The Argument:
Gilbert's bail is set at nearly half a million dollars. When Elizaveta goes to see him, she finds that someone has paid it. That someone had also picked him up and he didn't so much as call to tell her he was out of jail. So will a polite smile, she thanks the guard and turns to leave the building.
Once out of the presence of officers and in the safety of her car, Elizaveta takes a deep breath then let's out a stream of swears that would put any sailor to shame. Then she calls his cell, five times. No answer. She calls the house and when that fails, calls Ludwig.
"Hello?" He answers and Elizaveta has to breathe and pull over because she is positively livid.
"Ludwig, have you seen your brother recently?"
"I," he pauses guilty. "Visitation days are every Monday and Saturday. I'd made plans to go this Saturday…"
"What? I, no, Ludwig I meant physically, in person. Not in jail."
"Gilbert is out of jail?"
She starts the car and forces her foot on the accelerator. "Yes, but I cant guarantee that one of us will not be back in there by tonight."
Ludwig coughs in his nervous but diplomatic way. "I think…I think you should try staying calm, Liz."
Elizaveta puts the phone on speaker but drops it on the passenger seat. Ludwig is still talking, reasoning, but she has long since tuned him out. What the hell is wrong with him? Did Gilbert not know how she's worried for him? How she's lost sleep and appetite over his well-being? And someone had the nerves to bail him out of jail and she doesn't get so much as a text message?
"That asshole." Elizaveta yells, hits the steering wheel and makes a sharp right turn.
"Liz?" Ludwig's voice comes through albeit foggy in light of her temper. "Are you listening to me?"
No, she's not because Elizaveta is at the parking lot across from Gilbert's apartment building. Officer Jones is leaning on his car, a doughnut in one hand and a drink in the other. He smiles with a mouth full of dough and tips his hat in her direction. Elizaveta ignores him completely as she parks and slams the door.
"Ludwig, I have to go." She holds the phone to her ear and waits for cars to pass.
"Just," he sighs in defeat. "Don't kill him."
Elizaveta glares at the stream of traffic that's hindering her from walking. "Not making that promise." And with that, she hangs up.
"Off day, Ms. Hedevary? You seem upset or something?" Hell, did she commit some major sin to have such things happen to her today.
Elizaveta doesn't want to be rude but equally doesn't want to be bothered. She leans; looks pass Officer Jones and down the street. "I'm a bit of a hurry, Officer—"
"Alfred, remember? Or Al, some people call me Alfie but Al sounds better, you know?"
"Yes, that's lovely, excuse me," Elizaveta crosses the street and has to hold herself back from sprinting into the building.
Elevators don't move fast enough and she pressed the number 5 at least ten times as the thing hums and moves up. When the door finally opens, she whips out the key and can't help but stomp toward the door. It swings open because of the amount of force she uses.
Gilbert jumps and then stands. "Hey, babe, guess who got o—" his words are cut short by her hand coming in contact with his cheek.
"You ass!" Elizaveta screams, and grabs the first thing in reaching distance, which is her purse and throws it at him. Gilbert ducks but it still manages to get him in the shoulder. "You stupid, selfish…ASSHOLE!"
Then come the pillows to which the man tries swatting away and runs around the sofa. "Liz, wait can—put the remote dow…Liz that hit me the forehead!"
"Good, maybe it'll knock some sense into thick head of yours." Elizaveta stalks to the other side of the sofa, at which point Gilbert runs to the front. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He ducks as she launches a magazine at him. Gilbert peeks up only to duck back down as another wade of paper went flying over his head. "I made bail." He says finally and the Hungarians nostrils flair.
"No shit," she looks around the perimeter for a second. "How did you make bail?" Nothing else in the living room to throw? Fine, Elizaveta takes the half step into the kitchen.
"A…friend. Liz…?" Gilbert chuckles nervously and holds up his hands. "Babe, put the pan down, k?"
Elizaveta swings. Gilbert jumps over the small coffee table. "Holy shit, okay, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you."
"You forgot?" she swings again. "You forgot to tell your girlfriend that a friend posted your bail? Are you really that stupid?"
He pauses and she holds the frying pan high above her head. "Um…no?" Gilbert answers cautiously and the look on Elizaveta's face is murderous.
But his hesitation makes her pause, and we he notices, launches to grab at her wrist. They struggle for a moment, him trying to pry the frying pan from her fingers and her repeatedly slapping at anything her hand could touch. His face, his shoulders, his arms, his face again, and his ear until finally Gilbert manages to make the skillet fall to the ground. Elizaveta punches him but he doesn't even so much as flinch. Instead, he shoves her hand away and grabs her face in his own.
No, she won't, she won't let him have it his way. Gilbert is stupid. He's so fucking stupid that she wonders if he was drop on his head as a child. Either that or has kind of disease that inhibits him from using all of his brain. But he's inching closer to her face, that stupid grin on his stupid lips and she just won't let him have it, not today. Elizaveta knees him in the stomach. As he doubles over, she grabs his shirt and pulls him close enough so that she kisses him. The kiss is harsh, passionate, demanding and longing all wrapped into one fervent lip-lock.
He smells like soap, clean, fresh soap. When Gilbert touches her, his shoes and socks and belt and shirt disappear as his hand slides down the front of her jeans. She's blushing the way she always does, because no matter how many times they do this or under what circumstances, she always blushes for him. She always trembles and sighs when his fingers slip down and invade familiar territory, and she lets the pleasure wash over her face as she gasps softly.
Gilbert whispers something that she can barely comprehend because they don't actually move their lips away from each other. When he starts fighting with the buttons on her jacket, Elizaveta understands and aids him get the damn thing off. She doesn't care about what she's wearing when they're like this. She just cares about his lips on hers. But he's tugging at her shirt impatiently and she's holding his lips hostage. Both of them are being impatient but it's her who finally gives, grumbling as she removes the shirt for him.
"Unclasp that." He doesn't gesture, he doesn't say any more than he has to. She doesn't even give him a look for being so short with her and just stretches her arms behind her back awkwardly, fumbling for the clip keeping that last stitch of upper body clothing on her body. Elizaveta doesn't completely remove it but pulls him closer to her person. Gilbert tightens his hold on her waist and she uses the security to lift herself off the ground.
Chestnut colored hair comes down in shimmering waves and falls like a curtain over both of their faces. One hand tangles up behind her head, twisting those smooth, warm strands of her hair while the other strokes her warm, curved back, and then travels down her round hips and slender waist before rising again. Gilbert's skin is cool against her arms and chest and she pulls his face up from her throat by stands of white hair. Her fingers feather over his cheek and it's the softest touch she's given him all day.
Elizaveta doesn't want to play games, no teasing today. So when he walks them to the sofa, it's she who pushes him on his back. When he tries to sit up, she pushes him right back down. Today she doesn't want to give up control like that, to let Gilbert tease and set the pace. Tomorrow night, some other night, but not now. Instead right now she catches his mouth with her lips and he tightens his arms around her body again, crushing her flesh to him as she undoes the buttons and zippers. Gilbert tilts his hips up so that she can shimmy his pants down.
He exhales throw his nose when she has to stand and remove her own. Though she only pulled his down just pass his knees, her bottoms are completely done away with. Yet, Elizaveta isn't fully naked, her bra still dangles about her shoulders. It's just the way she wants it when her thighs spread to straddle his hips. Gilbert doesn't have a say so in this because she's still mad at him. She reasons that he understands that because he doesn't ask her to take it off. Her hands rub his chest and arm before sliding her fingers back down between them and she guides him in.
Gilbert isn't a vocal and neither is she but her willpower far exceeds his. He's all the way in when he starts murmuring and whispering for her to start moving. That's why Elizaveta makes herself stay perfectly still where she's leaning over him. Her hands hold his hips down so when they try rocking beneath, he only gets a fraction of the pleasure. He doesn't get to tell her when to move or how fast to go. She does so only when his frustration is evident but how his fingers dig into her waist. When she moves, she moves, there is nothing slow or controlled about it.
Her pace is her own because this is about her and for her. Because Gilbert is stupid and selfish and he knows her too well so their bodies sync up quickly. Elizaveta's fingers are confused between caressing and scratching at his chest, leaving pale, scared skin covered in red marks from his shoulder to his naval. They're gasping over one another and maybe he says her name and maybe she calls out for him. Somehow he manages to sit up despite her pushing him back down. At this point though, she doesn't really care, just sucks in air to meet his body's overwhelming physical demands.
Elizaveta won't stop kissing him, as he lays her down it's a fight between her wants and his needs. It's all grunting and rutting as he pulls back trying to make his thrusts go deeper, but she pulls him in close and tangles him in soft limbs and sweet sweat and brown hair and her body begs for him to go faster.
Elizaveta isn't even aware of if and when he comes. But when she does, it's powerful and full-bodied, her entire form devoted to pulling Gilbert as close as they can get and holding him there. His arms tighten around her back and face pressed tight against her throat. She doesn't even know they're nearly sitting up with one another until he loses his strength and they have to fall before they find the sofa cushions again.
And then it's just... breathing.
A/N *cough, cough* So, I've changed the rating on this story for several reasons. On another note, it's time for my 'thank you countries' where I give special thanks to the top four countries where my story readers reside. In order of most views to least US, Canada, UK and Germany. A special thanks to all of you wonderful citizens, whom I've captivated your imagination and wonder for murder mysteries and possible psychological thrillers! Of course, thanks to ALL my readers! Much love everybody!
-CeCe ^-^
