The Cab
Villanelle is shading the contours of Eve’s hips when Eve asks her.
“Have you been in love before?”
She stops, eyes fixed on the strokes of graphite.
Villanelle knows that she would have to tell Eve about Anna at some point. She is too smart and curious for anything in Villanelle’s past to have gone untouched. It’s not that Villanelle doesn’t want to tell her - she does - but there is a certain feeling of anxiety that comes with talking about Anna. And, ultimately, the person that Villanelle was before she met Eve.
But Eve deserves to know. She deserves to know every part of her, considering she’s come back, even the bits of her that are ugly.
“I used to think so,” Villanelle begins, eyes trained on the faint lines she’s begun to trace along pencil-Eve’s parted legs.
“There was a woman, my teacher. She was kind to me, she made me feel special.”
Eve nods slightly, saying nothing, and her face impassive.
Villanelle takes a shaky breath.
“I know now that it wasn’t right, doing what we did. She was married, she had a husband and a house, normal things. I wanted to be like that, and I thought that maybe I could have it with her.”
Eve’s lack of reaction to the logistics of her affair are both comforting yet concerning, so Villanelle pushes on, knowing that whatever her reaction turns out to be, it is better to be honest than deceitful.
“Her husband found out. It was very bad. He-, well, found us together, one afternoon.”
Eve winces.
“He had come back from the office early, and when he found us he began shouting, throwing anything he could find.”
She stops sketching, places her pencil down. It's now or never.
“I did something bad, Eve.”
Eve’s eyes widen.
“Oh my god, did you kill him?” she whispers.
“No, of course not.”
There is a pause.
“I might’ve tried to, though.”
The other shoe has dropped.
She can’t look at Eve. She can’t. Not when there is even the slightest chance that Eve is going to look at her like she’s a monster, a psychopath. Not like how Anna did when she returned to the arms of her husband and called the Russian authorities on her without a second thought.
“Anna called the police, Eve. It’s why I left Russia, it’s why I can’t go back, it’s why I owe Konstantin. He let me hide out with him while I was crossing the border into Romania, he gave me food and shelter, and even he doesn’t know that I actually triedto-”
A thick feeling rises into her throat, cutting her off.
“I know I am not a good person, Eve. I know that I should not have done those things with her, I should not have done that to her husband, I should not have run-”
“How old were you?” Eve interrupts.
Her voice is steely calm, and Villanelle can’t help but feel the tiniest bit confused at the question.
“I don’t really see why-”
“Villanelle.”
Honesty, she remembers.
“...I was sixteen.”
She hears Eve gasp softly. Jesus, she has disappointed her. Villanelle normally would not care, but Eve is special, she loves her, and to disappoint her would mean that Eve will not love her back anymore, and-
“You were only a child.”
Villanelle’s brain stops. She looks from her sketch to finally meet Eve’s eyes, and to her heart’s amazement, there is nothing angry there. Eve’s face is soft, her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in what looks like concern, her lips parted and oh, so kissable.
“I knew what I was doing, Eve,” she confesses softly. Villanelle is not a victim, and she will not pretend to be one.
“So did she,” Eve fires back easily.
Damn her.
“You were a child, and she knew that. Villanelle, she was your teacher, for God’s sake. She was supposed to be there to protect you, not use you. Any normal person wouldn’t carry on an affair with their student,” she continues.
“As for the husband, well. You have suffered more than enough, and have paid your price.”
Eve pauses, worries her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Do you still love her?” she asks softly.
Villanelle scoffs slightly under her breath.
“No. I don’t. In fact, I doubt that anything we had was love in the first place. She still went back to her husband, she was the one who put the call in to the Militsiya. She said I was a monster, that she didn’t want my black heart, that I had seduced her.”
A tear escapes the corner of her eye, and lands on her hand.
She hates it.
Villanelle hears a rustling, soft footsteps, and then feels two arms pulling her in.
Eve smells like coffee and coconuts, and is oh, so warm it almost hurts, as Villanelle releases a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding into the juncture between Eve’s collarbone and neck. Soft lips press against her forehead, and Villanelle knows she doesn’t deserve this, she’s done too much, and Eve should be anywhere but here.
“I think we all have monsters inside of us,” Eve tells her softly, “Some people are just better at hiding them than others.”
Villanelle laughs wetly.
“I think my monster encourages your monster.”
“I think I wanted it to,” Eve replies, and Villanelle feels her smile against her hair.
Eve pulls away gently, and looks deep into Villanelle’s eyes.
“Promise you won’t do that with me? No matter what happens?”
Villanelle could never.
“Promise.”
~~~
“It’s finished.”
Eve’s head shoots up.
“Really?”
In all honesty, Villanelle’s story about her teacher had shaken Eve to her core. It was jarring to know that she had been used at such a young age, by her teacher no less, and it only served to reinforce what Eve already suspected about her past.
Did Eve condone what Villanelle had done in regards to the husband? Of course not. But Eve is also smart enough to know that Villanelle is not the same angry, scorned teenager of her youth.
She could tell by the way Villanelle had refused to meet her gaze that she was ashamed, terrified even, that she actually cared about what Eve thought of her. If anything, that meant more than the darker parts of Villanelle’s past.
And, if she was being honest, she knew it should bother her more.
But it just didn’t.
Eve’s standards are strange, to be sure.
Villanelle nods, a small smile gracing her face.
“Do you want to see?” she asks tentatively.
“Is that even a question?” Eve grins, quickly sitting up off the couch and padding over to where Villanelle sits, unabashedly placing herself in the Russian’s lap. Villanelle grabs her legs, swinging them over the side of the armchair so Eve can face her properly, as Eve wraps her arms around robust shoulders.
She smoothes her hands under the open collar of Villanelle’s shirt, enjoying the distinct feeling of goosebumps rising under her fingertips. Villanelle grasps her thigh, playfully biting at the corner of her jaw, grinning as Eve laughs.
“Alright tiger, show me your piece,” Eve chuckles.
Villanelle leans backwards, reaching to grasp the paper in her careful hand. She shifts forward, drawing held safely by its corner so Eve can finally see.
It’s beautiful.
Villanelle has perfectly captured her features, every single one of her curls painstakingly accounted for, and her form cemented in graphite. She looks at herself, and wonders if that is really what she looks like, if in real life she actually looks that confident, that poised. Eve is open-mouthed, shocked, and reverently traces the lines of her own face.
Villanelle nuzzles into the crook of her neck, asking softly,
“Did I do a good job, Miss?”
Eve sets the paper on the table, and turns to face her.
“A good job? Villanelle, it’s amazing, do I really look like that?”
Villanelle gives her a puzzled look.
“Of course you do, Eve. What do you think I am, a surrealist? I draw from what I see,” she says, brushing a curl behind Eve’s ear. “And I see you.”
The thing is, she does. Villanelle sees Eve in the ways that no one had bothered to, sees the parts of her that Eve tries to keep hidden. She is never judgemental, always understanding, and matches her like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
With that thought, she presses the gentlest of kisses to Villanelle’s lips. Villanelle hums happily into it, her hands drifting upwards to bury themselves in Eve’s hair. Eve’s still naked, exposed, but never before has she felt so safe.
“I think you deserve a reward, Miss Astankova,” she says into Villanelle’s mouth, feeling strong fingers grip the slightest bit harder into her hair. Eve presses open-mouthed kisses down Villanelle’s cheek, the angle of her jaw, and is just about to lay one over her pulse point when a harsh, rattling knock at the door sends her flying off Villanelle’s lap.
Villanelle shoots up from the armchair without a single word, snatching a loose dress from her closet and helping her into it. It’s a plain blue thing, thankfully without a corset, and Villanelle’s quick fingers lace up the back of it without stumbling once, calm in spite of the situation.
“Who is that?” she whispers into Eve’s ear, tying the back of the dress as there is another deafening knock.
“I think it’s Niko’s valet, Frank,” Eve whispers back, gratefully accepting Villanelle’s thick overcoat over her dress. The doorknob rattles urgently, and Eve feels her heart sail into her throat. Frank is the worst, and she already knows he will kick down the door if they wait much longer.
Eve guides Villanelle to the back entrance, hoping silently that they can slip past Frank without him noticing. They tiptoe down the corridor, Villanelle in front of Eve, when Eve’s foot lands on a creaky piece of wood.
Shit.
Frank turns his big, stupid head, and sees them.
“Run!” Eve yells, and within the span of a second she and Villanelle are racing down the hall, with Frank pursuing angrily behind them. Eve’s feet are still bare, but it actually works to her advantage, not having some ostentatious heels slowing her down. Villanelle reaches behind her to grasp Eve’s hand in hers, and suddenly turns a corner that sends the hall spinning.
It’s quite ridiculous, actually, Eve thinks. Them sprinting from hall to hall away from Frank, who is currently huffing and puffing in a feeble attempt to match their pace. It makes Eve giggle stupidly, which in turn sets Villanelle off into a cascade of laughter as they skid into the main hall.
They’re clutching each other, quickly scrambling in such a childish way that it makes Eve giddy, as they run into the elevator and yell at the operator to take them down to E Deck. The cage door shuts exactly as Frank reaches them.
“Damn you!” he screams.
Eve gives him the finger as Villanelle cackles happily behind her.
They soon arrive on E Deck, panting and grinning like idiots as they exit the elevator. Their mirth is short lived as Eve spots Frank running down the stairs through the circular window of the door, and they take off once more, taking a sharp left and entering a random maintenance room.
Frank bangs on the door, muffled curses meeting their ears as Villanelle promptly locks the doorknob.
It’s loud where they are, uncomfortably so as the sounds of steam and clanking make their way to Eve’s ears.
“What now?!” she shouts to Villanelle, who is wincing and covering her ears.
“What?” Villanelle shouts back, smiling as her eyes drift to what looks a lot like a manhole in the floor.
“Absolutely not!” Eve protests, already knowing exactly what is running through Villanelle’s brain.
“Come on, Eve! I’ll even help you down!” she yells back, already opening the hatch and climbing down into the hole.
Frank rattles the doorknob, and Eve figures her options are limited.
She climbs down the ladder attached to the manhole, and ultimately finds herself in the boiler room of all places, filled with sweating, charcoal covered workers and a distinct fiery heat. The room glows orange with the flames from the boilers, and Eve thinks for a moment that perhaps this is what hell is like.
Villanelle easily catches her when she hops off the end of the ladder, and if it was hot on climbing into the room, it’s scorching on the ground. They run along the sides of the boilers, ignoring several calls for them to stop, that they can’t be down here, blah, blah, blah, Eve thinks.
It should be concerning how she does not give a single fuck anymore.
They run into the store hold, filled with endless piles of luggage, furniture, and even a whole automobile. Villanelle quickly snags a wooden chair and props it under the doorknob, locking it for good measure as Eve surveys the room.
She approaches the automobile, takes in its pristine shine before climbing into the backseat. It’s all soft leather and suede, the pinnacle of luxury, and Eve wants nothing more than to sink into its pillowed seats until she dies.
Villanelle quickly jumps into the front seat, honking happily on the horn.
“Where to, Miss?” she asks in a flawless cockney accent.
She really is full of surprises.
Eve grins, throwing her arms around Villanelle’s shoulders through the cab’s open window, her cheek pressing softly against the Russian’s.
“To the stars,” she whispers in Villanelle’s ear.
Villanelle lets out a surprised squeak as Eve drags her back through the window, landing softly into the seat. She laughs, pushing her blonde locks back as she pulls Eve into her lap, her thighs straddling Villanelle’s hips.
Their laughter slowly subsides, replaced now with two dazed pairs of eyes, and hot, heavy breathing between them.
The intention is there.
Now, it’s up to one of them to make the move.
Eve is tired of waiting, if she’s being honest. For days now, she has been waiting for this god-forsaken woman to just take what she wants, and if Eve literally has to wave it in Villanelle’s face, she will.
So she presses down into Villanelle’s lap, and captures her soft moan with her lips.
Villanelle catches on very quickly.
Her hands are everywhere, running along her sides, gripping her hair- oh lord- squeezing her ass. Eve licks into Villanelle’s mouth, moaning as Villanelle softly bites her tongue in between her teeth. She runs her hands up Villanelle’s chest, briefly cupping her breasts into her hands as she finds warm skin exposed by the collar of her shirt.
Villanelle gasps into the kiss, her shoulders shuddering as Eve works haphazardly to unbutton her linen shirt. She soon catches on that Eve might need some help with her task, so she drops her hands from Eve’s hips and detaches the last of the buttons.
Eve smiles against Villanelle’s lips, pushing the offending article of clothing off her shoulders and throwing it to the floor of the cab. Villanelle’s shoulders and arms are something to behold, all lean muscle and tanned skin, as Eve takes her time running her palms along them. She grinds shamelessly into Villanelle’s torso as she feels Villanelle cup her cheek and plant hot, searing kisses along the length of her neck.
“Vill- baby, please,” she whimpers, her hands burying themselves into golden hair.
She feels Villanelle smirk into her neck.
“I like that.”
“Like what?”
“What you called me - baby? I like that,” Villanelle says, her hands moving behind Eve’s back to fiddle with the laces of her dress. Eve doesn’t respond, instead opting to arch into the strong palms currently unlacing her. Villanelle’s fingertips sear into her, tracing blazing trails down every inch of skin that’s exposed. She’s a wildfire, hot and dangerous, and Eve lets herself be consumed.
Villanelle pushes the dress off her shoulders, palms smoothing over Eve’s breasts, her clavicle. Eve gasps, feeling Villanelle’s fingers push the dress down her torso, letting it bunch together around her hips. The air around them is hot and steamy, most likely due to the boiler room behind the door, and Eve feels her skin perspirate.
Normally, she would have excused herself, found a fan or perhaps enlist Elena to put her hair into a style that would keep it off her neck. Now, all Eve can think about is the feeling of Villanelle’s tongue working across her breasts, taking a nipple into her mouth.
Eve moans, high and needy as Villanelle pinches it between her teeth, her hand moving up to take the other between her fingers. She rolls it, manipulates it until Eve is pushing her chest into Villanelle’s mouth and hand, a torrage of whimpers and pleas escaping her throat.
It’s not enough, it’s so fucking good, but not enough, and almost as if Villanelle could read her hazy-mind, she trails her hand down Eve’s stomach, before slowly turning her wrist and cupping her through her soaked underwear.
Fuck.
Villanelle groans into Eve’s skin, her eyebrows scrunching together as her mouth pauses in it’s assault on Eve’s breasts. Something must fizzle in her brain next, because Eve suddenly is being lifted by the thighs and placed horizontally on the seat, Villanelle bracing herself on the window ledge with her arm.
She’s hovering over Eve, her lips swollen and eyes dark, and the sight sends heat straight to Eve’s core. Eve leans up, reconnecting their lips as she wraps her arms around Villanelle’s back. A hand sneaks it’s way to her underwear, toying with the upper edge of it as if Villanelle were asking for permission.
“Please,” Eve whimpers.
Villanelle doesn’t waste anymore time.
The remnants of her dress and underwear are swiftly pulled off her legs, leaving Eve completely bare and exposed in the sweltering heat. Villanelle quickly covers her body with her own, swallowing Eve’s moan as she pushes two long fingers into Eve’s sopping cunt.
Finally.
She feels so full, deliciously stretched as Villanelle sets a brutal pace, fingers pumping inside her and producing the most obscene, wet sounds that have ever reached Eve’s ears. She’s relentless, rolling her hips in time with Villanelle’s thrusts, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
Villanelle gasps desperately into Eve’s lips, her eyes squeezing shut as Eve marks a path down her back with her nails, moving back upwards to sink her nails into the warm muscle of her shoulders. Instead of wincing, or recoiling in pain, Villanelle works harder into her, her forearm flexing powerfully as Eve cries in pleasure.
Eve presses into Villanelle, pressure growing exponentially between her thighs. She groans when Villanelle curls her fingers, deep and slick inside her. She knows she’s close, painfully so, but it’s almost as if she needs something else to just push her over the edge.
Villanelle pants above her, a thin sheen of sweat coating her forehead and shoulders as she fucks into Eve. It’s hot, dirty in her movements, as Eve feels herself squeeze around Villanelle’s fingers. When she presses her thumb into Eve’s throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles into her, she shamelessly shouts her name into the fiery space between them.
Just when Eve thought she was getting used to the way that Villanelle fucks her, the moment finally comes when Villanelle takes the hand that was bracing herself on the window ledge, and wraps it around Eve’s neck.
The breath Eve had been taking in is suddenly cut off, but instead of panicking like any sane person, her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she pushes harder into Villanelle’s palm. The pressure from her hand is intense, powerful, and it’s the hottest fucking thing Eve has experienced in her 37 years of life, and Villanelle grins devilishly when she gasps a ragged ‘fuck,’ and moves her hips harder into Villanelle’s fingers still buried inside her.
The edges of Eve’s vision are blurry, and she swears she’s starting to see small stars when Villanelle expertly releases Eve’s throat. The heat that she’s been holding floods her core, hot and blinding, and Eve is coming, and it’s everything as Villanelle fucks her through her orgasm.
She slows as Eve comes back to herself, her fingers still inside her as she presses tender kisses to her chest, her cheeks, her lips. Eve lazily opens her eyes, her breath coming in soft puffs as she finally looks at Villanelle properly. Villanelle slowly removes her fingers, and grins as Eve gasps at the sudden feeling of emptiness.
Her hair is disheveled from Eve’s hands, and she’s sweating properly now, the heat from the boilers fogging up the windows of the cab. Eve can see the beginnings of where she had scratched down Villanelle’s back on her shoulders, and leans up to press her lips over it, soothing its bite.
She feels Villanelle exhale softly, her forehead resting on Eve’s shoulder as her hands trace patterns over her sides.
Eve sighs, her eyes beginning to fall shut as she slowly comes to the realization she’s barely touched her lover. The hot feeling between her legs reignites, and with that in the back of her mind, she trails her lips over Villanelle’s shoulders, the column of her throat, until she’s planting hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck.
Villanelle’s breath hitches, stutters into a soft whimper as the hands at Eve’s sides tighten and flex. She’s tense, all coiled muscle and stiff limbs, and all Eve wants to do is to make her let go.
“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” she whispers, her lips millimeters from Villanelle’s ear, before she slowly takes her earlobe between her teeth. Villanelle hisses, her head lolling back slightly as she presses deeper into Eve’s hips.
“Please, Eve,” Villanelle whispers.
“Are you going to be good for me?” Eve purrs.
There’s a certain kind of power in this, a satisfaction that’s intoxicating.
“Yes.”
Eve is slightly out of her element, however. She’s never been with a woman, and there is an underlying nervousness to the affair that is threatening to shatter her carefully crafted aura of dominance.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she tells Villanelle, moving back to look her in the eyes.
“Eve,” Villanelle breathes. “I am close already, you could kiss me now, and I might-”
Eve cuts her off with a hand shoving into Villanelle’s trousers.
Villanelle wasn’t lying.
There might as well be an ocean between Villanelle’s legs, as Eve drags her fingers over soaked cotton. Any trace of nervousness vanishes from Eve’s brain, as she pushes Villanelle’s underwear to the side, only slightly dipping into her, teasing her entrance as Villanelle whimpers and pulls at Eve’s hair.
“All this for me?” Eve murmurs, pushing Villanelle backwards so they are in a reversal of their positions, Eve hovering over Villanelle. She removes her trousers along with her underwear quickly, the fabric joining the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor of the cab.
In another life, Eve might’ve taken her time. Teased, played with Villanelle like a cat might play with a ball of yarn. But right now, after the hellscape that has been her life for years now, Eve decides to just indulge for one.
She presses her mouth to Villanelle’s core, and devours.
Her hands fly to Eve’s hair, quickly tangling in her curls as a guttural moan escapes her mouth. She pants, arching into Eve’s mouth whose chin is already covered with slick wetness. Villanelle tastes like a summer’s night - sweet and bold - and Eve is drunk off her. She moves her tongue through drenched folds, drags it flat along Villanelle’s clit, and smiles into her when Villanelle gasps.
“Eve, please more- fuck,” Villanelle moans as Eve presses her fingers into her.
Her walls instantly clench tight around Eve’s fingers, her cunt coating them easily. Villanelle is relentless, her back constricting like a bow, her free hand flying upwards to slam against the window of the cab, leaving a streaky handprint in its wake.
Eve pumps into her, her wrist cramping slightly, but she’ll be damned if she stops now. Villanelle’s breasts bounce with every thrust of her arm, the sight almost entrancing as Eve curls and works her fingers. She’s loud, too. She moans, groans, even yells in pleasure when Eve’s thumb brushes her sensitive clit. It’s music to Eve’s ears, and all she wants is to pull even more sounds from Villanelle’s filthy mouth.
So Eve presses forward, and wraps her lips around Villanelle’s clit, and sucks.
It’s all it takes.
Villanelle’s hips stutter, her mouth freezing in a perfect ‘o’ as her eyes squeeze shut. Her hands are painfully buried in Eve’s hair, her thighs bracketing Eve’s head before she collapses in a sex-hazed heap.
Her breathing is hard, labored, and where her face was constricted before, it is soft now. She looks young, at ease, and it makes Eve wonder if she has ever really known true peace before. Villanelle’s eyes flutter open, and Eve smiles before leaning down to plant a soft kiss to her lips.
“Eve?” she asks softly.
“Hmm?”
“Can you hold me for a while?”
It’s such a hopeful, tentative question that it threatens to break Eve’s heart in two.
She says nothing, only nods as they rearrange themselves in the close space, Eve lying on the seat, with Villanelle cuddled close, her head resting gently on her chest. Eve cards her fingers through Villanelle’s hair, smiling softly when the Russian nuzzles into her collarbone.
It’s then that Eve decides to tell her.