psl; [a marriage of inconvenience]

[hedgemaze]

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.

----------

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.

Comments

[winterheart]

[The combination of their raw and sensual kiss and James' hips grinding into her now bare hips, finally causes Devon to moan desperately into his mouth. She moves and presses closer to him in return as the shorts are removed and she draws back, struggling to breathe. The taste of him lingers on her lips and for a moment she seems like she wants to let her voice escape, to just give in and yet...]

J... James?

[Devon wraps her arms around his shoulders, forehead against his. There's a question that lingers in the way she says his name.]

[hedgemaze]

[When she pulls away, James has to stop himself from making a noise of disapproval. All he wants to feel is her body pressed close to his, but his mind returns to reality long enough for him to hear her say his name, in the form of a question.]

Yes, Devon?

[He locks his gaze with hers, forehead pressed against her own.]

[winterheart]

[She has to take a deep breath. Focus. What did she want? What did she need to feel before they...?]

If... If we're going to make this difficult...

[Devon's hands travel down to his shoulders and then they begin to slowly trail down his sides and then pausing at his thighs, hovering very closely to where he was probably feeling ]

... Is it okay if I touch you there? [She hasn't looked away from his eyes, trying to gauge his reaction to what she just requested. Her head tilts at him, making for a playful, if not wanting and seductive gesture.]

And you can touch me back?

[hedgemaze]

[It takes all of James' willpower to hold back a shudder as her hands trail down his body. They stop and lingering around his hardness, and furrows a brow in consternation. His gaze is wanting, what with he can only translate as her teasing touch, and the look in his eyes says all.

He returns the favor, moving his own fingertips down her torso, to her hip, and then lower. Through the thin cloth of her panties, James touches her where she's wanting most. A slow, torturously gentle lingering at first.

He hasn't looked away from her, not yet.]

Yes. Please do.

[winterheart]

[Is she getting carried away? It's a question that might have lingered in Devon's head near the beginning considering that they're doing all this in her old bedroom in the house where her parents or Ian could come back at any time and...

When James reaches down between her legs and she finds herself panting unevenly, all doubt disappears even in the back of her mind. And with his permission, Devon lets herself get carried away and her hands move to pull down his boxers. Her gaze doesn't break from him and before long, fingers dance upon his length, tracing downwards first, slowly and tantalizingly. She marvels at the sensation of him how it's so different from her and she wonder what it feels like for James.]

[hedgemaze]

[Devon's touch is exhilarating in both the heat it makes wash over his body, and in its newness of feeling. She's never touched him like that before (though they've only shared physical intimacy once before), and it's almost enough to make him forget exactly what he was doing, his hips moving slightly as she strokes him. He hums a little pleasant noise from the back of his throat, leaning in his forehead against her shoulder, but manages to stay lucid enough to not forget about his own "task" at hand.

He continues to rub her through the cloth of her panties, but only a moment or two passes before he decides to return the favor in full. His hand rises up, only to slip under the band, feeling her properly with tip of his fingers.

He manages in appreciation,] Mm, you're wet.

[winterheart]

[Her face is flooded with warmth when he speaks up, pointing out that she's excited. Partly out of embarrassment, partly because, well, when James points it out like that while his fingers tease her and she's touching him at the same time, Devon is all too aware of her arousal and how hot her insides are and how hungry he is.]

... And whose fault do you think it is? Although...

[Her hand gently wraps around him and begins to make more rhythmic strokes. Devon's breath, lingers around James' neck.]

If you're like this, I'm definitely at fault too.

[Even though it's still new, even though she had always been uncertain about how to participate in this dangerous dance with him, Devon finds that just like the first time, she's swept away, uncertainty be damned. It's what scares and exhilarates her about James, that she wants him so much, that he makes her so aware of it once he has her in his grasp and it's such a bright and vivid lust that burns within her that she can't look away from it.

Her hips shift slightly and then finally, finally, an audible and delicious moan from her is uttered.]

[hedgemaze]

[James can't help himself but grind into her hand a little; she makes it all too tempting to do so. His own body is teeming with warmth just under the skin, and his lips are parted only slightly as he breathes. Though at her comment, he huffs out a breathless laugh.]

Of course you are. I won't take that away from you...

[And ah, he hears that moan. He grins, despite himself, and his fingers move faster against her, lingering in her warmth and wetness.]

Not too loud, now. [He teases. She can be just as bloody loud as she wants, for all he cares.]

[winterheart]

[Okay, forget about the so called "challenge." James teases her and has the gall to stroke her so earnestly and vigorously all while grinding into her hand. Devon is flushed and feverish all over and she can't even retort back; like a match being struck, she's set ablaze even more than before as they pleasure each other and again her voice escapes as a cry, amorous and wanting.

Her unoccupied hand reaches to pull her underwear down, unwittingly moving her hips against his fingers making Devon gasp. She feels she can't take this much longer. James is touching her, she's touching him, but she wants more, she wants him to take her right now.]

James...!

[And she finally calls his name, lovingly, desperately. She gets her underwear off and she bucks her hips against him to let him know.]

James, I'm... Can you just...? I want...!

[She's struggling to ask him, when they're like this.]