#ElvisPresleyInLove

[rjmartin11]

Hello! I wish you a wonderful day 🥰

I was wondering if you could write smt with 70s Elvis, where he meets his "new" Satnin and she is pretty younger than him (maybe in her 20s?).

Thank youuuu 💋

Thank you, nonny friend, for the request!

This is quite exciting. This is my first request ever, and I do want to make this sexy and spicy. I do hope I do this justice.

The way my mind is working, I could possibly make this into a series. Alas, my series days are over.

Kiss Me, Thrill Me

One Shot

Pairing: Elvis & OC!female

Warnings: A touch of fluff. Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. View discretion is advised!

Summary: Elvis wants some loving after his breakup. After bumping into one another at a party, Elvis decides to get better acquainted with his new love interests, Dahlia Maloney.

・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・🫦・ʚ♡ɞ・ʚ♡ɞ・

It's been two hours, and Dahlia still can't believe Elvis Presley not only bumped into her, but he spilled his drink on her. She was never ever a big Elvis fan. Of course, she heard his music, and Dahlia couldn't deny that a few of the songs were catchy. After this incident, she'd rather not see him ever again.

*Knock knock knock*

Dahlia gets up from where she's sitting and goes to the door.

"Who is it?" She asks, not expecting any company.

All her girlfriends were still downstairs in the casino, partying the night away.

"It's guest services, miss," the male's voice answered from the other side of the door.

She cracked the door open to see a bouquet of crimson rose to greet her.

"You... sure you have the right room?" Dahlia speaks slowly.

"Yes, Ms. Dahlia Maloney, right?"

"Yes, that's me."

Dahlia opens the door for the gentleman to bring her bouquet of roses in. Another gentleman follows behind him. This guy is dressed in all black with a pair of black boots to top it off. He walks in so abruptly that Dahlia doesn't have a chance to see his face, but that delicious cologne seems familiar.

The guest services guy places the bouquet of roses on Dahlia's long coffee table. The scent was lightly sweet and fresh as she breathed them in. It mixes with the gentleman's inviting aroma.

"Thank ya, Jimmy," the gentleman says, handing him a fifty dollar tip.

"Gees! Thanks, Mr. Presley!" Jimmy shouts.

"Please call me..."

"Elvis???" Dahlia says, shocked that Elvis Presley is currently in her suite.

"Hi, Doll," Elvis says.

Jimmy practically kicks out of the room, closing the door behind. On the outside of the door, he places the DO NOT DISTURB signs on the knob as Elvis requested.

"Please. Don't call doll. I'm not your doll. What are you doing here?" Dahlia asks.

Elvis looks over the brim of his sunglasses with his eyebrows raised. He takes them off to better look at Dahlia.

"I wanted to give these to ya," Elvis says, taking out a single rose from the bouquet and offering it to Dahlia. "And I wanted to talk about what happened earlier tonight."

Dahlia doesn't take the rose from him. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest, not succumbing to Elvis' advances.

She doesn't know it, but Elvis loves stubborn, spicy women. Elvis is the master of the chase. Dahlia, not surrendering to his advances, makes him want her even more. He doesn't mind women that fold to him easily, but he admires a woman who seems uninterested. It just means Elvis can charm his way into her heart.

"Earlier? You mean when you poured your drink on me?" She asks.

"It was an accident. Truly, it was. Let me make it up to you," Elvis says, trying to give her the rose again.

Reluctantly, Dahlia takes the rose from Elvis in good faith that he'd leave. She steps forward and takes the flower from Elvis. He lightly touches her fingers. In the brief moment, Dahlia feels something electric in his touch. She pulls her hand away from Elvis and inhales sharply.

"I guess my fingers are cold," Elvis says.

"Are the flowers... your apology?" She asks. "You can't just tell me I'm sorry and be done with it?"

Elvis remains quiet, twiddling his thumb as he bites his lip.

"Oh, I understand. You're too proud to say those words," Dahlia realizes. "I'll be the bigger woman than. I forgive you. You may leave now."

"So you don't like the roses?" Elvis asks, sitting in a chair.

"They're fine, but if you're trying to ease your conscience for what happened earlier..." Dahlia pauses. "Wait. How did you know what room I was in? How do you know my name?"

"Oh, your friend Natalie told me," Elvis confessed. "She also told me that red roses are your favorite."

Dahlia shakes her head.

"Of course she did."

"Also, I wanted to confess something to you," Elvis says, jestering to the sofa by the flowers.

Dahlia doesn't want to sit down, but she feels this is the only way to get Elvis to leave sooner. What doesn't realize is that Elvis has no intention of leaving anytime soon.

"Earlier," Elvis starts off. "I...I... when I bumped into you, it wasn't an accident."

"What do you mean?"

Elvis pauses. "I meant to bump into you on purpose, but I didn't mean to spill my drink on you like I did."

Dahlia's eyes widen in amazement and pure shock. She can't believe her ears. Elvis really purposely bumped into her.

"Why? Why would you go out of your way to bump into me and humiliate me like that?"

"I saw you from across the room. I heard your laughter, and it was enough to find some way to meet you."

She looks down at her rose. "So, you couldn't just walk over and introduce yourself?"

Dahlia looks back up at Elvis. Elvis glances past her, ashamed that he wasn't more of a gentleman in the situation. He was just so damn nervous. He bites his bottom lip and looks back at her.

At the moment, Dahlia notices something in Elvis most may never see. He's shy. How could this man be shy? He has women practically throw themselves at him.

He gives off the allusion of a king in that perspective, but Dahlia sees a little boy in front of her. A little boy searching for a friend. The thought softens her heart and opens her mind.

"M-Maybe I should go," Elvis says, walking towards the door.

"Elvis!" Dahlia shouts, jumping in front of him.

Elvis stops short right in front of her, wide-eyed. Dahlia looks in his eyes and sees the true hue of his oceanic blues. She sees the sharpness of his Greek jawline and pout of his full lips. The pictures don't do him justice. Elvis Presley is absolutely gorgeous.

"Thank you. For... for the roses. No one's ever given me flowers before. They're amazing," Dahlia says.

Elvis nods his head and smiles.

"You're welcome, Doll," Elvis replies.

All of a sudden, the nickname isn't as bad as Dahlia originally believed. Elvis was just being friendly and trying to bond with her. She sees that now. The question is, how does she get him to stay and talk to her without being too forward? She gently tugs his arm and leads him to the sofa.

"I was... thinking you could tell me about that one song of yours."

Elvis squints his eyes as he slightly cocks his head to the side. "Which song, Doll?"

"That... one... about a trap," Dahlia shuddered over her words. "We're caught in a trap."

Elvis sits and ponders for a moment. Then it hits him that the song she speaks of.

"Yeah, that's Suspicious Minds," Elvis says. "What would you like to know?"

"For something so modern and upbeat, it's quite sad. Who were you singing it to? Who made you suspicious?" She asks.

Elvis stares off into the distance, thinking about the loves of his past. No, he didn't write the words, but to each song, he decided to sing a piece of its poetry resonated with him. Elvis never really broke up with any of his lovers. It was always him that was left behind for his wrongdoings.

"Honestly, Doll... I... I think I'm singing from a lover's point of view of trust. So... if an old friend I know comes by to say hello, will I still see suspension in your eyes? Has my past led you to believe that I'm not a good man?"

"Or will we continue to suspect one another," Dahlia says, leaning her head against her rested arm. "That's insightful."

"Is that your favorite song?" Elvis asks, resting his head against his propped up hand.

"It's a catchy song, but it's not my favorite," she admits.

"Which song is your favorite?"

"You'll leave if I tell you the truth."

"Tell me the truth," Elvis whispers.

Something about the way he speaks to her mixed with the color of his eyes and his unearthly beauty has her speak her mind.

"I'm... not..."

"What? You're not what?" Elvis asks gently.

Dahlia looks away from Elvis and confesses.

"I'm not a fan of yours."

"Hmm..." Is all Elvis breathes.

Dahlia looks back at him, curiosity feeling her brain. Elvis has moved a muscle. He is completely at ease and isn't in the slightest insulted.

"Well, Doll. There's a lot of people who aren't Elvis Presley fans. It's okay. I had a feeling you're more of an... Sinatra fan."

"No, Little Richard."

"I'm a fan of his, too. I got a glimpse of him once at Club Handy. He's definitely the King of Rock N Roll. Although, I really think Fats Domino is the true king of the genre."

"Really?" Dahlia says, hearing his words.

"Yeah. I'm just a fan who sang a song of one of my favorite artists, and people noticed."

At that moment, Dahlia sees that Elvis is humble. He's not a boastful man, and he gives credit where it's due. This, along with his attractiveness, makes her panties completely drenched.

Dahlia pushes that thought away from her mind. She's not going to sleep with Elvis Presley just because he got her flowers. She wants to be earned, not bought.

"If I were willing to become an Elvis fan, where should I start?"

"You would start in Tupelo, Mississippi."

"Tupelo?" Dahlia asks, confused by his statement.

"It's where we were born."

"We?"

"My twin brother, Jesse and I."

"There are two of you?"

"No..." Elvis looks down for the first time they started talking. "It's just me now. Jesse died at birth. It was just me and Mama and Daddy."

"I'm so sorry, Elvis." Dahlia says softly, gently taking his hand.

When she does this, electricity passes through her from his touch. It makes her heart flutter, and she feels time stops for them to live in the moment. She stares at his hand, and Elvis gently clasps her fingers. He raises her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to her cool skin. If Dahlia wasn't wet before, she is now. He's a romantic man.

"I'm sorry too that he's not here. But he's with Mama. That brings me peace until we all can be together again," Elvis says. "But Tupelo was where I got my first guitar. It's where I snuck into the old juke joints with my friends and listen to all the great blues musicians. All before Memphis."

Elvis tells Dahlia about leaving Tupelo and arriving in Memphis. He tells her about high school and how in failed music class. Dahlia laughs at this statement because, according to the world, he's the King of Rock N Roll. He mentions how he loves gospel and sneaked into into Southern black churches to hear the choirs sing.

The more Elvis talks, the more Dahlia learns how kind he is. There's that boyish quality that made her want him to stay.

"So what song of yours would guarantee that I'm yours?" Dahlia asks, realizing that her words could indicate something completely different.

Elvis raises his left eyebrow and starts to laugh that contagious laugh of his. Dahlia covers her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry, Elvis. I meant..."

"It's fine, Doll. I know what you meant," Elvis clarified, taking her hand once more.

"I think a lot of fans love I Can't Help Falling in Love with You," he states. "It's the last song I sing at each concert I do, and the audience loves it. Everytime."

"I can't help falling in love with you? Huh? There's a subliminal message here."

"Maybe it is," Elvis says, slowly leaning in closer to Dahlia.

She promised herself that she wouldn't kiss Elvis, but Dahlia meets him halfway. As their lips touch, Dahlia can feel the softness of Elvis' lips. The scent of his musk feels her nostrils, and she's filled with a sense of euphoria. Elvis glides his tongue over hers.

Captivated by Dahlia charm and kindness, Elvis allows himself to get lost in the moment. She's the one. His Satnin. He could tell by the way she laughed and smiled. The way she opened her heart to him was unlike any woman before her. Almost like his mama.

"Elvis?" Dahlia asks, pulling away from him.

"Yes, Doll?"

"What is this?"

Elvis smiles that hundred watt smile and says, "This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"I think so too," Dahlia sighs, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Elvis leans his chin against her head. And to think, this all began with him spilling his drink on her. Dahlia feels like that was a million years ago.

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