Oblivious.
And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
of juniper and lampllight
I held your hand
'For Emily Wherever I May Find Her' - Simon and Garfunkel
((I am not an artist. But I have some small talent with writing. And one good deed deserves another. For wowclectic's player.))
He was reading a new libram. Something about redemption and lost souls, or so she could tell from the cover of the book when he lifted it up to flip the page or study some passage he found interesting a little more closely. She watched him lazily through half lidded eyes, admiring the way the covers rumpled around him, one leg beneath with the other bent at the knee, his foot lost to a fold of fabric. He had no idea she resisted the urge to grab the fold of blanket covering his waist and pull it away. But she didn't, content to study his frame while he sat and read, oblivious.
Oblivious to the way women looked at him. She knew well enough not to be envious, he simply had no interest in any female who might pay attention to him. Not that she didn't revel, just a little bit, in her catch. There was a distinct satisfaction in watching their expressions shift with realization. Cute as the paladin might be, he had a lady and was not available.
Oblivious to her desire for him. He was getting better about it, but she was accustomed to initiating things with him. He was fine with showing affection, had no compuctions with kissing her. But it took her the better part of a month to get him to figure out she wanted more than just a spin in that flying mechanical head, she wanted a spin in his bed as well.
Oblivious to the way the light shadowed his body, or the scent of him left lingering on his side of the bed when she woke and he had already gone. Simply unaware of how she rolled over to the spot he vacated, just to feel a little closer to him and doze a moment longer. Or the silence she was used to when he lay with her, up until he could be quiet no longer and gasped against her throat in release.
She was not quite so oblivious to these and other things, even if she pretended not to notice how he stared at her. Tried not to ponder what he possibly saw or wonder what he was thinking when he gathered her into his arms and nuzzled the back of her head. Just as he was learning not to be quite so oblivious, she was learning not to question his motives. Not to wonder if this weren't all some magnficent dream, and she'd wake up to find herself alone.
She didn't bother pinching herself to see if it might be true. Instead, she finally gave in and snaked a hand out to grasp the fabric still covering him, sliding it off of him slowly. He didn't react, not right away. But she could see his lips curving upwards, even as he tried to keep concentrating on his reading.
A moment later the libram snapped shut, tossed to the ground unceremoniously.
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
of juniper and lampllight
I held your hand
'For Emily Wherever I May Find Her' - Simon and Garfunkel
((I am not an artist. But I have some small talent with writing. And one good deed deserves another. For wowclectic's player.))
He was reading a new libram. Something about redemption and lost souls, or so she could tell from the cover of the book when he lifted it up to flip the page or study some passage he found interesting a little more closely. She watched him lazily through half lidded eyes, admiring the way the covers rumpled around him, one leg beneath with the other bent at the knee, his foot lost to a fold of fabric. He had no idea she resisted the urge to grab the fold of blanket covering his waist and pull it away. But she didn't, content to study his frame while he sat and read, oblivious.
Oblivious to the way women looked at him. She knew well enough not to be envious, he simply had no interest in any female who might pay attention to him. Not that she didn't revel, just a little bit, in her catch. There was a distinct satisfaction in watching their expressions shift with realization. Cute as the paladin might be, he had a lady and was not available.
Oblivious to her desire for him. He was getting better about it, but she was accustomed to initiating things with him. He was fine with showing affection, had no compuctions with kissing her. But it took her the better part of a month to get him to figure out she wanted more than just a spin in that flying mechanical head, she wanted a spin in his bed as well.
Oblivious to the way the light shadowed his body, or the scent of him left lingering on his side of the bed when she woke and he had already gone. Simply unaware of how she rolled over to the spot he vacated, just to feel a little closer to him and doze a moment longer. Or the silence she was used to when he lay with her, up until he could be quiet no longer and gasped against her throat in release.
She was not quite so oblivious to these and other things, even if she pretended not to notice how he stared at her. Tried not to ponder what he possibly saw or wonder what he was thinking when he gathered her into his arms and nuzzled the back of her head. Just as he was learning not to be quite so oblivious, she was learning not to question his motives. Not to wonder if this weren't all some magnficent dream, and she'd wake up to find herself alone.
She didn't bother pinching herself to see if it might be true. Instead, she finally gave in and snaked a hand out to grasp the fabric still covering him, sliding it off of him slowly. He didn't react, not right away. But she could see his lips curving upwards, even as he tried to keep concentrating on his reading.
A moment later the libram snapped shut, tossed to the ground unceremoniously.