Title: When We're in the Dark
Chapter: Lockdown
Disclaimer: I don't own The Royals, I'm only borrowing!
Rating: M. The rating on the site is T only to make it show up in the bloody search!
Author's Note: So clearly I over-estimated how often I would update this. Crazy thing is that I have 5 chapters written, I just had zero time to properly proof read and upload them. Add to that my frustration with uploading to from a chromebook and I'm definitely in need of a strong drink!
But here is the next instalment. I'm really thrilled with the initial response. I know that the situations I put the characters in might not be realistic (but hey it's a bloody tv show). I have tried to keep them to the versions we know and love. I appreciate that there are massive issues that both Jasper and Eleanor need to talk about, and we'll get to that I promise, but in the meantime I'm picking up a thread from the show that is undoubtedly going to be Season 3's main plot. Here's my little take on how things could maybe go...
Oh, and the same warning re how I might have written Liam - it probably comes across as I don't like him very much but that's not true, I promise. This chapter picks up an hour or two from the end of the first one.
Ave x
It's late in the evening and they both fall into a lazy sleep. They only wake from the sound of Eleanor's bedroom doors being thrown open wide by a clearly agitated Liam. He's confronted with the sight of his twin sister sprawled across Jasper's chest
"Liam, get the hell out!" She screeches, following it up with a cushion missile that smacks her brother across the side of the head, "and learn to fucking knock in future!"
Liam must be serious because he doesn't turn away at their state of undress, "just put your bloody clothes on and meet me in my room in twenty minutes. It's about Robbie, Len. He's alive."
And with that he slams the door shut, leaving Eleanor and Jasper sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the bedsheets with the distinct feeling that their world was about to come shattering down once again.
Eleanor is a mess within minutes.
She throws on the nearest t-shirt and knickers as he pulls on his own discarded clothes.
Eleanor doesn't bother to wait before tearing through the palace towards the King's quarters. He figures out quickly that the only person who can ingest more drugs and drink in the Palace than Eleanor, is her Uncle. So naturally, after cleaning up her own stash, she is tearing open the King's drawers and pulling out the contents looking for something to snort or smoke.
He can see the way her arm is trembling and he knows that she's jonesing for something, anything. Drink, drugs, anything to make her not feel what she's experiencing right this very second.
He knows nothing he can say will make a blind bit of difference.
Jasper's not interested in drugs, never has been. He likes a good Single Malt, but he's never really seen the appeal of getting so shit faced that you can't put one foot in front of the other. He's always needed to be on his guard.
He's seen her at her worst, coked up, coming down, hugging the cold tile of her bathroom floor. His concern is not about having to care for her when she's high, he's been there, done that (not that she'd remember). He does however know that Eleanor is going to need a clear head if she's going to see her (apparently not dead) brother for the first time in a year.
After living the way he has, always one wrong move away from getting caught in a con, he knows something about needing to take the edge off, but without the need for substances.
So he decides to put a third option on the table.
"Eleanor..."
She gives up on trying to find any drugs and moves towards the decanters, "Not now Jasper..." she replies, acting like she doesn't care that he's followed her from room to room around the Palace.
"Eleanor," he tries again, this time he sounds more sure of himself. He moves to stand in front of her, so close that she has no option but to look up at him, "you're going to stop."
"Who the bloody hell do you think you are?!"
He knows she is trying to put him back in his Bodyguard box. He's not a fool, he knows acting the cold, detached Princess is her tried and tested way of exerting control in an effort to cover her true feelings, he gets it.
That doesn't mean he's going to put up with it.
"You're going to calm the fuck down and do as I say."
She holds his stare, nostrils flaring in anger (upset, confusion). He can tell she's debating whether or not to step away from him or stand her ground.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
She inhales deeply, her shoulders relaxing. That's all it takes for him to know she's going to stay, that she knows what he is doing...that she's going to play along.
"Good. Now, turn around and walk towards the wall."
She complies, slowly, and he appreciates the way her t-shirt is just short enough to get a good look at her lingerie look. Jasper instantly feels himself go hard.
Sometimes he hates himself for the things that turn him on, the fact that control is a powerful aphrodisiac to him, but when she stops walking and presses her hands to the wall, giving him the perfect view of her ass in black lace, he really can't quite find it in himself to care.
He approaches and by the time he reaches Eleanor, he's unbuckled his belt and the zip on his suit trousers is undone. Initially he doesn't touch her, but when she risks a look over her shoulder he locks eyes with her and moves forward to hold her hands to the wall above her head with one of his own while the other hand snakes around her waist and under her t-shirt.
He kisses her neck, and pushes her completely up against the wall. One of his knees force her legs apart to give him space to work. He's sure that she knows what is about to happen, and that she wants it, but he'll never not ask her, not when he's in this particular frame of mind.
"Is this what you want?"
She nods, but he won't accept that.
"You need to say it, Eleanor."
It annoys her, conceding to him, but when she turns her head and whispers, "I want you to fuck me, Jasper" he can't help the involuntary, almost predatory, growl that escapes him.
"That's the right answer."
He pushes his trousers and boxers down to his knees before shoving her kickers to the side. He pushes inside with a groan and thinks about the fact he is fucking the Princess up against a wall in the King's private chambers. It's more of a turn on than he thought it would be.
He presses his chest against her back as he drives his hips forward and reaches into the front of her underwear. The 'Oh God' that escapes her lips elicits a wicked smile that he is somewhat glad she cannot see as he fights for control of his own body, the adrenalin threatening to take over more than it has done already.
Slowly Eleanor tilts her hips towards him, giving easier access, opening her to him. After a second or two he lets one of his hands move down to feel the smooth expanse of her leg, gripping ever so slightly at her knee to hold her in place. She urges him to move faster, go deeper. So he does, filling her, then emptying her quickly, doing it again…and again…and again.
She is silent except for the tight moans and groans resounding in the large room. Any movement or change in direction brings about a little gasp and she violently arches her back.
She looks wanton and every time she moans in pleasure Jasper can feel himself getting closer to the point of no return. The way she reacts to each thrust, how her fingernails dig into his skin...he can't hold back much longer.
His hand works at her, fingers drawing circles against her intimately. He feels her muscles contract and expand in a repetitive motion. She grasps and pulls his head over her shoulder to claim a kiss which is difficult without her contorting her body but when he hears his name on her lips followed by her short, breathy gasps he comes inside her with a jerking spasm.
They still their movements, her arms falling to her side, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He presses a kiss to the side of her temple and waits.
It doesn't take long. He can already see, feel, that her trembling has stopped.
"Thank you."
He nuzzles her hair as he gently tucks himself back into his boxers and does up his suit trousers, "no need to thank me, when you parade your ass around in lace underwear that kind of shit is going to happen. I wanted you. Plain and simple."
Eleanor turns to look at him. He already knows she doesn't believe him from the dubious look on her face.
"That might be true, but you also knew I needed to get out of my head."
He feels a distinct need to not paint himself as the hero in this situation. The idea of controlling Eleanor's emotions in the way he can scares him and he doesn't want to be that person to her. Not now, not in the future, not anymore.
"Fine, call it a distraction then."
She fixes her t-shirt and leans back on the wall she was very recently pressed up against. She looks up to the ceiling, but the low light catches a glint in her eyes. He knows she is trying not to cry.
"I must be so fucking messed up. I'm told my brother isn't actually dead and the first thing I want to do is get high. What the hell is wrong with me?"
She reaches for him and grips her fingers around his wrist, anchoring him to her. It annoys him more than he thought possible that she's been surrounded by so much negativity in her life that she thinks she's the problem.
"There's fuck all wrong with you, Eleanor. Just be yourself, you don't need to be fixed."
She cocks her head at this, but he doesn't want to have this conversation with her right now, not when there's so much else at stake.
"Come on, we should go find Liam and Hill. The longer we stay in your Uncle's room the greater the chance we'll contract an STD. The more I think about that, the more I really need a fucking shower."
