Things with Warner hadn’t been totally bad, that way. Elle has always been a motivating partner, and Warner could be super-competitive about that kind of thing. It was just that he could also be, well, serious about it. Even when they collided, slippery and giddy, against each other in a hot-tub, once they got going, he would start asking questions, needing her to tell him that it was good, forehead creased in a way she’d found attractive at the time.
Sex with Emmett is not like that. They often argue their way into bed, papers flying, yelling precedent at each other until the look in his eyes darkens into something else, until she’s pushing her hands against his chest, both still wanting to be right. Elle likes that, likes the way the things they’re passionate about include each other but aren’t just each other. And she likes the way those things sometimes spill over.
The first time, though, they weren’t arguing. They were on Elle’s narrow bed in Harvard, Emmett fighting with the buttons on Elle’s dress. He got tangled up and the two of them tumbled off the bed, Emmett holding onto her tightly to make sure she didn’t get hurt. And when she got her breath back, Elle giggled, and Emmett laughed back. He looked at her with the expression she was getting familiar with, like everything about her surprised him in the best way. She had smiled and taken his hands back to her little white buttons, helping him get her undressed.
And that’s the other thing he does. The questions he asks are different. Not just ‘is that good?’, not even ‘how do you feel about roleplay/chocolate sauce/blindfolds?’ Emmett asks, “What d’you like?”
She likes that he laughs, and that he’s not afraid of the ways they occasionally screw up. And God, oh God, does she love him in suits. Putting him in them, and watching him get himself out of them.
Elle lies back on the – thankfully bigger – bed, and watches. His cheeks pink, a little, and his hair’s not all styled back the way it is in court. He grins down at the carpet and loosens his tie. “Doing okay so far?”
Emmett rolls his shoulder and slides his jacket off. “Hold on.” He laughs, dragging over the chair to hang the jacket nicely. “It would ruin this for you if I just dropped the suit on the floor, wouldn’t it?”
She tips her head to one side. “Maybe not ruin. But this is much hotter.” She grins at his expression. “What? I find proper care of tailored suits very attractive in a man.”
Snorting, he steps out of the pants and drapes those over the hanger. He turns back to her and starts on the buttons of his shirt. Not slowly, not fast either. He keeps his eyes on her, taking one step towards the bed before getting rid of his last piece of clothing. He climbs onto the bed. “Good?”
“Almost,” she says. Elle slides her hands down his arms, and pushes him onto his back. She swings her leg over to straddle him, practicalities of condom taking another moment to resolve. And then she stretches up, and slides down; not slowly, not fast either. She smiles her brightest, waits until he’s smiling back at her. “See? Now that’s much better.”