i'd rather stay, i'd rather let us drown (killing eve | eve/villanelle)

[fiachairecht]

i'd rather stay, i'd rather let us drown. killing eve, eve/villanelle. post-2x08 comfort sex. 1.5k words, rated e. for Alfer in femslash_kink exchange 2020.

Eve goes down, hard, when the gun meets the side of her head, and Villanelle looks down too, surprise curling at the base of her throat. Had she really done that? Eve wasn't supposed to go down so easily.

"Eve," she says, frowning, "I thought we weren't done talking."

She crouches down next to Eve's body, and then, after a moment's consideration, sits down and pulls Eve's head into her lap. The blood trickling from the cut on her temple is the wrong shade of red to match Villanelle's dress and it makes her suddenly, inexplicably angry, that Eve could be knocked out with a gun and sleep through Villanelle sitting in the dirt for her and then not even bleed a matching shade of red.

"Okay," she says, when Eve doesn't show any sign of waking up. "Okay, Eve, I want you to know that you are the one making this difficult."

She gets to her feet and hauls Eve up after her, and by the time they get to a street Eve is, at least, grumbling unintelligible things into Villanelle's shoulder. "You're fine," she says, "Baby," and then, to the first cab driver who stops for them, in French, "My friend had too much to drink, if you could just—"

He raises his eyebrows at the state of them, but it turns into a smile when she reaches into her pocket with the hand not supporting Eve and flashes a handful of Carolyn's Euros at him. It's nice, she thinks, Eve's head pillowed on her shoulder in the backseat, not to be the one bleeding in the back of a cab for once.

She directs the man to a hotel near Peel's building, because MI-6 never lingers after they've cleaned a place, and half-walks, half-bullies Eve the rest of the way up and into one of the bedrooms that she hasn't been in yet. It's big and tasteless but the bed is soft, and Eve, who collapses face-down on it while Villanelle sits more upright next to her, cares about that most of all.

"My head hurts," she complains, muffled in the bedspread.

"Yes," Villanelle agrees, stroking her hair. She opts not to explain why.

"I killed someone?" Her voice pitches high at the end, and Villanelle laughs.

"Yeah. It was really pretty."

Eve groans, rolls over onto her back and squints up at Villanelle. "You know I never did anything like that before?"

It feels like Paris all over again, and Villanelle swallows, presses her thighs together. "Don't worry. You did wonderfully." She picks up the corner of the duvet, wipes away the lingering blood to find only a small cut, already starting to bruise. She wants to lick it, but she also doesn't want to scare Eve. 

"I killed someone," Eve whispers, and starts to laugh, deep and real with only the slightest edge of hysteria, and it's a good distraction from the cut and Villanelle's never been more proud.

"Yeah," she says, "You did. With an axe," and she's laughing, too, Eve's laughing, Eve's here with her because she loves her, and Villanelle's leaning forward to kiss the laughter from Eve's lips before she can even think about stopping herself.

She thinks for a moment that Eve might stop her, that even now this might be a step too far, but it's not, because Eve has a hand in her hair and one on her thigh, is kissing her back and tasting only a little bit like blood. Eve's kissing her so enthusiastically, even, that Villanelle doesn't realise she's crying until she pulls back to breathe.

She stops laughing immediately, concern flooding in to take its place. "Eve," she says, cupping her cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you alright? Are you hurt badly? Head wounds only look bad, remember?"

"It's not that," Eve says. "It's, like, happy tears? I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about killing people?"

And, oh, Villanelle thinks, that's what she's never done, and it makes more sense, and no sense at all. "Lie back," she suggests, "I'll make it better."

Eve does as she's bidden, kicks off her shoes and swings her legs up on the bedspread, nearly kicking Villanelle along the way, and reaches up with clumsy fingers to help as Villanelle starts to undress her. "Shh, no, don't worry," she says, taking Eve's hands and placing them gently on the sheet to their side, "I have this."

Eve curls her fingers into the sheets and whines like Villanelle already has her halfway to an orgasm - and maybe she does, she thinks, maybe Eve really does get off on this, but it's hard to think too hard about it when Eve's squirming under her, trousers unzipped and shirt hanging open to reveal her breasts barely contained by a black bra.

Maybe she dressed for the mission, not for Villanelle, but soon there wouldn't be a difference. She asks anyway, snapping the band against Eve's chest - "For me?"

"I - no?" Eve squints down at her, lip caught between her teeth, and Villanelle thinks, liar, but she wouldn't deny Eve her fun.

"Good," she says, and pulls the cups down so Eve's breasts spill out and over the fabric. "I will buy you better ones."

Eve's hips come off the bed at that, and it would be easy, too easy, to slip a hand under her and unclasp it. Instead, Villanelle stretches out next to her on the bed, turns Eve to face her with a careful hand. "You stabbed me in Paris," she says, resting her other hand on Eve's bare stomach. "Right here. There's a scar. But you don't have anything."

Eve's brow furrows, but Villanelle can see the tension at the side of her mouth where she still wants to laugh. "I feel like that was a threat. Wait, did you hit my head?"

"It was an accident," Villanelle pouts, leaving the question of threats unaddressed. None of her really good knives are with her, but she adds that to the list of things she knows about Eve: that she maybe wouldn't be opposed to them having matching scars. "I'm making it better."

She kneels up on the bed, wedges her knee between Eve's legs and is gratified when she immediately grinds hard against her. "Impatient," Villanelle scolds, and, "It's been months," Eve complains, before clapping a hand over her mouth.

Villanelle laughs again, all delight this time. "Oh, has it?"

Eve's blushing furiously, her cheeks a beautiful bright pink as she nods, and Villanelle leans down so her lips are right next to Eve's ear. "Tell me," she says, "Did you want to fuck me before you knew my name, or after?"

Eve bites hard on her bottom lip, and Villanelle prises it from between her teeth with a gentle finger. "More, after," Eve gasps, and, good girl, Villanelle thinks. Pulls Eve's trousers further down so her knee's pressed directly against Eve's soaking underwear, and Eve moans.

She's not crying anymore. Villanlle leans down, presses a kiss to each of her cheeks and only uses her teeth a little bit. Maybe later, when Eve's feeling better, she'll leave more marks - for now, she wants to see what else she can make her do with love.

"Better?" Villanelle asks, sweet and soft, and Eve nods again, her perfect, wild hair tangling against the pillow as she rubs her cunt against Villanelle's leg. She reaches out, wraps her hands around Villanelle's wrists and digs her nails in, a tiny prick of pain that promises so much more.

Villanelle wants to tell her to use her words, but she thinks that maybe Eve's so far gone that would do nothing but put off the fun part. Eve would come - she could make her come, mostly clothed, rutting against her leg, but she's waited too long for this. She wriggles back on the bed, ignoring Eve's shout of despair, and pulls Eve's knickers down.

It's like killing, seeing her laid bare for the first time, her pink cunt under the dark curls of her pubic hair and the wetness glistening all down her thighs. Like killing but better.

"You're going to taste perfect," she says. "You are going to be so, so pretty when you come for me."

And Eve does. She goes rigid as soon as Villanelle wraps her lips around her clit, thighs trembling around Villanelle's head. She comes in near-silence, nothing but the sound of her shaky breaths, and Villanelle reaches up to lay an arm around her hips.

"Don't worry, Eve," she says, lips brushing against Eve's cunt with every word. "I will not stop until you have my whole hand inside of you. Until you are the happiest you've ever been." She's burning under Villanelle's mouth, swollen and wet and the prettiest thing Villanelle's ever seen.

"When?" Eve asks, breathless above her. "What are you waiting for?"

Villanelle nudges Eve's legs further apart, shifts just enough that she can slip two fingers inside. "Nothing," she says, smiling as Eve groans, fighting for leverage against the arm holding her down. "I'm not waiting for anything. I have everything I want right here."