Chapter 1 - White wine

Ellie had realized long ago that Lucian took some sick pleasure in her emotional discomfort with his wealth. He watched her for the twinge of guilt from the parties and vacations and lavish meals he would treat her to, and though he was always quick to reassure her with a smile, she knew he enjoyed her hesitation.

With time, though, the hesitation had lessened. At the parties of socialites that made more money in a day than he used to in a year she had grown used to being almost doted on by Upper East Side wives and smiling service staff. Lucian was known and liked, and nearly everyone seemed to respect that Ellie very much belonged to him and was to be treated with respect and extra dessert.

Regardless of whether she had ever originally intended to “get used” to this [his words], Lucian-- fucking Lucian, with the slow sweet toxins of his praise and his strangely endearing protectiveness-- certainly made it all that much easier.

Late at night in her boyfriend’s apartment she was the picture of some gorgeous hedonic dream: wrapped in a soft robe with her long pale legs sprawled across the bed, belly full of white wine and newly-illegal seafood and rich chocolate mousse, toes curled just anticipating the ways she knew Lucian would touch her.

Tonight, somehow even more than she craved the warmth of her boyfriend’s arms around her, she craved the smooth champagne and the softness of his pillows and the way Lucian’s sheets felt against her body… the low hum of the air conditioning and the cool dry air in the penthouse some thirty-five degrees cooler than the sweltering summer heat outside. Newark was hell on the ground. Out there, the cloying humidity had pinned her to the streets between her part-time job and the glowing advertisements for soda and sleeping pills.

When she heard Lucian’s keys in the door, she pulled the sheets coyly over her chest. Lucian had only just shed his suit jacket before they darkened the door of the bedroom where Ellie was curled up under the sheets. The glass that held the mousse she had been eating was resting on the nightstand, nearly licked clean, the spoon leaned against the inside.

Lucian loosened his tie as he walked over to Ellie and glanced at the empty glass.

“It’s good to see you helped yourself to dessert.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, and it took her a moment too long to formulate an answer just from the touch of Lucian’s voice against something in her that had wanted it very badly.

“More than I should have,” Ellie teased, shifting back to sit up just a little more against the soft headboard.

She let the sheets fall to her lap, freeing her chest to the cold of the bedroom.

“Did you?” Lucian answered.

But now that he was beside her, he didn’t wait for an answer before kissing her hungrily, taking the back of her head in one hand and her hip in the other. Ellie moaned softly, and Lucian smiled at her when they pulled apart.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

“Is it pathetic if I say I have?” Ellie answered.

This almost got a laugh out of Lucian, who was unbuckling his belt.

“You left the macarons from Casey’s gift in the fridge yesterday,” Ellie started, “and you shouldn’t have…”

Lucian, now pantsless and in his undershirt, climbed into bed with her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“...I ate all of them even though I knew they were for you.” Ellie murmured, feeling the warmth of Lucian’s chest pressed against her back.

“I can’t imagine you think I mind.”

Ellie’s cheeks colored, but she said nothing.

“But maybe I’m surprised you’ve let your sweet tooth get so out of control.”

It was dark and low and soft; Lucian had long since learned the tone in which Ellie swallowed the side effects of his teasing the most easily. She felt it already-- at first it was warm like a little bit of a buzz, and she pictured Lucian working his way into her veins to leave her soft and inarticulate and pliable.

She had gotten the eye-chip months back, on Lucian’s dime and at his request; it was so odd to think that the exact reason she had refused it almost a year ago was precisely the reason she had found herself more and more interested in it the longer she spent with him.

It had almost become cleansing, the way Lucian liked to leave her mind empty before she fell asleep; it was always harder to sleep on the nights when Lucian was away on business, and the white noise and long loop of cricket sounds could not replace the feeling of her boyfriend’s arms around her and the blissful release that came with finally not thinking enough to worry about anything at all.

“You’ve let yourself go a little,” Lucian murmured, arm wrapped around Ellie’s soft belly while he pressed himself against her ass.

He leaned closer against Ellie’s ear.

“Getting fat up here with me.”

Ellie squirmed with embarrassment at his words. She was sure she had a response, but in the moment she had taken to think, her desire to answer him had dissolved sweet and chalky under her tongue. There was something discomforting about the hazy remnants of the knowledge that yes, Lucian had been the one to reach in and dissolve it, but she only felt this as a thin residue over her remaining thoughts.

Lucian’s hand drifted down to touch her.

“Lucian--” Ellie managed, wiggling against him.

He kissed the back of her neck and tightened the arm wrapped around her.

No rough edges, that was the heart of it: her sensitivity to all of the pleasant sensations was amplified and smoothed and rounded and this left very little space for anything else to go through her head; it was heavy in the way that a warm heavy blanket was, and the actual content of whatever he was saying was lost on her very soon after.

“Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Lucian purred.

Ellie made a small pathetic sound of acknowledgement. It was hard to find the words to answer him in this state.

“It feels good,” she mumbled, pushing her hips up against his hand.

"You expect me to do everything for you?" Lucian teased.

“Because you will,” Ellie managed softly.