Work Text:
See, I have a problem. I, Villanelle, have a problem. A gorgeous 5’5 problem with pretty brown eyes, amazing hair and a sassy attitude that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get rid of. Well, to be more accurate, that I can’t seem to get myself to want to get rid of.
Eve Polastri.
Eve isn’t problematic per-say, maybe a little psychotic. In a cute way. In an “I’ll stab you instead of kissing you” way. Again, utterly adorable.
The problem is me.
Me and Eve. Me with Eve. Me without Eve. Me when Eve is nearby. Me when Eve is away. Me when I don’t have Eve’s attention. Me when I do have Eve’s attention. Me when Eve tries to kill me. Me when I try to kill Eve…
The problem is, I want Eve Polastri to myself. I want her – scratch that – I need her to be mine. It’s not just a crush. I’ve had crushes in the past, sort of. I’ve read about them, heard about them, been the object to many of them. No, this isn’t it. Eve isn’t it. What I’m feeling is consuming and painful and lustful and, oh my gosh, she’s driving me crazy. Especially now that we work together.
We’re colleagues now. We’re friends. I guess I’m one of the “good guys” now. Something I’m not particularly fond of but, I do get to kill people and see Eve every day, two things I enjoy quite a lot. I also get my own flat, and Eve showing up unannounced every once in a while. Another rather compelling benefit.
Every fiber of my body craves for this woman. Not one single day passes without me thinking, dreaming of her, in all-but-appropriate ways. The word “obsession” has been thrown around a few times, mainly by her but I don’t agree. I love Eve. Eve sees me. Eve understands me. I’m not broken, I swear, but if I were, only she could heal me. Only she would make me want to get healed. She’s been rough with me lately. She’s mad at me. Usually I wouldn’t have cared. I never care about what people think of me. But Eve is different. I care about Eve. I love Eve. I want Eve. (Preferably naked and squirming underneath me, moaning my name like a plea to heaven...)
Stupid lust. What a weak feeling. Yet so powerful. I’m weak. Eve is making me weak. I’m dictated by my needs and cravings and emotions and it’s all too much. I need to get my shit together.
“I am so sick of this shit!”
Speaking of the devil. Here she is. Storming in like she owns the place. She takes off her coat, sits on the bed next to me, takes off her shoes. She’s still talking, complaining about something absolutely meaningless that is actually just a substitute for her deepest worries and insecurities emerging. I know Eve well. I chuckle to myself. I could listen to her talk for hours, no matter how meaningless. She rants and sighs and groans, I bite my lip, a curious eyebrow raised as I look at her. This feels right. This feels like home. Eve, coming back from work, telling me all about her day, sitting on the bed with me. I try to reach for her hand, but she moves it away, jumping back to her feet with a sigh, beginning another heated rant and starts pacing. She undoes the highest button of her shirt, exposing more of the smooth, sensitive skin of her neck. I close my eyes, picturing my hand around it, my teeth grazing it, and my lips cherishing the beautiful, fragile area. She’s incredible. She’s frustrated. She runs her hands through her dark curly hair, and she knows she has my undivided attention.
“…anyway. I need a shower!”
“Excuse me, what?”
“Oh, do you mind?” She asks me. I can only scoff in my mind. Do I mind having her in the shower, taking her clothes off, calm, relaxed, wet, naked…
“Non.” I shake my head. “Make yourself at home.”
I watch her walk towards the hallway, progressively unbuttoning her shirt as she gets further and further from me, and in seconds, with the harsh sound of the bathroom door slamming close, she is gone.
I let my body spread on the small circular mattress. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, allowing my brain to focus on the image of Eve. She’s probably running herself a bath, not a shower. She does that to relax. She’s probably put her hair high up in a bun, I love when she has it lose, wild, free, mirroring her mind. I also can’t deny that she is insanely beautiful with it tied up too, more serious, stern, unreachable. She’s probably massaging her own sore neck, which is a shame because I’d happily do it for her. She’s probably already naked, not thinking twice about the possibility that I might storm it, like I own the place, like I own her. She knows I wouldn’t. I respect Eve. I love Eve. She knows I want to, though. She knows I would love to. But she also knows that I hate being predictable.
I can’t help my mind to wander, though. I can’t get myself to even try helping it. I’m weak. For Eve. I crave Eve. I love Eve. Eve is amazing, and smart, and beautiful. And I can only fantasize about how good she looks in her actual “tenue d’Eve.”
I feel teasing hands grazing on my bare thighs under my silk kimono and smirk.
“I knew you’d come around.”
I let out a snigger and she does the same, close to my ear. The hands are now travelling up my body, up my ribs, making me giggle. Grazing the scar on my stomach I earned what feels like a million years ago, I bit my lower lip.
“I’m ticklish.” I pout but it only makes you laugh more. I can hear you teasing me, making fun of me, only half-suppressed.
Your voice is low and teasing and I feel like I’m losing control. Your playful palms run down my arms and reach my wrists. Before I can even process what’s happening, you have me pin down on the mattress, my arms submissively raised above my head. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You’re strong Eve. Unpredictable. I love it.
“I know.”
You know me well too, Eve. Too well, perhaps, sometimes I worry. It’s like you can read through me. I’m an open book, I’m opening up to you, and worse thing is, I’m doing it willingly. Because I love you.
“Don’t keep those pretty thoughts to yourself, Love.” You tell me while brushing a hand on my cheek. I melt into your touch. I can’t help the longing but, thankfully you think it’s cute. I can feel you getting closer, I can feel your breath on my lips. I’m dying to kiss you, Eve, you know it. Your lips brush against mine and it’s short, cold, like a breeze, like the day you stabbed me, except worse. Again, you don’t kiss me. You pull away before I can kiss you. You’re playing with my mind. Stabbing pain and fresh blood aren’t there to remind me that this is real this time.
“What did I just say?”
You’re giving me orders, Eve. Punishing me. You’re having fun. I’m glad but I have enough. I flip us over and you’re underneath me. Your fingers run through my hair, holding my face, pulling me close. And again, we’re not kissing. You flip me over and I’m on my back again. Power balance. We’re back at square one. Except, not. Because now you’re straddling my waist, now I can feel all of you.
“Eve–”
“Sh…”
You shut me up and it’s the best thing since it is with your lips. You’re kissing me and I feel whole. I feel whole with you, Eve. I feel things. I finally feel things when I’m with you. My tongue slides across your bottom lip and I can feel you smile. I deepen the kiss, my thumb brushing against your face, your jawline, the hair at the nape of your neck. I let my fingers linger on your pulse, it’s fast and it’s loud. It’s like I can hear it all throughout my own body. Louder than mine, louder than life. I pull you closer and you’re now fully laid on top of me. Skin to skin, heart to heart. It is as if we’re trying to melt into one another, mold into one another. Because you complete me. You’re part of me.
I touch your skin and it’s soft and warm and delicious. Your hips start moving against mine in a slow pace. My hands travel on your naked back, drawing with a finger the pattern of your spine. Goosebumps are starting to raise. I can tell you want more.
“Can I touch you, Eve?”
I have to ask. I always ask. It’s more polite and I absolutely love hearing you say you do.
“You are touching me, Villanelle.”
“You know what I mean.”
You laugh again. You’re so close. I can feel your breath against my lips, and I pout and let out a whiny moan because you’re not kissing me anymore.
“Do I?”
You giggle, so close to my ear. Your lips attack my neck and I moan. Unapologetic. Your lips are so soft, so warm on my skin. I can feel your curls on my face. I can smell your shampoo. Sweet. I love sweet. I love you.
I’m used to submissive lovers, men and women. But you’re different. You’re submitted, of course. You’re giving me the whole of you, of course. But it’s different. You’re different. You’re dominating me, emotionally. And I let you. Maybe it’s because I love you. I do. I really do.
I run my hand through your hair.
“So pretty.”
“Yes.”
I let out a little laugh. “Glad to know you agree.”
“No.” You laugh again. “Well, yes, I do agree.” You play with your hair, flipping them, putting on a show for me. I’m mesmerized by you. “But I meant, yes.” You look at me and unsurprisingly find me looking back at you. You’re so beautiful. Your eyes, they’re beautiful, they see through me. I want to kiss you. I lean in and realized you’re about to talk again. “Yes, you can touch me, Villanelle.”
Your voice is soft, whisper-like, waft-like and I comply, kissing you some more. I want you so bad, Eve. You moan softly, quietly and it’s like music to my ears. My hands travel on your body, goosebumps raising, breath deepening.
“Villanelle…”
You’re moaning my name, and it must me the hottest sound I have ever heard in my whole life. Your hand grips on my hair, pulling me closer.
“V-Villanelle!”
I’ve had multiple partners in the past, some in this very bed, only a few hours ago. But it’s not the same. I’m not with them, when I’m with them. None of them could ever make me feel the way you do, Eve Polastri. And I know no one has ever made you feel the way I do, Eve. I know it and so do you.
“Oh, my– Villanelle!”
Your breathing is so hot against my collarbone and you groan as you bite into my porcelain skin. I pick up the pace and so do you. You’re moaning and so do I. We’re moving in sync, it’s perfect. It’s like a dance. It’s beautiful. We are one, one mind, one soul, one broken heart that have been searching for its other part forever. I feel whole with you, Eve. You make me feel things. Something. Anything. You simply make me feel. I never felt anything before I met you, Eve. It’s like you’re a part of me and I want to be a part of you. You’re driving me crazy, Eve. Completely crazy.
“Oh, Villanelle!”
You’re screaming my name and I know you’re mine. I kiss you, I have to kiss you. You’re simply perfect. You start to shake between my arms. I feel shock waves of pleasure travelling through my body and I hold you close as you feel them through yours. Impossibly close. I taste your soft lips as you kiss me, nice and slow. I can still smell your sweet shampoo, flowery and fruity. I see the rising and falling of your chest as you’re breathing, fast and filled with desire. I also hear you, humming quietly as you rub your cold nose against my neck, delicately and teasingly. I feel your skin against mine, warm and sensitive. You overwhelm my senses. You’re all I can focus on. I am yours and I can’t do anything about it.
“Thank you, Villanelle.”
You manage to say between a couple of hard breaths.
“Anything for you, Eve Polastri.”
And I mean it. What wouldn’t I do for you? I’ll do anything for you. I’ll do anything for you, twice, if you want me to. I’ll do them again if I have to. I’m doing this again. With you. For you. Anything for you. As much as you want me to.
“Fuck…” You’re cursing and it’s intoxicating and beautiful. Eve, you’re letting herself go. With me. For me. We kiss again and it’s the sweetest taste. “Oh, god, Villanelle.”
That voice, low, heated, barely above a whisper. It’s intimate and sexy and so perfect. Eve, you are so perfect.
“Villanelle?”
Eve’s voice calling my name. Music to my ears.
“Villanelle!”
I open my eyes. The voice is coming from the bathroom. Reality strikes harshly once again.
“Yes, Eve?” My tone is casual, shameless. It wouldn’t be the first time I let my mind wander. And with Eve occupying such a prominent place in my psyche, it certainly won’t be the last.
“I-I actually ran myself a bath, I hope you don’t mind.”
I knew it.
“Mi casa es su casa.”
Please invite me in with you, Eve.
“Formal ‘you’? I thought we were closer than that.” A melodious laugh followed.
Are we? How close are we exactly, Eve? Always teasing me. Eve is toying with my mind like a cat with a ball of yarn and I’m loving it.
“J’ai pensé que vous aimeriez le côté charmant.” I heard her let out another light giggle. Beautiful. Making Eve laugh. Up there on the list of my favorite activities, along with dressing up, killing people and making Eve mad.
She laughs lightly. “How many languages do you speak exactly?”
“You already know the answer to that, Eve.”
What don’t you know about me, anyways.
“What don’t I know about you, anyways?” Eve scoffed to herself. “It’s still very impressive.”
Warmth is growing inside my chest, beaming like a child. I love praise. I love her praise. I love her.
“I’m almost done.”
“Take your time.”
I sing-song playfully. I don’t want to rush you, Eve. You’re tired, you’re angry, you’re frustrated. You need to relax. I could help you relax. I could help you in more ways than one, in ways that are much more fun for you and me. But you don’t want that, Eve. Or at least you’re not ready to admit that you want that. That you crave it almost as much as I do. But I’m okay with that. Right now, all I can do is let you use my bathtub, and my unicorn bath bombs, and my soft cotton towels, and I’m okay with that.”
“Thank you, Villanelle.”
“Anything for you, Eve Polastri.”
I close my eyes and it’s just like she’s right next to me, on top of me, holding me. I swear I can feel her fingers brushing against my cheek again. I almost let out a sigh of disappointment when I reached for it and didn’t feel Eve’s warm hand against mine.
“Where do you keep your towels?”
I obviously could go and show her, lead her, lure her into my bedroom. Into my bed. Lay her naked body on my satin sheets, her hair still wet on my expensive pillowcase, spread out, panting, her skin still wet and hot from the bath. “Cabinet. Bottom shelf. White ones are for hair and blue ones for the body.”
In my mind, she would show up right now. Her body wrapped up in my bathrobe, water dripping from her lose brown curls.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Eve.”
I close my eyes, forbidden thoughts teasing my sanity once again. A smile playing on my lips as I draw little patterns on my exposed stomach, directly on the scar Eve had let me.
“Uh… I should probably get going.”
Her voice is close. But not close enough. She’s near but not as near as I need her to be. I open my eyes to look at her. Fully dressed, entirely beautiful. Water dripping from her lose brown curls. She either dresses quite fast, or thoughts of Eve’s body had once again tricked my perception of time. I smirk at the sight, drinking in her appearance. She’s avoiding my gaze. Her cheeks are tinted pink. Oh, she’s embarrassed, sheepish. It must be because I’m lying in bed, my eyes closed, my hand dangerously close to the waistband of my shorts. She must be thinking that she caught me pleasuring myself thinking of her. I scoff, looking scandalized.
“Eve!” How cocky of her. Her eyes widen and it was like she has been able to hear my train of thoughts, or worse, that I’d been able to hear hers.
“Oh my god.” She blushes some more, and I have just now decided that making Eve Polastri blush is now my new favorite activity. “I didn’t mean to assume… I’m not saying that you…” She’s shaking her head from side to side in a frenzy as she’s… apologizing? This makes me chuckle.
“Come on, Eve. You know I never hid the fact that I masturbate about you. A lot.” My words are accompanied by light shrug, as I casually mention that day she broke into my appartement, made a mess and confronted me, right after I nearly escaped death.
“I–”
Mission accomplished I thought, looking at the blushing Eve Polastri. I can’t help but bit the inside of my cheeks to try to keep myself from grinning victoriously.
“But to think I would do it while you’re right here, in my bathroom? That’s simply sick, Eve.” This time, that smirk would not leave my face even if I’d try. “Don’t you think?” She intends to dismiss the subject with a shake of the head and a light chuckle. This is making me laugh quietly again. Things are not that easy, Eve. The brain is a mouse trap.
“Right. Sorry. You’re right and, uh… I should still… get going. I’ll… see you later.”
I let her go, knowing she has the image of me pleasuring myself at the thought of her deeply engraved in her mind.
Also, now, I really want to do just that.