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Fingers fumbled at the hips of her pants and Lizzie giggled, her own fingers replacing Darcy’s in undoing her button and zipper. She wiggled her pants down in a little dance, and Darcy stiffly chuckled at her expense. She kicked her pants to the side and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. She looked over to see Darcy carefully folding his own pants before laying his bow tie neatly on top of the whole ensemble. Lizzie had half a mind to go over there and kick everything to the floor but she knew Darcy well enough to think that he probably wouldn’t appreciate that very much. At least, not this time. She decided to file that activity for future sleepovers.
When she had shucked all of her clothing and accessories except for her bra and underwear, she slinked over to Darcy, who was in the process of now folding his dress shirt. She trailed her hands up under his undershirt, stroking his bare back. He froze, and she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips as she kissed his spine. She wrapped her hands around his torso and that was when he whipped around, tossing his shirt unceremoniously to the floor. He bent over to kiss her, but Lizzie coyly leaned away. Taking his hands, she walked backwards, guiding him to his bed. He followed compliantly, though Lizzie didn’t fail to notice his Adam’s apple bobbing anxiously.
She sprawled herself out on the duvet, silently inviting Darcy to crawl on top of her, an invitation he accepted after removing his t-shirt. She wrapped her hands around his neck and when they kissed it was electrifying. Hot energy zipped through her and pooled in her core when he nibbled on her lower lip, and his hand gingerly traced the outer lining of her bra. Lizzie mentally grumbled when she noticed he wasn’t pushing any boundaries in the groping department. She wanted him to be a little rough, but she guessed that wasn’t going to happen without a more explicit invitation. Next time, she would try to remember removing her bra before lying down.
Darcy’s kiss distracted her musings, and she turned her head sideways as he trailed down her neck, his lips meeting her collarbone.
“Darcy…” she sighed. He stopped kissing her then, pursing his lips, and for a scary moment Lizzie thought she might have called him by the wrong name. He sat up, seemingly agitated. She pulled herself off of the sheets as well, now confirming with herself that she had in fact said “Darcy” and not something terrible like “George” or “Fitz.” That would take a lot of awkward explaining, she thought as she absentmindedly combed her fingers through her hair, One requiring more explaining than the other... Lizzie frowned at herself, not sure which one would be worse, and she glanced at Darcy nervously. But Darcy didn’t seem to notice her own embarrassed blush as he was too busy fidgeting himself. Lizzie asked him what the matter was.
He hesitated, his lips twitching, before hurriedly saying: “Do you mind calling me by my first name? It’s William.”
Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up. She would have teased him for clarifying his first name—as if she didn’t know what it was—if she weren’t so surprised by the request itself. “Like, from now on?” She wasn’t sure she was comfortable calling him William. He was… Well, he was Darcy to her. That just was his name. Not that it really mattered one way or another. It was just a name.
“No, not all the time. Only when we’re together,” he said after thinking about it for a moment. He twiddled his fingers, unsure of whether or not to continue. But Lizzie was patient and remained silent, letting him take his own time in explaining. “When we’re alone—just the two of us, I mean—like this—I’d like you to call me by my first name,” he said, the words flying from his mouth. “No one really calls me William—except I suppose Gigi—and it would mean a lot to me if you would too. I-I’m sorry if this is sounding stupid to you…” he trailed off, uncharacteristically inarticulate. He looked sheepishly at Lizzie when she didn’t say anything. For her part, Lizzie was only blinking, processing what he had just asked of her. A flush crept across Darcy’s face, and she realized she was making that terrible resting bitch face Lydia always accused her of making whenever she was thinking hard. No wonder they had so many communication problems.
She reached out to take his hand, scrambling to comfort him. “Darc—uhh, I mean, William,” she said, shaking her head as she corrected herself. “It’s alright. I… I’m happy you said something.” She squeezed his hand. He halfheartedly squeezed back, and Lizzie’s stomach flip-flopped when she noticed its clamminess. God, it was so endearing how shy he was sometimes. He gave a thin smile, but his blush only spread.
Lizzie chuckled, placing her hands on his face. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his lips meeting hers. This time though, she guided his hands to her bra clasp before lying down, and with a little help from Lizzie he managed to unclip the hooks. He stared at her with hooded eyes as she let it slide off her arms and onto the bed sheets. He gingerly pressed himself on top of her.
Then they were at it again. His kisses trailed down her neck as she mumbled out William’s name. It was a little odd to say, and she felt Darcy shiver after she said it, but she liked it. It made everything suddenly more intimate. And Darcy didn’t stop to sit up this time.
Now there was nothing but her panties and his boxer briefs in the way of—
“I’m sorry,” Darcy said suddenly, pulling away from her, scrambling to untangle himself from the sheets as well as her limbs.
“William?” she called to him hesitantly, but he only moved away faster. Lizzie was stunned, and she only realized his intentions of actually leaving when he was already out of the bedroom, his white undershirt in hand.
Lizzie blinked at the darkened room. What did I do this time? She slipped her bra back on, guessing that was as far as they were going to go for now. With a sigh, Lizzie pressed her fist to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. She admitted to herself that it was a little disappointing they wouldn’t be going all the way—at least that was what she assumed. Was he nervous about sleeping with her? That seemed silly. For a moment, she considered leaving him alone to himself. But if there was anything she had learned in the past year, it was that she and Darcy needed to spend more time talking and less time assuming things about each other.
She decided to step out of the room carefully, a little apprehensive, a little confused, and more than a little worried. She found Darcy on the sofa, arms folded, feet propped on the coffee table, chin tucked into his neck. His eyes flickered to her as she approached, but otherwise he made no indication to acknowledge her presence. The Lizzie-one-year-ago would have assumed he was angry, but she knew better now. Observing the Darcy in its natural habitat, it was clear that he was not angry or upset; he was just really, really nervous about something. Lizzie smiled in spite of bemusement.
She sat beside him, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. They were still fairly new at this whole couple thing. Lizzie realized that if he wasn’t going to say anything she couldn’t force him to open up to her. Still, she placed a hand at the nape of his neck, and turning to him said: “Are you alright?”
He was silent as Lizzie brushed his hair gently. He loved the feeling, but it also had the unintentional effect of making him more nervous than before.
Finally he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“You already apologized a second ago,” she replied. “But I’m confused as to what you’re sorry for.”
“I’m just… Well I don’t think I’m comfortable with this—with us, I mean—taking the next step.”
Lizzie nodded. “Hey it’s cool, we’ve only been an official couple for a little while. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“No, I mean…I want to I just…” Darcy flushed. “Well, I… I don’t know how.”
“What do you mean you don’t know how…?” Lizzie trailed off as she watched his cheeks singe pink, and the answer came to her.
Oh.
So, Darcy was a virgin?
Huh.
This came as a surprise to Lizzie, but the moment the thought occurred to her, it surprised her that the realization was a surprise. Wait, what am I even saying?
Lizzie’s image of Darcy was someone who was very good at everything. So she imagined him to be very good at picking up women—if he so chose to. But then again, she knew him to be overly careful with everything he decided upon. So she supposed that would also make him picky about his women.
She cursed herself for once again assuming things about Darcy.
“I’m sorry…” he mumbled again, pulling Lizzie from her internal monologue. He was staring at her with his brows furrowed. She realized with a grimace what was bothering him, and made an effort to wipe away her stupid resting bitch face as best she could.
“Stop apologizing!” Lizzie sighed, now a little exasperated with him and herself. “It’s your body, it’s your life, and you can do what you like with it!”
“I just don’t want to be the reason you’re not…well, you understand…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands—a tick he seemed to have picked up from her—as he searched for the right word, “…being fulfilled physically.”
Lizzie snorted, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about me! I’d love to do it now, but you’re not ready, so I’m not ready. It’s that simple.” Darcy looked at her uncertainly, and she gave out an exaggerated sigh.
This boy. She had to do something to get him to stop worrying about her more than about himself. Lizzie got up from the couch, and made her way into the kitchen. He didn’t follow her, but she knew Darcy could hear everything she was doing, on account that she made no attempt to hide what she was up to. She started by filling a pot with water and placed it on the stove, setting the heat as high as it would go. Then she made her way to the pantry, and rummaged through.
“Where’s that big stash of—oh, never mind,” she mumbled, having found what she was looking for.
The water was steaming. She got out two mugs and put them in the microwave, setting the time for 30 seconds.
The water in the pot was forming tiny bubbles, but still not boiling.
Lizzie stole a peek at Darcy, his back still to her on the sofa. She could tell he wanted to get up and check what she was doing from the way his head was cocked, but she supposed he was still feeling shy about what he’d just confessed.
He looked up sharply when she came around with two tile coasters, which she placed on the coffee table in front of him.
She turned to face him, and he blushed deeply, averting his eyes. It occurred to her that she had just caught him checking out her ass. Lizzie gave him a wicked grin but said nothing accusatory. She didn’t blame him; she was, after all, still in her underwear, and she’d just bared her assets when she leaned over the table. She hopped over his legs, giving a little whoop for joy as she did. It was completely unnecessary of her to have jumped over his legs, since she could have just as easily walked around the back of the sofa, but she was happy when she saw a little grin tugging at Darcy’s lips.
Lizzie returned a minute later with a steaming mug in each hand, a string dangling from each one. “Jasmine,” she explained. “And…some other herbs. The packaging had a lot of fancy stuff written on it.” She placed one mug on a coaster. “But mostly jasmine.” She swiped a throw pillow from the sofa and smacked him on the side of his head in one swift motion, and his natural reflex was to flinch, uncrossing his arms as he did so.
“What the heck—” he began, but her tossing the pillow into his lap interrupted him. She plopped herself back on the couch and tucked her legs underneath her.
“Jasmine is good for relaxation and sleep,” she continued, like nothing she had done was out of the ordinary. And then she lay her head on his lap, facing away from him. She took a sip of her tea, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. She wanted so badly for him to be comfortable around her, but she felt the only way was to let him get used to her, one day at a time.
He sighed, and she knew he was still reeling over his own insecurities. “Look, I know this is going to sound stupid… But I thought…maybe…if I had you calling me William I would feel more comfortable with this whole thing…”
Lizzie took a sip of her tea, careful not to spill. “So, do you not want me to call you William?” she asked when he was silent for a while.
“No, I do!” he insisted. “I just…thought it would make me comfortable and it didn’t, it just made me more nervous.”
Lizzie took another sip of tea. “…so you don’t want me to call you William?” she asked again, this time a smirk tugging at her lips. But Darcy didn’t see that, so the fact that she was just teasing him was lost on him.
“No, no, I…” He exhaled loudly, annoyed with himself. “I want you to call me William when it’s just the two of us. I want to get used to hearing you say my name. I… I like hearing you say my name.”
“…I like saying your name…William.” Lizzie never gave much thought as to how much weight a name can carry. Her main girl Juliet has a whole speech on names and how they aren’t all that important—something about roses still being roses at the end of the day. So sure, Darcy was still going to be Darcy, but William was also special. She counted herself lucky to be permitted to call him that.
After a minute, she felt Darcy shift forward and watched his hand reach out to grab the tea she made for him. He leaned back again, taking a sip as he adjusted himself.
“I like jasmine,” he said softly. She felt herself smiling, really genuinely smiling and not just at his expense. Another moment of content silence passed before he murmured, “Thank you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Will,” she replied, taking another gulp of her drink. She heard him chuckle and felt him slowly relaxing.
“Don’t call me that. Nicknames must be preapproved by me,” he admonished teasingly, and she snickered. Okay, so maybe some names were still off the table. He placed his hand on her side, gently caressed her. His hand was warm against her skin from holding the mug. It felt nice.
They stayed like this for a while longer. After some time Darcy slouched a little further, to let his neck rest against the back of the couch. Lizzie’s head compensated and was now on his chest rather than his lap. She felt every one of his breaths. Lizzie eventually downed the tea and placed the mug on the floor in front of her. William’s hand still stroked her, but was on her shoulder now. He toyed with her bra strap.
She turned over to face him. His chin was tucked into his chest, and for once it wasn’t out of nerves, but rather to get a better look at her. Lizzie contemplated him before leaning up to kiss him. It was quick and chaste, and thunderous rather than electrifying as before, a slow build up of warmth that left her content. It was reassuring. She adjusted herself back onto his lap.
Lizzie let her eyes droop as she felt the jasmine kicking in.
William needn’t have worried about not satisfying her. This was what she needed. Sex was cool sometimes too, but this was what she really needed.