#extradirty
Fai_Ryy
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@eliasbillings
My personal favorite: best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Although, these cliches are so much better if you don’t say them out loud— it seems douchey.
Words to live by — not that I necessarily had someone to get over, but I can still appreciate the sentiment. As for coming across as douchey, that stops being a concern when your family owns half of the city.
Pity no one scrubbed some salt in those before they healed. You know, to get rid of impurities and bad evils.
Ouch. And here I was, thinking you’d give me a pat on the back and tell me I’ve grown from a boy into a man, just like older brothers always do in the movies. Hollywood really fucked me up.
Nasty, even for you.
Sounds like someone’s jealous that my night was more eventful than theirs.
Aren’t Delgados the ones who hold Damned? I’m sure if they got an exciting, anonymously tipped story with you having a lead role in it, Valeria wouldn’t be scorned. I mean, after all, we know she absolutely favors you.
Believe me, if these were from that bitch, I’d still be bleeding.
You get scratched and then ask for more? I got nothing against sadomasochism but please be less obvious about your tastes, this is a public venue.
I wouldn’t ask for it if I couldn’t handle it. As for this being a public venue, I thought I was being rather tasteful. I didn’t even mention what she knows how to do with her tongue.
Jealousy looks ravishing on you.
The scratches on my back from after the Ball have finally healed. You know what they say — out with the old, in with the new.
She was starting to worry that he left early again, leaving her alone, God knows in what place, but then she felt hands on her waist, meaning that for once, she was not abandoned in a hotel room. Startled by the sudden touch, Rachel jumped slightly, closing her eyes tightly, but then relaxed as she deduced, from the tender grab of her waist, that it was her boyfriend, not some serial killer. Except she was wrong. As soon as Elias voiced the negation, making no effort to disguise the difference of timbre between him and Sebastian, Rachel turned around to face him, her melancholic smile faltering in the blink of an eye. Backing off, she escaped his arms, and blinked in confusion at him, analyzing his appearance and trying not to let any mistaken assumptions poison her mind. She didn’t know for sure what was happening and didn’t want to think of possible case scenarios. “What? Where is… uh, you know, my boyfriend, Sebastian?” she shot the question quickly as she made sure her robe was looking accordingly. “Can I help you?”
Listening, she blocked the frown she instinctively tried to cover her forehead with, remaining expressionless as he was talking. She just couldn’t understand. With her mouth rounded in an astonished “o” and her jaw dropped to the ground, Rachel kept waiting, silently, for the punchline of the joke. Looking both ways over her shoulder for a camera, or for Sebastian to jump in all of a sudden, declaring that she was put under a test, that all of it was a joke, the girl was disappointed not to get any result. “I don’t understand. With all due respect, why the fuck are you here?”
Of course she understood where he was getting at, but she didn’t understand why. After all, she didn’t do any of the things he was implying; or, at least, she didn’t remember doing them.
“Sebastian?” he echoed, brows arched in faux surprise as he swallowed the chuckle that bubbled at the back of his throat. “Couldn’t tell you. Last I remember, he left you down at the bar.. alone. You’re lucky I showed up when I did, he was long gone by then.” She was insistent to deny the apparent, to have faith in her so-called morality, to force herself to explain the situation in any way other than what seemed the most obvious answer. To most, it would’ve been an admirable attempt — but to Elias, it was only an invitation to play the game that much better, to claw at her deepest doubts, pulling them to the surface until, in her confusion, his version of the truth became theirs.
He ran a hand through his hair as she snatched herself away from him, and while she pulled the robe tighter around her body to cover up, he had no qualms standing before her in nothing but the underwear he’d fallen asleep in. “Ouch.” His lips pursed, feigning a wounded ego — a feat that, for a man so disillusioned regarding his self-worth, took a remarkable amount of effort. “After the treatment I gave you last night, I’m almost offended.. But, in your defense, you did drink the bar out of champagne before we made it upstairs. You can’t be blamed for forgetting the best sex of your life.”
Lips curving into a smirk, he took slow steps back towards her. “If you need me to jog your memory,” he cooed, “I’d be happy to oblige.”
"You can’t be serious," Zachary said aloud as he watched the television screen in the bar. He could not help but chuckle as he watched and read the captioning on the news report. "Someone tried to forge a winning lottery ticket?" When they flashed the phony ticket on screen, all he could think was that it was amateur work.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Elias chuckled with a shake of his head. “Everyone wants to be us. Or, well..” he trailed off, eyes shifting towards Zach’s chair. Perhaps us was the wrong choice of word, though rather than correcting himself, he dismissed the slip with an arrogant shrug. “Though, forgery clearly wasn’t their strong suit. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Not saying that I believe in horoscopes or anything, but tomorrow is apparently supposed to be an important day for me. So if one of you is planning on getting me drunk, high, or something new and shiny, you can tell me. I’ll still act surprised.
Now where would the fun be if you knew it was coming?
Rachel passed on the glass with nonchalance, and maybe if Elias’s fingers weren’t already clenched on it, she would have just let it break on the floor — yet another uncharacteristic gesture for her. At that point, after drinking water that put out the fire in her throat, her only concern was the bed she felt drawn to, as if the gravity increased its power.
So when his words crept onto her ears, she didn’t oppose, almost smiling out of the relief that she wouldn’t have to keep her chin up and feel her neck crush under the weight of her head. She let him unzip her dress, straightening her back as he did, and closing her eyes tightly just so she wouldn’t have to gaze blankly at the spinning room and focus on the headache burning holes in her brain.
Her shoulders felt lighter without the straps of her dress and bra, both disappearing in what seemed to be a matter of a second. She nodded in gratitude, mildly aware that she was directing the vague gesture of appreciation to no one in particular. The next relieved sigh came out as soon as he took his hands off her, leaving it to her to figure out how to fit between the white sheets of the bed. Managing to take a seat on it, sliding into the bed and finding, more out of instinct than out of logic, a blanket to cover herself with — as much as it was neither cold nor uncomfortable; but she felt shielded that way —didn’t take her as long as one would have expected. What happened even faster was the process of falling asleep.
A couple of lucky seconds after pressing one eyelid after another, peacefully, Rachel was already long gone. Strangely for a light sleeper like she was, no noise subsequent to that moment got caught in her eyes, and she managed to sleep through the night without interruption.
The morning after, her head hurt as much as it did the prior night, but it was way clearer. She blinked confused for the first few moments awake in the unknown bed, trying to remember anything about what happened at the Governor’s Ball, but nothing came to her mind. After inspecting the empty room and figuring out that she was partially naked, she assumed that she just had too much champagne and Sebastian got them a room for the night. Grabbing a typical white robe, she put it on, still dealing with the pain induced by what Alexandra spiked her drink with, and started looking for her boyfriend. “Sebastian?” Rachel’s voice rang through the hotel room, clearer than any other word she had said the previous night.
Blanket pulled tight over his head to block out the morning sun that crept through the blinds he'd neglected to shut before slipping between the sheets next to his victim, Elias only roused as he felt the mattress shift. He shut his eyes tight, slowly pulling the covers from his face, peeling his lids open carefully so as not to allow the brightness to blind him. As he sat himself up, eyes gradually adjusting, Rachel paced back and forth, scouring the room for any sign of life — specifically, for Sebastian, as her call revealed.
A smirk spread across his lips. She thought her boyfriend had taken her home. The sentiment itself was almost enough to rouse a chuckle from him, though he stifled it out of devotion to his game, and to the element of surprise he still had over his unsuspecting guest. How deliciously naive, a true testament to just how far little Kim was from home.
Quietly, carefully, Elias slithered out of bed, tiptoeing behind a concerned, confused Rachel. Approaching her from the back, his arms snaked around her waist, the fluff of the white robe tickling his skin. He leaned forwards, placing a light kiss against her neck. "Not exactly," he hummed, lips drifting upwards, pressed against her ear. If the ivory hands that held her weren't enough to dispel the fantasy she'd managed to concoct about Sebastian, the voice that whispered against her skin had to be.
"Sleep well?" he asked, his voice low. "You were pretty exhausted after.. well, you know." With a light laugh he took the lobe of her ear between his teeth, biting gently. "And from what I remember, Sebastian was the last name on your lips."
Everything that happened after was too vaguely printed into her mind for her to be able to rely on the details. She remembered leaving the ball, only because the sigh of relief was the single genuine reaction — or reaction at all, for she was too exhausted and too weakened to give out something better — she put into practice, and because the taste of fresh air and the silence improved her state to the point where the steps she was taking, even if still leaning on Elias, were more than a pathetic drag to the hotel room. How ironic it was that she was considering an elevator — of all places, a closed one — the source of fresh air! In spite of the slight improvement, though, her head didn’t feel lighter, and neither did she feel less drunk, drugged or dizzy, but at least her legs were finally cooperating, to some extent.
Little did Rachel know, or care, at that point, in that situation, about the plan Alexandra and her brother have built against her, or about how twisted the apparently good guy’s intentions actually were. The fact that she was being seen leaving the party with a man different from her official boyfriend didn’t seem to matter much then, when her main and only goal was to find somewhere comfortable to lay her head on. Sure, the usual Rachel would have thought it through meticulously, leaving no space for her reputation to be harmed, but Alexandra Billings made sure to send that part of her far away before putting her plan into practice.
She didn’t notice anything strange in the way Elias’s overly nice behavior and his feigned tenderness vanished in the blink of an eye, perhaps because she didn’t even care enough to look at him — other priorities, such as not tripping, came in order — and, all the more, as soon as they entered through the door of the private room, he no longer existed. She wanted to thank him, howsoever, but she swallowed the words, for it would have taken too much effort to let them out. By some miracle, she managed to make her way to the bed, a hand leaning against one of the walls, taking it as guidance.
Rachel didn’t notice his disappearance, and, likewise, didn’t notice his return; she only noticed the glass of water and drank it down eagerly. Only after that did she manage to mumble a grateful, honest “Thanks.”
The fact that she'd managed to stumble across the room and prop herself against the wall by the bed was enough to impress him — mildly, of course, but more so than his low expectations had foreseen. She poured the water down her throat, and he was there to snatch the empty glass from her hands the moment she was finished with it. Babysitting wasn't what he'd signed up for, and the sooner he could throw the girl into bed, the sooner morning would come — the sooner his real fun began. "Whatever," he breathed, dismissing her sentiment and setting the empty glass down on the nightstand.
"Time for bed," Elias grumbled, taking both of Rachel's hands and pulling her towards him, encouraging her to support her weight on her own while he dealt with her dress. His brow furrowed, a frown sealed across his lips. There wasn't a time he'd ever taken such close care of any members of his family, never mind a near stranger; hell, when a drunken Ashton had approached him only hours before, he'd done nothing but laugh. The only thing that had him positioning himself behind her and quickly pulling down the zipper of her dress was pure anticipation, the mental picture he'd already painted of how deliciously malleable her mind would be in the morning, a blank canvas on which he could spin the most elaborate tales of their supposed tryst.
With her zipper undone his hands moved to the straps of her dress, pushing them off of her shoulders and letting the piece fall to the ground. One hand moved to the clasp of her bra, flicking it open before pulling it off. He paused for a moment before pulling at the left strap, ripping it from its seam — falsified evidence of fabricated passion between them, exhibit A. "Come on," he ushered, coaxing her towards the bed. Taking her by the shoulders, he gently shoved her down onto the mattress before heading towards the bathroom; she could tuck herself in, she was an adult — not a highly functioning one, but an adult nonetheless.
The final touches would be his own presentation. He slipped off his jacket and tie before pulling his shirt open, losing two buttons in the process — exhibit B. Belt, pants, socks, and shoes disappeared next, all to be scattered across the room for her to find the next morning. Turning, Elias examined his back in the mirror. He reached as far around as he could, digging his nails into his back, his sides, and down his shoulders. He winced, watching his reflection in strange delight as his skin began to redden and raise, drinking in the sting that came as he marked his own flesh — exhibit C. Admittedly, it was a sensation he found much more pleasure in when he wasn't inflicting it upon himself, though it wasn't as if he hadn't ever crossed worse lines for the greater good.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Elias strode back into the bedroom. With a flick of the light switch he slipped into the empty space beside a slumbering Rachel, settling himself under the covers and allowing the night's whiskey to carry him to sleep.
The effort she was supposed to put into distinguishing the actual shapes from the translucent lights, all gathered in bunches that hurt Rachel’s eyes, wasn’t worth the headache, so she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the boom vibrating in her head to vanish. All for nothing — the noises were intensifying and even deprived of confusing, eccentric colors, she was feeling dizzy. The “shhh” the boy holding her served her only scratched her brain, but she decided that covering his mouth would require too much of what was left of her. So she let him hiss, hoping that it would end.
Every touch was intensified, so when Elias glued his arm to her waist and his palm to her cheek, Rachel had to open her eyes again, to see what was going on, but they were foggy and her vision didn’t seem to have improved in the mean time. She knew something was wrong, but at that point, he was no longer helping her headache, so she didn’t fight it. In a way, the circular moves of his fingers brought her some sort of twisted mitigation.
His words were vibrating in her ear, and the suggestion that would have been on the very top of the things she would turn down in a normal situation didn’t have such a bad ring to it anymore. After all, he mentioned a quiet, peaceful place, and Rachel couldn’t think of anything she wanted more — not that thinking came easily to her at that point. “Please, yes.” she managed to murmur, gathering all her strength to stand up and not fall on the ground — the only thing missing from her embarrassing act.
She put forth an effort to stand herself up — an effort that would've been considered laughable for any other intoxicated woman at the ball, but considering the dastardly cocktail of booze and whatever Alex had slipped into her drink, her attempt was almost impressive. Still, he found himself tightening his grip around her waist, helping to hoist her up onto her feet. With her arm still slung around his neck for support, he led her towards the elevator doors — slowly, so as to ensure she didn't end up on the floor; this was supposed to look like a rendez-vous, not a kidnapping.
As they approached the bank of elevators Elias pushed the button to call for a lift, resting Rachel's back against the wall as they waited. With a quick glance across the room, he made eye contact with a lingering Alex once again. He nodded, flashing his sister the signal to pull her phone out for a final set of pictures — and as soon as she aimed the lens their way, his show resumed. Leaning towards her once more, his lips hovered just above her ear. "We'll get you into bed soon, don't you worry," was all he whispered — but, of course, he knew that the moment Alex sent those photos into Cherry Darling, the infamous gossip blogger would be putting a very different set of words into his mouth.
It wasn't like Rachel would remember the difference, anyway.
The ding of the elevator's arrival snapped him out of his faux display of affection. Supporting her weight once more, Elias slipped Rachel inside, pressing the button as the doors closed behind them. He'd taken the liberty of booking a room at the hotel the moment he'd received Alex's proposition, though he didn't much worry about his guest being coherent enough to ask questions about the strange coincidence. As the doors slid open he guided Rachel down the hall and into his suite. "I'll be right back," he hummed, leaving the girl to her own devices as he went to fetch her a glass of water from the bathroom sink. It was an act so uncharacteristically chivalrous in nature that perhaps it would've seemed suspicious to anyone with their wits about them — luckily he didn't have that problem. Truthfully, his only motive came from his desire to not be thrown up on in the middle of the night. "Drink this," he demanded, shoving the glass into her hand as he leaned himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Now, in the privacy of his suite, he had no reason to feign affection for her — or to care if she stood on two feet or fell on her face. She was on her own.
Governor's Ball » Summary
The ball was a relatively tame night for Elias. After doing a few lines with Juliana and having a laugh over a drunken Ashton, Eli received a text from darling Alexandra. Alex came to him with a proposition — to make a drugged Rachel believe that the two of them had spent the night together. Desperate for a way to liven up the evening, and never one to stray from the opportunity to wreak havoc in another's personal life, Elias gladly accepted the challenge. He escorted a woozy Rachel upstairs, where he simply undressed her and put her to bed, all before falling asleep himself. Despite the fact that the two remained on their respective halves of the bed all night — even he wasn't depraved enough to make a move on someone so incoherent — Elias fed her a tale the next morning about their supposed x-rated escapades before slipping out the door.
Lowering her head slowly until it reached the cold, refreshing bar table, Rachel decided to rest for only a moment. There was nothing wrong with her, apart from, perhaps, the slightly tipsy state she got herself in, and the fact that she wasn’t used to the night life, therefore tiredness reached to her — she kept repeating to herself, so much that the words were ringing in her mind repetitively, like a spell, spinning constantly in circles through her brain. She didn’t notice how the time passed past her, allowing the sedatives Alexandra subtly spiked her drink with to settle in her body and contaminate her blood. First came the hallucinations, but Rachel managed to cast them away, one by one, from the most ridiculous one to those she could mistake for real, by constantly blinking at them. Even after gluing to the cold marble of the bar, her head was still on fire, and the way someone picked her up, all of a sudden, didn’t put it out. On the contrary, as soon as she got separated from it, she closed her eyes tightly, and muttered, “Fuck, no, it hurts.”
Maybe it was the absence of condescension in his voice, but when Elias spoke, Rachel looked right through him like through glass, without recognizing the timbre and unable to distinguish his facial features. However, she lifted an arm and threw it around his neck either way, clinging to him. “I might need, uh…” she began, trying to be coherent, but tripping over her words. “Fuck, I might. I have a headarch…” she sighed, the air coming back to her lungs like daggers. “Headacht. Headache!”
"Shhhhh," he coaxed, gently rubbing her cheek as he held her head up. Perhaps it came across as concern, as his feeble attempt to dismiss her thoughts of distress and replace them with calming ones of reassurance — but in reality, it was little more than his selfishness begging her to quit stumbling over her tongue. How annoying.
While Rachel's consciousness was fading, Elias was on high alert. To sell the story he and Alex were fabricating, every detail would need to be in place — everyone hovering around the bar would need to recall the moment of apparent intimacy shared between the pair before they slipped away, ratifying the claims of Rachel's unfaithful tryst. His fingers brushed up and down against her cheek, one arm tightly around her waist — a sign of closeness to those who happened to be watching, though it was more of a utilitarian gesture than anything else, holding the girl's limp body so as not to let her fall against the cold counter of the bar yet again.
He leaned in, lips hovering just above her ear, the hand on her cheek moving to toy with her hair. "How about you and I head upstairs, hmm?" he whispered. His position was strategic — aiming to feign to her as if he cared enough about her to whisper inconspicuously about her predicament rather than shouting it for all the room to hear, all while giving the appearance of muttering sweet nothings. "We'll get you some water, put you to bed.. I'll keep you company."
She couldn’t help but give Elias a sly look as her thoughts drifted back to what she’d told Jeremiah. Screw behaving herself tonight, she was going to have a real ball, and if she knew one person who would indulge her in her misdeeds, it was Elias. “C’mon, she said, taking him by the hand ans floating through the venue to find a private place. his words had her smirking. “Nothing ever is.” She chuckled as they came up on a private office and she shrugged her shoulders before occupying it herself.
He'd heard the message from his family loud and clear, from multiple angles, from the moment Juliana had stepped off the plane — the entirety of the Billings-Grant family was supposed to remain vigilant, ensuring she didn't slip back into old habits. She put up a good front for those who cared, but Elias liked to believe there was enough of an understanding between them that, in front of him, she didn't have to pretend — and as she pulled him into the first empty room she stumbled upon, there was no one left to fake it for. He shut the door behind them, making his way over to the desk. Documents, pens, and decorative knick-knacks sat neatly across it, all in their designated places — and with a swipe of his arm, they all came crashing to the floor. He snatched the bag of powder from between her fingers, pouring a small pile onto the clear desk. From his pocket he pulled his wallet, from which he slipped his platinum card and a hundred dollar bill. With the card, he cut the powder into two neat lines, before handing her the tightly rolled bill. "Ladies first."
The girl's cheek had been planted on the cold marble of the bar for a good part of ten minutes — if she hadn't let herself succumb to sleep's temptations just yet, she'd be well on her way soon enough. Now was his time to strike. Elias locked eyes with Alexandra from across the room, nodding slowly as a sadistic smile toyed with his lips. He had no stake in this affair, no semblance of a motive to get himself involved — and yet a familiar excitement burned within him, desperate for that rush he knew he'd find in bending Rachel's hazy perception of the night until the contorted view of reality he'd feed her became all she knew.
Every man of his stature had a sport of choice — this happened to be his.
He slipped into the stool next to her, one arm snaking around her waist while the other cupped her cheek, pulling her up from the bar to look him in the eye. Even as his eyes pierced through her, strong and determined, the blank stare he received in return told him all he needed to know about her current state. "You don't look so good, Rachel," he hummed, his voice low, devious intentions wrapped in misguidedly kind words. "Do you need help?"
