ice, an elektra/renard ficlet
ice, an elektra/renard (james bond's the world is not enough) ficlet
Written for marketchippie, as always.
289 words, pg.
It clinked gently in the bucket as he removed the champagne bottle. Inviting, with its silvery sheen in the candlelight. He remembered the refreshing chill, the smooth and slippery slickness, the way those tiny cubes could make her shiver and gasp as they traced the line between her breasts. He sank his fingers into the ice, hoping against hope, and felt nothing. Foolish to believe otherwise at this point, but being here, with her, he found himself stirred into dreaming again.
It glittered on her finger, a flawless stone in a platinum setting. A gift from him, long ago, when he was a different man-a whole man. A man who could please a woman properly. When she was sweet and untasted, an unspoiled gift he delighted in unwrapping. When she was not yet as strong and hard as she was now. Those jewels were a woman’s best friend, the hardest substance known to man. But he knew neither of those were true. Power was a woman’s best friend, the greatest gift he could give her. And there was something even harder than diamonds…
It was the heart of a woman long denied her birthright, undervalued by an absent father and underestimated by the world around her. She was worth more than any amount of ransom, more than handfuls of diamonds. Masked beneath those smooth and gentle curves, the waves of chestnut hair, the sultry and heavy-lidded eyes that could draw a man down into unfathomable depths-there was a core harder and sharper than anyone but he could imagine. He loved that hardness even as he worshipped the soft and yielding. She had conquered him with that unbreakable heart.
His own heart was weak and malleable in comparison.
Written for marketchippie, as always.
289 words, pg.
It clinked gently in the bucket as he removed the champagne bottle. Inviting, with its silvery sheen in the candlelight. He remembered the refreshing chill, the smooth and slippery slickness, the way those tiny cubes could make her shiver and gasp as they traced the line between her breasts. He sank his fingers into the ice, hoping against hope, and felt nothing. Foolish to believe otherwise at this point, but being here, with her, he found himself stirred into dreaming again.
It glittered on her finger, a flawless stone in a platinum setting. A gift from him, long ago, when he was a different man-a whole man. A man who could please a woman properly. When she was sweet and untasted, an unspoiled gift he delighted in unwrapping. When she was not yet as strong and hard as she was now. Those jewels were a woman’s best friend, the hardest substance known to man. But he knew neither of those were true. Power was a woman’s best friend, the greatest gift he could give her. And there was something even harder than diamonds…
It was the heart of a woman long denied her birthright, undervalued by an absent father and underestimated by the world around her. She was worth more than any amount of ransom, more than handfuls of diamonds. Masked beneath those smooth and gentle curves, the waves of chestnut hair, the sultry and heavy-lidded eyes that could draw a man down into unfathomable depths-there was a core harder and sharper than anyone but he could imagine. He loved that hardness even as he worshipped the soft and yielding. She had conquered him with that unbreakable heart.
His own heart was weak and malleable in comparison.