Ben 10 fanfic - Almost

Disclaimers:
Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man Of Action. Man Of Action also owns my first born twins for making Gwevin canon.

Author’s Notes:
This is part Alternate Universe, part “What If” set in the roaring 20’s to mid 30’s during the prohibition era. There are no aliens, no mutants, and no magic powers of any kind. As far as the setting is concerned, life is just the bee’s knees and the cat’s pajamas.

If you come across any historical inaccuracies be it slang or attire, I offer my apologies. Having inspiration strike at 1 am leaves little room in my brain for coherence to do research.

This was inspired by a particular fan art I came across in DA, which can be found here: Speak Easy

Reviews or Constructive Criticisms are welcomed and appreciated.

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Kevin Levin was many things.

A fine mist of cigarette smoke permeated the room, mingling jealously with the scent of rich wine and heady perfume. The white noise of laughter and idle chatter hummed casually on a layer beneath the soft melody playing from the piano. Beneath the relaxed exteriors of the crowd bubbled an inexplicable anticipation.

There was going to be something different about tonight. Though nothing seemed out of the ordinary, every beating heart inside the room could sense a storm brewing. There were those who could not stand the suspense and shyly excused themselves for the night. The rest continued on, braving the mounting tension building.

The gilded doors standing guard at the far end of the room opened, ushering in more than just the cool night air.

He was dangerous.

A young gentleman barely two decades old strode in. There was a calm arrogance about him, from the way he studied the faces of the crowd with his dark, earth-hued eyes, to the way he coolly shrugged off his coat revealing pin-stripes draped along broad shoulders. He tugged loose the knot of his black, silken tie before freeing his raven hair from the fedora housing it.

“Good evening, Mister Levin.” An attendant greeted and proceeded in gathering the man’s things into his arms.

“I’ve told you all to call me Kevin.” He frowned, disliking formalities.

The servant blanched before profusely apologizing and quickly excusing himself. Another attendant appeared, offering Kevin a glass of whisky before briefly whispering into the dark-haired man’s ear a bit of news.

Good news, it seems, from the way the corner of his lips curled into an almost feral grin.

Kevin’s eyes scanned the crowd before resting upon the vision of a young girl just one year his junior. He knew her by name and by face. But they had never been properly introduced.

The girl’s fiery tresses were hidden beneath a cloche hat adorned by feathers, which she adjusted now and again with a gloved hand. He smiled as his eyes traced the barely-concealed curves that he found so alluring.

What truly enticed, he would even go so far as to say entranced, him were her eyes.

Her rich, bright-green eyes that revealed so much about her and at the same time carefully kept him at bay. He had seen them glow with a light of their own or cloud over with a darkness so chilling at the drop of a hat.

He was shrewd.

He walked into the room as he continued to observe the young woman. He noted a group of youths were eyeing her the way he was and narrowed his eyes at them. Their leader, Kevin supposed, worked up the nerve to approach her and for a moment, she looked interested.

Kevin frowned, estimating the threat this other man posed, but he soon dismissed this notion when the man simply left. The girl looked slighted before storming away in a huff. Fate would her walking straight at him, would it?

He flashed her a warm, normally disarming smile.

She ignored him and headed straight for the door.

Kevin didn’t seem fazed. With a snap of his fingers, several attendants suddenly locked the door. Preventing anyone from entering or exiting.

“Preventive measures, miss.” A servant explained, “Never can tell when a cop is snooping about, miss.”

He was selfish.

“Perhaps I can keep you company while we wait for this lockdown to let up?” Kevin offered, a hand snaking its way around the girl’s waist.

She stiffened at his touch, “I’d much rather risk it with the cops than spend another minute here.”

“What’s the rush? There’s plenty of things to do here.” He continued, ushering her into a private room where a group of men were playing poker. “You like cards, don’t you Gwen?”

“Gwendolyn,” She corrected. “And should I be worried that the infamous Kevin Levin knows my name?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” He grinned wickedly and felt her shiver in his arms. A cough was all it took to get two players to fold out of the game.

Kevin knew he would win. No matter how poor his hand, no matter how small his bet, Kevin Levin always won.

His club.

His rules.

He was manipulative.

Apparently, no one informed the young girl of the rules. She was cleaning him out deal after deal. The only thing keeping Kevin’s temper in check was the look of feigned innocence on her face. He found it absolutely adorable and befitting her even if she was a bona fide card shark.

When he got bored playing along, he subtly signaled to the dealer that it was time Miss Gwendolyn was made aware of the rules.

“Well look at that, a royal flush.” Kevin grinned, taking more delight on the look of disbelief and abject horror on the red-haired girl’s face than in his victory. “Seems to me you’re not only broke, but you owe me. Quite a bit.”

“I-I’ll pay you back. Just not tonight.” She stammered, hands folded primly on her lap. It was obvious she was doing everything she could to keep herself calm.

“Oh but you will be paying me tonight.” His voice smooth as velvet while he motioned that they be left alone. “I’m sure we can work out the details.”

Despite the calm mask of bravado she wore, Kevin could see her fidgeting in her seat. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, Miss Tennyson.”

“So this whole thing is just a set up?” She looked genuinely offended, “Whatever happened to old fashioned courting?”

“Funny to hear that from a flapper girl like yourself.”

“I only dress the part!” She snapped hotly.

“Oh really?” He leaned forward, raising her chin upwards with his hand. “You’re telling me you’re as inexperienced as they come?”

The sudden flush of color across her cheeks confirmed it. “Th-there is nothing wrong with wanting to save myself for the right man.”

“No, there isn’t.” His drew his lips so close to hers they were almost touching. “But I just think it’d be such a shame if you knew nothing about pleasuring the right man.”

Gwen pulled herself out of Kevin’s reach. “Well you are not that man. So what you think doesn’t really matter to me.”

He was many worrisome and undesirable things.

Kevin’s expression turned ugly, she had resisted all his previous advances and had enough of her teasing. He pounced at her, upsetting the poker table in the process. His lips closing over hers to muffle the shriek that would follow as he pinned her struggling form to the floor.

He held her slim wrists overhead with one hand while the other explored every nook and curve of her writhing body. He breathed in deeply, noting how her skin smelled of peaches in the morning sunshine and how her freed hair reminded him of lavender. His lips continued to press against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss.

But when he saw the tears in her eyes, he froze.

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. He had imagined in his head that she would cave to his charms as all the other girls had. They would eventually give themselves to him when they realized how much he desired them.

He had never had to take a girl before.

And he realized he didn’t want to, especially not this one.

This spirited, quick-witted, enigmatic girl he had seen dancing between the fringes of the club’s lifestyle and her conservative upbringing. He used his resources to learn everything about her, to draw her attention and to lure her here. Here, where the odds were in his favor and he had completely control of everything.

Everything but her, it seems.

He released his hold on her wrists to brush away strands from her tear-streaked face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I want to be the right man for you. I just don’t know how.”

Gwen continued to silently cry, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You big dummy, you should have just told me in the first place.”

But at least he was not completely without morals.