When Darcy sobers up (which will likely be at around 11:00 a.m. tomorrow) he plans on blaming the entire evening on Fitz. And the alcohol. But mostly Fitz.
Fitz’s birthday party had involved a treasure hunt. The treasure hunt had involved dares. Most of the dares involved copious amounts of alcohol. And then there had been handcuffs. William was quite sure the order of that progression was entirely deliberate.
William had been introspective enough in college to pay attention to the fact that his most successful friendships involved extroverts; that his friends (and sister) pushed him to be more sociable and thoughtless while he provided them with rational, reasoned advice and on one or two notable occasions, bail. He was beginning to think that had less to do with his innately responsible nature, and more to do with not being with Lizzie Bennet until now.
Tomorrow, he knew he’d be annoyed and amused beneath the annoyance, with embarrassment overlaying both emotions, but at the moment, he was in the back of a cab with Lizzie, his right wrist handcuffed to her left.
Normally, he had strict proprietary rules about appropriate behavior and held to them.
At present, Lizzie was handcuffed to his right wrist, and he was kissing her desperately, palming her breast with his free hand.
“Fucking shades of grey,” the cabbie muttered.
“Excuse you,” Lizzie said, breaking away from Darcy's mouth. She straightened, thrust her shoulders back (William leaned down, kissed the intoxicating slice of breast just above the cut of her dress). “I have a masters in communications and a BA in literature, I do not draw sexual inspiration from badly written dreck.”
She held outraged silence around her for a moment and then her mobile face shifted into an expression of entertained, intellectual consideration. “However, despite its lack of technical competency or creative rigor,” she began and Darcy couldn’t help himself, he kissed the word ‘rigor’ right out of her mouth.
They necked until the cabbie pulled up in front of Darcy's apartment. Getting his wallet out of his pants pocket ended up being an involved affair, Lizzie teasingly touching his erection under the guise of "helping him." He practically threw several twenties at the cabbie (who was rubbing her forehead in disgust) and crawled out of the cab after Lizzie.
Outside his apartment, he raised their linked hands, took hold of Lizzie's free hand in his.
He was growing to understand the appeal of handcuffs, the pleasure to be found in finding their movements linked to each other, to knowing that it would take a key, or forty minutes with a two hairpins and a youtube tutorial before she could get away from him.
"Lizzie Bennet," he said, dragging the remains of his composure and long-term planning skills around him. "Lizzie Bennet," he repeated. He loved it, the way her name felt electric in his mouth; his tongue flicking against the back of his teeth, before the fricative z. Her name felt electric in his mouth.
"William Darcy," Lizzie bantered back, gazing up at him through her eyelashes.
There were two sets of locked doors and an elevator ride between where they were now and actual privacy.
Regarding the question of his apartment doors, Lizzie was thankfully on the same page and he. She was already digging her keys out of her clutch. Lizzie jammed her key into the lock, they worked together to claw it open.
Under the bright hallway lights, she was shockingly vibrant. Her sparking, midnight blue dress, her brilliantly red hair, her perfect, pale skin.
"I have a proposition for you," he said, doing his best of swallow back the moan that wanted to rise in his throat. He backed her against the wall, kissed her neck.
"Yes," Lizzie said immediately.
"I haven't-" he protested.
"Will, the answer is yes," she insisted, her hands working on his belt. He almost almost almost asked her to marry him right there. It was only the last ragged thread of his self control that told him it would be a bad idea. Besides, the ring currently hidden in his desk.
"The elevator," he managed to get out, pulling them another two stumbling steps in that direction.
"Absolutely yes," Lizzie answered.