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[color=808080][color=ffc300][b]#ffc300[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/jHwq935][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=0a6d6b][b]#0a6d6b[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/YTIldpm][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]sylas's cabin[/b][/color]
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[color=808080]  She stirred softly and blinked herself awake, heavy eyes skimming across the unfamiliar floorboards and out the window. Her foggy brain took a minute to catch up that she was in Sylas’s cabin, in his arms. Evelyn glanced down to his arm secured around her waist and traced along it with her fingertips lightly. She was almost afraid in the time she had napped, he had reflected and withdrawn. Instead, he was where she had left him. Or, he had snuck away and taken the effort to sneak back in place which still indicated some degree of care. 

Evelyn shifted carefully onto her back, head turning to face him. Rather than state the warmth in him staying or even comment on what a good big spoon he made, she spared him. [color=ffc300]"You went to bed with wet hair,"[/color] she murmured and smiled. [color=ffc300]"You know, even you can get sick if you’re not careful."[/color] The back of her hand sat against his chest, pinching the fabric of his shirt between her fingers gently. [color=ffc300]"You’re not cold?"[/color]

Sylas didn’t move the entire time she napped. The thought crossed his mind once or twice, but the idea of disturbing her kept him firmly rooted in place. For the most part his mind continued to cycle through the rollercoaster of emotions that passed between them, questioning his decision while trying to pinpoint the inevitable destruction that would follow. At one point he might have drifted off for a moment or two, but for most of the quiet time that ticked by his thumb lightly stroked her arm while he counted the copper hairs that brushed against his nose with every breath. 

It was only when she started stirring that he let himself adjust, shifting slightly so he could move the arm that had long fallen asleep pinned beneath him. He rotated his hand and flexed his tingling fingers as Evelyn’s head moved to rest along his bicep. His other arm loosened its hold, letting her move freely within his embrace without sacrificing space or warmth. His hand slipped across her waist as turned, palm settling against her stomach as she settled on her back. When her words broke the silence, his eyes locked with hers before falling to where her fingers assessed the warmth of his shirt, or lack thereof. 

Sylas actually chuckled. It was a quick, fleeting sound, muffled behind his lips, deep and quiet like a hum dragged across gravel. He pondered her comment for a beat or two before replying quietly, like any sound too loud would break the fragile peace they had created between them. [color=0a6d6b]"I’m Russian. It takes more than a thin shirt and wet hair to make me sick."[/color] A second or two passed before he continued barely above a whisper. [color=0a6d6b]"My cabin also has a furnace."[/color]

And there it was… the feint, ghost of a smile… not fake or forced or manipulative, just surprisingly authentic.

An easy smile extended across her lips as she inclined her chin. [color=ffc300]"Aahh. Right. That’s how you’ve avoided hypothermia. Russian heritage and possessing a furnace"[/color] she relayed. The answer to how he could endure and cross camp so sturdily and jacketless in winter. How he could remain wet for hours in a medical tent after nearly drowning and being electrocuted…Her smile faded at the latter intrusive thought, glancing up at Sylas. She always thought she had some responsibility in his pandora related injuries, even when they had faded to cosmetic nuisances. But she didn’t like to bring it up.

Evelyn looked him over, that familiar glimmer of wonder and fascination in her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to read his thoughts. Sylas showed her another version of him and let himself be…something very close to vulnerable with her. He was there when she woke up, he gave her food and a coat earlier and protected her previously. And for that, she was beyond thankful and privileged. She rotated again with the same caution and awareness of Sylas’s limbs as before, turning to face him, resting up on her left forearm, red hair draping over her shoulder. She didn’t want to burden him with more serious confessions and conversations or take from the ease that seemed to settle between them.

[color=ffc300]"Do you still speak your native tongue?"[/color] She inquired, genuine curiosity and excitement swirling under the surface of her question. Of course, she was only finding out now Sylas was bilingual.


[color=0a6d6b]"Я делаю — [i]I do,[/i]"[/color] Sylas responded, his voice deep and rumbling beneath the Russian that fell effortlessly from his lips. [color=0a6d6b]"I only really speak it with my sister anymore, but my father insisted we learn both Russian and English fluently since we were children,"[/color] he added in English, no sign of an accent tinging his words. The Astors were educated well so that they passed as Americans unless stating otherwise. It was a tactic his father inherited before either of them could walk. As an ambassador, while he wanted them to embrace their heritage proudly, he wanted them to also have every advantage when they were in the United States as well. 

Evelyn’s eyes lit up as he responded in Russian. She didn’t speak Russian, but he seemed to shift effortlessly between the two dialects, no hint of the other in his chosen speech at the time—his father’s lesson a blessing. So he had the wits of a goddess of discord and the smarts of his mortal father. She was always dealing with a clever man. [color=ffc300]"You always keep me on my toes,"[/color] she mumbled quietly, barely above a whisper.

His hand slowly lifted from Evelyn’s side, fingers lightly running along her forehead before brushing her crimson hair gently behind her ear. [color=0a6d6b]"I never thought to mention it,"[/color] Sylas admitted quietly. While manipulation and deception were his trade, it became very apparent that honesty always bled through in her presence, even when he tried to mask it. He would have shared if it crossed his mind or he thought she’d want to know, but considering everyone at camp was from all around the world… It often slipped his mind. [color=0a6d6b]"I do enjoy surprising you,"[/color] he confessed with a slightly devious and guilty smile, something that looked a bit more normal than the authentic unguarded smile that lived there before. [color=0a6d6b]"But if there is something you want to know,"[/color] his hand settled upon her upper arm, [color=0a6d6b]"you just have to ask."[/color]

She gnawed on her lip, biting down her excitement and impulsive mind that immediately buzzed with a hundred questions. Sylas should’ve known better…Or he knew exactly what effect his words would have on her. She twisted her fingers lightly in his black shirt again. [color=ffc300]"And you’ll be honest and forthcoming?"[/color] She gave him a knowing look. [color=ffc300]"Or are there favors attached per question?"[/color] Evelyn teased, smirking lightly at her own taunt as she leaned nearer. 

Sylas hummed quietly, slipping his hand beneath his head to prop it up slightly. [color=0a6d6b]"I’ve never lied to you,"[/color] he responded quietly, holding her gaze. It was the truth, a rare side of him that he had only exposed for her. He meant it when he said if she asked he’d tell and while he knew she was teasing there was a tightness that constricted in his chest when she mentioned favors. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought that she half expected that, or that there was a part of him that would require compensation—a truth for a truth—if it was anyone but her.

But to pay him credit, she didn’t just see him that way. As the man that gave things at a price. Her hand came up, cupping his neck gently, eyes dipping to his lips. He was devious, he was sly, but she also saw his sweet side. She kissed him softly then, unhurried, an assurance and apology in one lingering touch. [color=ffc300]"Mmm, no,"[/color] she said lowly, invalidating her poor joke. [color=ffc300]"Thank you,"[/color] she murmured on his lips more sincerely.

She drew back enough to meet his eyes. [color=ffc300]"How do you say ‘thank you’ in Russian?"[/color] She smiled.

To his own surprise, there was a small, almost missable smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as she spoke softly against his lips. Sylas slowly opened his eyes to meet her gaze, even letting out a single low chuckle at her question. [color=0a6d6b]"[i]Spa-see-bah,[/i]"[/color] he replied, his voice deep and husky as it slipped into a whisper from her closeness. 

She tried to repeat it back to him, pausing mid pronunciation when it didn’t sound like his and started again. [color=ffc300]"Spasiba."[/color] She searched Sylas’s expression to measure how off it sounded or what she might’ve really uttered to him, an amused smile dancing on her lips as she tried to harness her very freshly acquired knowledge. 

Sylas’s hand that rested upon her arm slowly lifted until the tip of his thumb ran along her bottom lip before resting in the soft dip at the corner of her smile. He studied the delight, burning brightly along her face as if for the first time in his presence her words and thoughts weren’t guarded and measured. She simply existed beside him in his bed in her natural form. Something about that stirred something in his chest more violently than it had in her presence before. It stole his thoughts and words for longer than he cared to admit. He simply remained silent and content as he watched her lips fumble clumsily around the Russian word. 

It took him a moment to recognize the unspoken question behind her eyes, seeking validation or correction. He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to lift from her mouth to her eyes as he wet his lips. [color=0a6d6b]"Close enough,"[/color] he whispered beneath a quiet, entertained chuckle of his own.

She caught his eyes lingering on her lips in a way that made her stomach flip. Combined with his easy smile and chuckle, the moment almost felt surreal, shining another light on a rare glimpse of Sylas that only she was privy to. No snake or predator visible under a cold gaze, tense jaw or carefully selected words. Part of her wanted to shake off the silly fluttery sensation but another part, the larger part, simply let herself absorb it, to find it didn’t subside as simply as it came. 


Evelyn shifted her head slightly to place a kiss on his thumb. Her eyes searched his, waiting…expecting…hoping he felt this new charge between them too. Something made without guards and walls and reluctance but closeness…connection. She found herself leaning in again, her destination his lips but paused, hovering a breath away from them, denying herself contact. [color=ffc300]"Sylas,"[/color] she whispered instead, [color=ffc300]"do you think I’m too indulgent with you?"[/color] A small smile danced on her lips.

Sylas’s thumb hovered beside her lips, studying the softness of the kiss like he didn't quite know how to accept it. Before his thoughts could dwell on it long enough to detangle the confusing knot of emotions, she was drawing closer. His fingers curled around the base of her skull, snaking their way through her hair as his mouth gravitated towards hers, attracted by a magnetism he no longer fought against but embraced. Just as his eyes began to lull shut, awaiting the warmth of her kiss, he was instead met with the warmth of her breath ghosting across his lips. Evelyn’s smile pulled a quiet, unbidden chuckle from him, even though he struggled to refrain long enough for her to finish her ridiculous question. 

Something darker, and more devious, flashed behind his eyes. It wasn’t anger or arrogance, but challenging and needing in a way he had never been allowed to be around her before. His hand unknotted itself from her hand and ran down her arm with a slow, patient sort of temptation. With a gentle dominance, his arm curled around Evelyn's waist while he trailed the tip of his nose along her cheek until his mouth lingered beside her ear. [color=0a6d6b]"No more than I am,"[/color] he whispered in response. Then in a swift move, he rolled them both until he was on top of her, hands braced against the mattress on either side of her head as his waist slowly slotted between her thighs. 

[color=0a6d6b]"I will indulge you as much as you wish."[/color] With every word Sylas’s voice dipped lower, more rough and raw as his hand ran down the bed alongside her body, temptingly close without ever touching. His hand stopped beside her hip, seizing it in a tender but possessive grasp. The tips of his fingers pressed hungrily into the softness of her flesh as his hand trailed along her thigh. He gently eased and guided her leg to bracket his waist, fingers hooking around the bend in her knee as his weight settled upon her. His gaze remained fixed on her, taking in the startled expression in her eyes, the erratic rise and fall of her chest with every breath, and the gentle quiver of anticipation in her bottom lip that he felt course through her body beneath him. But he did not close the distance. He remained just close enough their lips could almost touch with every movement as the warmth of his breath bloomed along her flushed skin. 

She squirmed beneath him gently, not to escape him or move position, but to test his grip and the control he desired over her. From a flex of his fingers in her skin to stay put or lifting his weight slightly to allow her to move more freely, it made a difference. Not that Evelyn minded either way, his weight was delicious on her. She just didn’t want him to tease and exploit her want for him too much.

She swallowed heavily, her eyes searching between his, willing him to close what distance remained. But why should she deny the pull she felt and what she wanted? He had said he wanted to be hers. Her eyes flickered to his lips again—the only prewarning he got before she leant up suddenly catching his mouth with hers. The pressure was initially firm and clumsy in her haste, even her legs tensed and squeezed his waist slightly, but within seconds she softened as it settled over her that she had him. 

She bit his bottom lip gently for good measure, slowly releasing and allowed her head to sink back into the pillows.  

At first Sylas couldn't help the deep chuckle the rumbled behind their locked lips. She was never one to shy away from what she wanted, but the greedy fervor that came rushed and clumsy was entertaining, if not endearing in its own way. He had intended to make a playful comment, something goading and teasing when they parted for air, but then she seized his bottom lip between her teeth like a predator catching prey. It drew a rough, guttural growl from him, devious and feral like a tempted beast. He gathered both of her hands, pinning them in place over her head against the pillow with his right hand, while his left took her jaw gently into his grasp. The tip of his thumb trailed along her bottom lip as his breathing became more erratic, his chest rising and falling with every soft pant. 

[color=0a6d6b]"[i]Careful,[/i]"[/color] he mused while holding her gaze. [color=0a6d6b]"You're playing with fire."[/color] His grip around her wrists tightened, only a fraction, just slight enough to emphasize his words, remaining in control but still gentle. 

Another sharp thrill shot through her when he pinned her hands above her head. [color=ffc300]"I know."[/color] She was surprised at the ease in which she responded and acknowledged what she was doing, even as her chest brushed his with her own heavy breaths  [color=ffc300][i]Any time I enter your cabin, your proximity, it turns into playing with fire.[/i][/color] Granted, she had never been as openly provoking before. [color=ffc300]"I’m only capitalizing while I’ve got you to myself,"[/color] she added, quieter.

Then, she leant up again, restrained and restricted in her movement this time but testing again. Testing if he’d allow her to reach his lips once more or rob her, arching up into him.

His smile grew temptingly playful, teasing just close enough that the tip of his nose brushed hers as she squirmed. Their lips never touched, only the warmth of his breath caressed her skin, taunting and out of reach. [color=0a6d6b]"[i]So impatient…[/i]"[/color] Sylas mused as his left hand released her jaw. His touch trailed down her neck, along the orange knit of her turtle neck, until it settled along the waistband of her pants. The tip of his finger followed the hem of the black denim until he found the metal button and unfastened it with a smooth deftness. [color=0a6d6b]"We have all evening."[/color] His gaze lifted to meet hers as his fingers seized the pull of her zipper and began inching it down slowly. [color=0a6d6b]"I intend on taking my time."[/color] Then, and [i]only[/i] then, Sylas conceded to her desires and leaned down, closing the distance between them until their lips met. His hand that was wrapped around her wrists didn’t release their hold, but shifted until his palm ran along hers and their fingers intertwined. 

For the first time since they met, they didn’t give into each other like a crime of passion, stolen in the heat of anger and other uglier emotions. It was a choice born of nothing beyond the desire to be closer. Their touches were tender, hungry, and intentional as the rest of the day vanished somewhere beneath soft sheets and heavy breaths.

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