Author's note: Hello everyone! Here I am again with another Will/Alicia story. This time I tried something different from my previous fic — which I have not forgotten about by the way, I promise. This one takes place when Will and Alicia are in Georgetown. I don't know where this idea came from but it did and I wrote it down, so here it is. I hope the rating is fine on this one, I've never written anything like this before, but from the other stories I've read here I think I'm okay. I hope you enjoy this! In advance, thank you for reading. - hannahorgrace
Bliss
"Do you like him though?"
"I don't know, Will… it just…I don't know, I think so."
"You think?" he frowns, but she doesn't notice.
"Yeah, I mean… I like being around him. He makes me feel… I don't— he makes me feel comfortable, you know?"
"Yeah," he manages to answer, through the irony of the conversation. "I know."
Alicia had never shared so much about this new Peter guy. She had met him in Chicago that weekend he'd decided to stay in DC because his parents were coming to visit, but Will didn't really know much more. She had mentioned to him that they had gone on a couple dates, and it wasn't the first time she mentioned going on dates, but he never really heard about those guys much, so even though he wasn't a fan of the idea, he never used to give it much thought. But this was the third time she'd brought up Peter since they'd started studying for Criminal Procedure that day, and for some reason, the more she talked about him, the less he wanted to know about the guy. It's not that he felt possessive of her, it was just that—
"I guess I like how easy it all seems when I'm with him."
His eyes open wide. Okay, so, he does feel possessive of her. Not in the wrong sense though, of course, it's just that he feels… protective. (maybe protective is a better word).
"Huh," he comments, making his best effort to sound uninterested.
"I don't know, Will, I just— can we not talk about this anymore?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, flipping through the pages of his book without really looking. "I mean, you brought it up, so…"
"I know, just… let's talk about something else."
"Fine," he answers, and his tone is harsher than he meant for it to be, but… since when did being comfortable around someone become a new thing to her? What about when he was around?
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The following silence is filled with awkwardness, but he doesn't mind, he's used to it by then. Whether it comes when they accidentally brush past one another, or when his eyes linger on hers for too long, until her sheepish smile or the frown of her eyebrows snap him out of his reverie. Or even that one time, they had been watching a movie but they'd both fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of the ending credits, and her head was on his lap and it was awkward, but it was okay, because their awkwardness was comfortable.
"I mean, I only saw him three times really, or four, if you include the day we met, but— yeah, I don't know."
Will blatantly rolls his eyes at her and looks up to the ceiling as if imploring to be freed from a most painful predicament.
"Right," she murmurs.
They don't speak anymore for a while. When she tries to ask questions about the exam they're studying for, he responds only with monosyllabic answers, and she wants to be okay with it, but he's doing it on purpose and she doesn't know why but she doesn't think she deserves the adult version of the silent treatment, so she gives up on trying to talk to him. He doesn't mean to be mean to her, and he feels stupid because he's probably upsetting himself more than he is upsetting her, but in that moment he doesn't know how else to deal with his feelings, and absurdity is the only thing he's capable of.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, and she has that patronizing tone in her voice that she gets when she knows something is upsetting him but he's trying to keep it from her.
"No." Again with the monosyllabic answers.
She sighs loudly in exasperation, and he thinks she's not being patronizing anymore, she's being downright condescending.
"Okay, can you not?" He asks, and it sounds more like an order than a question.
"Can I not what?" she challenges him, knowing full well something is wrong and that we won't tell her about it.
"Just… can we study, please? Thanks."
She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. "Will, what is it?"
"Nothing, okay? Just, I'm trying to focus here and you keep bringing up that guy," he says with a hint of disdain.
"Are you jealous?" she asks, and she says it like a joke but she's as surprised as he is when the words come out.
"Jealous?" He smirks. "Of what?"
"Peter."
He snickers. "Yeah, right."
His apparent indifference is very convincing to her, and it hurts a lot more than she wishes it would. Again, he's flipping through pages, this time so forcibly it's as if he's mad at the book, and she thinks she's had enough of his attitude for the night.
"Get over yourself, Will."
He scowls at her and he's about to say something in return, but suddenly she's standing in his living room, picking up her stuff from the floor and his heart drops in his stomach and what the fuck did he do, he never meant for this whole nonsense to upset her, and why must he be such a dick.
"Alicia…" he starts, but she walks past him, as far from him as she physically can, evidently steering clear of him, and she avoids his gaze because from the way he said her name, she knows exactly what she'll find in his eyes, and she's not about to let herself be defeated by that look.
She moves to the door, and she already feels bad when she reaches it, so she starts blaming herself and thinks maybe she's being a bitch, but it's too late to turn around and she thinks he doesn't deserve it anyway. She opens the door and she wants to say something but her thoughts are a mix of Why aren't you stopping me? and Sincerely Will, do get over yourself, so she takes a deep breath as if she's about to jump off an airplane and slams the door behind her.
After what seems like at least half of eternity but is only really just a couple hours, and seeing he has given up on studying anyway, he grabs his keys and makes his way to her apartment.
He knocks on her door and hears her moving around, but she doesn't answer.
"Alicia, it's me…" he tries, when the door doesn't open. "I know you're in here."
He hears her footsteps getting close, and then the door swings open.
Her brows are furrowed and he wants to laugh because he knows she's trying to look more pissed than she actually is. "Yes?"
"Can I come in?" he asks.
She sighs and moves out of the way, letting him inside.
"I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what happened, I was being stupid…" he starts. "Sorry."
She crosses her arms in front of her. "Fine," she gives up, because he truly does look sincere, and she doesn't know how to stay mad at him for more than twenty minutes anyway. "What's with the attitude though? Because it did sound like jealousy to me."
"I'm not jealous, Alicia, it's just… I don't want to know about the guy, okay?"
"Why not?" she asks, and she's being defensive now. "Should we only talk about you from now on?"
"Oh come on," he sighs impatiently, but then, "of course not. We can talk— I want to talk about your life, but… I don't know him so, what is there to talk about, you know?"
She doesn't know, but she doesn't say anything, just looks into his eyes, and he can't read her and he doesn't want to go through yet another heavy silence, so he just keeps babbling.
"I mean, you guys met like, literally a week ago," and she frowns at his purposely inaccurate use of the word 'literally'. He steps in closer to her and adds, "I just don't trust the guy, and I don't want you getting hurt, that's all."
He puts a hand on her shoulder and she doesn't even notice it until she feels him squeeze softly. His eyes look something in between upset and concerned and she doesn't know why but she feels her heart tighten in her chest. When his other hand reaches for her neck, she has to remind herself to breathe. She feels as if he wants something from her, but she doesn't know what; or maybe she does. Her eyes search for his, but she doesn't try to hide it when her gaze settles on his lips. She suddenly is very aware of her own heartbeat. Before she realizes it, her hand is on his neck and her lips are on his.
His confusion is evident because he doesn't react immediately, which in turn alarms her and she's about to step back, but then his arms are around her and he's kissing her back, and the remains of her anger melt away with the caress of his lips.
She lets her fingers move softly through his hair and in return, he holds her tighter, his arms strong around her, slowly stepping forward until she gently hits the wall. They've never been so close, she thinks, and it's frightening but it's breathtaking. It's intoxicating.
He doesn't know what they're doing and he's afraid of initiating anything because he doesn't want to scare her into running away, but her hands have dropped to the small of his back and she's pulling him closer to her, playing with his shirt, lifting it over ever-so-slightly without ever touching his skin.
When she softly captures his lower lip between hers and literally — and this time he means it — sucks on it, he thinks they went from kissing to something else a hell of a lot faster than he'd ever imagined, and his brain tricks him into thinking that he's not ready for this. But then he remembers that this is Alicia, and when it comes to kissing Alicia, and something else with Alicia, damn him to hell if he wasn't born ready.
She breaks away from him and he groans in frustration before realizing she's just regaining her breath. Her face is only inches away from his, close enough that he can feel her warm breath on his cheek, and he doesn't want to give her too much time to think, so he slips both hands under her thighs and lifts her up, holding her steady between his pelvis and the wall. Immediately, as his hungry mouth finds hers again, her legs wrap around him to prevent her from falling, as one of his arms slips around her and he brings her closer to him. Unable to pull away, she lets his arms roam over her back, and soon he's slipped his hands under her shirt and the feel of his fingers on her makes her buckle her hips into his.
"Fuck, Alicia," he groans into her neck, then looks into her eyes questioningly, but when her hand travels up his arm to his shoulder and back on his neck to bring his lips to hers once more, he turns on his heels and starts for her bedroom with her in his arms.
Soon, most of their clothes are abandoned haphazardly on the floor, and it feels easy, it feels comfortable. The lights are off but the curtains are open and even though it's dark outside, some light manages to make its way inside, so he pauses for a second to look at her. Her hair looks darker than he usually sees it, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. In the obscurity, her skin looks lighter, paler than usual.
"Will," she whispers, but she's not sure what she should say, so she decides to stop there because even with just that one word, she knows she sounds needy, and she's not sure she wants him to see her needing him so much that she's actually craving for him to touch her.
He's on his knees on the bed and she's sitting in front of him, so he softly drags her to him so that she's straddling his lap. As he does, he can feel the warm wetness of her want against his thigh and it takes everything he has to not lose it right there.
"You're…" he starts, but she claims his lips again. Slowly, her hips start moving against his thigh, and she's rubbing herself against him and he has to hold her hips steady to stop her so that he doesn't pin her against the bed and bury himself in her without warning.
Battling with the frustration, she props herself up on her knees so that she's aligned with him. He holds her firmly, both hands on her the small of her back and slowly, she lowers herself. They both moan with relief and she wraps her arms around him, bringing her chest closer to his, and they start moving together.
Soon, it's all too much and they both feel like they've never done this before, in the way they can't find a rhythm, can't synchronize their bodies. Gently, he helps her sit on his lap and lets her sink onto him again. This time he pulls her to him and, without breaking contact, he moves them so she's lying on her back and he's hovering over her.
The moonlight glows over her face then, and he takes a moment to study her eyes and look for something. Anything, really.
"Are you okay?" he breathes, looking straight into her eyes.
She nods. "You?"
He presses his lips against hers, then touches his forehead to hers and whispers, "Never better."
He starts moving again, slowly, not wanting to rush. She barely moves under him, as if she's just getting to know how he feels, before joining in.
They find a rhythm again, this time less erratic, and it's slow enough that she actually misses him every time he pulls away, so she wraps a leg around him to keep him in place. As she does so, his hand slides over the skin of her thigh, caressing her gently, going up to her side, her breast, and then he's kissing her again, never losing his rhythm. As he touches her, he watches her reaction, watches as her eyes close, and he wills himself to remember all the things that seem to make her feel good, that make her hold her breath or bite her lip or push her hips off the bed and closer to him.
She's still moving slowly under him, sighing softly each time he goes a little deeper, but he doesn't feel her breath quicken or her body tense up under his.
"What do you need?" he whispers in her ear, his chest tightening with the intimacy of the question, because this is Alicia, and she's kissing him again, and he's inside of her, and the hell with Peter or anyone else because right now she chose him. Maybe he is jealous, maybe he is possessive, but he also knows her and loves her more than anyone else and even if she doesn't know, no one can take that away from him.
She doesn't answer his question so softly, he pulls away, gaining a frustrated gasp from her and probably the darkest glare he's ever seen in her eyes, but then his mouth is pressing gentle kisses against her cheek, her collarbone, her breasts and her eyes close as she sighs. Silently, Alicia prays he moves a little lower, and she almost voices her thanks when his mouth travel down her stomach and finally, ends its path in between her thighs. She drops her head onto the pillow in satisfaction as he presses his lips over her and when he feels her hand reach for the headboard for support, he smiles against her skin. He reaches for her hand and, bringing it back to her side, he intertwines their fingers together.
He moves patiently, taking his time, and it's probably ten minutes before he feels her hand in his hair, softly caressing his head, and when she says his name it sounds like a prayer and he can't figure out what he did to deserve her. As his lips pull away, he replaces his tongue with two fingers and he thinks she wasn't expecting it because she moans in a mix of surprise and pleasure, and the throbbing between his legs is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
He moves his hand against her and she breathes his name again. Anticipating his move, she wraps a leg around him as he moves back up and pushes into her again. This time it feels like their rhythm is innate, as if they've done this a million times before, like a dance they know by heart down to the very last move. They move together, her skin yearning for his touch, and he starts moving faster because really he can't help himself anymore.
"God, Alicia, you're—»
He's interrupted by her moans and suddenly he feels her tighten around him. He slides his hand in between them and starts stroking her, gently but firmly, all the while kissing her and moving deeper and faster than before. He feels her breath quicken, her legs tremble around him, and she's saying his name again and again, and when he feels her let go her name is on his too and he's gone right along with her.
He's laying limp on her, his lips against her shoulder, so he forces himself to move from her. She moans softly as he slips out but her cry gets lost against his lips, his mouth capturing hers as softly as he can. He kisses her until they're both out of breath, her hands on both sides of his face, keeping him there, eyes closed.
He wants to say something, to put words on the moment and tell her how he feels, but he's not so good with words. He doesn't want to ruin it so he buries his face in her neck and slides his arms around her back, propping himself up on his elbows but holding her close to him. She smells good and she tastes good and she feels good, she feels amazing, and in that moment he knows there isn't anything that he wouldn't do for her.
He rolls over, taking her with him so he's lying on his back and she's resting on his chest, their legs entangled, one arm around her back, his other hand stroking her hair.
He doesn't know how long they stay like this, but after a little while, her skin starts to respond to the cold air and he feels goose bumps on her arms, so he moves around to reach for the covers and pulls them over their bodies.
When her breathing is back to normal, she opens her eyes and finds her fingers have been drawing lazy circles on his arm and elbow. The idea that what they just did was maybe not the best decision crosses her mind briefly, but she's too relaxed to let it upset her. She listens to his heartbeat, feels his chest rise and fall, tries to memorize the rhythm of his breathing so she can set her own to match his. The tips of his fingers are moving softly on the back of her neck, from the top of her spine to where her hair starts, sending shivers through her entire body, and the only word she can think of to define the moment is bliss.
Her stomach rumbles and she feels his chest vibrate with soft laughter under her.
"You hungry?" he asks, pushing the hair off her face so he can look into her eyes.
"I guess," she answers. "I haven't had dinner yet."
His eyes linger on hers longer than necessary, longer than they ever have — he's just staring at her, really, and usually that might have made her blush, but now she just smiles and stares back into his. They're warm, tender, caring, and she wonders if she's reading too much into it because she knows him, or if they would just seem like that to anyone else.
"I'll go get us something to eat," he says, rolling her on her back and getting off the bed.
She wants to stop him because as soon as he's gone she misses the warmth of his body against hers, but she feels drained of all energy so she just rolls on her stomach, pulling the covers over her.
When he comes back with dinner and the smell of pizza reaches her room, she can already taste the tomato and the melted cheese, and she wonders what the word is for something better than bliss. It's like her feeling of utter happiness keeps on upgrading.
She grabs the previously discarded t-shirt and puts it on, along with a pair of sweatpants, and joins him in the living room.
"You got three?!"
"Yes," he answers solemnly. "I wanted all the ingredients and they wouldn't fit on less than three pizzas."
They talk, and the conversation is not awkward. They share opinions about statutes of limitations and which crimes should have no statute of limitations whatsoever.
He thinks that now that he knows what being with her feels like, he can never stop wanting her again. It feels like his body is always going to be yearning for hers. He wonders if it's too early to take her to bed again.
She doesn't know how what they did will affect their relationship. On the short term, it feels like it doesn't change anything. She doesn't want to think about what happens next. Mostly, she's fascinated by how natural it feels to be with him, sharing way too much pizza with way too many ingredients, talking about the law and the people in their class, and she decides she'd be okay with it if he chose to spend the entire night at her place.
She doesn't say anything but when she gets up to put their dishes in the sink, she feels his hands on her hips and his breath on her neck, so she spins around in his arms and her lips find his and there it is again— bliss.
Later, when they've tumbled into bed again and she's about to fall asleep, her back to his chest, she thinks she's never felt as relaxed and comfortable as she does when she is with Will. His arm is wrapped securely around her and he's stroking her stomach sleepily, his leg tucked in between hers. She touches the hand on her stomach and intertwines their fingers together. He presses his lips against her neck as an answer.
"I'm not letting you go," he mumbles into her skin, and she doesn't know if he means now, tonight, or if he means something more. For now, she doesn't want to let go either.
Author's note: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave me a review with your opinion! I don't plan on continuing this one, but for those of you who have read the first chapters of my other story, I promise I haven't forgotten about it. I was having a hard time with figuring out what I wanted for the next chapter and I don't want to update something that I'm not happy with just for the sake of updating. I do hope to get another chapter up soon. Anyway, thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace