i got a love that keeps me waiting (1/?)
title: i got a love that keeps me waiting.
fandom: the 39 clues
pairing/character: ian kabra/amy cahill.
chapter: 1/?
rating: mature (for entire fic)
warnings: yeah. this is smut, so that should be enough warning. no kinks or creepiness. just good, old-fashioned shagging.
notes: written for makaria, and the rest of the lovely 39 clues fandom on tumblr. because our fandom deserves more smut.
Give me affection; I need your perfection,’cause you feel so good, you make me s-s-stutter
- Maroon 5, Stutter
Amy shouldn’t have been in here, that was for sure.
The plush black leather couch, the bookshelves holding old tomes about poisonous herbs, the large mahogany desk by the picture window - which she was sure many a traitor had been shoved out of - all screamed “danger zone!”
But did she listen?
Of course not.
She could feel Ian standing behind her, probably smirking like the smug bastard he was, waiting for her to pick a seat. She decided that the couch would be her best bet - it was farthest from the window after all. She moved to place herself as delicately as possible on the leather cushion, as if the whole thing might explode with her entire weight.
Ian, now knee to knee with her on the ottoman, looked her up and down. His eyes started their travels at her shoes, Louboutins Natalie had given her for Christmas two years prior, now slightly scuffed. They then moved upward to her crossed legs, fair from too much time spent inside, but toned from years of training sessions. She rung her hands nervously as his eyes continually focused on her. She knew he must be trying to intimidate her in some way because the more he prolonged this visit the more anxious she became. She was used to dealing with Ian’s sarcasm and venomous wit, but his silence was different. She thought that she’d become so good at reading the enigmatic Lucian during the past few years of his service to the Madrigals, but she was quickly realizing how wrong she was.
There was something suspicious here. He had asked her to follow him to his office to talk, right? He couldn’t have whisked her away from the party his branch had been hosting just to make her uncomfortable. At least, she didn’t think he would.
She noticed his eyes linger on the chain dipping into the low neckline of her dress and wondered if he knew that Gideon’s ring was attached to the end. Is that what he wants? She thought, is he finally going to betray us after all these years?
No, she shook her head slightly as his eyes locked with hers, there was no hint of malice, just glowing amber irises. Something dark lingered under their surface, but she passed it off as a genetic trait. He did have his mother’s eyes, after all.
She broke his gaze and glanced at the clock on the desk. It had only been six minutes since she entered the office and neither of them had said a word. She resolved to change that right now. As soon as she’d opened her mouth to form the pressing question, he spoke.
“I didn’t really call you in here to talk about that ridiculous cause you were harping on about at the last family meeting.”
“Then what exactly am I here for?” She arched an eyebrow, no longer scared by whatever this was.
He looked pointedly at her, “I wanted to know if you remembered what happened on New Year’s Eve.”
Amy blinked in surprise. It was March now, but she could picture the night as if it were yesterday. It had been hidden in the shadows of her memory, light trickling in only occasionally when Ian would smile at her from across the room - genuinely smile. She could remember the hazy, bubbling feelings in her stomach from the champagne, like spiders dancing within her. She could see Ian, equally tipsy, laughing at her childlike behavior - rolling around on the grass like a preschooler discovering mud puddles. She could most distinctly remember his warm hands under her shirt, and his lips - much softer than hers had ever been - roving down her neck...
But all she said was, “N-not really.”
Ian immediately caught the half-hearted attempt at indifference, “Really, love,” he leaned forward, “the intensity of how much you want me is very clear.”
She crossed her arms and leaned away, “Then you should know it’s a very tiny amount.”
He grinned, as if he had already anticipated the comment, “I’ll bet that if I were to, say, do this,” his fingers tapped her knee and walked up the path of pale flesh to the silk of her dress, stopping at the place where her thigh and hip met, “you wouldn’t protest.”
She squirmed a bit at the touch, the warmth of his hand seeping through the thin fabric, but didn’t break eye contact.
“You haven’t,” he smirked, satisfied, “so I’m right.”
“That doesn’t mean I w-want you.” She forgot her composure for a moment as his hand traveled back down her leg, slipping underneath the dress this time around.
“Ian,” she stopped his hand from going farther, “let’s say I am attracted to you and I do want this. What will it mean afterward?”
He sighed, “It’s always business with you isn’t it?”
He smiled, one of those rare true smiles that reached his ordinarily-cold eyes, and moved his other hand to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. She almost closed her eyes at the familiarity of it all. She couldn’t recall how many times they’ve ended up kissing in empty hallways after family gatherings, but she could remember how they never talked about it afterwards.
Just like that the cord snapped, and she pushed him away and began walking toward the door. And, shockingly, he let her.
She placed her hand on the cold metal doorknob, ready to escape, but her mouth got away from her.
“You know,” she turned back to Ian, “if you want part of me you’re going to have to take it all.”
He stood, gaping at her sudden courage.
“I’m not one of your playthings,” she said, harshly, coming close enough to jap a finger up at him, “you can’t toss me out like those other girls.”
“Who said I wanted to?” He closed the distance between them, “Maybe I want to take you on dates to horrible places like that decrepit movie theatre you love so much.”
Her eyes lit up in recognition, followed by confusion.
“Aha!” He grinned, “You didn’t even know I knew that, did you?”
He slipped an arm around her waist, looked down at her “I’m very observant.”
“Oh? What do you observe right now?” She tried to steady her voice as his hands moved down past her waist.
He leaned in, his breath tickling her neck, “That you’re not wearing any undergarments.”
“W-what?” She backed up slightly, the inside of her knees hitting the ottoman, “I don’t know-you have no-I just can’t…”
And his lips were on hers before her sentence even began to make sense. His hands were in her hair, tugging at the comb holding her up-do together. Her heartbeat rapidly escalated inside its cage, the loud pounding dissolving every logical thought in her brain. She was so used to doing what was right, so used to ignoring temptation, but as his teeth nipped at her throat she decided that a little recklessness couldn’t hurt. After all, giving in wouldn’t mean the end of the world.
In a second’s time, she felt the cool leather of the sofa underneath her. She had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed him lifting her over the ottoman. He was completely aware of this fact and made sure that she knew. His lips quirked into that same smug smile that she always longed to slap off his face, yet never had the guts. But now all she wanted was to show him that she had sway over him as well, perhaps even more than he had over her. She was sick of playing the pawn in his little game. He’d flirt with her and even though she’d flirt back, she was always the one who ended up flustered. This time would be different, she thought as her lips moved to mimic his smile.
This time, Amy Cahill would make Ian Kabra stutter.
♣ Comments and criticism appreciated. On to part two.
fandom: the 39 clues
pairing/character: ian kabra/amy cahill.
chapter: 1/?
rating: mature (for entire fic)
warnings: yeah. this is smut, so that should be enough warning. no kinks or creepiness. just good, old-fashioned shagging.
notes: written for makaria, and the rest of the lovely 39 clues fandom on tumblr. because our fandom deserves more smut.
Give me affection; I need your perfection,’cause you feel so good, you make me s-s-stutter
- Maroon 5, Stutter
Amy shouldn’t have been in here, that was for sure.
The plush black leather couch, the bookshelves holding old tomes about poisonous herbs, the large mahogany desk by the picture window - which she was sure many a traitor had been shoved out of - all screamed “danger zone!”
But did she listen?
Of course not.
She could feel Ian standing behind her, probably smirking like the smug bastard he was, waiting for her to pick a seat. She decided that the couch would be her best bet - it was farthest from the window after all. She moved to place herself as delicately as possible on the leather cushion, as if the whole thing might explode with her entire weight.
Ian, now knee to knee with her on the ottoman, looked her up and down. His eyes started their travels at her shoes, Louboutins Natalie had given her for Christmas two years prior, now slightly scuffed. They then moved upward to her crossed legs, fair from too much time spent inside, but toned from years of training sessions. She rung her hands nervously as his eyes continually focused on her. She knew he must be trying to intimidate her in some way because the more he prolonged this visit the more anxious she became. She was used to dealing with Ian’s sarcasm and venomous wit, but his silence was different. She thought that she’d become so good at reading the enigmatic Lucian during the past few years of his service to the Madrigals, but she was quickly realizing how wrong she was.
There was something suspicious here. He had asked her to follow him to his office to talk, right? He couldn’t have whisked her away from the party his branch had been hosting just to make her uncomfortable. At least, she didn’t think he would.
She noticed his eyes linger on the chain dipping into the low neckline of her dress and wondered if he knew that Gideon’s ring was attached to the end. Is that what he wants? She thought, is he finally going to betray us after all these years?
No, she shook her head slightly as his eyes locked with hers, there was no hint of malice, just glowing amber irises. Something dark lingered under their surface, but she passed it off as a genetic trait. He did have his mother’s eyes, after all.
She broke his gaze and glanced at the clock on the desk. It had only been six minutes since she entered the office and neither of them had said a word. She resolved to change that right now. As soon as she’d opened her mouth to form the pressing question, he spoke.
“I didn’t really call you in here to talk about that ridiculous cause you were harping on about at the last family meeting.”
“Then what exactly am I here for?” She arched an eyebrow, no longer scared by whatever this was.
He looked pointedly at her, “I wanted to know if you remembered what happened on New Year’s Eve.”
Amy blinked in surprise. It was March now, but she could picture the night as if it were yesterday. It had been hidden in the shadows of her memory, light trickling in only occasionally when Ian would smile at her from across the room - genuinely smile. She could remember the hazy, bubbling feelings in her stomach from the champagne, like spiders dancing within her. She could see Ian, equally tipsy, laughing at her childlike behavior - rolling around on the grass like a preschooler discovering mud puddles. She could most distinctly remember his warm hands under her shirt, and his lips - much softer than hers had ever been - roving down her neck...
But all she said was, “N-not really.”
Ian immediately caught the half-hearted attempt at indifference, “Really, love,” he leaned forward, “the intensity of how much you want me is very clear.”
She crossed her arms and leaned away, “Then you should know it’s a very tiny amount.”
He grinned, as if he had already anticipated the comment, “I’ll bet that if I were to, say, do this,” his fingers tapped her knee and walked up the path of pale flesh to the silk of her dress, stopping at the place where her thigh and hip met, “you wouldn’t protest.”
She squirmed a bit at the touch, the warmth of his hand seeping through the thin fabric, but didn’t break eye contact.
“You haven’t,” he smirked, satisfied, “so I’m right.”
“That doesn’t mean I w-want you.” She forgot her composure for a moment as his hand traveled back down her leg, slipping underneath the dress this time around.
“Ian,” she stopped his hand from going farther, “let’s say I am attracted to you and I do want this. What will it mean afterward?”
He sighed, “It’s always business with you isn’t it?”
He smiled, one of those rare true smiles that reached his ordinarily-cold eyes, and moved his other hand to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. She almost closed her eyes at the familiarity of it all. She couldn’t recall how many times they’ve ended up kissing in empty hallways after family gatherings, but she could remember how they never talked about it afterwards.
Just like that the cord snapped, and she pushed him away and began walking toward the door. And, shockingly, he let her.
She placed her hand on the cold metal doorknob, ready to escape, but her mouth got away from her.
“You know,” she turned back to Ian, “if you want part of me you’re going to have to take it all.”
He stood, gaping at her sudden courage.
“I’m not one of your playthings,” she said, harshly, coming close enough to jap a finger up at him, “you can’t toss me out like those other girls.”
“Who said I wanted to?” He closed the distance between them, “Maybe I want to take you on dates to horrible places like that decrepit movie theatre you love so much.”
Her eyes lit up in recognition, followed by confusion.
“Aha!” He grinned, “You didn’t even know I knew that, did you?”
He slipped an arm around her waist, looked down at her “I’m very observant.”
“Oh? What do you observe right now?” She tried to steady her voice as his hands moved down past her waist.
He leaned in, his breath tickling her neck, “That you’re not wearing any undergarments.”
“W-what?” She backed up slightly, the inside of her knees hitting the ottoman, “I don’t know-you have no-I just can’t…”
And his lips were on hers before her sentence even began to make sense. His hands were in her hair, tugging at the comb holding her up-do together. Her heartbeat rapidly escalated inside its cage, the loud pounding dissolving every logical thought in her brain. She was so used to doing what was right, so used to ignoring temptation, but as his teeth nipped at her throat she decided that a little recklessness couldn’t hurt. After all, giving in wouldn’t mean the end of the world.
In a second’s time, she felt the cool leather of the sofa underneath her. She had been so distracted that she hadn’t noticed him lifting her over the ottoman. He was completely aware of this fact and made sure that she knew. His lips quirked into that same smug smile that she always longed to slap off his face, yet never had the guts. But now all she wanted was to show him that she had sway over him as well, perhaps even more than he had over her. She was sick of playing the pawn in his little game. He’d flirt with her and even though she’d flirt back, she was always the one who ended up flustered. This time would be different, she thought as her lips moved to mimic his smile.
This time, Amy Cahill would make Ian Kabra stutter.
♣ Comments and criticism appreciated. On to part two.