This is A: an extremely old smutprompt fill for "shy", given to me by mricj, B: the, uh prequel section of an AU inspired the movie A Simple Favor, which I highly recommend if you like bonkers murder-suspense-tension-filled movies
That one.
The thought is a klaxon in Eva's head blaring through the heavy bass of the club. She had come here looking for an Alpha-type to adopt, make him her pet remolding project. It had been a long-standing plan set down to the smallest detail, including how she'd cut him loose once she was done. The signal the scruffy-haired nerd stereotype down the bar was sending her way, however, was a siren call.
Yes, Eva was a planner. But she also always, always followed her instinct.
Do you? Even when that instinct's telling you ''fuck the plan"?
"Abso-fucking-lutely." She gulped down her second martini and stood up from her plush booth seat.
Since he had no qualms about staring her down, she stared right back as she made her way over. Ridiculous glasses, but a nicely fitted jacket, sleek-as-fuck pants- the guy clearly had a good tailor. And, okay, money, given how he just took out cash for some extremely top-shelf booze.
Not a complete nerd, then. Probably a trust fund baby. She'd read him wrong.
That only made her more determined.
"What are you having?" she said next to him, just this side of Too Close. Two identical martinis were on the bar.
"This," he said. He pushed the other one toward her. "Noticed you have similar taste."
She slammed it back and watched him fumble his drink. Stared openly at his Adam's Apple while he swallowed. "Perceptive." Or obsessive.
"So do I get a name for my powers of perception, or do I just call you gorgeous all night?"
Startled into a laugh, she cut it off quickly.
Over the years, she'd learned how to tweak her personality to offset the intimidation her choice of clothing tended to elicit, so she could get certain kinds of men to do certain kinds of things without sacrificing her style. This one, though, had taste. He appreciated sharp women in sharper suits.
She just needed to make him realize how much.
"Eva." The wolfish grin came easily. So much more easily than the simpering and the doe eyes that she could wield just as deftly. She moved in close, cupped his cheek, savored his stuttered breath as she asked, "You got a name? Maybe you'll let me try some out on you."
He didn't blink. "Neil."
A card pressed into her palm.
"Come up to 612, and you can call me whatever you want."
#####
His eyes were green, it turned out.
She didn't let him undress her, but when he took his glasses off with being asked (told) to she let him pick one thing for her to keep on.
"The tie," he said, while taking off his slacks.
Two points more, to go with the handful she'd given him so far (this was getting wildly out of hand): one for undressing completely, the other for the interesting choice. Most men wanted her the keep the heels, sometimes gloves when she had them.
Maybe this guy was into breathplay. He sure gave off woman-on-top vibes.
But when she straddled him, stroked his dick through his black boxers, he grabbed her tie then, and pulled her mouth down to his.
She must have frozen for a few seconds too many, because he pulled away just enough to ask if it was okay.
Neil meant something with that kiss. It had been so long since she'd had a kiss with any kind of feeling that the difference was shockingly obvious.
"Pull harder," was all she said before pulling him back in.
She let him kiss her, kissed him back, while they fucked. He knew how, too, cared about more than just getting himself off. So she wasn't faking anything, couldn't, and that scared her but she felt too good to think about it.
His hand found her hip and his breathing turned harsher around the time her belly started growing tight. So she pulled away from his lips, shoved him down onto the bedspread and watched his face as she came with a lip-biting growl, her head thrown back into the pull of her necktie.
He looked at her like he was willing to choke down all her secrets and ask for more. He made her feel things she had never felt, if only for a few seconds: vulnerable. Transparent.
Shy.
Then he shut his eyes, gasped, and filled her up.
#####
She stayed, after. Another bad sign. But again: instinct. Or something dumber, something primal she'd convinced herself she was in control of.
...It wouldn't kill her to let go of her analytic mind for a couple hours, but that was a fucking Sisyphean task. So she just looked at Neil and stopped fighting.
He was... pretty, she decided, watching him sleep. And intriguing. They'd barely spoken.
She had her project.
They went another round that night, and several more for the next three days he was at the hotel. When they talked it was about superficial things (probably because she was too distracted by his mouth. And his dick.). No matter; now that her sights were set, she could take all the time she needed. All the time she wanted.
When was the last time she had wanted something, let alone someone?
When they said goodbye, she kissed him soft and sugary. The genuine smile felt so out of place on her face, but the smile she got back was all that mattered.
She was in so deep, forgetting everything she knew about swimming.
Fuck it. Time to grow wings and learn how to fly.
(And despite all of those warning bells, if Eva had been told, in that moment, that she would marry the man, she'd have laughed until her sides ached.)