#ilium asks

"A-Aelin," you stammer.

"Go on," she coos. With her hands on your hips, she urges you to rock them but you're stuck in the love seat she has you pinned to. "Have at it, darling."

When all you can do is whimper in response, Aelin urges you further by rocking her own weight until her thigh is sliding along your sex. The fabric of your panties grows sheer embarrassingly quick at the stimulation. You're aware of the eyes. The patrons stumbling around in drunken stupors. When you swallow, you nearly choke.

"Mommy, I-" Breath catching in your throat, you attempt to scoot back along the seat, but she only follows you, never letting her thigh stray too far.

"What is it, baby?" Aelin asks so saccharine your jaw aches.

"Can we- maybe we can go to the VIP room? O-Or the bathroom... I just, there's so many people a-and..."

"Oh, no darling, we have to stay right here," she retorts. When she leans to kiss your neck, the silage of rosewater fills your nose and your brain is left spinning as she grabs your face and tilts it to the side. "Do you see that, in the corner? John's watching."

For a moment, you're expecting the man himself. John Price leaning back in a leather chair, swirling a glass of whiskey in one hand while he puffs away at a cigar with the other. You can nearly see it. Those deep oceanic eyes staring at you as Aelin renders you into mush just long enough until he's ready to take over.

Instead, you find a camera. CCTV wired up in the far corner, lens pointed right at you and Aelin as if anything else going on in the club is useless. You know he's watching. It's his favorite appetizer.

"Do you see it, baby?" Aelin pushes.

"Yes, Mommy."

“Good evening ladies. My name’s Chip, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Uh… can I start you off with something to drink?”

One by one, the ladies prattle off their orders all while Aelin watches their waitress; Chip. Her brows pinch in concentration as she scribbles down each order thrown her way. Rolling lips. Polite nods. Cute thing, this waitress. Even the slight tremor in her fingers is endearing; borderline adorable. 

“And for you miss?”

Chip’s eyes land on Aelin for only a split second before they flicker away, pretending to be occupied with her notepad. Fingers still tapping the table, Aelin has been looking at her for quite some time. Learning. Analyzing. Smiling, Aelin tilts her head just as she wets her lips. Her tongue lingers between her teeth for a beat too long. 

“Chip. What a unique name,” Aelin comments. 

She’s hoping it gets a laugh out of the girl, and it nearly does. Chip exhales sharply before mustering the courage to make eye contact again. “Well it’s… it’s just a nickname, really.” 

Nodding languidly, Aelin hums. “I see.” 

Her fingers cease their tapping. 

“Well, Chip, I’ll have a glass of wine. Red. Amarone, if you have it. If not, I’ll trust your judgment on a replacement.” 

Just as she did with the others, Chip notes Aelins’s words. “Perfect. I’ll, uhm, have that out for you shortly.” 

As she turns around to leave, Aelin eyes the sweet waitress. She devours the sway of her hips with wide pupils, enamored by the way the fabric hugs her rump and the swell of her thighs. Oh, how she enjoys fresh meat. 

That quiet throb lurking in Row’s stomach slowly ripens into a dull purr. A pathetic kitten with a pitiful cry settles into her core like it’s a safe haven. She fantasizes about the ways she likes to enjoy her meals. Warm. Quivering. Pinned. Splayed. Even now she can see it. Taste it. Legs spread wide, shaky fingers covering parted lips. Sizzling gasps escaping from a throat that feels too tight, all while her mouth drips, and drips, and drips. 

Aelin focuses her attention back to the present the moment a generous glass of wine is placed in front of her. Red like blood but not nearly as thick, she swirls it. Lets the aromatics waft around her nose, yet it’s not enough to drown the daydreams. It’s not enough to rip her eyes away from the undone buttons on the top of her waitress’s blouse, or the beads of sweat that peek between the cloth. 

“And for you?”

Once again, Aelin has been staring at Chip for quite awhile, and it flusters the poor girl all the same. Averting eyes, an anxious huff; quite a skittish thing. Some alleyway cat with curious but improper manners. 

“The beef tagliata, please love.” 

Nodding, Chip writes down Aelin’s order where she then taps the tip of her pen against the paper. One by one—little dots against scribbled words. She’s checking the order. Recounting it. Making sure she has it correct. 

“Are you new here, Chip?” Aelin asks. 

This question perplexes not only the waitress, but Aelin’s friends as well. A stillness falls over the table while other patrons buzz and chatter around them. Glasses clink, cutlery scrapes, and still the most interesting thing in the room to Aelin is the anxious woman in front of her. 

“Yes. Well, erm, no. I’m actually a hostess but they needed extra help tonight so I’m doing my best. This is my first time waitressing,” Chip explains. 

“How sweet of you.” Aelin pauses. Using the tip of her middle finger, she traces the rim of her glass. Slowly. Fingers flexing and relaxing. “I’ll have my steak medium rare, sweetheart.” 

Blinking, Chip glances back and forth between Aelin and her notepad before an anxious chuckle expels from her mouth. “Right. Yes, of course. Medium rare. I’ll have these out for you soon.”