. He even continues casual conversation with noticeable ease.]

I find it hard to believe that the notion didn't cross your mind occasionally?

Well... I think Mom was getting to the point where she was considering hitting up old acquaintances so I could meet more people. Dad told her not to pressure me though.

[Good ol' Dad. Devon tilts her head to examine James in return. God, what kind of roulette was her life on to be able to be with him like this.]

I don't think I would have liked any of the guys I met as much as you anyways.

Hm.

[That's the kind of answer he likes to hear, and if he were to be honest, it makes him feel warm inside for reasons that are not the wine.

Speaking of wine, he's setting down his glass at the edge of the tub now. He locks eyes with her, his grin becoming a tad mischievous.]

Do you like me enough to let me get closer, right now?

[Oh...

She's quiet for a few second before she nods not once, twice, but three times. She'll even hold out her hand, beckoning him to come to her.]

Yes. Yes, I do.

Good...

[That's all the invitation he needs. He slides over to her, closer, breaking through a few island of bubbles, only to slip an arm past her back and curving around her torso.

Oh, and there's the little thing of him brushing his lips against her neck, too. Light, teasing kisses.]

[Damn it.

She had been mentally prepared for his touch, for the distance between them to be closed, but when his lips tease her neck it causes a muffled moan to escape, an embarrassing noise she didn't think she'd make so quickly. It's a noise that bounces somewhat off the walls of the tiled bathroom, causing a rush of heat to her face, spreading to her shoulders.

There's a sharp intake of breath from Devon and her hands fall to her side at her first. Instead of resisting him this time, she turns ever so slightly so that he's allowed to explore the rest of her neck freely. What she's feeling is very easy to take in; anticipation, a steadily rising lust, the need to give affection back even if she's hesitant because of her possible clumsiness.

Both of her hands are on his shoulders and they proceed to rub them, gently at first and then they run down the rest of his arms.]

Edited 2016-12-11 08:50 (UTC)

[Her moan echoes across the tile, and James quickly decides that he very much enjoys the sound of it.

And unlike before, her hands come to rest on him now, slowly massaging his shoulders, then down his arms. The water is warm, but James has to fight back a shudder that threatens to travel down his spine at her touch. Her closeness is inviting, and he presses against her just a little more -- close enough to move his lips up to her earlobe, still teasing, nibbling.

He stops just long enough to say in a breathy half-whisper,] Still nervous?

[How is it possible all of this felt so good? All of his movements were essentially gentle, but there was a weight to it that causes more excitement than she expected. And when she feels her earlobe being nibbled on Devon lets out a small gasp and bites down on her lip slightly to muffle the rest of it.

His question gets through to her as her hands find their way to his chest and she speaks, her voice sounding more airy, dream-like even.]

Yeah, but...

[She finds it in herself to return some of his teasing with a kiss against his jawline as her hands move to his back, drawing him closer so her body can press up against his.]

I'm okay. I'm nervous, but... It's good. I feel good.

I'm glad y- [you're feeling good, I can make you feel even better, is what he had planned on saying. But then he feels her lips at his jawline, and it's the fist time he's been kissed like that by her (a teasing, a heat) and his words fail him. He sets his jaw, biting back a groan that would have sounded embarrassing -- he's not so eager to let such noises slip from his throat. Not quite yet.

(She may be able to tell how his breath hitches in his throat, though, the way his heart beats just a little faster.)

Their bodies are close, now, there's no space left between them. His hand that isn't at her back slides under the surface of the water, and finds purchase on her torso. He takes in her curves as she kisses at his jawline, fingers sliding down and lightly pressing against her hip.]

[She was in the middle of moving her lips down his neck (because she can feel his heartbeat, she can tell he was holding back an intriguing noise, delighted that she's the cause of it), but when he presses against her hip, there's a shudder that causes the water around them to ripple.]

Nn.

[This was uncharted territory now. The kissing, the teasing, she understands and enjoys, but this was admittedly nerve wrecking. But Devon wants to move forward. And she speaks up so James can know.]

Keep touching me.

[Beneath his fingertips, that shudder is felt very clearly, and he knows it's because his hand has travelled lower, to territory unfamiliar to her. The thought that he's the first is exciting, it's indescribably sexy; at her bidding, both of his hands move to linger on her sides, moving up this time. Up, past her breasts, to her shoulders, hesitating, then back down all over again.

And then he asks, low but audible:]

Where do you want to be touched, Devon? Tell me.

[Her body writhes ever so slightly as his hands travel all over, her breathing becoming more hurried. The water seems to help steady her because Devon feels as if she'd faint if there was absolutely nothing in between for what she's about to do next. She takes one of his hands by the wrist and drags it under water so that it's right on her thigh, between her legs.]

Here. Closer than that... Please?

[She adds that on the end, a clear sign of her wanting more even beyond that.]

[When his wrist is pulled and dragged under the water, James has an inkling he already knows where this is going. And when she tells him -- no, shows him -- where the hungriest ache is, god, a part of him just wants her so badly.

But he relents, his resolve made of sterner stuff for now; he's eager to please her, to give her exactly what she wants. He wants to hear Devon moan his name.

And so his hand moves between her legs, his fingers gentle against her womanhood. He does as he's asked. He touches her, he absolutely relishes her, and his eyes keep on her face, to drink in her reaction.]

[The sensation of his fingers-- James' fingers -- rubbing against her is unreal. Gentle as it is, it's jolt after jolt of pleasure with every touch, every stroke. She's quivering, hands on his shoulders as she's aroused further and further and she loses control over her voice.]

J..James...

[Devon squeezes her eyes shut trying to slow herself down. To make sure she's not tempted to press her thighs together and trap his fingers within her and contain the blaze by accepting the softness, the gentle touch. Slowly, slowly... She buries her face into his shoulder as her hips move slightly in response to his fingers. Dangerous.]

[When Devon grinds against his hand, pressed up against him like, that makes it a bit harder to bite back his lust, something rising in him like a wave, like a storm. Her expression -- eyes squeezed shut and moaning his name -- is enough to drive him absolutely mad. He can't help but make a satisfied noise at seeing her this way, cheeks flushed and, as her body is telling him, wanting him.

(And it's not like his arousal can be hidden, with their bodies this close to each other. She can probably tell that he's embarrassingly hard now -- well, if James were the type to be embarrassed about that sort of thing, in these sort of situations.)

Still, he continues. He even slips a finger inside of her, rubbing her with the inside of his palm, and unfairly chooses to ask a question at the same time. His voice is laced with lust, and some of it might even be eking past his usually controlled mental boundaries, and leaking over to her.]

How much do you want this?

[He doesn't ask to tease, though the breathy way he utters those words might make it appear otherwise. He simply wants to know if her mind is screaming for the same thing as her body, if she's actually wanting more, or just losing herself in this moment.]

Edited 2016-12-11 22:32 (UTC)

[She can feel his hardness, a slight brush against her leg since they're so close, but Devon's at a loss for any words because she lets out a shocked cry when his finger penetrates her and his palm continues to rub her. The sheer pleasure it's causing her, just from the heavy petting, is agonizing. Matters are not helped when James speaks, his voice full of lust and urgency and it feels like it surrounds her. His voice, his touch, that is the world she's trapped in right now and it's distressing in its unfamiliarity and rapturous in its thrill as she discovers how much she indulges in all of these sensations.

It's unfair how she can't say anything with how he's manipulating her in such an intoxicating way. Of course she wants more, of course she wants him, of course. But Devon somehow finds her voice in the middle of it all, attempting to lift herself up, sitting on her knees as water drips off of her torso (and she's started to close her thighs together keeping James there inside her because God, she doesn't want the feeling to stop.]

J... James?

[Another moan escapes before she tries again to answer, panting heavily in between.]

I... If... If we get out...

Edited 2016-12-12 00:40 (UTC)

[His hand doesn't move, even when she sits up. Water rolls down her torso, soft bubbles cling to her body; was she trying to make him lose it, he wonders?

No matter. He leans forward, planting hungry kisses on her midsection, his hand till stroking, his finger still feeling the inside of her. When she begins to speak, he can't help but lightly tease her skin with his teeth; and then he gazes up at her, compelling her to finish her thought, even though he makes it so difficult for her.]

If we get out...? Then what?

Then it's going to be... Nn!

[She bites back another moan as he kisses her body-- was that teeth? Devon doesn't know how much more she can handle that at this point, she might collapse, but her restlessness is aiding her, compelling her to listen to her hunger, to take in more than just his finger inside her, that they have more than enough time together and that every single second, she should cling to him and let James...

A shuddering sigh emits from Devon and she strokes his chest with her fingers, attempting to keep her voice steady.]

It's going to be cold if we get out.

[Her forehead leans on his and she stares directly into his beautiful eyes, burning her gaze into his.]

Would you be able to keep me warm?

[When her forehead meets his and she looks into his eyes, that gaze could kill him, it reflects his own intensity so clearly, and he would die a happy man.

Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships?

He removes his hand from her, and it moves to grasp the edge of the tub instead.]

Yes.

God, yes.

[When he removes himself from her, Devon reaches for the towel behind her and wraps it around her torso.]

Good.

[Devon plants heated kiss on his lips before she steps out of the tub and goes for the door towards her bed.]

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