Fic: RPF: Tuck Your Shirt In (9/17).
Apr. 14th, 2008 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_moonshine_xTitle: Tuck Your Shirt In (9/17).
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: Light R (eventually).
Warnings: Real person fiction, teenage naughtiness.
Word count: 1,537.
Summary: After taking Rupert shopping ready for her 18th birthday party, Emma begins to realise her interest in him isn’t purely platonic after all and has trouble getting her head around this new revelation and how to deal with it. Meanwhile, Rupert is suffering some unwanted attention from an old school friend and comes to the conclusion that Emma might very well be his saviour.
Other chapters: Here.
Tuck Your Shirt In
Chapter 9 – Whoever Said Chivalry Was Dead?
Beneath the dim lights of the upstairs corridor, Emma looked like an angel, the way she span around and around, pure bliss radiating from her in waves. Her laughter echoed around them like a symphony, her golden hair a halo, eyes liquid chocolate and the feel of her skin on his, there was no other way to describe it but angelic. She shone, the delicate beading of her dress catching the light, casting a kaleidoscope of colour dancing across the walls.
Somewhere, somehow, she had gotten hold of another glass of champagne and as she fumbled with opening her door, she sipped from it eagerly. She hummed softly under her breath, a sound only Rupert could hear as he leant over her, his hand on her waist, holding her steady and in place. Catching her hand, he took the key card from her, stopping her struggling and unlocking the door.
Several moments later he swung the door closed behind them and watched her as she walked across the room, on tiptoes, clumsily tossing her shoes aside. She span back to him, hands knotted into her hair, a bright smile on her face.
‘God, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I couldn’t…’ Emma whispered. ‘I’ve wanted you for so long.’
Rupert didn’t move. He let her speak. The words washing over him, drowning him, as he sorted the truth from the lies and the fact from the fiction. Would she say any of this sober? He didn’t know and a part of him wanted to keep it that way. Fantasies could be beautiful. Sometimes they could be better than reality.
‘Is this really happening?’ She was closer now, her voice soft in his ear as she spoke and her breath hot against his skin. ‘Tell me it’s real.’
The champagne was gone and he found Emma’s dark eyes gazing up into his, tentative fingers running through his hair and her face lightly flushed under the affects of the drink.
Christ, he wanted her; there was no use trying to deny it anymore.
Giving in, Rupert gently placed the palm of his hand against her cheek and leant down to claim her lips for his own in an apprehensive kiss. But he had nothing to be apprehensive about, her fingers found his jacket and she gripped it tightly as she returned the kiss desperately. The feelings they had suppressed up until that moment flowing through them both.
Sighing gently into the kiss he tilted his head just enough for them both to ease into it more and he gave himself over, hand dropping to the small of her back, pressing her tiny frame against his protectively.
Emma tasted of Cristal champagne, dizzying and intense, tantalising and addictive, something he couldn’t get enough of.
When he broke away from the kiss a moment later, laying his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, she began to tug on his jacket and within seconds she’d managed to strip the garment from his body. The fabric pooled around his feet and soon after, she began to wrestle with his waistcoat as well, emitting tiny grunts of frustration when she couldn’t get it over his shoulders.
‘Please, Rupes,’ she whispered, her lips pressed to the pulse point of his neck as she spoke, her body wrapped around his. ‘Please.’
Rupert’s gaze dropped to where she was fighting with his clothing, her fingertips inelegantly working on buttons, her aggravation more apparent as the seconds ticked by. He took hold of her hands gently, removing them and she looked up at him, smiling impishly. He’d actually let himself forgot how much she’d been drinking earlier, something that never should have happened.
Gazing at her, he went through his options, slowly removing his cufflinks as he did so and placing them down on the bedside table. The last thing he wanted was a ripped shirt, especially one this nice. No point in denying it, he wanted this, he wanted her, but if he went through with it now, when Emma was so intoxicated, would he be taking advantage of her? He needed to buy himself some thinking time.
On the other side of the room, Emma moved to curl up on the end of the bed, the silver dress she wore riding high up her thighs and he had trouble not staring at her. She whimpered in anticipation, her teeth raking over her lower lip, eyes burning into him.
Rupert faltered, swallowing nervously. ‘We can’t-’
‘Sit down,’ she said softly, cutting him off.
He hesitated briefly but then walked over and joined her on bed, looking down at his hands as he clasped them tightly in his lap. He needed to put an end to this before it got out of hand ‘Em, I-’
Her lips found his again seconds later, fingers twisting into his hair, their bodies pressed together at an odd angle and he didn’t get chance to finish. ‘I want to…’ she murmured. ‘Don’t you?’
Even though she didn’t voice the words, he knew exactly what she was talking about and yes, he did want to, very much so. He wouldn’t though, not tonight, not with her in this state, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. When it happened, he wanted them both to be aware of what was going on, not just him.
‘Em,’ Rupert found his voice, words soft and gentle as he stroked her face with his fingertips. ‘We can’t.’ He traced the pad of his thumb down her freckle dusted nose. ‘You’re drunk.’
Emma began to shake her head, presenting her case, ‘It’s my birthday, I had a couple of drinks, so what?!’
‘You wouldn’t be like this if – oh!’ He blinked, startled.
At some point she’d found her way onto his lap and was happily working his shirt from his trousers, one of her hands sliding up his chest. She smiled at his reaction and when she leant in to kiss him again, he groaned softly against her lips, instinct taking over for a moment. Sensing his enjoyment, she tackled his buttons again, the concentration on her face adamant.
‘Emma…’
Resistance was futile.
‘You know you want to.’
Without a doubt, it was the alcohol talking.
‘I don’t.’
Silence.
What? No, quick, back-pedal.
‘God no, I didn’t mean that, I…’
Too late, he stopped talking abruptly, Emma had already moved away from him, her expression confused. She stepped back, covering herself up protectively and he could see the tears shining in her eyes.
Rupert made to stand up, but it was definitely too late now and as he reached a hand out toward her, she bolted. He crashed into the bathroom door a moment after it slammed shut and he heard the lock click on the other side of it before he found the handle.
‘Crap!’ he cursed, banging a hand on the door in defeat. ‘Emma, open up, I didn’t-’
‘Go away!’ Her voice cracked on the last syllable and soon the room was filled with the sound of her sobbing.
Idiot, idiot, idiot…
He resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall as the thoughts flitted through his head and instead slid down the door, his back against it, speaking in hushed tones, ‘You don’t understand, this is us, it can’t just be-’
‘Leave me alone, please…’
One more shot. ‘Em, listen to me.’
When she spoke again, her sobs had subsided slightly and her voice came louder. ‘No, you don’t understand either, Rupe,’ she whispered. ‘Just go home. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, OK.’
Rupert frowned, trying again and murmuring, ‘Emma-’
‘Please!’
There would be no point in arguing anymore, so against his better judgment, he got to his feet and picked up his jacket, heading for the door. He left the room to the sound of her crying once again and felt his heart sink – no, shatter. One stupid slip of the tongue and everything had come crashing down around them.
Forget Emma hating him for it, he hated himself right now.
Reaching the lifts, Rupert jabbed at the button impatiently and dragged his hands up into his hair, looking around the corridor. For a moment he felt sourly temped to kick the plant pot beside him but managed to resist. Several seconds later, his eyes fell upon an elderly couple who had not long stepped out of a nearby room and were blatantly staring at him.
He stared back, seething in silence and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, blurted out, ‘What are you looking at?!’
The old woman’s eyes widened and she shook her head, muttering something to her husband and tutting. They soon disappeared back into their room, obviously deciding to wait until he’d gone.
Turning back to the lifts, Rupert took a deep breath and looked down at himself, realising then that his shirt was still undone save for two buttons and Emma had made a start on the fastenings of his trousers as well. He cursed, rushing to make himself decent and succeeding just as the doors slid open.
Emma may have been the one locked away crying, but at least she wouldn’t be splashed all over the tabloids tomorrow for indecent exposal.
.x.
Author:
x_moonshine_xPairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: Light R (eventually).
Warnings: Real person fiction, teenage naughtiness.
Word count: 1,537.
Summary: After taking Rupert shopping ready for her 18th birthday party, Emma begins to realise her interest in him isn’t purely platonic after all and has trouble getting her head around this new revelation and how to deal with it. Meanwhile, Rupert is suffering some unwanted attention from an old school friend and comes to the conclusion that Emma might very well be his saviour.
Other chapters: Here.
Chapter 9 – Whoever Said Chivalry Was Dead?
Beneath the dim lights of the upstairs corridor, Emma looked like an angel, the way she span around and around, pure bliss radiating from her in waves. Her laughter echoed around them like a symphony, her golden hair a halo, eyes liquid chocolate and the feel of her skin on his, there was no other way to describe it but angelic. She shone, the delicate beading of her dress catching the light, casting a kaleidoscope of colour dancing across the walls.
Somewhere, somehow, she had gotten hold of another glass of champagne and as she fumbled with opening her door, she sipped from it eagerly. She hummed softly under her breath, a sound only Rupert could hear as he leant over her, his hand on her waist, holding her steady and in place. Catching her hand, he took the key card from her, stopping her struggling and unlocking the door.
Several moments later he swung the door closed behind them and watched her as she walked across the room, on tiptoes, clumsily tossing her shoes aside. She span back to him, hands knotted into her hair, a bright smile on her face.
‘God, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I couldn’t…’ Emma whispered. ‘I’ve wanted you for so long.’
Rupert didn’t move. He let her speak. The words washing over him, drowning him, as he sorted the truth from the lies and the fact from the fiction. Would she say any of this sober? He didn’t know and a part of him wanted to keep it that way. Fantasies could be beautiful. Sometimes they could be better than reality.
‘Is this really happening?’ She was closer now, her voice soft in his ear as she spoke and her breath hot against his skin. ‘Tell me it’s real.’
The champagne was gone and he found Emma’s dark eyes gazing up into his, tentative fingers running through his hair and her face lightly flushed under the affects of the drink.
Christ, he wanted her; there was no use trying to deny it anymore.
Giving in, Rupert gently placed the palm of his hand against her cheek and leant down to claim her lips for his own in an apprehensive kiss. But he had nothing to be apprehensive about, her fingers found his jacket and she gripped it tightly as she returned the kiss desperately. The feelings they had suppressed up until that moment flowing through them both.
Sighing gently into the kiss he tilted his head just enough for them both to ease into it more and he gave himself over, hand dropping to the small of her back, pressing her tiny frame against his protectively.
Emma tasted of Cristal champagne, dizzying and intense, tantalising and addictive, something he couldn’t get enough of.
When he broke away from the kiss a moment later, laying his forehead against hers, breathing heavily, she began to tug on his jacket and within seconds she’d managed to strip the garment from his body. The fabric pooled around his feet and soon after, she began to wrestle with his waistcoat as well, emitting tiny grunts of frustration when she couldn’t get it over his shoulders.
‘Please, Rupes,’ she whispered, her lips pressed to the pulse point of his neck as she spoke, her body wrapped around his. ‘Please.’
Rupert’s gaze dropped to where she was fighting with his clothing, her fingertips inelegantly working on buttons, her aggravation more apparent as the seconds ticked by. He took hold of her hands gently, removing them and she looked up at him, smiling impishly. He’d actually let himself forgot how much she’d been drinking earlier, something that never should have happened.
Gazing at her, he went through his options, slowly removing his cufflinks as he did so and placing them down on the bedside table. The last thing he wanted was a ripped shirt, especially one this nice. No point in denying it, he wanted this, he wanted her, but if he went through with it now, when Emma was so intoxicated, would he be taking advantage of her? He needed to buy himself some thinking time.
On the other side of the room, Emma moved to curl up on the end of the bed, the silver dress she wore riding high up her thighs and he had trouble not staring at her. She whimpered in anticipation, her teeth raking over her lower lip, eyes burning into him.
Rupert faltered, swallowing nervously. ‘We can’t-’
‘Sit down,’ she said softly, cutting him off.
He hesitated briefly but then walked over and joined her on bed, looking down at his hands as he clasped them tightly in his lap. He needed to put an end to this before it got out of hand ‘Em, I-’
Her lips found his again seconds later, fingers twisting into his hair, their bodies pressed together at an odd angle and he didn’t get chance to finish. ‘I want to…’ she murmured. ‘Don’t you?’
Even though she didn’t voice the words, he knew exactly what she was talking about and yes, he did want to, very much so. He wouldn’t though, not tonight, not with her in this state, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. When it happened, he wanted them both to be aware of what was going on, not just him.
‘Em,’ Rupert found his voice, words soft and gentle as he stroked her face with his fingertips. ‘We can’t.’ He traced the pad of his thumb down her freckle dusted nose. ‘You’re drunk.’
Emma began to shake her head, presenting her case, ‘It’s my birthday, I had a couple of drinks, so what?!’
‘You wouldn’t be like this if – oh!’ He blinked, startled.
At some point she’d found her way onto his lap and was happily working his shirt from his trousers, one of her hands sliding up his chest. She smiled at his reaction and when she leant in to kiss him again, he groaned softly against her lips, instinct taking over for a moment. Sensing his enjoyment, she tackled his buttons again, the concentration on her face adamant.
‘Emma…’
Resistance was futile.
‘You know you want to.’
Without a doubt, it was the alcohol talking.
‘I don’t.’
Silence.
What? No, quick, back-pedal.
‘God no, I didn’t mean that, I…’
Too late, he stopped talking abruptly, Emma had already moved away from him, her expression confused. She stepped back, covering herself up protectively and he could see the tears shining in her eyes.
Rupert made to stand up, but it was definitely too late now and as he reached a hand out toward her, she bolted. He crashed into the bathroom door a moment after it slammed shut and he heard the lock click on the other side of it before he found the handle.
‘Crap!’ he cursed, banging a hand on the door in defeat. ‘Emma, open up, I didn’t-’
‘Go away!’ Her voice cracked on the last syllable and soon the room was filled with the sound of her sobbing.
Idiot, idiot, idiot…
He resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall as the thoughts flitted through his head and instead slid down the door, his back against it, speaking in hushed tones, ‘You don’t understand, this is us, it can’t just be-’
‘Leave me alone, please…’
One more shot. ‘Em, listen to me.’
When she spoke again, her sobs had subsided slightly and her voice came louder. ‘No, you don’t understand either, Rupe,’ she whispered. ‘Just go home. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, OK.’
Rupert frowned, trying again and murmuring, ‘Emma-’
‘Please!’
There would be no point in arguing anymore, so against his better judgment, he got to his feet and picked up his jacket, heading for the door. He left the room to the sound of her crying once again and felt his heart sink – no, shatter. One stupid slip of the tongue and everything had come crashing down around them.
Forget Emma hating him for it, he hated himself right now.
Reaching the lifts, Rupert jabbed at the button impatiently and dragged his hands up into his hair, looking around the corridor. For a moment he felt sourly temped to kick the plant pot beside him but managed to resist. Several seconds later, his eyes fell upon an elderly couple who had not long stepped out of a nearby room and were blatantly staring at him.
He stared back, seething in silence and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, blurted out, ‘What are you looking at?!’
The old woman’s eyes widened and she shook her head, muttering something to her husband and tutting. They soon disappeared back into their room, obviously deciding to wait until he’d gone.
Turning back to the lifts, Rupert took a deep breath and looked down at himself, realising then that his shirt was still undone save for two buttons and Emma had made a start on the fastenings of his trousers as well. He cursed, rushing to make himself decent and succeeding just as the doors slid open.
Emma may have been the one locked away crying, but at least she wouldn’t be splashed all over the tabloids tomorrow for indecent exposal.
.x.
