fic: sometimes being impulsive is good
In which Eli can't help objectifying Hannah a little bit, but she's okay with it.
Eli stares at Hannah, his fingers tight around the glass of champagne in his hand. She's talking to somebody, he can't even remember the guy's name, but it's a guy, and Eli can't help the small flash of jealousy he feels.
Not that he thinks for even a minute that anything would happen between them. He trusts Hannah implicitly, thinking yet again about how stupid he was to think that she would cheat on him, and for his part, the guy seems benign enough.
Maybe it's the diamond on Hannah's finger that sparkles every time she moves her left hand.
But she just looks so gorgeous, and Eli hates sharing her when she looks like this, and there's a part of him that wants to curse his mother for buying Hannah that particular dress for this benefit.
It dips low in the front, displaying the gentle swells of her breasts and the space between that Eli loves to kiss and touch, and even lower in the back, stopping just above the curve of her perfect ass. The golden sequined fabric hugs her body, and Eli wonders, not for the first time, if she's even wearing panties.
It's unlikely that she isn't. Not wearing underwear in public makes her feel too exposed, too paranoid that something could happen, and as uninhibited as she has become with him, she's still just as modest as ever around everybody else. The closest she's come to not wearing panties in public is taking them off before they leave a club or a bar; if he's aware of it, he'll tease her in the car on the way home, but if not, she'll surprise him when they get back to the townhouse.
Her hair lies in loose curls down her back, pinned on one side with a glittering gold barrette, and his fingers tighten on his glass at the sudden desire to run them through her hair.
He's objectifying her, and he hates himself a little for it, because she's so much more than that, but sometimes...
Making a snap decision, he drains the rest of his champagne, and sets the glass on the tray of a passing waiter before starting towards Hannah.
"Hey," she murmurs when she sees him.
"Hey, babe," he replies, his hand rising to her back, fingertips drifting over her skin as he looks at the man she's been talking to. "Do you mind if I steal my fiancée for a while? I'm kind of starting to miss her."
The man laughs. "Not at all. It was nice talking to you, Hannah."
"You too, Peter," Hannah replies, giving him one more smile before allowing Eli to lead her away.
They end up in a quiet, darkened hallway, and Hannah grins a little as she looks at Eli.
"You missed me, huh?"
"Missed kissing you," he replies, grinning back as he leans into to press his lips to hers, pushing her gently against the wall. "You are impossibly gorgeous tonight."
"Thank your mom for talking me into getting this incredible dress."
"Yeah, more like damn her for it. I have been objectifying you all night, and I'm so sorry, babe, but you are so fucking hot in this dress."
Hannah arches one eyebrow, and Eli stares at her, his gaze flicking to her shiny pink lips, parted just slightly, and then back to her eyes. Her eyeshadow is gold and somewhat glittery, shimmering when her eyelashes flutter, and god, she's like a walking trophy. A prize. His prize.
The question hangs in the air, unspoken but clear as he presses against her, and he hopes she wants to, hopes she's up for being a little impulsive, a little dirty.
Finally, her head moves forward, lips crashing against his in a hungry kiss as her hands drop to his waist, sliding under his tuxedo jacket and bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fingers.
His hand rises to her neck as he kisses her back, his fingers sliding under her hair, his body pressing hers to the wall, knowing she can feel his growing erection.
There's a table right next to them, one of those long decorative ones, just wide enough for her to sit on, and he pulls her from the wall to edge her over to the table. She leans against it, and his hand drops to her thigh, starting to ease her dress up.
When his hand slips underneath, fingertips ghosting over the inside of her thigh, she sighs, her breath hot on his mouth, and he kisses her again as his hand continues up.
As he suspected, she is wearing panties, though it doesn't feel like there's much there, and he presses against her through the fabric, soaking the lacy material - black, probably, he thinks, and the thought makes him harder.
His hand moves up to slip down the front of her panties, and she gasps when he slides a finger between her folds, stroking her before slipping briefly inside, making her tighten around the single digit.
Her hands drop to grip the edges of the table, and her head falls back, exposing the long column of her throat. He follows it down with his eyes, his gaze roaming over the space between her breasts before he leans forward to kiss it, his tongue flicking over her skin as his finger slides in and out of her.
He nudges one side of her dress to the side, exposing her perfect breast, the nipple hard and pink; he sucks it between his lips, and she gasps, gripping the table tighter.
After a couple of minutes, he reaches under her dress with his free hand, not stopping the movements of his other hand, and starts to work her panties down. She helps, gasping again when he brushes against her clit, and once they're down, she pushes to sit on the table. He moves with her, fingers still inside of her, and they manage to work the fastenings of his pants just enough so he can free himself.
He replaces his fingers in one smooth, slow thrust, pushing deep and feeling her stretch, and she grits her teeth, gasping, "Fuck, Eli," as her arm circles his neck, her fingers tightly gripping his shoulder.
There are only two situations in which she swears so strongly: when she's highly emotional, and during sex. The latter is by far his favorite, because he doesn't like to see her upset, and those words sound so much dirtier when he works them from her lips using his fingers, or his mouth, or deep thrusts inside of her.
His hands drop to her thighs to lift her legs a little, and her feet lock at the backs of his legs as he begins to move.
"Eli," she breathes, hot on his neck, following by a squeaked, "Fuck!" that almost makes him smile as he presses his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat.
The party is still going on, not all that far away, close enough that Eli can hear long snippets of conversation, and there's a good chance someone could walk into this hallway and see them like this, and that just makes it so much more exciting. His mother would probably be mortified, but he doesn't care enough to stop.
All that exists right now is Hannah, her arms and legs tight around him, her breath on his neck, her hair tickling the side of his face when her head comes forward to rest against his shoulder. Nothing and no one matters more than her.
After a moment, he realizes her gasps are getting louder, becoming quiet little cries, and he lifts his hand to her mouth, shushing her gently.
"Shh, babe," he murmurs. "We don't want them to hear."
She shakes her head, her eyebrows knitted together, and he knows that it's just as much her agreeing with his statement as it is her telling him that she can't possibly be silent.
He leans forward to kiss her, his hand sliding into her hair to cradle her head, and starts to move a little faster, needing to make her come.
When she finally does, her entire body tenses, her arms and legs tightening around him and pulling him closer as her head falls against his shoulder, muffling her cries into his jacket. He follows shortly after, biting down hard on his lip to keep from swearing too loudly, and slides his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as they slump together.
After a few minutes, they straighten, and he has to stop her from running her fingers through her hair.
"You'll mess it up," he says, laughing softly. There's a somewhat dazed look on her face, and he lifts his hand to her cheek, tipping her head up a little. "You okay, babe?"
"Yeah," she murmurs, the corner of her mouth rising as she looks up at him. "I'm awesome. I just - have we ever had sex like this?"
"What, you mean like, at a party?"
"Yeah."
"I think we've had sex a couple of times in your room at your dad's house when there's been stuff going on -"
"But I mean like this, so... impulsive, in a hallway, at someone else's house, where anybody could just walk in and catch us."
"No," Eli murmurs, "I don't think we have."
"I didn't think so." She looks at him, biting down on her lip as her eyes meet his. "I kind of really liked it, having to be quiet, being so close to you."
"Me too," Eli says, smiling crookedly. "See, sometimes being impulsive is good."
"Really good," Hannah replies with a quiet giggle. Eli laughs and nods as he leans forward to kiss her.
They take a few minutes to put themselves back together, and Hannah lifts a hand to gingerly pat the barrette in her hair.
"Did I mess it up?" she asks, her brow creasing.
"Yeah, a little," Eli admits. "It's looser and not as neat looking as before."
"Is there a bathroom nearby?"
"Yeah, I think there's one down there."
"Okay, I'm gonna go see if I can't fix this. Wait for me?"
Eli nods, smiling a little as Hannah gives him a quick kiss, and watches her walk down the hall until she finds the bathroom and disappears inside.
Eli waits, hands in his pockets as he stares down at the shiny toes of his shoes, and then looks up when he hears the click of heels.
"Perfect," he murmurs, smiling as Hannah walks towards him.
"Yeah, but now I'm kind of thinking we should just get out of here."
Eli raises his eyebrows as she presses against him, feeling her hand in his pocket as she kisses him. When she pulls away, he dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a pair of tiny black lace panties, and feels his mouth go dry as his fingers brush over the damp spot.
"Fuck," he whispers, his hand curling into a fist around the panties. "Ye - yeah, I think we should go."
Hannah grins a little, pressing her lips together, and then turns towards the doorway into the living room, hesitating for just a moment before stepping back into the party.
Eli stares after her, feet rooted to the spot, and then a voice sounds in his head: Hey, idiot, your fiancée is naked under her dress now; maybe you should go after her?
"Right," he murmurs, taking a deep breath and shoving her panties back into his pocket before hurrying to catch up with her.
Eli stares at Hannah, his fingers tight around the glass of champagne in his hand. She's talking to somebody, he can't even remember the guy's name, but it's a guy, and Eli can't help the small flash of jealousy he feels.
Not that he thinks for even a minute that anything would happen between them. He trusts Hannah implicitly, thinking yet again about how stupid he was to think that she would cheat on him, and for his part, the guy seems benign enough.
Maybe it's the diamond on Hannah's finger that sparkles every time she moves her left hand.
But she just looks so gorgeous, and Eli hates sharing her when she looks like this, and there's a part of him that wants to curse his mother for buying Hannah that particular dress for this benefit.
It dips low in the front, displaying the gentle swells of her breasts and the space between that Eli loves to kiss and touch, and even lower in the back, stopping just above the curve of her perfect ass. The golden sequined fabric hugs her body, and Eli wonders, not for the first time, if she's even wearing panties.
It's unlikely that she isn't. Not wearing underwear in public makes her feel too exposed, too paranoid that something could happen, and as uninhibited as she has become with him, she's still just as modest as ever around everybody else. The closest she's come to not wearing panties in public is taking them off before they leave a club or a bar; if he's aware of it, he'll tease her in the car on the way home, but if not, she'll surprise him when they get back to the townhouse.
Her hair lies in loose curls down her back, pinned on one side with a glittering gold barrette, and his fingers tighten on his glass at the sudden desire to run them through her hair.
He's objectifying her, and he hates himself a little for it, because she's so much more than that, but sometimes...
Making a snap decision, he drains the rest of his champagne, and sets the glass on the tray of a passing waiter before starting towards Hannah.
"Hey," she murmurs when she sees him.
"Hey, babe," he replies, his hand rising to her back, fingertips drifting over her skin as he looks at the man she's been talking to. "Do you mind if I steal my fiancée for a while? I'm kind of starting to miss her."
The man laughs. "Not at all. It was nice talking to you, Hannah."
"You too, Peter," Hannah replies, giving him one more smile before allowing Eli to lead her away.
They end up in a quiet, darkened hallway, and Hannah grins a little as she looks at Eli.
"You missed me, huh?"
"Missed kissing you," he replies, grinning back as he leans into to press his lips to hers, pushing her gently against the wall. "You are impossibly gorgeous tonight."
"Thank your mom for talking me into getting this incredible dress."
"Yeah, more like damn her for it. I have been objectifying you all night, and I'm so sorry, babe, but you are so fucking hot in this dress."
Hannah arches one eyebrow, and Eli stares at her, his gaze flicking to her shiny pink lips, parted just slightly, and then back to her eyes. Her eyeshadow is gold and somewhat glittery, shimmering when her eyelashes flutter, and god, she's like a walking trophy. A prize. His prize.
The question hangs in the air, unspoken but clear as he presses against her, and he hopes she wants to, hopes she's up for being a little impulsive, a little dirty.
Finally, her head moves forward, lips crashing against his in a hungry kiss as her hands drop to his waist, sliding under his tuxedo jacket and bunching the fabric of his shirt in her fingers.
His hand rises to her neck as he kisses her back, his fingers sliding under her hair, his body pressing hers to the wall, knowing she can feel his growing erection.
There's a table right next to them, one of those long decorative ones, just wide enough for her to sit on, and he pulls her from the wall to edge her over to the table. She leans against it, and his hand drops to her thigh, starting to ease her dress up.
When his hand slips underneath, fingertips ghosting over the inside of her thigh, she sighs, her breath hot on his mouth, and he kisses her again as his hand continues up.
As he suspected, she is wearing panties, though it doesn't feel like there's much there, and he presses against her through the fabric, soaking the lacy material - black, probably, he thinks, and the thought makes him harder.
His hand moves up to slip down the front of her panties, and she gasps when he slides a finger between her folds, stroking her before slipping briefly inside, making her tighten around the single digit.
Her hands drop to grip the edges of the table, and her head falls back, exposing the long column of her throat. He follows it down with his eyes, his gaze roaming over the space between her breasts before he leans forward to kiss it, his tongue flicking over her skin as his finger slides in and out of her.
He nudges one side of her dress to the side, exposing her perfect breast, the nipple hard and pink; he sucks it between his lips, and she gasps, gripping the table tighter.
After a couple of minutes, he reaches under her dress with his free hand, not stopping the movements of his other hand, and starts to work her panties down. She helps, gasping again when he brushes against her clit, and once they're down, she pushes to sit on the table. He moves with her, fingers still inside of her, and they manage to work the fastenings of his pants just enough so he can free himself.
He replaces his fingers in one smooth, slow thrust, pushing deep and feeling her stretch, and she grits her teeth, gasping, "Fuck, Eli," as her arm circles his neck, her fingers tightly gripping his shoulder.
There are only two situations in which she swears so strongly: when she's highly emotional, and during sex. The latter is by far his favorite, because he doesn't like to see her upset, and those words sound so much dirtier when he works them from her lips using his fingers, or his mouth, or deep thrusts inside of her.
His hands drop to her thighs to lift her legs a little, and her feet lock at the backs of his legs as he begins to move.
"Eli," she breathes, hot on his neck, following by a squeaked, "Fuck!" that almost makes him smile as he presses his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat.
The party is still going on, not all that far away, close enough that Eli can hear long snippets of conversation, and there's a good chance someone could walk into this hallway and see them like this, and that just makes it so much more exciting. His mother would probably be mortified, but he doesn't care enough to stop.
All that exists right now is Hannah, her arms and legs tight around him, her breath on his neck, her hair tickling the side of his face when her head comes forward to rest against his shoulder. Nothing and no one matters more than her.
After a moment, he realizes her gasps are getting louder, becoming quiet little cries, and he lifts his hand to her mouth, shushing her gently.
"Shh, babe," he murmurs. "We don't want them to hear."
She shakes her head, her eyebrows knitted together, and he knows that it's just as much her agreeing with his statement as it is her telling him that she can't possibly be silent.
He leans forward to kiss her, his hand sliding into her hair to cradle her head, and starts to move a little faster, needing to make her come.
When she finally does, her entire body tenses, her arms and legs tightening around him and pulling him closer as her head falls against his shoulder, muffling her cries into his jacket. He follows shortly after, biting down hard on his lip to keep from swearing too loudly, and slides his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as they slump together.
After a few minutes, they straighten, and he has to stop her from running her fingers through her hair.
"You'll mess it up," he says, laughing softly. There's a somewhat dazed look on her face, and he lifts his hand to her cheek, tipping her head up a little. "You okay, babe?"
"Yeah," she murmurs, the corner of her mouth rising as she looks up at him. "I'm awesome. I just - have we ever had sex like this?"
"What, you mean like, at a party?"
"Yeah."
"I think we've had sex a couple of times in your room at your dad's house when there's been stuff going on -"
"But I mean like this, so... impulsive, in a hallway, at someone else's house, where anybody could just walk in and catch us."
"No," Eli murmurs, "I don't think we have."
"I didn't think so." She looks at him, biting down on her lip as her eyes meet his. "I kind of really liked it, having to be quiet, being so close to you."
"Me too," Eli says, smiling crookedly. "See, sometimes being impulsive is good."
"Really good," Hannah replies with a quiet giggle. Eli laughs and nods as he leans forward to kiss her.
They take a few minutes to put themselves back together, and Hannah lifts a hand to gingerly pat the barrette in her hair.
"Did I mess it up?" she asks, her brow creasing.
"Yeah, a little," Eli admits. "It's looser and not as neat looking as before."
"Is there a bathroom nearby?"
"Yeah, I think there's one down there."
"Okay, I'm gonna go see if I can't fix this. Wait for me?"
Eli nods, smiling a little as Hannah gives him a quick kiss, and watches her walk down the hall until she finds the bathroom and disappears inside.
Eli waits, hands in his pockets as he stares down at the shiny toes of his shoes, and then looks up when he hears the click of heels.
"Perfect," he murmurs, smiling as Hannah walks towards him.
"Yeah, but now I'm kind of thinking we should just get out of here."
Eli raises his eyebrows as she presses against him, feeling her hand in his pocket as she kisses him. When she pulls away, he dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a pair of tiny black lace panties, and feels his mouth go dry as his fingers brush over the damp spot.
"Fuck," he whispers, his hand curling into a fist around the panties. "Ye - yeah, I think we should go."
Hannah grins a little, pressing her lips together, and then turns towards the doorway into the living room, hesitating for just a moment before stepping back into the party.
Eli stares after her, feet rooted to the spot, and then a voice sounds in his head: Hey, idiot, your fiancée is naked under her dress now; maybe you should go after her?
"Right," he murmurs, taking a deep breath and shoving her panties back into his pocket before hurrying to catch up with her.