Axiom Ch. 03

"Moving on to Section 1.01, Existing Financing Facilities...Pursuant to the agreements of the type(s) and date(s) as stated in Section 2(a) of the First Schedule..."

Gwyneth briefly looked up from the laptop to steal a glance at Aidan. His face was serious as ever as he focused on the case at hand, one hand covering his mouth like he always did when he was thinking. Aidan wasn't in charge of the case, but it was a habit of his to remain updated on the on-goings of every team - and today, he was sitting in on her team's meeting. Last week had been amazing, and the thought of it made her want to smile, but she forced herself to look indifferent in that meeting as she recollected the events of their first week together.

On Wednesday, he had whisked her away from work discreetly and pretended to go over the details of a merger while they were in the car together. What the driver couldn't see was Aidan's hands underneath the bulky folio that covered their laps, his fingers stealthily working their way up to feel her wetness through the fabric of her underwear. Without batting an eyelid, Gwyneth continued to drone on about the possible complications in regards to each clause, even as he pushed the fabric aside and plunged his finger into her hot depth, his eyes glimmering when he felt her muscles clench around the intruding digit.

In the elevator he kissed her passionately, one hand working on the buttons of her shirt as another continued to explore her pussy. Then they were in the living room where he was sprawled on the sofa, sipping on a glass of whisky as she was on her knees, bobbing her head on his cock, sucking and licking him until he came in thick spurts into her open mouth. She looked up at him lasciviously as he shot his load onto her tongue, knowing full well the pleasure that he obtained from the sight. When he was done, she swallowed slowly, licking her lips to make a show of how much she enjoyed it, and he smiled as he took a deep swig of the amber drink.

On Saturday, he was fucking her hard from behind as she was on all fours, her small breasts swaying slightly with every thrust. He could hear the muffled moans at the back of her throat that clearly displayed her arousal.
He paused to flip her onto her back and repositioned her legs into a frog-like position.

"You're not much of a screamer, are you?" he grunted.
She shook her head no and reached out to guide his cock back into her dripping pussy.
He batted her hand away and leaned in close.
"I'm not buying it," he smirked haughtily, "I know that deep down inside, you want to wail and moan like a crazed bitch," he whispered hotly in her ear.
"I - " she tried to answer, but he cut her off by circling a hand around her throat.

"Scream for me," he commanded, his crystal eyes piercing hers. Aidan roughly pushed into her and began to pound her hard, his hand still carefully wrapped around her neck, the friction of his thrusts against her clit driving her mad with lust. He was right, it was in her nature to scream - but one too many boyfriends had commented on her volume, and she'd decided to shut up for good after that. But not now. As she felt the familiar darts of pleasure dissipating through her body, making her head giddy and her stomach ache for release, she knew she had to. Gwyneth threw her head back and let out a loud moan that filled the room.

"Oh, God, yes, fuck me, yes, yes, yes..." she chanted, her voice so feverish with desire she could barely recognize it. Her real self was beginning to break through now, the primal need starting to rise through the cracks of an otherwise perfect veneer. It was plain liberation - pure and simple. Aidan relished watching her shed her skin as she stretched on the bed, thrusting her hips upwards while she moaned and begged for him to fuck her.

As she neared her climax, he pulled out of her, making her growl in surprise. He made her get back into doggy position and continued to fuck her frantically until she felt her orgasm explode within her, and then she cried out in a single high-pitched whine while her pussy contracted involuntarily around his cock. Afterwards they lay in bed, Gwyneth deep in slumber having been totally spent from the orgasm, and Aidan smiled to himself at his new discovery. Who would've thought that Gwyneth Kenner, the confident, brainy lawyer, had a secret submissive streak?

"You always fall asleep so quickly," Aidan grumbled as they lazed in bed in the morning. "Five minutes after sex and you're off with the Sandman."
"Hey," she punched his arm lightly, "it's not my fault this bed is ridiculously comfortable. Seriously, what is it made of, angel feathers?"
He chuckled softly. "It's a Hypnos," he stroked her arm gently. "Worth every penny, isn't it?"
She murmured in agreement, burrowing her face in a plush pillow. It really was a luxurious bed - she'd never been so comfortable in her life - the mere thought of heaving herself out of bed took all the effort in the world.

"Will you be staying for breakfast?" he started to kiss a trail on her bare back, gently brushing his wet lips over her smooth skin.

"I might," she replied playfully. He kissed her deeply, his body pressed so close to hers that she could smell his skin, his true, natural scent.

"Okay, I will," she relented, prompting a broad smile from him. She slid out of bed, pulling the sheet with her. "Where are my clothes?"

"I don't think Alfred is done with them," he was referring to the butler, who usually had her clothes laundered and ready by morning. "Stay put, I'll get you something to throw on."

He left the room and returned with a Paul Smith t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Gwyneth was puzzled. "Why do you keep your clothes in a different room?"

Aidan grimaced ever so slightly, an almost imperceptible movement of the face.
"This isn't my room, love," he said gently, not wanting to offend her.

"Oh, okay." Gwyneth felt put out. Of course this wasn't his room, she reminded herself. She wasn't the girlfriend, didn't belong here, and this wasn't a relationship. Truth be told, she felt slightly hurt, but choosing to gloss over the subject, she shrugged into his clothes and leapt into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Section 2.04, Continuing Security...The security created under this supplemental deed is expressly intended to be and shall be a continuing security for the payment of the additional facility..."

As her colleague continued with the sleep-inducing spiel, Gwyneth found it increasingly difficult for her to focus on the meeting. Her attention was inexplicably drawn to Aidan every few minutes. She wondered if Aidan was thinking of her too; if he was thinking about the same things that were on her mind...

With every passing week, they broke new ground and explored different fantasies. It became quickly apparent that Gwyneth loved being dominated, and Aidan was more than happy to oblige - one of his favorite memories was that of her riding him with her hands tied behind her back, her screams muffled by a ballgag in her mouth. He gripped her hips and slammed her repeatedly onto his cock until she came in an unprecedented gush of juices, her thighs taut and her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

In the privacy of her own room when Aidan was not around, Gwyneth would finger herself to orgasm as she remembered how he'd tied her up and left her spread-eagled in bed, and then left the room for what seemed like hours while hardcore porn played on a TV in front of her. She couldn't contain her arousal as she watched the video of a woman being taken by several men, writhing at the feel of the familiar wetness pooling between her legs, her pussy aching to be filled. After a while, she realized that she was being watched, and true enough, Aidan was standing at the door, observing her with hawk eyes. He was totally naked, the tip of his erection glinting with droplets of pre-cum, and as he held a drink in his hand, he looked every bit the picture of decadence. "Please," she begged, her voice like honey. "Please, fuck me." He sat the drink down on a nearby dresser and sat on the bad, grinning roguishly as he leaned over to take her nipple into his mouth.

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The situation at work was easy to manage, considering they were not working on the same cases. With what little interaction they had at the office, they remained cool and professional, businesslike in every regard. Dylan's suspicions did not fade, instead his radar had pricked up at work and he quickly assumed it was a mutual colleague, much to Gwyneth's horror.

"It's Gavin, isn't it?" he squinted at her over his cup of coffee.

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him, agog.
"Are you kidding me? Gavin?" her expression was incredulous, and she snorted with laughter. "Wow, it's nice to know you think that lowly of me."

Dylan gave a tsk of irritation, clearly dissatisfied at his disability to figure out the identity of her mystery man.

She sighed wearily at the sight of his sullen expression. "Okay, okay," she admitted, defeated. He sat up in earnest, anticipating the reveal of a scandal.
"I have been shagging someone -" his eyes lit up like lightbulbs, but she held up a finger to stop him from speaking "-but, it's purely physical. And no, he's not from work," she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whatever gave you that asinine idea, completely baffles me."

Dylan leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied by the extraction of her confession.
"Well," he said smugly, "if he's not from work, then where did you meet this guy?"

"Bookstore," she lied smoothly. "Apparently, we both enjoy reading Safran Foer."

He scoffed at her answer. "Look at you, dating some hipster from the bookstore," he said mockingly. "Does he wear skinny jeans and thick black glasses he doesn't need?"

Her thoughts immediately flashed to Aidan and his immaculate Savile Row suits and Cartier cufflinks. Oh, the irony.
"I'm not dating him," she argued, sounding irritated. "Purely sex and nothing else," she whispered, not wanting her colleagues to hear her. "And he's not a hipster."

"Fair enough," Dylan said with an air of finality. "Do I get to meet him?"

"No," her eyes flashed with anger. "He's not a boyfriend," she hissed.

He held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay...just asking. No need to get all pissy, now."

Gwyneth ignored him and turned her attention back to her work.

"Gywneth."
She turned around sharply to see Aidan dressed in all black, holding a thick stack of files.

"A word, please? My office." He beckoned for her to join him. They walked together in silence towards his office, with Gwyneth wondering about why he would want to see her - until he opened the doors to his office and she saw a well-dressed black man sitting in one of the chairs. Aidan strode in confidently and placed the stack of files on his desk.

"Gwyneth, this is Julian Lynch, head of the legal division at Ceres Laboratories, and Julian, this is Gwyneth Kenner, an associate who's been with us for two years now."

Gwyneth shook his hand and began to realize who the man was. Julian Lynch, the son of Edward Lynch himself. But why wasn't he working with the firm?

Aidan seemed to read her mind. "Julian has been working with Ceres ever since he made the Bar. Always been passionate about the natural sciences, this one," he said warmly, and Julian smiled back companionably. "Please, sit."

As the three settled into their respective seats, Gwyneth was still bewildered as to why she was here. Was Aidan pulling strings so that she could work with him? Would she be working with him? Her head was swimming with questions.

"Ms. Kenner worked on the SeaNorth case two years back, to much success," Aidan was saying, and everything clicked into place. "She came highly recommended by Marty Hamilton, who assured me that she was invaluable when it comes to environmental law," explained Aidan as Julian nodded in acknowledgement. Gwyneth felt a slight glow of pride at the mention of Marty Hamilton - he had been her mentor when she first started at the firm, a gentle and kind leader who had taken her under his wing and nurtured her into who she was today.

"Gwyneth," Aidan addressed her directly now, his voice firm and unwavering, "the firm will be representing Ceres in an upcoming legal settlement, and I was wondering if you would be interested in joining the team."
"Of course," she enthused, excited at the opportunity. "What will the case be about?"
The two men paused momentarily to exchange glances.

Julian answered her question. "Ceres Laboratories will be involved in a class action lawsuit in regards to a recent agricultural product, and the plaintiffs are claiming damages amounting to 24 million dollars. This information hasn't gone public yet, although we are certain it will make tomorrow's headlines. Should you choose to accept, you will be representing against these allegations - and make no mistake, this will be a high-profile case - to be headed by Marty, of course. So what say you?" Julian's eyes twinkled at the invitation.

Gwyneth could barely believe her ears. "I'm looking forward to working on it," she said confidently, feeling a rush of pleasure.
"Great," Julian flashed a polite smile as he got up to leave. "I'll be back with more details, but until Marty is here, I'm afraid there's not much to discuss at the moment." They closed with a handshake, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in the room with Aidan. She turned to leave, but Aidan stopped her with a question.
"Lunch?" he asked, looking at the computer instead of facing her. "Marty may be joining us, but only if his flight arrives on time."
"Where is he coming from?" she asked.
"Philadelphia," he answered tonelessly. "So, lunch?"
She shrugged as she walked towards the door. "Sure."

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They settled into a table at a nice Italian place and placed their orders. Gwyneth eyed him surreptitiously as he frowned at an email on his BlackBerry, noting how good he looked in a crisp black shirt and matching suit. His dark hair was perfectly combed back in neat waves, just barely skimming the back of his collar. In the daylight his blue irises were paler than ever, and she watched in slight fascination as they darted left and right to follow the text on the screen. Suddenly, he looked up and so she quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn't caught her staring at him. Embarrassed, she pretended to watch people walking by outside for a few moments..before finally allowing herself to face him. As soon as she caught his gaze, she regretted it - the small smile on his face indicated that he had caught her staring.

"You look very nice today," he remarked politely as he took a sip of water.
"Thank you," she replied cooly. "So do you."

Aidan placed his glass back on the table. "The new Radiohead album is out," he mentioned casually. It was established, during their first dinner together at Asakuma, that they shared similar interests in music; an eclectic mix of classic and alternative rock.
Gwyneth's eyebrows wrinkled in a curious frown.
"I thought we were strictly colleagues."

Aidan gave a small smile and gestured around him. "We're not at the office now, are we?" he said lightheartedly.

She raised her eyebrows slightly but accepted his reasoning.
"I've given King of Limbs a few spins," she offered. "Lotus Flower, Codex, Giving Up The Ghost - those are the best three tracks, in my opinion. They're still Radiohead, and although it's not exactly Kid A, it's a good album nonetheless."

Aidan just sat there in silence without saying a word. Suddenly he was writhing in his chair, twisting his arms about in weird motions, bobbing his head rhythmically. Gwyneth was stunned speechless. What on earth was he up to? People around them were beginning to look at them, and Aidan showed no sign of stopping. He was still moving, flailing around like he was having a seizure, his long arms waving this way and that...wait. The punchline dawned upon her and she understood, making her burst out with hysterical laughter. He was mimicking Thom Yorke's dance in the Lotus Flower video. Aidan continued gyrating about for a while more, not caring about the curious stares he was receiving while Gwyneth struggled to contain her giggles.

"Irrefutable proof that white men can't dance," he announced dryly after his little performance petered out. "We want to, we wish we could, but we just can't."

"Do you dance then?"

"A little," he gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I thought you said white men can't dance."

Before he could say anything, she heard another man's voice.

"Like he said, we can't. But then again, Aidan has always been famous for achieving the impossible."

Gwyneth's heart stopped for a second when she saw the owner of the voice. He was drop-dead gorgeous - tall, broad shoulders, dark hair. But what stood out most was his characteristic ice-blue eyes, the very same ones Aidan possessed.

"Michael, this is my colleague, Gwyneth. Gwyneth, my brother, Michael."

He extended his hand and she meekly shook it in return. As good-looking as Aidan may be, he was nothing compared to his elder brother. Michael was taller, more rugged, more masculine - but despite the testosterone his face remained boyish, supplanted by youthful eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He shook her hand with a firm, confident grip, and Gwyneth wondered if Aidan could figure out that she was checking out his brother. She threw a glance at Aidan and true enough, he was watching her intently with a blank expression on his face.

"Michael is a pediatric neurosurgeon based at Mount Sinai," Aidan introduced smoothly. A hunky doctor indeed, Gwyneth thought, unable to stop herself. Michael waved him off a brisk sweep of the hand.
"Don't mind me," his voice was deep and smooth. "Just stopped by to say hi and compliment Bob Fosse over here. It was nice meeting you, Gwyneth. Be careful he doesn't dance the daylights out of you," he teased in a friendly voice. Just like that, with a brief, brotherly pat on Aidan's back, he left the table.

"I didn't know you had a brother."

Aidan's face was still wearing the same blank expression. "Michael's four years my senior. A true Scodelario, in and out. First saved a life when he was 16, and he's never looked back since." He whipped out his BlackBerry. "Rock climbs in his free time, made it to Base Camp on Everest, speaks five languages..." he listed out the achievements monotonously.

Gwyneth was thoroughly impressed by now. "He was 16 when he first saved a life?"
Aidan nodded stoically, obviously having retold the story a million and ten times. "It was a friend of ours. We were in the Hamptons during the summer, just clowning about, when this guy starts stumbling around like a drunk. It was a hot afternoon, and all of us just assumed that he'd had one too many margaritas too early into the day. Then he just grabbed the salt and started to eat it - literally just shook it into his mouth - and we were all laughing at him."

The waiter interrupted them and began to serve the food.

"All this time, Michael was just watching him closely. Suddenly, the guy passes out and Mike rushes over. The first thing he did? Checked the inside of the guy's cheeks." He said the words meaningfully for dramatic effect.

"His cheeks?" She echoed doubtfully.

Aidan speared a scallop with his fork and nodded. "The insides of his cheeks. We found dark spots dappled all over his mouth, and Mike just knew. As it turns out, the guy was in an Addisonian crisis. It's a rare complication of a rare disease, and the doctors at the hospital were just amazed at how my brother managed to identify it. A sixteen year old, barely out of high school, diagnosing an Addisonian crisis based on nothing more than articles he'd read online." Aidan cocked an eyebrow. "From then on, his path in life was carved in stone. We all knew."