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entrancelogs2014-07-02 06:04 pm
nascensibility) wrote in entrancelogs2014-07-02 06:04 pm
Entry tags:
[CLOSED] she's fast and thorough and sharp as a tack
Who: Evelyn O'Connell (nascensibility) & Will Graham (notyourteacup)
Where: Library
When: July 1st
Rating: M for Mature Adults Doing Adult Things
Summary: When it came to selecting the appropriate words, Will chose...poorly.
The Story:
I think we need to talk.
Library.
-E
[Debilitatingly cryptic as it is for her to send out a missive about a clandestine meeting to discuss what should have been clandestine things, Evelyn was left with very little choice in the matter. It had been a slow morning and afternoon, she had been enjoying a cup of tea and an interesting thesis on something called String Theory, when the communicator flickered on with a public service announcement from a returning resident.
Which led to a broadcasted conversation made in no uncertain terms by one Will Graham with regards to his boundaries and limits. It was difficult to switch the transmission off, she listened idly and skimmed a paragraph on quantum leaps when she heard it.
-don't know who he's sleeping with. I've slept with no one except Evelyn and she is definitely not a man.
Evelyn choked on her tea.
Suffice to say her endeavour to continue reading was unsuccessful as red crawled its way to her cheeks and the innocent words or not, there are connotations, there- there are...it still serves as a euphemism, and everyone got wind of it.
It takes her an hour or two to recover from the initial embarrassment, hoping against hope that most people were not, in fact, listening in. It is only fair that she invite Will Graham to a formal berating on verb choices.]
nascensibility) & Will Graham (notyourteacup)Where: Library
When: July 1st
Rating: M for Mature Adults Doing Adult Things
Summary: When it came to selecting the appropriate words, Will chose...poorly.
The Story:
Library.
-E
[Debilitatingly cryptic as it is for her to send out a missive about a clandestine meeting to discuss what should have been clandestine things, Evelyn was left with very little choice in the matter. It had been a slow morning and afternoon, she had been enjoying a cup of tea and an interesting thesis on something called String Theory, when the communicator flickered on with a public service announcement from a returning resident.
Which led to a broadcasted conversation made in no uncertain terms by one Will Graham with regards to his boundaries and limits. It was difficult to switch the transmission off, she listened idly and skimmed a paragraph on quantum leaps when she heard it.
Evelyn choked on her tea.
Suffice to say her endeavour to continue reading was unsuccessful as red crawled its way to her cheeks and the innocent words or not, there are connotations, there- there are...it still serves as a euphemism, and everyone got wind of it.
It takes her an hour or two to recover from the initial embarrassment, hoping against hope that most people were not, in fact, listening in. It is only fair that she invite Will Graham to a formal berating on verb choices.]
no subject
Ushering himself out of Hannibal's office, Will gets the text from Evelyn and is immediately confronted with what he might have done. Very likely did. Is in the midst of watching the mushroom cloud go up into the atmosphere and filter down on the unsuspecting populace. ]
-Will
Evelyn is not dirty laundry. Will's powers of discretion are above average, but when they fail -
[ He's a fucking asshole, is what it comes down to.
Will doesn't make her wait and hastens down to the library as though whipped, sending along a message to Abigail to feed his dogs and the puppies that had taken up residence in his room, he'd be late. The library is remarkably clean for the event, Will rounding the corner to Evelyn's usual spot with feet of lead finally dragging him to a halt, stiffly standing by a bookcase and hoping that the deep breath he takes puts steel into his bones.
It's hard not to look cowed, approaching her. Or sounds utterly dejected with himself. ] Hi.
no subject
The hangdog look is about right.]
So.
[Evelyn clears her throat, closing the book in her lap and turning her attention upward.]
I was not aware we knew each other in the Biblical sense. [A beat.] You see, I was under the impression that your verbose explanation is still considered a euphemism, even by modern standards.
[Given the context he provided, very little is left to the imagination.]
no subject
His eyes squeeze shut briefly, as though withstanding impact, then schools his moroseness into something resembling a bland mask he might have used for his arguments with Jack Crawford. Like scrubbing any traces of empathy Evelyn might have for him so the exchange can proceed fairly. ]
It is. I was flustered and... and I don't have a valid excuse for changing the meaning mid-sentence. I didn't mean to misrepresent you, though that's what ended up happening and I'm sorry, Evelyn.
no subject
You don't have to ask me to use a bout of cuddling as an excuse to avoid harassment- for Heaven's sake, you can say we did sleep together, but I hardly think that either of these scenarios should be publicised like an announcement from King George himself.
[Setting aside her book, Evelyn stands - because it definitely feels as though she is chastising a student from this particular perspective - and walks around her desk toward him. Pauses.]
...I'm assuming you weren't thinking at all, [she proposes, and considers that the argument could also be made for wishful thinking.] Regardless of your mental state at the time, I thought it clear that I am not the sort of woman who blatantly advertises her intimacy with other people.
no subject
I know. [ Sadly, because of him whoever heard doesn't understand this about Evelyn. It's redundant to apologize again, but Will still wants to. The almost savage tilt to his smile is definitely not directed at her. ]
...It's all you hear about back home, transparency. Supposed to make everything all better because the truth is out. [ He'd thought he was doing right by making it public, of course. ] Little too much of it. I haven't been that panicked in a while. I suppose airing the sort of thing Jack did gets that reaction, even if it was completely innocent.
[ Will glances at her, confirming. His shoulders square, pulled half a step in her direction through no force but her own gravity. ]
I was, um. Happy that you wanted me to - [ You know. ] It was nice to be trusted with closeness again. And I am sorry I - didn't think more.
no subject
Well, it isn't as though anything can be remedied about this,
[she mumbles, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. The damage has already been done, the best anyone can do is control whatever comes of it. Hands braced on her hips, Evelyn makes a little moue with her mouth and considers him. He's closer now, he's imploring, and she can't really find it in herself to hold much more than a minor grudge against him in the grand scheme of things.]
...I accept your apology. But we're going to have to work on your spur-of-the-moment word choices, Will, I rather- I rather like being around you and I would very much like to trust you, but if your defencive default is to say that we're sleeping together, we ought to...properly define what it is we...
[You know.]
no subject
Which is all to say that he wasn't assuming anything could be done about the image of Evelyn he's put out there, excepting piecemeal corrections. He's already clarified with Hannibal, who seemed disquieted, perhaps because his unstable patient seemingly made advances toward a cultured friend of his. As much of a friend as a psychopath would consider another, if they weren't already pets in his mind. The likelier option is that he is displeased with Will moving toward anyone as it is away from him, a path Will must pursue delicately if at all.
Will is at the foot of that path when Evelyn quite willingly opens it without a lot of prompting. Imploring turns to muted hopefulness. ]
Minor but consequential shifts in word choice under duress notwithstanding, I prefer - [ Leaving definition out of it. The last time he tried to give a definition, it was with someone Evelyn reminds him very much of and that was shut down in no uncertain terms until Will got better. He didn't. It's no sign that Evelyn feels for him period but Will doesn't know that he can take another relationship with distance enforced by promises not to kiss her.
If possible Will deflates a little more, eyes trailing from Evelyn's, to the downturn of her mouth, to falling somewhere in the vicinity of where a pair of grey and white malamutes are sharing the remains of a paperback of Love In the Time of Cholera. He really prefers not to lead in these sorts of discussions. ]
I prefer that if I'm going to be apologizing to you often regardless it should include a physical vocabulary.
no subject
That said, Evelyn is the sort of woman who likes to know precisely where she stands with others. As a historian with a penchant for cataloguing and archival work, she enjoys the assurance that comes with appropriate labels and definitions. Not being able to adequately box something up tends to irk her immensely.]
A physical vocabulary,
[she repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow. The question mark is implied - Will has chosen an interesting term in his careful waltz around what should be a fairly straightforward subject. Evelyn has to wonder if deliberate obtuseness is his trademark.]
And here I thought my grandmother was the champion of being infuriatingly vague. Will.
[Evelyn moves closer, sensing that his discomfort has increased exponentially since the ball fell into his court.]
What exactly does that entail?
deliberate obtuseness: the will graham story
On the opposite end of the spectrum from Evelyn is Will, who takes to liminal spaces like a duck to water. Placidly floating along in them while horrible things may or may not happen, he doesn't want to see, he wants insulation and generally positive relationships and for things to work out without crippling sacrifice. In relationships specifically he is more than fine not laying pipe for almost anything; expectation has come back to bite hard because abandonment is a one-size-fits-all type of calamity. At least he doesn't expect Evelyn to leave him in prison. Wonderland doesn't have one.
So Will is the shrinking violet, all right.
Until he has no recourse but to be detailed and then he does things like kiss women in the library. Can't trust his mouth to say anything useful by Evelyn's standards, so it may as well be used to get to the point in a way that doesn't lose Will that much. Not fully accepting crash-and-burn potential, but in light of that he'll try his damnedest to keep this aloft, framing Evelyn's jaw to keep her near when he breaks the kiss, nose brushing alongside hers. ]
winner of the pulitzer prize!!!
Some people are better with words than others. Some people find it simpler to use actions, and Will's speaks very loudly when he is suddenly very close, and very warm, and all she can do for a long moment is breath him in.
His cologne. The faintest hint of leather. The outdoors. Unbeknownst to Evelyn, her incredibly traitorous fingers have twisted in his shirt.]
Oh,
[comes the soft reply when he finally pulls back, excruciatingly close, barely another kiss away.]
I'm afraid I'm...a bit rusty at that particular lexicon.
[Practice makes perfect?]
no subject
When somehow he's not gently let down, Will does worry that he's coming off as a mute wonder and waits to dive right back in until he's proven he is, in fact, capable of speech that isn't entirely worthy of exasperation first, hands drifting to fan out behind her ears and into her hair. ]
Me too. [ Practice, practice is an excellent idea. Wouldn't want Evelyn's many languages to fall into disuse.
And like a puppy that slowly realizes it's not going to be punished, Will's second kiss is a little longer, and the third a little longer than that. Then they start blending into one another and before either of them know it they're rediscovering infrequently used words and rare conjugations and other... tongues...
Really. Nice tongue use. Not a very deep dive into it, but very - promising - and
A little groan sticks in the back of Will's throat, maybe Evelyn could find it.
Will's face feels like it's on fire as he puts a bit more decent length of space between them than last time, which isn't saying much. His hands stroke down her neck to rest on Evelyn's shoulders, a distant concern about... movement and... maybe slaps because Evelyn seems like she would if she changed her mind. He hopes she doesn't. He doesn't think he'd be able to catch anything in this condition, soft eyed and mouth buzzing. ]
Like that, mostly.
no subject
His fingers dig into her hair at the base of her skull, spanning nape, neck, and jaw as he takes her face in both hands to kiss her again. They are not quite hesitant at first, simply testing the waters before realising that the temperature is perfectly delightful as is. Trapped as she is by his arms the way that they are, Evelyn is content to let her hands explore his chest before they find a sturdy hold in the waistband of his trousers (were he wearing braces, well, it would be much more convenient).
Will's sexuality communicates itself: it seems almost wholesome for its lack of self-consciousness, unapologetically passionate, a fluid exploration. She can smell him again, heady and close, it's almost as though he'd set out single-mindedly to engage every sense in her like some extravagant intruder who barges in and turns on all the lights in the house.
The refresher course in the Dictionary of Physical Relations is very nearly concluded when Evelyn, feeling bold and rash, pulls her teeth over his lip in an attempt to drag free that groan he was holding onto so tightly. Her skin prickles deliciously as they part and he holds her steady - a good thing, too, or she might have fallen back against that desk with rumpled hair and a flushed complexion.]
Mmmh,
[Evelyn hums in agreement.]
Not our last foray into debauchery, I hope.
no subject
Does she, now. All that nervous, percolating shiver in him dissolves into a breathy laugh as he reaches to tuck several lost curlicues back into line, all gorgeous, artful contrast between her dark hair and flushed skin and bright eyes. She almost keeps him from finding his voice again. ]
I take it we're accepting debauchery as a valid form of argument.
[ It would enliven their already polarized relationship in deeply pleasing ways. His trust is a tattered, badly used thing, as badly used as he is, and he can feel it being extended without having a lot to say for it. That is connection for Will, and whether he decides that it's willing or not does impact how he treats it but it is there and open and can't be shut off for Jack's mistreatments, Hannibal's abuse, or Evelyn's own good. But this connection, he wants.
Will's smile softens several magnitudes of wattage, ducking in to steal another shallow kiss and then two, sealing his intent free of spontaneity, every heart pulse booming thunder in his temples. ]
When would be a good time to follow up?
no subject
The trust involved here is deeply intimate. Confidence. There is something particularly delightful about speaking in such secretive, hushed tones, as though they weren't blatantly in the middle of a sitting area in the late afternoon.
Her hold on his belt is relinquished when Evelyn decides her hands would be a great deal happier at the base of his neck, nails lightly trailing over too-warm skin. Will's hair almost overruns his collar at the nape in thick, hooking curls - Evelyn reaches up to push that front piece back, the one that likes to flop onto his forehead.
She cranes up to kiss him again with a kind of precision, her mouth squarely over his, because he simply cannot be the only one permitted to keep stealing them with every lull in the conversation.]
If you aren't careful, I may just pull you into a broom cupboard and have my way with you right now.
no subject
[ There are worse outcomes than stealing kisses in broad daylight, or being treated as a locus of affection and desire instead of fear. But what's led to that treatment has its pitfalls, lies by omission that will one day sink them or be survived as done with disasters. Now, it's peaceful in the library, preserved in amber and Will would pocket it near where a river carves through him, neighbor to a darkened classroom and Alana Bloom's arms gently holding him together.
Will is somewhat leaping ahead of himself and allowing his mind to follow avenues to their conclusions like he would extrapolate evidence. In the space between them, he's strangely reluctant to do the same and keeps himself grounded to what has actually transpired so far, planting expectation on the shore as Evelyn keeps playfully teasing it back out to sea. The instinct to throw himself into something from a place of joy is rare. Will accepts that he's suffered abuse at the hands of his friends and has to be jarringly aware of what relief Evelyn's care is thrown into, careful not to misconstrue it into hyperbole.
There is some merit to being scratched and fussed over like a good pet for a while. The upshot of getting involved with a cat owner. ]
Mm. It is your right to correct the lie I fed Jack.
no subject
It simply is.
Her losses have been substantial, to the extent where the pain became so debilitatingly persistent that she never wanted to leave her rooms. Were it not for a gentle hand and a firm voice telling her to survive as best she could, Evelyn would be a great deal less optimistic about everyone's chances of leaving. Surviving isn't living, however, and she has long since made her peace with that in favour of enjoying things while she can, before she can't anymore.
Will isn't an out, Will is an open window in a room where the air has gotten a bit too stale and the books on the shelves have been tightly shut for too long.]
Well, I dare not drag you away against your will,
[she says conversationally, a finger hooked in his belt and gently tugging him along as she begins walking backward, with every intention of utilising the broom closet in the far wall.]
It would be very uncouth of me.
no subject
He wishes it weren't the case for two women he could love, that he wouldn't have to rely on their care to feel normal. But Will is tired of shuffling along with damp air breathed onto his collar, held upright by righteous anger, and afraid to look back or move forward into the implacable black. Rather than the guiding star Alana had been, gentle and out of reach, Evelyn reminds him more of his farmhouse at night, its windows warm gold with the tangible comfort of home. ]
It's not against my will. [ he says gamely, following at a slow and seemingly predatory clip when quite the opposite is true, and he looks like he's fighting and losing the battle to remain serious about this. ] It's that I was called down here to see the librarian and found the girl that she'd chide for misappropriation of library facilities.
no subject
Point being, her tolerance for weirdness and frightening situations is astonishingly high.]
You must not know the librarian very well.
[Content to provide a warm familiarity, Evelyn grins mischievously and finds herself relieved to hear that Will does not consider the offer wholly objectionable. Loneliness is a tangible thing and easy to identify in another person when you know it inside and out. The door comes up behind her sooner than anticipated, although that may be attributed to a sentient library's attempts at being as helpful as possible.
Decidedly against her better judgment - or perhaps her better judgment is simply on holiday and happy to let her do as she wishes, she's an adult - Evelyn allows him the honour of turning the doorknob.]
Rest assured, she considers almost everything a learning experience.
no subject
[ There are a few gaps in his knowledge. Will doesn't especially place a heavy emphasis on knowing every detail about someone in order to form an intimate connection. Evelyn is fond of reminding herself that she's an adult, and naturally Will agrees with the freedom to come and go into others' lives as they would and enjoy their time while it lasted.
It's what makes accepting easier, not the entirety of what Will is interested in with Evelyn. The chance to talk about water and sand walls and reanimating mummies can come when murders aren't being actively investigated or Will isn't being hilariously inept at socializing. Or when Evelyn isn't presenting an intriguing picture against the door, mischief glinting and utterly in control of herself. Will follows because how could he not at this point, crowding her with all the slight advantage his height gives while his voice imparts the warmth he seals against her cheek a moment later, then closer to her ear. ]
I would like to know her better. [ Brushing past her wrist, Will's surge of amusement that this is where they've decided to take this strikes him after he opens the door and sidesteps inside, tugging Evelyn in by hand and boyish grin alike. He can feel seventeen again, laugh at the circumstances and himself for where he's put himself, but it's loneliness that spreads his fingers on her side and sighs against the corner of her mouth, and it's an earnest desire to please that bends him to her direction when she gives it, barely inside the door before Will descends and closes it with their combined weight and hand to pillow her head against the wood. ]
no subject
Of course, Evelyn would later appreciate the tactful scribing of old men when she had an inquisitive child of her own, but seeing as a misplaced euphemism is what got her into this broom closet in the first place, she can't be bothered to care about Old Testament phrasing when her face feels this hot.]
Would you?
[Happily pinned against a door Evelyn arches into his touch, relishing the fingers splayed over her side and parting her lips against Will's to kiss him slowly, with a melting languor that genially suggests, in the most polite fashion, that they have all the time in the world at their disposal.
Conversely, her hands demonstrate an exceptionally expedient dexterity in picking apart the buttons of his shirt, because God help her, feeling his chest through flannel was not satisfying enough.]
no subject
Humming the affirmative, it's tough to expand on the answer with a gorgeous distraction against his mouth. Her polite suggestion is met with an almost immediate rein in on the kiss, no less enthusiastic for the unhurried pace. It's the difference between dozens of small shocks and one slow roll, a build of electricity to a great crash. Kind of Evelyn, really, to start disposing him of his shirt, cooler air rushing in to save him from overheating in a small, intimate space like this.
Fingers tangled in her messy cascade of curls, each one cuts a silken path back to skin, skimming a twisted path down her neck and over to brush the dress' greedy grip on her shoulder. He dispenses with it, falling down her arm, and it won't come off this way but as Evelyn reminded him, there isn't a rush. Will can be taken in by the soft expanse of skin, fingertips following it to the outside swell of her breast before releasing her to shrug his shirt away. ]
Not only in the biblical sense. [ Will clarifies between kisses, shifting to mouth softly at her neck, hands returning to rest on Evelyn's hips and tugging her dress up fistful by fistful. ] It does have merit on its own, though.
no subject
Evelyn has always known that faith can be one of the strongest assets in a person's arsenal or the most fragile thing to hold onto when placed before the right piece of evidence. While she clings tightly to the idea that there is a chance of leaving Wonderland she remains a firm pragmatist, and clinging tightly to Will's shoulders as his mouth slides from hers to the underside of her chin is a more than acceptable means of coping with their time here.
Truth be told she rather likes being a welcome distraction, curls tousled and a strap hanging off her shoulder. Fingers raking through his hair Evelyn lets out a breath of relief - then a light laugh, accompanied by a mumbled that tickles in response to the scratchy brush of an unfamiliar beard. So used to clean-shaven, it's something of a novelty.]
I did say I was a curious person, didn't I?
[Collecting experiences and learning from them is her preferred method of self-teaching, and like any academic worth their salt Evie is perpetually in search of knowledge.
How Will feels about nails tracing down his chest, for example. Whether or not his interest is piqued by the same demonstrative hands slowly working his belt buckle loose, if he experiences the same delicious prickle over his skin as she does while he yanks this blasted dress up to her hips.]
no subject
Mhm. [ The ticklishness is worth probing when they have a bigger space to work with and a finite number of spots that Evelyn can escape to off her feet. An investigator's work is never done, craning back up to kiss the corner of her mouth with more beard than strictly necessary in the name of science. ] This is going a bit further than an innocent, open-ended inquiry, Miss O'Connell.
[ Without anything stronger than a feeling as to why, maybe it's her chosen career that makes Will think that Evelyn pries her way into all sorts of places that could get her into trouble. She scratches and thieves reactions from him, a pleased sound in one breath and losing the breath when his belt clinks, fingers tightening in her dress. It's a deliciously paradoxical relax, defenses falling as all it takes to wind Will up are Evelyn's clever fingers and a recent history with an empty dance card.
Which reminds him that his hands are indeed still busy, and promptly rucks her dress up around her hips to slide a palm low across her belly and find -
A lot of cloth, actually. More than he was expecting to find, but practical experience with early twentieth century lingerie is difficult to come by. Will hums thoughtfully, tracing the outline. ] Not to kill the mood, but an educational demonstration might be needed for future reference.
no subject
The early twentieth century was an exceptionally liberating time for women and their undergarments, and Will can count himself lucky that his current prospective stays several years behind the current fad strictly because she doesn't have the time to indulge in whatever hit the Paris streets first. Lightly-boned corsets are all the rage right now, but they are consistently impractical and frankly, not all that comfortable to wear if your aim is to sit on a camel in the sun for a good two to three hours.]
Pay attention, [comes the gentle, amused demand, as Evie taps a finger on the bottom of his chin to lift his gaze. A lesson that requires compliance and participation from the student.] I'm only going to show you this once.
[What appears to be suspiciously complicated to the uninitiated is, in fact, nothing more than a simple set of a top and bottom, the latter of which has elegant little straps running down the lady in question's thighs to hold up a pair of stockings. With the deft precision of a woman who has unsnapped her garter suspenders from her hose many times, she works the little clasp free in plain and blatantly informative sight.
For future reference.
Pursed lips and a little wriggle accompany a particularly stubborn snap, but the rest of them relinquish their hold easily enough - with Will's fingers conveniently clutching at her dress, it makes it that much simpler to demonstrate. Evelyn actually enjoys being unwrapped like a present, but Will is not yet proficient in the art of stocking removal and she has absolute faith in his ability to take very valuable information away from this encounter.
The lesson is completed when Evelyn primly clears her throat, tugging Will's belt free loop by painstaking loop, until she is left with a long strip of leather and, in a very dignified sort of way that suggests she could either be referring to her own knickers or his trousers, says:]
Now you can take them off.
no subject
Fortunately for Evelyn, Will is an exemplary student and the subject's similarities with modern examples, with which Will is well studied not in quantity but quality, makes internalizing the process satisfyingly straightforward. A practical will have to wait, unless Evelyn wishes to re-hose and hinder the overalls proceedings in favor of a thorough education. The idea has merit. But his keen sense of the female body tells him that Evelyn would like to press her initiative onward. Also, Evelyn tells him so. In a manner that he supposes was going to be imposing if she weren't ruddy cheeked and about four or five inches shorter than him. ]
I won't have a problem getting them off. [ Which is honestly too much for him to say under normal circumstances, but fuck it. If he's fooling around in a closet, he's doing it with as many bad puns as he can get away with.
Now for how to, Will follows his first instinct to let Evelyn handle her dress from here on out and take a moment to engage in a little teacher appreciation. Fingers playing at the high waisted material - silk instead of elastic back then? interesting - he gives in to the touch of weakness in his knees over the display, every wicked intention playing across Will's face as he sinks to the floor and takes Evelyn's underthings with him.
Gently tugging the underwear from her legs as she steps out one dainty foot at a time, he then sets to kissing the pink creases where they'd sat, encouraging blood to run southward. His lips trail to her bare hipbone, unable to resist a light graze of teeth before her thigh is propped over his shoulder. ]
I guess we should reschedule dinner. [ he says, a little too cavalier for it to be anything but fluff that he gets to casually murmur into her inner thigh just so she feels the vibration shiver up to where it counts. He would tease it more if it hadn't been all too long since the last time for him, so no qualms stand in the way between Will and kissing Evelyn's clit to his heart's content, tongue flicking to get a full taste and then some. ]
no subject
The dress will not do.
Squirming for long enough to un-stick it from behind her back, Evelyn pulls the cursed garment over her head and discards it on the floor next to Will's shirt just in time to feel his mouth on her stomach, fluttery and light. Somewhere along the way she's certain she stepped out of her knickers, but his breath on her skin makes for a very pleasing diversion and she can't be buggered to care what happened to them.
It is not the first time that she has had a man accommodatingly beneath her and it certainly will not be the last time, but Evelyn cannot deny the little thrill that comes with being in such an assertive position. Will's first intention to please the second party before divesting himself of his own trousers is noted, catalogued, and filed away for future reference.]
Mmh,
[comes the wordless approbation as her leg is unceremoniously propped over his shoulder and she is, perhaps for the premier stuttering moment of realisation since they ducked into the broom closet, surprised by the direction in which Will is venturing.
Evelyn threads her fingers through his hair and shivers, goosebumps prickling over her skin and the heat, the heat is almost intolerable now, flushing up her body and into her face and drawing out an undeniably pleased, if inarticulate, whimper of approval.]
no subject
It was a gentlemanly oversight not to discard his pants first, but an oversight nonetheless. Will cranes up on his knees a fraction to relieve some pressure and add more to Evelyn, shifting his shoulder because he doesn't think she'd take that kindly to bruises on the back of her thigh this early on, thank you. The hand in his hair draws a shudder, a content hum on his lips (and hers) that goes breathless at the tail end when he's really starting to find his stride. A fleet glance up tells Will what he needs, picking out what spots and actions draw the desired effect, when to change what he's doing, where her breath hitches the sharpest so he can linger and press. Will has a gift for the monsters, but for the odd one-offs and short-lived trysts, empathy has played its role admirably.
Will wasn't summoned down here (down here as in library, not down here) for a heady make out and then sex in the closet, so preparedness is more or less not something that happened. Were he not so eager to get his mouth on her they might've even made it past the door and to less readily discoverable places within the closet, limited as that is. But seeing as they're committed, Will intends to finish what he started, free hand moving from its fixed point on her hip to brush inward and stroking the broad flat of his thumb inside her, pressing in and forward to meet his tongue and back again, massaging carefully to the tune of Evelyn's sighs. ]
no subject
Will is good.
On occasion and with increasing frequency, he will pinpoint a spot that would curl her toes if she wasn't wearing these bloody shoes, dragging a sharper, quicker gasp for air, stuttering and rusty with disuse and all too conscious of the possibility that there might be someone nearby.
Will is very good.
The closet, in spite of its recent exploitation as a den of iniquity, has become a warmed space of staccato sighs and hitched breath. Evelyn's fingernails tighten on his scalp, a silent signifier that with the deep, heady pressure of his thumb and the ceaseless onslaught of his tongue, she is starting to near that peak that she would prefer to climb with him inside her.]
Will... [It is breathy and light, murmured between lips reddened from kissing and accompanied by a look of nigh-sleepy contentment, half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.] ...Trousers. Off.
no subject
Yeah I, I agree.
[ Now might be a really good time to start peeling his boots off, that would get in the way of trousers being disposed of and that doesn't work for anyone, least of all the guy who's officially overstayed his welcome in them. Protection's an afterthought - this encounter was a - very intense, gratifying afterthought to getting scolded. But he does finally get to enjoy the fact that no aging in Wonderland has some interesting underwriting, hauled up on his now bare feet on pure adrenaline as they careen toward a definite impact.
Will kisses the flush fanning down Evelyn's throat, mindful that she might not appreciate her own taste as he peels his pants open and off with a pronounced hiss of relief. ]
Maybe we should - move this back there - [ And away from where people might easily hear them, in theory. ]
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Before he can finish his suggestion she drags him closer. It is no light peck she wants - a slim thumb rolling his lower lip down, gently opening Will's mouth as she takes a deep, full kiss of unabashed want, the only limit being her own appetite for exploration. Evelyn can breathe him in again, all heat and the soap he used and the salty tang of sweat. Earthy smells. Real smells. And the smell of sex, rearranging her priorities faster than her own clever mind can.
When she does pull back with an audible popping sound, her attention is anchored to Will's previous words - moving, and back there, and other reasonable recommendations for the occasion.]
There's a desk,
[Evelyn murmurs against the corner of his mouth, unable to keep her gaze glancing past him for too long, but just long enough to realise that there are a great number of things in this little room besides brooms.]
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[ More than he'd care to admit, Will is a reactionary soul. Taking initiative takes a backseat to an informed decision instead, accepting a degree of unwanted exposure and uncontrolled variables in favor of defense that Evelyn somehow obliterates in a kiss like a silver bullet. It's exposing, and Evelyn could plunder the secrets he would willingly give in time, with trust. One has already been given to her, it's a matter of time before the others come out, if they're not stolen along with his breath. ]
Desk, right.
[ Are there? As of right now the things in the room that are not Evelyn aren't part of Will's concerns at the moment, but seeing as he did bring it up, he's going to take that information and run with it. Or, shuffle as best he can with a painful erection and Evelyn securely wrapped in his arms and around his waist, ferrying her to the desk with one eye on not tripping on their clothes and the other on Evelyn. He has half a mind to lay her down and finish her as he'd originally planned regardless - she wouldn't be angry with his divergence too long.
For now she gets deposited on the faux woodgrain (did she demand the library do better and shove the original desk in here?) while he agonizes about detaching from her mouth long enough to accomplish losing his shorts, then finds a middle ground even if he looks like a teen about to have something other than his hand for a partner for the first time. Will's beyond caring because Evelyn's taste is heavy and satisfying on his tongue, worth cupping her (adorably) pink face and going back to the well for. Not too urgent to pass that up, though he's pretty sure she already knows he's not just in it to end a dry spell. And if his first instinct is to press his heated face into her neck when he presses inside her, well. His need for closeness is readily apparent, too. ]
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The surface is cold but Will is hot, exquisitely so, drawing her into his warmth like a riptide she doesn't want to fight. Evelyn cranes forward to kiss him harder, by all accounts refusing him the opportunity to shed the last barrier between them. When he finally manages it there is nothing - unless one were to count something else she hadn't felt in a very long time. Her entire body alight in an acknowledgement of how ready she is it comes as a relief when Will thrusts into her and she all but clutches him nearer with a sharp cry of satisfaction, legs locked behind his back.
They come together less like a sigh and more like a flame striking the blue touchpaper of a firework fuse, Will dragging away from her mouth to breathe heavily on her throat, damp and searing. His shoulders hunch toward her, one hovering under her face till the fever over his skin rises like a steam, until she can taste it. Recovering her breath takes a moment, but not a moment so long that Evelyn does not spend it moving against him in a way that ensures she has his full attention.]
Please-
[She asks for perhaps the first time in this encounter instead of taking, in the hopes of being rewarded for politesse.]
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Ah, god... [ The impetus to swear and loudly is galling, but it doesn't make it past the air caught, the teeth bared for defense from what he's welcoming with open arms and crumbling dams. ] Evelyn -
[ As a companion, Evelyn isn't difficult to read. Her body reads like her mind does, concerned with the present but not forgetting the overall picture, a creature of the tangible, salt of the earth. She breathes around him like a thunderstorm in the summer, all damp heat and clean, hot smell, pulsing life after the winds had stilled and he'd sat in the doldrums waiting for rescue.
When his eyes crack, the light catches on the wild stray hairs shaken loose from Evelyn's curls, stirred with each renewed shudder into his lungs and back out. Hair sticks to his forehead and licks down his neck, close to bursting with the fire raging under his skin and sapping his streams dry. Everything is now hot and steam and Evelyn's hips rolling to meet his, an undulating tear down to the finish line. The desk's legs screeching does little to dissuade Will's grip on her waist, the imprecise drag of lips back on her cheek before he manages to connect with hers, but he feels like he can evaporate at any moment next to her, the sun drawn too close and dear for him to turn away now.
One last burst of thought takes one of Will's hands to cup her sex, not forsaking any rhythm that hasn't already gone disjointed and too passion-wrought to be leashed. He works her between his first two fingers, gasping for air because it and Evelyn may as well be one in the same in this moment, both essential to Will surviving the hard fall rising up to meet him and responsible for it to begin with. ]
Come on, you're there, just a little bit...
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[He lifts into her with a kind of rhythmic spasm so satisfying she forgets her own name until he is kind enough to remind her through grit teeth and a rush of hot breath against her neck. Evelyn might thank Will for the information, if she were not so preoccupied with simultaneously enjoying herself and trying to keep her moaning at a certain volume as her hips rise to meet his.
He shifts his weight, adjusts the angle, and her head grows light. Sumptuously slow foreplay aside they have traded leisure for a frenetic energy and something beyond the physical union. Whatever the feeling, it is syrup-sweet and faintly painful, an unexpected, inchoate connection too stunningly strong to name, even for a woman who likes labels as much as Evelyn does.
He sinks in, she pushes herself back onto him in a desperate bid for closeness when she has little to no leverage. Will has the floor itself while all Evelyn has is the increasingly strong impulse to tear away from his mouth and arch back on the desk - such an act would deprive her of the feeling of his back beneath her fingers, perfect strain and the humid heat of his flesh, the weight of his bones.
She clutches tighter.
When Will's hand, slick with sweat, moves between them to press and stroke, Evelyn pulls a stuttered gasp from his mouth to bury her face at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Not for any fear of displaying a certain vulnerability - as she wants him with the sharpness that seems to bend her in half - but to ground herself in his solidity to keep from being dragged away at the climax, nails biting his skin and lips pressed under his jaw.]
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Not that Will is opposed to it. Indeed, Will is sprinting headfirst into the tangle's thicket, clinging and being clung to for reasons he can't entirely blame on the heat of the moment. The bitter taste of desperation is held at bay despite the frenzied improvisation, her every curve sating to the touch and that much has only grown since the bed they shared, building a shelter of nostalgia and intimacy. Being this close to her feels natural as breathing, and she says his name with an edge of wildness and Will's strings are plucked and sing into the infinite.
But before his satisfaction he'd feel Evelyn tucking in close and tight, rocking into her through it for as long as he has the braincells to keep tending to her while his own finish steals home in a rush of encompassing warmth. Safe with her folded around him while everything falls back to earth, hips slow rolling to a halt with heart and blood beating wings in his head and Evelyn's thick hair spilling over her shoulder, smelling faintly of lavender over the salt. ]
Hey. [ Will eases Evelyn from her comfortable home in his neck, gently, keeping close to her with soft eyes and exhaustion they could see rising in steam, curling its fingers into their hair. ] Hi.
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For research.
He carefully tugs her away from his throat, her hair thoroughly mussed and looking acceptably debauched. With everything prickling so deliciously, Evelyn finds it difficult to keep a lazy smile from her lips.]
...Heeey,
[she drawls in a distinctly American fashion, feeling the lightest of shivers run through her as the sweat cools and Will remains, for all intents and purposes, the most delightful person-sized hot water bottle. Her legs hook around the backs of his thighs, she noses at his chin, the painfully affectionate sort when recovering from intensive lovemaking. Evelyn strokes the nape of Will's neck with feather-light touches; his skin is still hot there, his hair damp with perspiration. Solicitously, she inquires:]
I hope I've not made you too warm?
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The American drawl, now, that's an amusing quirk she's picked up. It shouldn't tickle Will as much as it does thanks to the loopy exhaustion associated with particularly good releases after he's admittedly let conditions build for a while. He giggles - giggles, no one knows how serious a condition this is in Will Grahamese - and lets himself be drawn into the safe, warm bracket of her legs while Evelyn starts feeding his violent urge to nuzzle, kissing the side of her nose on a whim. ]
Me? No, no, I'm - aside from my knees wanting to crumple I am... fantastic. [ He has another dizzy, light laugh and smiles down at her, palms broad and attentive on the delicious outer curve of her hips to the knees and back. ] You're okay? No splinters?
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[Evelyn affirms, humming in delight while her skin continues to buzz pleasantly. Her hair is thoroughly mussed, stockings about her ankles, and she is still catching her breath, but she manages to respond as though they were at afternoon tea and he had just asked how she liked the cucumber sandwiches.
Traditionally, Evelyn would prefer to bask in the presence of her lover on a bed, a chaise lounge, or any other piece of furniture with fewer pointy bits than a chipboard desk. The heat of the moment, while satisfying, has left them in an undeniably sticky situation while they cool, while she grins like an idiot at that boyish giggle. Can she draw it from him again, she wonders?
Arms around his middle she traces her fingertips up and down Will's spine, lackadaisical smile persisting. It is a funny thing, to not be able to remember the last time she felt so incandescently happy here. Memories are tricky things in Wonderland.]
What do you say we...finagle our way to your rooms and slip into something more comfortable?
there was some cucumber she enjoyed, ba dum tish
Frankly the thought of moving period, let alone moving out of arm's and legs' and kissing reach of Evelyn is a horrifying prospect that is ultimately decided for him by the rate that the sweat is cooling into a thin layer of grime atop his skin. He's used to impromptu showers with the sheer volume of the stuff his body wrings out under the nightly influences he's frequented by, but he'll continue his gallantry by letting Evelyn take the shower first. Granted that she wants it to be a solo venture.
While the glow hasn't faded and he can accept the prospect of reclothing, Will occupies himself with lazily tucking her stockings back up while she ticks off vertebrae. ]
Mm, I'd reply that bedding down with you worked out pretty well last time.
[ Therefore, once more with feeling? Like it's a question at this point, but for once Will will not revert to his dour self until an indeterminate time after Evelyn leaves and Hannibal seeks his company. He'll enjoy the chance to be cavalier while things that are outside of the circumference containing Will and Evelyn aren't of any concern, because first blushes do lend themselves toward relishing. Evelyn is relishable. A damn sight more so than other pies Will has fingers in and doesn't necessarily want to, as opposed to her. The lives he wants to be present in are shifting mirages, and while Abigail continues to float in and out of reach, Evelyn's solidness under his hands is quickly becoming a touchstone for reality, a reliable source he hopes to return to again and again.
Like how he can't start going to collect his clothes without kissing Evelyn one more time. Really, their current position limits who's able to pull the trigger on actual physical disengagement, and displeasing (and cold, very cold in this closet without her striking on fire on his skin) as it is to pull away, he doesn't have it in him not to steal a shallow parting kiss or two before regrettably shuffling back, still with a dazed and happy spell over him. ]
Doing the walk of shame is better with friends. [ Will huffs (rather than giggles, sadly) a laugh and bends to retrieve his shorts first, bare ass for all of god and man to see. ] Haven't done that since - jesus, uh. I think the last time I did sex in a public place was after police academy graduation, and I don't have the excuse of being drunker than Cooter Brown in this instance.
*RIMSHOT*
Did sex. Such a funny way of wording that, so American. She can't recall the last time she yanked her skirts up in a public place, but as far as she's concerned the storage closet is more private than the stacks. In all her three years here, Evelyn has (luckily) never interrupted anyone having coitus on Shelley or Keats.]
Is that what they call it in the twenty-first century? The Walk of Shame?
[Laughing breathlessly, Evelyn resists the urge to demand he bring her clothes to her and slides off the desk. Not a half-second on the ground before she feels a twinge of protest in her back, disgruntled muscles rusty with disuse. Ooh, but she'll be sore tomorrow. Rather primly she retrieves her dress and regrettably is forced to don it over still-sticky skin, contemplating her knickers with no small amount of dismay before shimmying the damnable thing back on.
Re-dressing oneself in a lazy stupor is difficult enough already, sneaking glances back to her partner and the little angry crescent moon marks her nails left on his shoulder blades. Evelyn almost feels bad.
Almost.]
Help me with this?
[In her fit of devilishness she was, at least, kind enough to do the snaps of three out of four garters, leaving the last one dangling off the top of her thigh as she props her foot up on a convenient stool and looks to Will expectantly.
Rick calls this 'playing dirty pool.' It is probably not an inaccurate assessment.]
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[ He saw that, Evelyn, right at the end. A guy might get ideas about a woman and then do some subtler encouragement.
And shame is wholly external; theyβd sneak back to his rooms and maybe be spotted looking a touch disheveled and furtive, but guilt is the intended product of shame, and to be honest? He wonβt if she wonβt. Will hadn't really developed an identification to other men that spent their mental energy worried about emasculation; following a woman's cues in a relationship is arguably how Will is able breathe easy - not shirking responsibility, but having to rely less on the gravity of his own decisions now that he has someone to share them with.
Will moves stiffly. He... might have overextended with his manly display of strength sans warm up and feels it sink teeth in close to his spine, into his shoulders for her information. Thanks to his age, spontaneous sex is about the aches and pains of untraditional locations on top of the old inconvenient sticky shorts standby.
That is, unless a bell is rung and he's meant to hop. He just has to be careful about the hop. ]
A pop quiz already?
[ A taskmaster and a Lady, he sees. Will leaves the top button of his shirt undone, reason enough to doubt that her student is up to tasks singular to the talent of redoing fastenings, but don't count him out yet. His hands are tender on her leg, double-checking that the seams are lined up for her before his fingertips skim up to the limp garter, snapping it into place with a tension that doesn't match the snap's soft snick.
His index finger draws a faint line inward down her thigh before leaving her atmosphere, even if the rest of Will lingers, drawn in inexorably. ]
Can I get an extension to finish the back half in my rooms?
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Dresses came after that. The debut season. Presentations at court. Evelyn is grateful now that she has the freedom to do whatever she likes whenever she likes, and if that includes admiring Will Graham's arse, then by God, she will admire it all she damn well pleases.
Watching him out of the corners of her eyes she notes that he might benefit from less violently sudden physical attention, but Evelyn bites her tongue and waits for him to come nearer, tucking the stocking up and snapping it securely. Her own chest rises and falls, the largest movement between them, and Evelyn notices with no small amount of satisfaction that he is in every breath of air she takes, settling comfortably into her skin, into her clothes.
Her head is still swimming in a heady attraction that has nothing to do with good judgement, but everything to do with necessity -- it almost feels as though they've invited each other into a most marvelous collusion.]
You may,
[she grants him this boon with a coy little smile, weaving the fingers of one hand in his as she abandons her stool and smoothes the front of her dress. Much better.]
Shall we?
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Guilt is a whole other story, as self-motivation isn't a problem with his rap sheet of regrets, but Evelyn isn't adding to the list. If anything her mere proximity encourages the most rank selfishness he's felt in a while, freed from investigational responsibilities and reason beyond what felt right at the time.
There is every reason that she should be this gloriously distracting. With a little push, that could become a larger, immutable designation than "distraction."
Will helps make sense of Evelyn's wild, damp curls, short of a mirror to let her do it herself, the corners of his eyes creased with pleasure. Erasing evidence isn't his usual gig, but he does get to put it back. ]
We shall.
[ For however long that means. ]