12-09-2016, 05:03 PM
Stillwater
He'd never stood so still. Conversation was lost in this void of time, and the captivating moment dragged on.
He barely breathed as she crept closer, so careful. Almost hesitant. She reached, and he answered, barely leaning into it. Just enough for her whiskers to touch. They tickled his sensitive skin, and his blood roared. His face was a careful mask of mild curiosity, belly rolling in hunger. Beneath the stoic exterior, muscles were locked and taut, mindful not to let her make contact as he watched her grasping whiskers behind half-lidded eyes. Battling his fierce appetite not to just take what it craved. She was so close. If only he would take it. The slightest move could claim her. His mouth watered.
All he had to do was touch her.
But he couldn't. Any others would do, but this one. She was protected. Off-limits. The proverbial crown encircling her lovely skull warded her from the malevolent spirit swimming just beneath the surface. Like a blessed cross to a demon, he could only come so close before he would rebound away from her. No, he couldn't touch her. But could he really be blamed if she touched him? The unwanted thought pulled at his hunger like a leash to hound.
Touch her.
Don't touch her.
And then she stopped; retreated. Safe again. Saving them both. She was fighting her own battle in that mind of hers, just as he warred with his primal nature. He remained as he was, didn't pull back as she had, as though she were still there. Filling his senses with her fragrance. What were observations of leadership to a starving beast? It had been so long since he'd been truly well and sated. And here she nearly unwittingly delivered herself to him on a royal dish. How long could she withstand his lure? And who was to say he wouldn't just forget about her silly crown.
Ah, but the Queen. No, he supposed he could never forget that. It came with far too much trouble. With a silent sigh he, too, retreated; straightening. When he met her troubled eyes again, he nearly growled for what secret she kept hidden in their depths. Innocence. His eyes flashed with his need, but he forced himself to remain stoic and still. They were always the best, the innocent, the most savory. Who would have guessed this confident, attractive woman would not have even this shallow amount of experience. She was trouble. He was trouble.
The brazen wind cradled her again, shamelessly grabbing and groping the only one he couldn't touch. Mocking him and that damned invisible boundary around her. Relentless prick.
"Stillwater." Her silken voice steadied his gaze on her face. "I want you to make an oath to me. I want to know I can trust you and that I can depend on you." She didn't even realize how terribly humorous that was.
An oath, he repeated thoughtfully, gray-blue eyes searching her face absentmindedly, lingering on her lips. That is a heavy request of anyone, I imagine. Even for you, princess. A lulling hush settled in, the push and pull of the waves whispering fanciful secrets of the mer-kingdoms.
Don't you already trust me? he asked quietly. More comfortable silence drew out, a stray sea breeze chilling the droplets on his skin. She'd opened up to him once before. Hadn't they shared something then? At least a feeble connection, perhaps?
I want the cave, he slid in softly, edging a single step closer. All those stern expressions she wore never seemed to touch her lips. Always so supple and ripe. The one that smells like me, he added with a sly grin. Do you know that smell? The one that draws you in. Don't you want more of it? Let it be mine alone. To do whatever I want... With whomever I want. His eyes lifted to lock with hers. Sizzling steam.
What oath would you hold? he asked curiously, a slow smile creeping in.
What would you vow to me in return?
He barely breathed as she crept closer, so careful. Almost hesitant. She reached, and he answered, barely leaning into it. Just enough for her whiskers to touch. They tickled his sensitive skin, and his blood roared. His face was a careful mask of mild curiosity, belly rolling in hunger. Beneath the stoic exterior, muscles were locked and taut, mindful not to let her make contact as he watched her grasping whiskers behind half-lidded eyes. Battling his fierce appetite not to just take what it craved. She was so close. If only he would take it. The slightest move could claim her. His mouth watered.
All he had to do was touch her.
But he couldn't. Any others would do, but this one. She was protected. Off-limits. The proverbial crown encircling her lovely skull warded her from the malevolent spirit swimming just beneath the surface. Like a blessed cross to a demon, he could only come so close before he would rebound away from her. No, he couldn't touch her. But could he really be blamed if she touched him? The unwanted thought pulled at his hunger like a leash to hound.
Touch her.
Don't touch her.
And then she stopped; retreated. Safe again. Saving them both. She was fighting her own battle in that mind of hers, just as he warred with his primal nature. He remained as he was, didn't pull back as she had, as though she were still there. Filling his senses with her fragrance. What were observations of leadership to a starving beast? It had been so long since he'd been truly well and sated. And here she nearly unwittingly delivered herself to him on a royal dish. How long could she withstand his lure? And who was to say he wouldn't just forget about her silly crown.
Ah, but the Queen. No, he supposed he could never forget that. It came with far too much trouble. With a silent sigh he, too, retreated; straightening. When he met her troubled eyes again, he nearly growled for what secret she kept hidden in their depths. Innocence. His eyes flashed with his need, but he forced himself to remain stoic and still. They were always the best, the innocent, the most savory. Who would have guessed this confident, attractive woman would not have even this shallow amount of experience. She was trouble. He was trouble.
The brazen wind cradled her again, shamelessly grabbing and groping the only one he couldn't touch. Mocking him and that damned invisible boundary around her. Relentless prick.
"Stillwater." Her silken voice steadied his gaze on her face. "I want you to make an oath to me. I want to know I can trust you and that I can depend on you." She didn't even realize how terribly humorous that was.
An oath, he repeated thoughtfully, gray-blue eyes searching her face absentmindedly, lingering on her lips. That is a heavy request of anyone, I imagine. Even for you, princess. A lulling hush settled in, the push and pull of the waves whispering fanciful secrets of the mer-kingdoms.
Don't you already trust me? he asked quietly. More comfortable silence drew out, a stray sea breeze chilling the droplets on his skin. She'd opened up to him once before. Hadn't they shared something then? At least a feeble connection, perhaps?
I want the cave, he slid in softly, edging a single step closer. All those stern expressions she wore never seemed to touch her lips. Always so supple and ripe. The one that smells like me, he added with a sly grin. Do you know that smell? The one that draws you in. Don't you want more of it? Let it be mine alone. To do whatever I want... With whomever I want. His eyes lifted to lock with hers. Sizzling steam.
What oath would you hold? he asked curiously, a slow smile creeping in.
What would you vow to me in return?
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it