#your children WILL be exposed to my suddenly VERY alternative seeming lifestyle

[ayyponine]

dyke! at the family bbq

[selenelavellan]

Alternate Modern AU, Part 3

Part One     Part Two

Dirthamen and Mythal are @feynites

It's a short walk back to her apartment.

But one better made with company, she thinks.

Dirthamen (sweet, deceptively naive given his sense for business, Dirthamen) keeps one hand hovering behind her the whole way. As though genuinely concerned she might be so inebriated as to suddenly fall backwards, but too polite to actually touch her unless absolutely necessary.

It is surprisingly endearing.

He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other during the elevator ride, a soft classical song playing through the old speaker system. The doors ding as they slide open to her floor, and Selene steps out to unlock her door; the only one actually on this floor, Dirthamen realizes as he looks up and down the hallway.

“Are you staying at a hotel?” Selene asks as she walks into her apartment, expecting him to follow. “I can call you a car, or send someone to pick up your luggage...”She trails off as he freezes in her entryway, eyes roaming over her home.

She supposes it can be a bit...much.

Solid oak covers most of her walls; bookshelves custom built to take advantage of every inch of space afforded to her by her raised ceilings and stuffed full of books in every language she's managed to learn. Cove style lighting gives the living room a soft white glow, and the only wall not attached to her open kitchen (which she still needs to remodel, come to think of it) or covered in books is made entirely of windows, stretching from ceiling to floor and giving her an expansive (and expensive) view of the city.

There is a long, round couch in the center of the room, covered in soft blankets and pillows and surrounding a coffee table made from the same oak as her bookshelves. It's still littered with spare phone batteries she needs to charge and a few other documents that still need to be signed outside of the view of security cameras.

“Make yourself comfortable,” She instructs, pulling two water bottles out of her refrigerator along with a tupperware filled with pre-washed grapes. “I'd ask you to take off your shoes, but you don't seem to be wearing any.”

He nods, slowly making his way over the couch.

“Have you read all of these?” He asks, eyes scanning over her private library.

“I'm still working through parts of the East wall,” She admits, handing him one of the bottled waters. “And many of the harder to find and out of immediate reach books are too old to actually handle. But for the most part, yes.”

“That is...quite a lot.”

“I suppose,” she shrugs, quickly stacking the loose papers from her coffee table and stuffing them into a nearby empty folder. “They are time well spent. You didn’t answer my question earlier; would you like me to call you a car, or do you have luggage I should send for in a hotel somewhere?”

“I do not have a hotel,” He informs her. “I was expecting to be making the journey home by now.”

“Well, if you'd like to simply sign a yes...”

He gives her a wry look.

“Worth a shot,” She laughs. “You can stay in the spare room then.”

“I do not wish to be any trouble.”

“It's no trouble. Though it has been out of use for some time, I may need to change the sheets.”

Dirthamen nods, clearly feeling awkward. “Since your husband died...?”

Selene blinks, and then lets out a small laugh. “No, my husband never stayed here. There was a house we owned out near Ostwick where he spent most of his time. I'd visit frequently since trade in the area is good, but this is my home, and my space. My sisters used to come by for sleepovers when my parents were traveling, and Des-you met him earlier, my assistant- used to use it before I gave him one of the apartments downstairs.”

“You own more than one apartment in this building?”

“I own the building,” Selene hums. “Well, the company does. We rent out to high-level employees, sometimes the accountants and their families during tax season. No need to worry about our workers getting stuck in traffic, and if there's an emergency or I need to reach someone, I can just knock on their door.”

“That is very...”

“Practical.”

“I was going to say intrusive.”

Selene pops a grape from the tupperware into her mouth. “I haven't had complaints so far. We have an in-house daycare for their children, a security guard to covertly watch the bus stop, and my father always fills the lobby with gifts in the wintertime. Not to mention the local schools are top tier, and we have a team of doctors who make house calls at all hours. And that is before their salary. It's a good package.”

“And of course your own apartment is the entirety of the top floor, where they are below you even outside of business hours.”

“It's not supposed to be a subtle metaphor,” She grins.

Dirthamen silently eats one of the offered grapes, eyes boring into her face.

It would be uncomfortable, she thinks, if she weren't equally interested in staring at his own.

“Am I correct in assuming you don't have a change of clothes?” she finally says.

Dirthamen blinks, cheeks fainting a light pink. “I will be fine.”

“I can have your outfit dry-cleaned by morning if you're uncomfortable in other clothing styles,” Selene offers.

“And in the meantime...?”

This time it is Selene who goes red, a heat rising in her lower stomach at the mental flash of the elf in front of her undressing.

“There are sleeping clothes in the drawers of the spare room you can use. And it has its own stocked bathroom and towels, if you'd like a shower.”

He thanks her, dismissing himself for just that as she instructs him to leave the dirtied clothes outside the bedroom door. She makes a quick call to the buildings housekeeping, and then locks herself inside her own bedroom and makes another immediate call to Des.

“I'm not coming in at midnight just so you can steal some land for a stupid road,” he grumbles into the receiver in lieu of a greeting. “I was in at 6am this morning, have a heart. The dirt and the trees will still be there when the sun comes up.”

“I brought him home,” She declares, hand tapping nervously on the wall beside her even as she says it.

“...You brought him home?” Des repeats.

“The meeting ran long-”

“Well I already knew that.”

“-and I was hungry so I invited him out to dinner, and I had a glass of wine and then he walked me home. And now he is in the spare room, showering by the sound of the running pipes and probably naked-”

“Do you really believe people shower any other way?”

“-and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. You have naked elves in your apartment all the time; what am I supposed to do with him?”

“...You never actually had sex with Dick, did you?”

Selene sighs. “No.”

“Do you want to have sex with Dirthamen?”

“That's...” Selene stammers “That's not-that's-how would I even know something like that? Who looks at someone and thinks 'gee I'd sure like to stick your genitals in my orifices' or-or-or whatever else sort of...sweaty, vulnerable mess is involved.”

“All that money and you never bothered with therapy...” He mutters, and she can hear his hand dragging down his face.

“DES!” she hisses urgently.

“Look, if you're not interested in sex, then don't have sex. Just because he's naked doesn't mean you're required to do anything about it. You know that, you managed a sexless marriage.”

“Because I didn't want to see him naked, or have him touch me, and he wasn't...”

“Attractive? Dreamy? Sexy in that forbidden fruit sort of way?”

“I've met plenty of attractive people. This is...I don't know what's happening. I should be able to handle this, right? It's perfectly normal?”

“Mmm...” Des muses doubtfully.

“You're fired,” She says flatly. “You're absolutely useless, and you're fired.”

“Does that mean I can go back to sleep?” Des teases.

“No, help me!”

“Can't, you fired me.”

“Fine, you're rehired.”

“No no, woo me. I want a raise. My boss keeps waking me up at night to tell me she's not getting laid.”

“Bite me.”

“Shouldn't you be saying that to the naked elf in your apartment instead?”

Selene lets out a long groan.

“Do you even have underwear for him?”

“Oh fu-” She curses, clicking off her phone and opening the door, meaning to go down to the concierge's apartment and get a package of emergency briefs.

Only to be greeted with Dirthamen.

Wearing the spare blue pajama pants.

And her immediate, halting realization that those are absolutely the only piece of clothing on him.

Her eyes (her treasonous, perverted eyes) drift down to the front of his crotch, where she knows only a single button in the middle of the front seam keeps it closed and allows him his privacy. They make sure to take their time trailing over the expanse of exposed skin offered on their way down; a toned chest, well formed from an active lifestyle and marked by the occasional light scarring that has left small pink marks scattered over the tempting plains of his shoulders and stomach.

Marks she would very much like to touch and taste for reasons that elude her.

Her mouth suddenly feels very, very dry.

“You....found the pants,” She manages, trying to regain control of herself, and her rapidly emerging libido. “Good. That's good.”

“Yes. They are very comfortable,” he says, shifting awkwardly again in a way that draws her eyes to the lines of his hips. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“It's no problem,” She assures him, trying to pull her eyes back to make contact with his own, her tongue darting out to lick her surprisingly dry lips, the remnants of her lipstick. “Do you need anything else?”

“Uh...” he stammers, face flushing again as his own eyes drift down to her mouth.

Oh, she thinks. The blush goes all the way down his chest.

That's....certainly interesting information to have.

“I believe I will be fine for the evening,” He finally says. “Thank you.”

Selene nods, swallowing and offering a polite smile. “Good night then.”

“Good night,” he returns as she disappears into her room.

She quickly changes into her own sleep clothes, crawling under the too-hot covers with her current night stand book. This is normally her time, when she gets to unwind with an hour of her own choice of reading before bed.

But tonight...

Her skin feels flushed and warm, her sheets thick and uncomfortable against it. Nerves alight, and head spinning with thoughts of the other elf only a living room away.

Was this intentional on his part?

Was he trying to affect her this way, maybe? Throw her off her usual tactics in an attempt to unbalance her...?

She certainly feels as though her steady ground has been ripped out from under her. Each step, each word, each twitch of his finger makes her dreadfully aware of her own body. Another sensation to be unfamiliar with, a pull from her own instincts and a weight in her chest to pull him closer. To see if his body is being tortured as much as her own.

...however pleasant the torture might be.

Her shower is quick and cold, and after her third unsuccessful attempt to read and absorb the next paragraph of her book in bed, Selene resigns herself to a night of fitful sleep and staring at her ceiling. To focusing on keeping a steady flame at her fingertips, in a fruitless attempt to feel less internally lit.

It is a very long night.

–

Her mother calls exactly 5 minutes after her morning alarm.

“Good morning mother,” Selene greets into the receiver, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning dear,” She returns. “How did the meeting go? I heard the Dalish representative gave you trouble and ran later than expected.”

“Ah...” Selene stalls, memory of the previous night returning, mind working to decide exactly how much of it to share. “Yes. I had Des reschedule the meeting with the accountants to next week to accommodate.”

“That's fine of course,” her mother approves “Did we get the approval then?”

“Not quite yet,” Selene evades. “Their representative was more stubborn than I anticipated.”

“Is there an issue?”

“Only a rigidly straight moral compass,” Selene jokes, trying to keep the notes of admiration out of her voice as she stares at her closed door. “Nothing a little more time and persuasion won't fix.”

“I trust you to handle this,” her mother says in the tone she knows actually means 'get this done'. “If you require assistance...”

“I can handle it,” Selene assures her. “I'm meeting with him again today.”

“Oh? I didn't see it on your schedule.”

“It's only 5, and the meeting last night ran late. Des likely hasn't gotten in to update it yet.”

“Hm. I will see you for our lunch this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Selene agrees . “I'll see you then mother. Good bye.”

“Good bye dear.”

Selene looks down at her cell phone as the screen dims out, biting her lower lip nervously;

She can handle this, right?