Hi everyone!
So... Remember that Vauseman flashback pool scene in season two, the one where Alex replied to Piper's reminder with something like "maybe I should switch career and become a jewel thief"? Yeah, I've been watching old episodes instead of starting with the new season, I know. Anyway, this idea came up and I simply couldn't resist. Honestly, I don't know if something like this has already been done, I wouldn't be surprised if it has because Alex has practically teased it, but still, here is what I came up with :D
Just a short introduction for now :)
As always I apologize for eventual grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.
Enjoy
The first time you see the infamous Alex Vause, it is at the bar of one of the most famous and expensive hotels in the world.
But that's hardly something to be surprised about - for you at least - knowing her character and how much of a hedonist she is.
You have spent months reading articles above articles about her. Or, well... not exactly about her, but more about her impressive works, which have managed to leave the entire world with its mouth hanging open both in wonder, and secretly - famously - also in disbelief.
And now here she is, out in the open, surrounded by dozens of other people; bar customers and hotel personnel, who just keep going with their own business, not unaffected by her incredible beauty whenever they pass nearby, but otherwise completely oblivious of her identity, and, most of all, of the leather briefcase sitting abandoned at the feet of her stool, as if its content isn't worth her weight in gold.
If things go as you have planned, you think - and so far they have - you'll have all the time you want later to take a peek inside that briefcase and get your long settled suspicious confirmed once and for all. But now, your attention is magnetically drawn elsewhere, to the owner of that innocent looking briefcase, and honestly, it couldn't be any other way.
It is clear, from the instant your eyes land on the raven haired, green-eyed beauty who makes look sitting so casually with a glass of patron held lazily in what you already know are extremely dexterous fingers given her profession and her - other - most famous, as well as very secret one, too, so elegant, that she is absolutely unique.
Precious and stunning and refined in all her raw beauty.
Something that should be allowed to be observed only from a distance.
Just like the ancient, accurately crafted, masterpieces of jewelry that so happen to catch her interest.
And the same ones that she also steals.
Your heart is pounding inside your chest with a nervous kind of excitement and giddiness that you have never felt before. It is not crippling, although your legs do feel a bit shaky under your stilettos when you finally make your way towards the bar counter.
It is the knowledge, you are very aware of that, about what your plan includes in order to prove your theory, one that only you and no one else in the world has ever even dared to think about, right.
You are going to seduce her.
Because apparently, if there is one thing that Alex Vause doesn't seem to be able to resist, are women, and their private, intimate company. And tonight you have every intention to offer her just that sort of companionship.
You can do it.
You can seduce the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, get her to bring you to her room and then...
Thinking about the rest makes your cheeks flare pink, and so you decide that once you'll get there, if you get that far, you'll review your plan and proceed from whatever point you are left.
In its simplicity, it is encouraging enough.
...If only your confidence would have stayed just as strong and steady as it was a heartbeat before you slide into the stool right next to hers and her eyes, those deep, mystic emerald eyes meet yours, crinkled in a smirk that tugs from the corner of her mouth and that makes you waver under its piercing, enigmatic and irresistible charming fashion.
Her beauty is intimidating.
And that smile with its mischievous edge makes your spine tingle and turns your insides to jelly.
Earlier you thought you would have been able to go through this first approach with an innocuous glass of pinot grigio, but you have the impression that you are going to need something much stronger than that to help you steel your nerves.
You order a tequila.
Double.
Neat.
You down it in the instant it is placed in front of you.
And of course, you make a fool of yourself in the process.
It's strong, burning its way down your throat, so much that you end up coughing in your fist once the feeling spreads into your chest like liquid fire.
If nothing, the embarrassing display serves to catch the attention of the raven-haired goddess sitting beside you.
"Careful there, kid." She says, with the same smirk of before tugging in a more obvious amused way at her generous, rosy lips.
"I- I'm fine," You manage to stutter after another adjusting cough and a soft, more delicate, hummed throat clearing, trying to blame the blush flaring down your neck and chest to the burn that the alcohol left in its wake down your throat, and not for the whole embarrassing choking deal.
"It's just much stronger than what I'm used to get." You admit honestly once you have properly regained your breath, and of course, the shy smile that you flash her for her concern is met by yet another look of amusement, and this time you do notice how, behind those black-rimmed glasses, and under the bright emerald of her eyes, flecks of gold sparkle from the bottom of those clear pools along with her humor.
And despite your stubborn denial, this time you know that the way your breath catches a bit in your throat in front of that sight, has nothing to do with the lingering sting left by the alcohol.
"That's because this tequila is meant to be sipped slowly," She informs you, tearing you back from the spell that that stunning gaze had cast on you, but before you can find a way to reply she is already ordering a glass of water and another glass of tequila for you. A single one this time.
You don't protest, honestly curious to know where this is going, and... already undeniably captivated by her charm, accepting gratefully the glass of water that manages to soothe the raspiness left in your throat before you reach for the glass of silver tequila.
"Small sips," She instructs you with a playful wink, reaching for her own glass as well, "Hold it for a second or two and then swallow."
You follow the advice and...
Oh.
It goes down as smooth as honey.
And when you barely catch trace of the aftertaste, bite of alcohol in your mouth, you almost don't believe it is the same brand you ordered before, but it is.
Your eyes flutter shut for a second and a soft "wow" slips past your lips.
"Better this time?" She asks, no longer surprised when you find the hint of that same smirk curling her lips.
"Definitely." You admit, and then your tone drops, almost on its own, into a more flattering one when you compliment her, "You seem to be a real expert."
She chuckles amused, and god if that delicious slightly raspy sound doesn't make your insides melt further...
"Hardly." She answers then, with charming modesty. "I'm far from one actually."
You have some trouble believing that, although she does sound and look completely honest about it.
"All I know," She continues, and this time it is her tone that becomes slightly deeper, and perhaps... more... seductive. "Is that fine, unique things are meant to be savored properly. And slowly."
Oh, and you would know all about how to savor fine unique things, wouldn't you?
Jesus... She is so captivating.
And you are so hopelessly drawn to her and to that sly smile of hers.
You toast to all the refined and unique things that must be properly savored.
. . .
Tequila tends to have this very particular effect on you, which, in hindsight, makes you think that you should have maybe chosen the wine after all as it was your first intention, but... Thinking better about it, and about how this has turned out to be, you reconsider the whole idea.
Because, after having spent the evening talking and laughing and smoothly flirting - because that's what a good tequila makes you do - and secretly swooning over the infamous Alex Vause, not only you manage to get an invite up to her room, but you also get there with your lips sealed in a searing kiss.
You are not drunk.
You made damn sure to stop way before you could even approach that dangerous limit.
You are barely breezy. Still perfectly able to realize what is happening. And yet barely able to believe it.
The presidential suite is probably five times the size of your studio apartment, and it appears to have absolutely everything, along with what you already imagine being a breathtaking, heart-stopping view of the entire city, but you only catch few distracted glimpses of all of it, and even if you would probably revel in staying into such a dreamy room and enjoy its many luxuries, right now all of that seems just so insignificant, utterly irrelevant, compared to the way your body hums in delight and throbs with a familiar need that gets further fueled deep in your belly by the gorgeous woman kissing you with something you can only describe as a gentle patient fervor as you stumble towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of wrinkled clothes behind.
Her lips taste like the expensive tequila that you have both been drinking, and the warm, moist inside of her mouth has the subtle sweetness that reminds you of delicate elderflower syrup.
You soon find out that Alex Vause is an insatiable lover. Selfish in her selflessness to give and give and give pleasure. So much that you have the impression that she gets off alone by simply pleasuring you.
She is gentle, extremely so, but that doesn't interfere with the flame that you can feel and see burn with ardor inside of her and that she shows to you with each gesture, from the most innocent ones of when she cups your jaw to draw you into a kiss, to the more intimates of when she first slips her fingers through the slippery warmth of your sex.
And her voice... You are sure that you could come just by listening to that voice.
Deep in such a refined way.
The quality of the tone makes you think about expensive dark velvet, and having her whisper so close to your ear, a bit raspier, a bit breathless with the exertion of her body as she gradually leads you towards what you already know is going to be a very powerful orgasm, is almost enough to push you over the edge.
The effect that hearing it has on you feels as amazing as the extremely dexterous fingers stretching you, pumping inside you with gentle precision, seeking for that spot that she has already discovered and that you know will make you soak the fancy silk sheets, but she seems to want just that. And with that sweet silent knowledge, you do just that.
You come with a long string of powerful shudders, gasping a broken moan against her lips, holding tightly onto whatever part of her you can reach, hard enough to probably leave bruises and scratch marks on such delicate fair skin, selfishly unable to care at the moment, but Alex doesn't seem to mind one bit.
She draws out everything you have, forces you to give every last drop of your release, until your orgasm turns into a second and then into a long third one, and you almost pass out for an overload of sensations.
Your body is left buzzing, humming, skin tingling so pleasantly as, after what seem to be ages, you come down from your high, feeling so gloriously sated, like you have felt before, and yet still incredibly thirsty, but with another need. A very demanding one that becomes irrepressible once your eyes flutter open and you are met with the sight of her, all perfect naked glory and mischievous, pleased, almost smug smirk.
An infuriating, gorgeous, almost smug smirk that turns into a look of utter bewilderment when you decide to take advantage of the fulcrum allowed by the leg you still have secured around her hip, to flip on top of her in one swift movement, and now it's your turn to smirk at that first surprised-turned-very-intrigued expression.
And then, as if your new position doesn't make your intentions pretty clear already, you still lean in and whisper right against the corner of her mouth.
"I want to feel you too." You tell her, voice coming out slightly rough, strange to your own ears as you struggle to regain your breath and recover from your latest orgasm, but even if the words come out breathlessly, almost softly, you don't think that you have ever meant something as strongly as you do right now.
And she lets you.
Her skin smells like the most intoxicating combination of bitter oranges blossoms and almond oil as you make your way down her body and then when you finally reach the core of her need, you also find out that her arousal tastes like pure heaven.
The plan, your initial intentions about all of this, everything that doesn't exist in the sweetly tangy flavour that spreads on your tongue and makes you moan at the first lick as you sample it, and that has Alex moan deeply in her chest and twine her fingers through your hair in response, is utterly irrelevant.
You just want a chance or possibly more than just one to properly touch her and make her feel just as amazing as she made you feel.
And you do.
More times than you can remember.
And when you have nothing left to give to the other you can only think that you have never known a more tender and considerate touch, and that you have never known a greater, most satisfying pleasure than the one that she has brought to you, or the equally deeply gratifying one that pleasing her has given you.
You try with every ounce of strength left, which isn't much, to stay awake, telling yourself that it is because you still have your theory to be proven right, and not because you don't want the night to end yet.
But Alex's arms around you, the embrace of who you still consider somehow a stranger with whom you just had the most amazing sex in your life, feels so warm and cozy and... so oddly safe, and right, that before you know it, your eyelids are already starting to surrender, and your breath is becoming more even and smooth as the exhaustion from your previous, intense, wildly passionate activities, finally takes over.
As you fall asleep, you don't even think about the briefcase left behind somewhere in the living room and its possible contents.
You don't think about catching the most wanted and famous thief of the world in the act.
Your plan has been left at the bar of the hotel, approximately thirty floors below you, one glass of tequila, five orgasms, and countless kisses ago.
. . .
The next morning the world wakes up once again dumbfounded by the news of the seemingly impossible theft of one of the most precious, beautifully decorated necklaces left completely intact from the ancient world.
The precious item in the display case replacement like every other time by the red rose that has become a famous signature
Your suspicion, even if you didn't know which piece of jewelry was going to be, has turned out to be right. And, as always, you already knew that the artist responsible, who succeeded once again in the incredible challenge of stealing something from one of the museums with the highest security system in the country, is going to walk away and get lost in the crowd undetected.
Because who would ever suspect that the most wanted thief in the world is also one of the most talented diamond cutter of the continent.
But in the moment you wake up, you still don't know any of that, and you are aware of one thing and one thing only.
And that is that the sense of contentment that has lulled you through the night, turns into something colder and sinking when you, searching for the solid cozy presence that has kept you warm, find out that you are completely alone in the elegant queen sized bed.
Your eyes flutter open to confirm it, rubbing the sleep away and blinking, squinting to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the large windows, but it is clear, from the moment you can finally focus, that there is no trace of Alex anywhere in the vast hotel suite.
The room is impossibly silent and still.
Empty from any other presence beside your own.
An uneasy, hollow sensation starts spreading in your chest at that realization, until something resembling a tiny spark of what you refuse to call hope yet, gets lit up when, in your distracted observation of the bedroom, your eyes land on a folded piece of paper sitting neatly on the opposite nightstand
You pull the covers away and stretch to pick it with barely restrained eagerness and curiosity.
It's an envelope.
With a note in an exceptionally elegant handwriting at the front.
Your heartbeat stutters even before you start to read it...
Thank you for the delightful time, Piper.
Normally, I don't bring a woman to my bed without at least offering her a proper dinner and a resemblance of some old-fashioned courtship first. Maybe next time I'll behave more like a lady. But after all these months, there is no such need. I feel like I already know you.
AV
There is even a little heart beside the initials, but you are way too busy to notice it right away, still trying to wrap your mind around that next time and...
After all these months?
You fiddle to open the envelope with a deep frown and once you see its contents, you freeze.
Mouth hanging a bit open, and eyes wide as you pull out the pictures.
Pictures of you.
From the few times you have followed her around the city, wondering what she was up to.
A sinking realization crashes into you at once, with such force to leave you breathless, speechless, unable to process for a few seconds.
Because fuck.
She has played you.
You might have followed her around, even spied on her once or twice, but now you realize that in your attempt to seduce her in order to prove your suspicion right, you only succeeded because she let you, because she drew you into her own plan, because, in the end, she is the one who seduced you.
You should be furious, but really, you can't even help but laugh after finding this out.
Because you thought that she wasn't so elusive after all, pretty easy to find actually, but now you know that you approached her with such ease only because she let you.
...But why?
If she knew your intentions...
Your gaze shifts, wandering aimlessly, thoughtfully.
And it is only then, when you look around you as if in search of an answer to your own question, that you see it.
The beautiful red rose resting gracefully on your nightstand.
Something flutters inside your chest at the sight of it and of its perfect deep red beauty.
You let go of the envelope and pictures to carefully pick the flower up instead.
There is a note attached to it as well with a thin golden thread, a much smaller one, with the same exquisite handwriting.
Until next time, it reads.
With a suppressed, slightly flushed grin, and that message replaying in your mind with Alex's deep voice, you bring the rose instinctively under your nose.
And as you inhale its delicately fresh fragrance and caress the impossibly soft velvety petals, you can only think that never before has a rose smelled of such a sweet promise.
Just an appetizer, but don't worry, even in another universe, these two can never stay away from the other for long ;) They are too into each other :)
