Day One: Seduction
She doesn't need to try so hard but she does. He thinks she enjoys it. She likes the process and never uses her magic. He waits, drink in hand. It's always a different bar or restaurant. Sometimes he travels – sometimes she travels. Sometimes it seems like work never stops. Especially now that he's living a life of titles and duties again.
When they're at home in Magnolia it goes differently but tonight they're in Crocus. He can tell her mood based on the address. He always arrives first. He is never late. The place is full of crystal and low lighting and has live music. He appreciates the low key setting even if the glitz itself couldn't be low key if it tried.
He prefers bourbon. It's dark and rich and sears the back of his throat. Erza has always liked her sake but he knows she won't be drinking tonight. She never drinks when she meets him like this.
The dress is long but so is the slit. He's seen just about every centerfold of Sorcerer Weekly – Erza has a subscription – and many beautiful women have graced the pages but none of them have legs like Erza. There's power in her stride even when she's not in boots. Her toes are painted a shimmering silver and stand out against the black straps. Over the last year he's realized he has a shoe preference. He likes straps and peep toes. He likes to see her ankles, too. No booties. Her dress is black satin and the low lights cling to every fold of fabric even though it does nothing but cancel them out. Erza is nothing if not overwhelming and consuming. He loves it.
She joins him at the bar and orders champagne. She likes the bubbles. Her lipstick is a bright red but pales in comparison to the red that hangs about her naked shoulders. Sometimes she curls it. Sometimes it's up and in a twist. Tonight she's blown it out into something sleek his fingers itch to ruin. Later he will but for now he'll play her game.
Erza crosses her legs once she's on a stool and the slid of her dress falls open. When he leans in to kiss her in a greeting his hand boldly slides all the way up her thigh until just past the edges of satin. She turns her head and his kiss falls on her cheek. It's too early for her to ruin her lipstick but that, too, will be ruined by night's end.
Even though he saw her earlier in the day and scent of her still mingled in the sheets of his bed away from home, he listens with half an ear as she tells him about her latest job and how messy working with Natsu still is – and will always be – but he knows she loves it. The only member of her guild more destructive than Erza is Natsu and if she stays with him she won't ever take the full blame. Natsu doesn't care about things like that but Erza does. Laxus does.
Her champagne is nearly flat when she slides off her stool and leaves him at the bar. He pays and follows her from the lounge to the elevators. A crowd of young mages in the city for some political nonsense he's already forgotten about watches her every move as she crosses the lobby. Her heels click on the marble floors and her hair flutters behind her.
They stare.
They stare at her. And, of course, they also stare at him. He is unmistakable. The mark on his face would give him away in any locale but in Crocus and Era there aren't many who don't know him. The position he holds. The magic he commands. The things he's done. Most often he hates the renown but tonight he touches the small of her back with his hand and leans in to plant an unnecessary kiss on the curve of her neck.
Or maybe the kiss was completely necessary.
When they step into the elevator and turn to face the lobby, he decides it was necessary. Erza flips her hair over her shoulder and a few glossy strands of crimson stick to the shoulder of his suit. It isn't intentional but the crowd of young men are still watching and he soaks it all in. To them, Titania Erza is beautiful and untouchable. She is terrifying and strong. There is a certain prideful pleasure he takes in knowing that she is absolutely touchable.
Her hair still clings to his shoulder when the doors slide shut. His mouth curls into a very Siegrain-like grin at the last moment. He knows they see it.
The elevator stops on the forty-second floor and Erza steps out first. Even though he carries the room key she leads the way. He doesn't mind trailing from behind. The view is better from here. Their room is opulent and outrageous and inexcusably ostentatious. The way Erza pulls her hair over one shoulder and wordlessly exposes her back to him is the same. He pulls the zipper down slowly and the dress pools at her feet. Ripples of black satin hide her sparkling toes. Erza hasn't worn a thing underneath. Not a single scrap of lace. She turns to him and the still perfect tips of her hair hang over her breasts.
Erza is perfect.
He is scarred and ruined and calloused but there is nothing about her that isn't absolutely flawless. He lets her push the suit top over his shoulders. It falls carelessly to the floor in an ugly lump. Nothing like rippling satin. She takes his buttons one by one and her eyes never leave his.
The shirt stays on. His belt buckle is difficult and she's growing impatient but he doesn't interfere. Her black heels make it easier for her to crouch and he wishes he were standing closer to something to grip besides her hair. Even after all this time he still isn't ever quite prepared for her lips on his cock or the expert way she takes him all the way to the back of her throat. When he's gasping for breath and his fingers have only just begin their job of tangling her hair, she pulls away. There's a ring of bright red lipstick left on his skin.
The lipstick is the first thing she washes away once they're in the shower but there's places she's marked him that can't ever be washed away.
The bartender doesn't bat an eyelash at her anymore. The Chairman is often in town on official Magic Council business and it isn't uncommon for his wife to follow. He's used to the game they play in his lounge. Sometimes he does wonder, though, who seduces who. He also supposes it doesn't matter.
