Slow exploration. I love how you blush when I tell you what I want
My invitation had been extended for him to travel to my home. It had been years since I'd last seen him. Even when I tried to ask around if they'd seen the Dutchman, they all shook their head. His influence in the Eastern seas was growing, and his tricolor flag was flown even in my harbors. Instead of frowning, I had to smile every time it moved in the wind. I wanted to see him. Dreams had been plaguing me, with playful touches and grins, and that persistent smell of pickled herring that I'd come to love simply because it was Constantijn. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. The door was slid open gingerly, and he bowed his head as he entered the room. I was sitting, and my head was craned up to look at him. He'd grown taller. How old was he physically? Right now, it seemed like he wasn't even twenty. Constantijn's face was tanner, his freckles pronounced and his hair so blonde it could be white. His eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his face, and his cheeks were still marred with a slight sunburn. I repressed a smile. Stiffly, he sat down, nearly falling over in the process. He couldn't handle his gangly limbs properly. Nearly, I chuckled at the sight. The bane of the seven seas, the most nefarious pirate with the strongest fleet who couldn't even sit down properly because his growth spurt preceded him. It was endearing, silly, and unexpected. He agreed to my every word, and then attempted to get up in the same clumsy fashion. His back was toward me, and the nape of his neck was bared as his scarf shifted. It was pure white, unmarred. It was perfect. The baby hairs curled slightly, but weren't contaminated by the same things he put in his hair to get it to stand straight up. I could hear myself breath in deeply, and my eyes were fixated on the 'v' of his nape. And in just a couple of moments, it was gone. Self-consciously, he tugged his scarf upwards, but it was futile. If he wanted to cover it, he'd have to bare his neck completely and rewrap it. His cheeks weren't red with just the sunburn. He was blushing as he looked over my shoulder, and caught me leering at his neck. I couldn't stop myself from smirking, raising a single eyebrow in challenge. I was caught wanting him, and the air was heavy with my desire. Did it mingle with his? Constantijn bit his lip, blinked, and looked down. He was frozen in his spot, the red increasing. Was he so young all he knew about lust came from his imagination? I found that hard to believe. He was simply awkward and shy. If I truly wanted him, if I wanted to surpass my fantasies I would have to reach out, grab him right by his scarf and pull him against me. "Constantijn," I said, using his first name, no honorific. How direct, how imposing. "Why do you always wear your scarf?" "I don't always wear it." "Why do you wear your scarf so often?" "Maybe I only wear it around you," he said, losing the mumble and looking me straight in the eye. "And why is that?" I asked, my voice soft, husky, and my head cocked. His face became even redder. I smiled, and coquettishly batted my eyes.
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It Defies Reason [3a/?]
(Anonymous) 2012-12-21 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)I love how you blush when I
tell you what I want
My invitation had been extended for him to travel to my home. It had been years since I'd last seen him. Even when I tried to ask around if they'd seen the Dutchman, they all shook their head. His influence in the Eastern seas was growing, and his tricolor flag was flown even in my harbors. Instead of frowning, I had to smile every time it moved in the wind. I wanted to see him. Dreams had been plaguing me, with playful touches and grins, and that persistent smell of pickled herring that I'd come to love simply because it was Constantijn.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. The door was slid open gingerly, and he bowed his head as he entered the room. I was sitting, and my head was craned up to look at him. He'd grown taller. How old was he physically? Right now, it seemed like he wasn't even twenty. Constantijn's face was tanner, his freckles pronounced and his hair so blonde it could be white. His eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his face, and his cheeks were still marred with a slight sunburn. I repressed a smile.
Stiffly, he sat down, nearly falling over in the process. He couldn't handle his gangly limbs properly. Nearly, I chuckled at the sight. The bane of the seven seas, the most nefarious pirate with the strongest fleet who couldn't even sit down properly because his growth spurt preceded him. It was endearing, silly, and unexpected.
He agreed to my every word, and then attempted to get up in the same clumsy fashion. His back was toward me, and the nape of his neck was bared as his scarf shifted. It was pure white, unmarred. It was perfect. The baby hairs curled slightly, but weren't contaminated by the same things he put in his hair to get it to stand straight up. I could hear myself breath in deeply, and my eyes were fixated on the 'v' of his nape. And in just a couple of moments, it was gone.
Self-consciously, he tugged his scarf upwards, but it was futile. If he wanted to cover it, he'd have to bare his neck completely and rewrap it. His cheeks weren't red with just the sunburn. He was blushing as he looked over my shoulder, and caught me leering at his neck. I couldn't stop myself from smirking, raising a single eyebrow in challenge. I was caught wanting him, and the air was heavy with my desire. Did it mingle with his? Constantijn bit his lip, blinked, and looked down. He was frozen in his spot, the red increasing. Was he so young all he knew about lust came from his imagination?
I found that hard to believe. He was simply awkward and shy. If I truly wanted him, if I wanted to surpass my fantasies I would have to reach out, grab him right by his scarf and pull him against me.
"Constantijn," I said, using his first name, no honorific. How direct, how imposing. "Why do you always wear your scarf?"
"I don't always wear it."
"Why do you wear your scarf so often?"
"Maybe I only wear it around you," he said, losing the mumble and looking me straight in the eye.
"And why is that?" I asked, my voice soft, husky, and my head cocked.
His face became even redder.
I smiled, and coquettishly batted my eyes.