A/N- I don't own the Divergent characters, they belong to Veronica Roth.
A big thanks to BK2U for editing this chapter!
December 19th
Sometimes, I forget how powerful he is. When we're making love, when we're playfully wrestling, when he lifts me up without effort, when he persuades me in an argument, when he walks in a room and everyone looks at him, he exudes strength and power.
And today, at his work's Christmas party, where all his fellow co-workers treat him with respect and a tinge of admiration. I already know that, because of his father, the Eaton name is a powerful one. I just never realised that Four was an addition to said power, rather than a mere continuation of it.
"We don't have to stay here long," he whispers in my ear as we walk into the hotel, arms linked, bodies side by side. We're led into a large function room, packed with tables and people and food and alcoholic beverages. The music isn't too loud at the moment, since the event is just getting started. There are men in suits gathered at the bar and women in skirts and dresses gathered at the tables chattering and laughing amongst themselves.
"I'm your plus-one," I say, squeezing my arm tighter around his. "I'll stay here until you're ready to leave."
"Alright," he kisses my temple. "You look amazing, by the way."
"You already told me," I look down at the floor shyly. I'm wearing the purple beaded dress he bought me the other week, my hair cascading around my shoulders in waves, the bird tattoos on my collarbone peeking out just slightly since the dress is high at the front and low at the back. We handed someone our coats at the door, so now I have nothing to hide behind.
"And I'll keep on telling you because it's true," he says, leading me over to a long table at the back of the room in front of the huge French doors that likely open up onto a small garden or balcony when the weather is warmer. Most of the seats at the table are already filled by suited men and sophisticated women. I drop my arm and link my fingers tightly with his, admittedly nervous to be surrounded by strangers. "Honestly, they're all a little boring and stiff," he whispers in my ear again.
"I thought they'd be the creative type," I say quietly, turning my head to the side above his shoulder to avoid anyone listening in.
"They're cutthroat salespeople, high up on the ladder thanks to their brutal work tactics." He pulls a chair out for me and we sit.
"So what does that make you?"
"A black sheep."
"It doesn't," I say firmly. "You're creative and smart, and you'll get further in life than any of these schmucks." It's no secret that he's not been enjoying his job lately. He's overworked and 'stuck in a rut'. He tells me that his days at the office usually consist of him playing around on the computer and daydreaming about quitting and finally starting up a venture of his own. He won't seem to give me a straight answer as to why he won't do just that, however.
The woman sitting next to me introduces herself, and a couple of people clap Four on the back and shake his hand. While I'm listening to the woman talk about what kind of food we'll be eating, I notice the place card in front of me, with the name "Mrs. Eaton" written across the front in fancy lettering. I nearly choke on my water, causing the woman to look at me quizzically and for Four to pat and rub my back.
"You okay?" He asks, still patting my back as my coughing subsides. I nod my head, picking up the folded paper place card and handing it to him. He laughs, scrunches it up, and throws it back into the middle of the table. "When I told them I was bringing my 'other half' tonight, they obviously thought it meant I had a wife."
"Hilarious," I mutter, like the eighteen year old I still am.
"Tobias," a man with dark greasy hair says smarmily from opposite us. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" He looks at me with a sly smile that causes me to shiver within.
"Eric, this is Tris," Four says, almost unwillingly. He moves his arm to rest on the back of my chair in a protective manner.
"It's lovely to meet you, Tris," Eric says. "Tobias has never had a girl to introduce us to before."
"Give the kid a break," an older man with silver hair says, clasping Eric's shoulders from behind and shaking them disdainfully, even though he's talking in a somewhat joking manner. "You still don't have a girl to introduce us to."
Eric grits his teeth and fiddles with his napkin, throwing another glance my way. A couple of people laugh at the remark, but not Four. Instead, he moves his arm to rest on my shoulder so that we're pulled closer together. I look at him questioningly but he just smiles. "That's my boss," he says, his head jerking in the direction of the man with silver hair.
"He seems cool…but that Eric guy is a creep," I whisper.
"Mostly harmless, though."
Not long after the awkward introductions, the food is finally served. It's typical Christmas food, and people are already becoming merry on the mulled wine and beer. I stick to soda. They all continue to engage in mindless small talk and business chatter, whilst Four finds every single excuse to touch me in some way. Tucking my hair behind my ear so it doesn't fall in front of my face and separate us like a curtain, smoothing my napkin across my lap, placing his hand on my wrist whilst we wait in between courses. What really gets me though, is the way that his arm still rests on the back of my chair when he leans back, his finger trailing up and down the bare skin of my spine, to the point where I'm so thankful for the way my dress scoops down. "Easy," I mutter, when his hand goes under the table to rest on my thigh. He's amused by my reactions, pretending to gulp his drink when all he's really doing is looking down at me. I clear my throat and shuffle around on my seat.
"Another beer, Tobias?" His boss asks, cutting through the tension.
"No, I'm good, thank you," Four says, stabbing his fork into his chocolate cake. The dinner is over, and people are starting to abandon the table to venture over to the bar and the small gathering of people at the opposite end of the room.
"You don't seem to drink that much anymore," I comment, putting my fork down when I'm finished. He shrugs, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Cutting down or something?"
He smiles to himself, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Dunno, I guess I prefer you to alcohol."
I swallow thickly, unable to say anything, because there's nothing that could compete with a statement like that. There's no doubt about the fact that Four has used drink as a way of escaping harsh reality sometimes. Especially when it came to coping with the pain of his mother's death. The fact that I could possibly be helping him to somehow deal with that hole in his heart is staggering.
"Come on," he says, holding out a hand to me and looking over to the crowd of people gathering on the casual dance floor area. Some are in couples, others are younger and clowning around.
"I can't dance."
"I already know that," he grins. "You can step on my feet if you have to."
"Shut up," I say with a light laugh, standing up and slapping him on his arm. I follow him over, where he pulls me to a small group of people about his age and introduces me. I'm easily the shortest one here, since all the other girls are wearing high-heeled shoes and I'm not. I'm about a foot shorter than Four, so it makes it difficult to be close to him when we're standing up, especially when he starts swaying me side to side gently when a Christmas song comes on. I rise up onto my tiptoes, but it doesn't make much difference and I huff with annoyance.
"What are you doing?" He asks, confused.
"I wish I wasn't so short," I grumble, staring directly at his chest as he looms over me.
"Hey, I like you exactly how you are," he kisses the top of my head. "I wouldn't be able to do this so easily if you were eight inches taller now would I?" His arm around my waist tightens and he lifts me so that he stands up straight, my feet dangling inches off the floor.
"Put me down," I gasp, toes trying to touch the floor again. He does eventually, when more drunken people start getting up to horse around, people who are going to be embarrassed as hell on Monday morning back at work.
After a while, we decide to leave. Perhaps it's because we've had enough, or perhaps it's because of the fact that we can't keep our hands off each other. We walk out, hand in hand, collecting our long black wool coats on the way. The cold winter night is bitter and frosty, the ground solid and slippery from old snowfall and ice. We walk slowly to avoid falling, gripping onto each other for dear life. There is a row of taxicabs outside the venue, ready to take people home. We slide into the backseat of one, giving the driver the address. I don't buckle up; I shuffle next to him, both my legs slung over one of his as he holds me close. I kiss down his neck and the side of his face, my hand cupping the back of his head as my fingers move through his hair. Right now, I want to say something tempting or attractive or flirtatious. But as usual— nothing comes to mind. I smile falsely, annoyed with myself, the expression fading quicker than it grew. I wish I was good at this sort of thing but I'm not, no matter how hard I try or how much I'm in the mood. "Tobias," I sigh, dropping my head against him.
"Did you just call me Tobias?" He says with slight shock, his fingers wrapping around my chin so that I face him when I stay quiet. "Are you finally going to call me by my real name now?"
"Is that alright?"
"More than alright, Tris. Quite perfect, actually," he smiles. Perhaps, rather than saying something seductive, it can be even more intimate to say something truly meaningful. Perhaps I'm not so terrible at this after all. We continue to kiss slowly, gently, and quietly in the back seat until the cab pulls up outside the apartment complex. Tobias hands the embarrassed taxi driver a few bills, making a somewhat apologetic point of not wanting any change.
We walk into the building, Tobias pressing the elevator button repeatedly with impatience until the doors open. He pulls me in and presses me against the mirrored wall, unbuttoning the front of my coat and dragging it from my shoulders. "What are you doing?" I ask when he drops to his knees in front of me, my body falling to the side a little when the elevator begins its journey upwards. He doesn't respond, instead, he looks up at me with a small smirk before licking his lips. He runs his hands up both of my bare legs, sliding under my dress and pulling my lace underwear down. He lifts up each ankle one after the other to get rid of them properly, stuffing them into the pocket of his coat. He then picks up one of my legs and props it over his shoulder, my head tipping back. "Tob-" I almost say, interrupted by a moan. "Crap," I mutter, fisting my hands in his hair and leaning heavily on him because my legs are already feeling weak. But it's over all too soon, when the elevator grinds to a halt and the doors ping open. He pulls away, standing up again, as I scoop my coat up from the floor and scurry out into the hallway after him.
"Come on," he says, his voice deep and throaty. His hand wraps around mine, and I have to jog a little to keep up with him, determination evident in his quick strides. I fail at holding back a grin when his hands tremble so much that he struggles with the lock on the door. As soon as he's got it open he's pulling me through and in front of him, lifting me up and over his shoulder. I shriek, fingers gripping onto his coat when the room spins upside down and the blood rushes to my head. He strides through the living room and into the bedroom, bending over to drop me down into the middle of the bed. I flop, my body bouncing, arms open and outstretched. He hovers above me, his knees between my legs which are bent up on either side of him, his hands spread wide, smoothing down my body firmly as my back arches into him. My heart hammers in my chest noticeably like it always does when I give myself to him, when I allow myself to be vulnerable to him. He kisses down my neck as his hand slides behind me, slowly dragging the zipper down on my dress. He rises as he pulls it off, along with my shoes afterwards. I stare at the ceiling whilst he makes quick work of undressing himself, throwing every single piece of clothing onto the floor, including his watch which makes a resounding 'thud' when it hits the ground. He turns the lamp on which sits on the nightstand, so I lift up the top sheet to cover myself up.
"Don't," he says, stopping my hand with his as he climbs back onto the bed next to me. "I don't want to just clumsily fumble around in the dark with you."
"I like it when we clumsily fumble around in the dark," I say, pulling him close against me so that he doesn't get a chance to drink in my naked form, illuminated by the lamplight.
"Tris," he sighs, but I continue to kiss down his neck, his chest, his face. "Look at me," he holds my cheek, stopping my actions. I give him eye contact, but that is all. "No, I mean look at all of me. Please don't be intimidated."
"I'm not intimidated," I say, my voice wavering. My cheeks heat up, my fingers dig into his shoulder. I am intimidated.
Before Tobias, I was afraid of sex. I was afraid of being vulnerable, I was afraid of what the other person would think. But then we got drunk and did it anyway. So I thought, for a while, that I was over my ridiculous fear. And I was…almost. To the point where I would no longer freeze like a deer caught in the headlights. But, I'm still not confident. I'm not confident enough to be adventurous or to be the initiator. Not confident enough to take control or try something new. "Am I boring you?" I ask him carefully.
He shakes his head, "Don't be silly. Come on, forget I said anything." He leans over me into the position we're used to, the way that we always fit together. I like it, and it's comfortable.
But today, I want to be brave.
I sit up on the bed and push him down so that he lies flat on his back. Ignoring my nervousness, I swing one leg over his waist so that I'm straddling him. When he realises what it is I'm trying to do, his confident and commanding smile fades, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallows thickly. He scoots us further up on the bed and sits up against the headboard, his palm pressed against the side of my face. I lean into it, kissing the warm soft skin still calloused in places. "I do trust you," I say. "But you're going to have to show me what to do."
"We'll stop if you don't like it," he kisses between my brows, sitting up further. His hands travel back down to my waist once he tells me to rest my hands on his shoulders. He lifts me and guides me and ensures that we remain close and comfortable the entire time. It's awkward and my legs cramp up but I don't want to stop. A new wave of confidence overcomes me when I become consumed by him again, his complimentary whispers spurring me on.
After, we lay on the bed again, limbs tangled around one another. I hold his head against my heaving chest, my face buried in his thick brown hair. It has a curl to it now that it's been left to grow out, and smells of both him and me. With his finger, he traces patterns delicately on my side, gliding over the sticky dampness and blush-pink skin.
Yes, Tobias Eaton is a powerful name. It's the name of the man I'm falling in love with.
My tumblr: yabooklover20
Also: Eric won't be making another appearance and won't be stirring up drama or anything. I wanted a coworker who was annoying and didn't like Tobias, so I thought instead of coming up with a random name it would be fitting to use Eric.
Thank you all so much for the follows, the favourites and of course taking the time to write a review!