Reunited

Eve raps the door so tentatively that her knuckles hardly graze the surface of the splintering wood. She knows Villanelles will make her wait so she idly runs a hand through her hair, fluffing it up to enhance the volume and so that a few stray locks hang in her face ever so slightly. "Goddamn it, Eve," she mutters to herself; why is she always trying so hard to look good for Villanelle?

Behind the door, Villanelle adjusts the lapels of her suit jacket, thumbing the burgundy velvet with a surprising degree of apprehension. She stares at herself head-on in the mirror that sits on the wall to the door's immediate left, pulling her hair back into a taut ponytail and grinning furtively; at last, she and Eve will be reunited—Eve who had spurned her with such cruelty and disdain, Eve who she had shot and left for dead amidst the ruins in Rome.

Two minutes pass before the door is opened.

Villanelle has prepared a pot of tea, and she guides Eve over to an austere dining room table. "Sit," she demands, with a smile that's bordering on a smirk. Eve pulls out a chair and when she finally sits down, Villanelle takes a seat across from her, placing her hands nonchalantly at the back of her head and leaning back precariously.

Eve glowers. "Why'd you do it?" she asks thunderously.

Villanelle smiles incredulously in response and then gives Eve a doe-eyed look that causes Eve to start shaking her head vigorously. "Unbelievable," she mutters and shifts in her chair, rising slowly towards the door.

"Eve, stop!" shouts Villanelle. "I can explain."

Nothing is explained and, instead, they both sit silently, sipping earl grey from tiny coffee-stained tea cups. Villanelle won't stop wetting her lips with the tea and slowly sliding her tongue over them, irritating the hell out of Eve. A small jar of honey sits in front of the teapot and with a sudden determinedness, Villanelle dips her thumb in it and raises it to her lips, sucking off the glob of honey with a mind-numbing slowness and once again, making doe-eyes at Eve.

Eve rolls her eyes. "What do you want?"

"You, of course," responds Villanelle, looking rather dumbfounded, and blinking dramatically.

Eve sighs and for the second time that night, gets up to leave. "I can't do this."

With that, Villanelle brings her fist down on the table, hard enough that both the teacups rattle on their saucers. She pushes her teacup to the side and leans over the table, so that her whole upper body is pressed firm against the polished mahogany. "But Eve, I love you," she whines as if she were a petulant child who had just had their iPad taken away.

Despite herself, Eve stares inconspicuously at Villanelle's lips which are still shiny and slick with the honey. She imagines what it would feel like to slide her tongue over those lips and taste the sweetness, to gently bite down on that bottom lip, to slip her tongue inside... Eve stops herself and scoffs, audibly. "You don't know what love is, Villanelle."

Villanelle pouts and looks Eve up and down, who at this point is standing behind her chair, hands clenched tightly at the chair's back. She's wearing a forest-green turtleneck and simple black slacks; when Villanelle looks closely, she sees that Eve must have applied a little blush to her cheeks, and her eyelashes are tinged with mascara. "Oh, Eve," says Villanelle, tsk-tsking sarcastically.

Villanelle stands up abruptly, lifting her body off the table, and sidles casually over towards Eve, hands buried deep in the roomy pockets of her velvet pants. "Eve, Eve, Eve," she sighs.

Eve can feel Villanelle's breath on her face, warm and damp and smelling vaguely of tea and honey and milk; her heartrate quickens and she wills herself to move back, to turn around and walk out the door. Instead she leans in further so that their lips are just inches apart, so that she can feel Villanelle's eyes boring into her.

Villanelle seizes the moment as an opportunity to suggestively unbutton her suit jacket; up until now, she had kept it tightly buttoned up. Underneath the velvet, she is wearing only a simple black bra and she smiles devilishly when she notices where Eve's eyes have landed.

Eve knows she has been caught but she does not avert her eyes right away, taking in the firm roundness of Villanelle's breasts, outlined and pushed together perfectly by the bra. Her eyes drift to Villanelle's stomach. She's inexplicably drawn to the smoothness of her skin and the shape of her belly button; she imagines making circles there with her tongue.

"You like what you see, yes?" asks Villanelle, unable (or unwilling) to suppress her glee.

Eve snaps out of her trance with an alarming suddenness, turning away from Villanelle and practically marching to the front door. "Goodbye, Villanelle," she says flatly, left hand grasping at the door knob.

Villanelle watches calmly as Eve fiddles with the doorknob, its chipped gold paint staining her fingers.

Eve removes her hand from the knob and stands up straighter, staring intently at the nothingness of the door in front of her. Then, when her vision has begun to blur from staring for too long and too hard, she turns around.

"Fuck it," Eve spits out, almost venomously. "My husband's dead. I have nothing left. And—" She pauses, stuttering and looking down at the ground. "And I want you."

Villanelle beams. "Ahh, Eve, at last—we are lovers. When should the wedding be?"

Eve laughs sarcastically. "We fuck, Villanelle, and then I leave. That's it."

Villanelle frowns. "Fine, have it your way. We will see what you say in the morning."

Again, Eve scoffs. "I'm not staying over."

Villanelle steps forward, grabbing the hem of Eve's turtleneck and using it to pull Eve closer to her. "I like this color on you."

Eve inhales sharply. Why the fuck am I so wet already? she thinks to herself. Villanelle hasn't even touched her skin.

Villanelle revels in Eve's blatant desperation. She raises her thumb to Eve's lips, brushing it against the border between Eve's top and bottom lip. "You really want me, huh?"

At this, Eve adopts an annoyed facial expression, but she quivers with desire, despite herself.

"Follow me," says Villanelle, still holding a bunched-up section of the turtleneck in her hand, and guiding Eve away from the front door.

"Not the bedroom?" asks Eve hesitantly, upon realizing that Villanelle has led her to the edge of the dining room table.

"Oh, later," responds Villanelle, brushing off the question with a wry smile and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "Lie down."

Eve pushes herself up onto the table, careful not to bump into the teacups or teapot that sit perilously at the edge of the table, and lies back.

Once Eve is on her back, the bottoms of her legs dangling off the table, Villanelle leans forward. Offering Eve an eyeful of her cleavage, she grabs a fistful of Eve's thick, raven-black hair, admiring the way its wavy strands seem to curl around her fingers. "God, Eve—beautiful," mutters Villanelle.

Eve sits up slightly, pulling off her turtleneck and bra and tossing them aside carelessly. She observes intently as Villanelle undoes her belt, leaving the waist of her pants to rest just below her hip bones. She swings it around lightly, but almost maniacally.

"Lie back down," Villanelle insists. She clasps a hand around Eve's wrists firmly, pushing her arms over her head and looping her belt around Eve's hands. She pulls tightly, sending an anticipatory shiver down Eve's spine.

Villanelle can't decide what she wants to do first and simply stares in prideful awe at the beautiful woman tied up and spread out before her. Her eyes shift to the small jar of honey still sitting atop the table.

Eve wants Villanelle so badly, she can barely think. But Villanelle won't touch her, as least not yet. Rather, she just stands over her, reaches for the jar of honey and unscrews the lid with a pace and precision that is quite simply, aggravating.

Villanelle flips the jar, capless, upside down inches above Eve's bare breasts. The honey trickles from the jar slowly, coming out in drips and globs, and making thick swirls around her nipples, before almost completely obscuring them from view.

The honey feels sticky, but unexpectedly soft, on Eve's skin. The smell of sweetness on her chest wafts towards her nose and she sighs, deeply, with simultaneous satisfaction and hunger.

Villanelle eyes the small, honey-covered mounds on Eve's chest longingly. She leans over, yet again, and then pulls herself up onto the table, so that she is straddling Eve's stomach.

Eve practically gasps upon seeing Villanelle sink down gently on her stomach and feeling the soft velvet of her pants on her bare skin. She finds herself confused when she feels a striking warmth near her belly button, but the confusion quickly transforms into pleasure when she realizes just where the warmth is coming from and just how aroused Villanelle must be right now.

Villanelle lowers her mouth to Eve's breasts, greedily lapping up the honey with her tongue. She pauses and sits back up; the honey drips from the corners of her mouth, pooling at the indent in her chin.

Eve can't take her eyes away. Villanelle brings herself back down, sucking hungrily on Eve's flesh and nibbling on her nipples, pausing every so often to look up and stare into Eve's eyes which are dilated and vivid, and somehow syrupy, the color of a dark French roast.

When she is done tonguing and licking and sucking, Villanelle slides off of Eve and gets down from the table, leaving Eve there on her back. Villanelle exits the dining room, returning with lube and a wet washcloth which she gently applies to Eve's breasts, soaking up the last remnants of the honey.

Straddling Eve's legs, Villanelle trails her index finger down Eve's chest and stomach, stopping when she grazes the waist of Eve's slacks. She unclasps her own bra, tossing it to the floor. Methodically, Villanelle sinks her body down and inches her lips towards Eve's, her erect nipples making brief contact with Eve's own. "What a dirty slut you are, Eve," murmurs Villanelle.

Normally, Eve would guffaw at this, but instead she becomes even more intensely aroused. If it weren't for her hands tied up over her head, she would practically rip off her pants and underwear.

Villanelle peels Eve's flats from her feet and unzips Eve's pants, pulling them off leisurely so as to expose her legs bit by bit. At last, Eve is naked before her, excluding the heather grey underwear that has been markedly dampened with Eve's excitement. Villanelle squeezes Eve's thighs, then shifts her right hand over, massaging the wet spot and sliding her hand back and forth rhythmically.

Eve gasps, not quietly, at Villanelle's touch. Without realizing, she writhes and grinds against Villanelle's palm. She wants to beg, but doesn't.

Villanelle pulls the underwear down, past Eve's ankles, slipping the fabric over her toes and letting it fall gently to the floor. She climbs down from the table, taking a couple steps back so she can admire Eve's now fully-exposed body. She steps forward again, hip bones pushing up against the edge of the table; appearing mesmerized, she reaches for Eve's small mass of pubic hair and weaves her fingers through the coarse, black curls.

Eve lets out a small moan as Villanelle's fingers glide downwards, spreading apart the lips of her labia and landing on Eve's clit, where she pauses. Eve's legs twitch, knees jerking unwittingly.

Moistening her hand with the cum that has already begun to drip out of Eve, Villanelle rubs her clit, up and down and in circles, gradually increasing the speed and pressure, reveling in Eve's shameless display of pleasure.

Moaning resoundingly, Eve looks down at her stomach which is rising and falling dramatically as a consequence of Villanelle's pleasuring. She looks up intently to see Villanelle raising her free hand and clamping it down over Eve's mouth, muffling her increasingly loud groans of satisfaction.

Villanelle can tell Eve's coming apart, nearing climax, but she carefully lifts her hand off of Eve's clit.

"What are you doing?" mumbles Eve, irritated, into the palm of Villanelle's other hand.

Villanelle leans in, so that Eve can feel her breath on her skin. "What, you don't want me inside?"

"I do," Eve manages to say. Then, "Please, Villanelle," she blurts out.

Villanelle smiles, pleased. "What do you want, Eve?" A brief pause. "Tell me." She moves her hand away from Eve's mouth.

"Fuck me," replies Eve with a resolve that surprises both of them. "I want those fingers in my cunt."

Beaming, Villanelle reaches for the lube, squirting a small dollop onto her palm, and rubbing it around Eve's pussy. Gingerly, she slips in one finger then another, pausing after each to look to Eve for encouragement.

Eve tries to stifle her moans as Villanelle's hand disappears inside her, to no avail. She feels so full of Villanelle; she can sense her knuckles against the walls of her pussy, her hand balling into a fist and stretching out her cunt.

Villanelle can no longer see her wrist, swallowed up by Eve before her. She returns her other hand to Eve's clit, rubbing rapidly, simultaneously making small, precise movements with her fist inside of Eve. Villanelle's hand is drenched; as Eve squeezes and clenches around her, she pictures what her hand will look like once she pulls it out—sticky and soaked, visibly dripping with cum.

Eve's stomach clenches and her legs fly out in front of her, her breath catching in her throat. She feels a rush of something—something she lacks the words to describe—electrify her entire body and she's pulsing around Villanelle's hand, spasming and gasping until she stills, lying limp.

Still staring intensely at Eve, Villanelle pulls her hand out slowly, fully drenched in Eve's cum, and smiles slyly. "I'll be right back," she tells Eve.

When Villanelle returns, she has shed her pants and underwear, completely in the nude save a strap-on. Eve grins, unknowingly.

Villanelle quickly propels herself onto the table, straddling Eve's legs yet again, then moving upwards, until she's crouching by Eve's face. She moves her hand down her body, past the strap-on, and touches herself, spreading her lips so that Eve can see everything. When she reveals her hand, it is shiny and wet with her cum, and she grabs the dildo with it, rubbing vigorously to slather it.

Eve eyes the dildo hungrily.

Her desire is not lost on Villanelle, who bites down on her lip and says, "Eager, huh?"

"I want to suck your cum off your dick." Eve's eyes widen and her eyebrows raise nervously, as if she cannot believe what she herself has just said.

Villanelle, on the other hand, is thrilled; she lowers the dick so that it hovers an inch or two from Eve's lips, and laughs upon seeing the keenness with which Eve opens her mouth, wide.

Eve closes her mouth around the head of the dildo and sucks it further into her mouth, impressed by both the girth of the dick and the taste of Villanelle. She sucks off every drop of cum with a palpable desperation, taking the dildo as deep as she can, and finally opening her mouth, gasping for air a little as she does so.

Villanelle shifts her weight, climbing off of Eve, and freeing her wrists at last from the constraints of the belt.

Eve sits up rapidly, shaking out her hands and stretching, before assertively planting her palm in between Villanelle's breasts, and applying pressure so that Villanelle rocks backward ever so slightly. "Show me your room."

Surprised but pleased to see Eve take the lead, Villanelle guides her towards her bedroom, where they approach a king-sized, floral-themed canopy bed.

Eve has a tenacious glint in her eyes and she pushes Villanelle down onto her bed forcefully, relieving her of the strap-on and putting it aside, carefully and deliberately.

Villanelle props herself up using pillows, watching curiously as Eve scours the room for God knows what.

Eve takes a sheer, crimson scarf from one of the three closets in the room and drapes it over Villanelle's eyes, tying a knot behind her head.

Villanelle can see through it, but only just. She likes watching Eve move through the square, red grains.

It dawns on Eve rather suddenly that she and Villanelle have yet to actually kiss; kissing is a kind of intimacy that strikes her as being not exactly Villanelle's style, so to speak. Nonetheless, straddling Villanelle's stomach, Eve brings her lips to meet Villanelle's.

Eve's lips feel peculiarly, but pleasantly, warm to Villanelle, and she basks in their softness.

Using her upper lip, Eve nudges Villanelle's bottom lip downwards, then slips her tongue in, and past, the gap between top and bottom lip. Eve's tongue glides across Villanelle's teeth, massaging the grooves. Soon, their tongues are intertwined, thrusting against each other and prodding.

Villanelle tilts her head back in a kind of bliss as she feels the suction with which Eve pulls her tongue further into her mouth. When Eve finally lets go, Villanelle returns the favor, latching on to Eve's tongue and sucking passionately, then releasing it to nibble playfully on Eve's bottom lip.

Eve unseals her lips from Villanelle's and sits up slowly, looking lustfully at Villanelle's lips. They are parted ever so slightly and glistening with Eve's spit, peach-toned and puffier than usual. She runs her index and middle finger lightly over Villanelle's lips, soaking up the last drops of spit, and pressing into them with the pads of her fingers.

Villanelle gives an approving smile as Eve brings her hands down to Villanelle's breasts, cupping them with fervor. She gasps when Eve touches her nipples, pinching them between thumb and index finger.

Eve kneads Villanelle's breasts in her hands, tracing circles around her areolas, and massaging the tissue, marveling at her hard, dark pink nipples—nipples that react instantly to Eve's every touch.

Suddenly, Villanelle feels Eve's hands at her waist, and she is being turned over, rather roughly, so that her face is pushed down into the mattress. She shifts her head slightly, but Eve quickly puts it back in position.

"I know I'm not the only one who likes it rough," Eve says in a deep and resonant voice.

Villanelle smirks into the sheets below her. "Eve," she hisses in response. "So naughty."

To this, Eve gives a resounding slap to Villanelle's ass. Ignoring Villanelle's surprisingly high-pitched moan, Eve spreads her open, prying her cheeks apart and admiring their perfect balance of firm and fleshy. Cautiously, she bends down and tongues circles around Villanelle's asshole, before playfully pushing her tongue inside, only just.

Villanelle's hands grasp at the sheets, her fingernails digging sharply into the mattress, tickled and aroused. She notes the absence of Eve's tongue before she realizes that Eve has climbed off of her; she hears a faint rustling.

Having located the lube, Eve mounts Villanelle once again, and squirts a generous amount of lube onto the middle finger of her right hand. With her left hand, she slaps Villanelle's ass—harder this time—and watches the flesh bounce back. Then, using that same hand to spread open Villanelle's ass, Eve plunges her lubed finger inside.

Villanelle cries out, then inhales sharply, at the cold of the lube and the tension of Eve's finger propelling itself deeper inside her. She exhales, gasping at the end of her breath, suddenly overtake by a rush of pleasure.

When Eve is finished with Villanelle's ass (at least for now), she rolls her back over and trails a hand down Villanelle's face, checking to ensure that the scarf is still tied tightly over her eyes. Confident that it indeed is, Eve gets up to clean her hands and grabs the strap-on which is lying awkwardly on the other side of the bed, and attaches it to herself.