12 Days of MattElektra: Day 11
Champagne/Like No One Else
For once, it’s Matt’s idea. “I know how much you like playing dress-up,” he says, and Elektra smiles in spite of herself, in spite of the crappy day she’s been having, in spite of everything. She does like playing dress-up, and she can’t wait to get on the phone with her tailor. In hurried French, she orders an outfit, and then obviously adds something for him. Matt can feel her eyes on him as she speaks, her heart thrumming against the blush rising in his neck.
The dress and suit arrive. Matt gets his clothes on so quickly so that he can put his hands on her. Elektra guides his fingers to the many features of her outfit: the tautness of the bodice, the elaborate beading on the neck and bust, the way the skirt falls away from her legs. “It’s see-through,” she tells him with a smile, smacking him on ass on her way past. Matt snatches her by the wrist before she gets too far, twirling her back for a kiss on their way out the door.
He gives a false name and title at the door of the party. They aren’t on the list. Elektra stomps a heel and feigns a tantrum en francais; Matt reassures her, pulling out his phone and threatening to get on the phone with someone-or-other. The doorperson starts to dismiss them but enters into a hushed conversation over a headset that finally gets them into the party with a grudgingly-delivered apology.
Elektra grabs glasses of champagne. She finishes one in a flourish, sips at the other while she scopes out a Scotch for him. Matt draws an arm around Elektra’s lower back, pulling her to him. “No, I want champagne tonight. It feels like a champagne night.”
She scoops him another glass from a passing tray. “What are we celebrating?”
“Whatever the hell you want,” Matt says, clinking his glass with hers. “What should we celebrate?”
Elektra’s smile warms him. She presses her glass hard into his, presses herself hard into him. “This,” she says, “I want to celebrate this. You, me –“
“Us.”
“Us,” Elektra agrees.
They toss back their drinks. Matt grabs the empty glasses together in one hand before she can throw them aside. He puts them on a passing tray as Elektra plucks up two more glasses.
They mix, they mingle, they wreck havoc. Matt spills a drink on a gentleman getting handsy with a woman at the bar. Elektra lifts a wallet from an aging CEO well-known for underpaying his employees. They steal a bottle of bubbly and abscond to an office, leaving the door unlocked, playing chicken with another couple looking for their own private room or a security guard on patrol.
“There’s a window,” Elektra says, her heartbeat tearing off and running at the thought. She clears the desk with a sweep of her arms, items clattering to the floor. Matt dodges the chaos and steps to her, ending up between her legs as she sits on the newly cleared surface. One of her fingers hooks through his tie, and she draws him over her, laying back in front of the cityscape. The other hand uncaps the champagne. The pop sends her into peels of laughter. Matt kisses her quiet. Elektra pauses, drinking some into her mouth before kissing him back, pushing the liquor between his lips. They end up laughing, bubbles spilling from their lips.
Elektra laps it up from Matt’s cheeks, wrapping her legs around his waist, riding their hips together. “You said this was see-through?” he asks, and Elektra scoots till the shorter, tighter skirt underneath comes up and over her ass.
“And I’m not wearing underwear,” she adds.
“You didn’t mention that.”
“Didn’t I?’
“No,” Matt says, kissing her on the lips. On the chin. The neck. Her chest. Elektra draws a hand through his hair, guiding him down. With her other hand, she takes the bottle, and she pours a small amount of the champagne onto the edge of the desk, between her legs.
“To us,” she says, tapping the bottle against his cheek.
“To us,” Matt agrees, slurping the champagne up from the edge of the desk, following the trail of bubbly straight to her.
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