06-21-2021, 01:52 PM
They are close enough together that she can see herself in the reflection of his beautiful molten eyes, and it draws from her such a shyness that she cannot help but to ease a step away from him. He is so handsome, and his smile is warmer than any sunshine she’s ever felt. It is impossible not to feel attracted to him, and yet the more rational part of her mind reminds her that she’s only just met him, that there is more to men than bright smiles and clever words. She blinks, and it does nothing to ease the quiet desire that warms just beneath her skin when her eyes settle on his face again and trace the laughter she is sure lives inside the gold and white of his smile.
“You are trouble.” She says, and it is something like affection that swells and breaks like a tide inside her gaze. She is the roiling ocean, deep and vast and uneasy. He is the storm that stokes her. “I’ve been here with you for all of one moment and I already find myself at a loss for words, where you are clearly a craftsman.” She smiles, something small and sly and entirely beautiful though she would never believe it to be so. “Should I assume that you’ve had a lot of practice?” Her eyes are glittering, molten things, plasma-bright and mischievous as she searches his face for any subtle tells.
But she can see nothing beyond his smile, nothing beyond the way he seems to come more alive in her company, like he is still trapped in a moment of dark and she is the first glimpse of sunlight he’s had. It is nice, even for this moment, to let his smile give her a sense of purpose.
Except his smile disappears into the lines of his quiet face, and for a moment she finds herself searching for it along the crook of his mouth and in the bright of eyes bluer than any sky. There is only some new kind of gentleness waiting there for her though, and it makes her eyes flare wider for just an instant before the whisper of his voice is a balm. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t stay and be disappointed.” She is not mesmerizing in the same way he is, and when she answers him there is a hint of something new and guarded in the way her eyes show fissures of pain where there had only been light a moment before. “I am not so sure I am what you describe, though that does sound lovely to be.”
His eyes are like sun alighting on a dark morning, setting everything they touch aglow beneath the warmth of his cerulean gaze. She thinks it would be so easy to melt. “You’re trouble.” She says again, and this time her voice is something so soft and so quiet, something that fills her eyes with a molten kind of ache, a need to know what it would be like for someone like this male to find her so alluring. “That’s strange,” she says, and there is a knot of despair in her chest as she reaches out to touch her lips to his neck, to trace the hard coil of muscle beneath his skin and follow it to the curve of his shoulder. “I think my wildest dreams are about someone just exactly like you.”
aureline
dear wilderness, be at your best
her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress
@[Svedka]