It was a vain statement; at face value it was a comment one brushed off for being too easy, too topped in cream and dipped in strawberry sauce; it was the kind of thing a man with the right face told a woman who wanted to be assured that she had chosen correctly for her partner in a rendezvous of satin and skin. Truly, she would have imagined it to be coming from someone else; however, she was quickly learning--as she had been most of the night--that Jean was anything but easily tucked in a labeled box. Certainly not the kind of box many people would put him in.
“Perhaps," she allowed quietly as she continued to rub circles into his side with her thumb while her fingers moved to tuck themselves into waistband of his trousers. “Perhaps you only imagine yourself to be a ‘series of compliments made flesh’ because you are so accustomed to others seeing you that way.
“Maybe…” she went on, “Maybe you have more in common with the books you allow to overtake your home. Tombs filled with words people enjoyed and then forgot, left to the shelf as time passes—as modern words replace the verses of Chaucer, as shinier things replace the dusty ones, as all people are contented to merely admire of the lovely covers that keep the stories that are from an age they no longer understand or connect with.
“Beautiful covers filling spaces that would otherwise be empty… they like it on their shelf, but rarely crack the binding.” At this she sunk into his embrace further, sighing as if allowing the air to escape would let her to fill every comfortable crevice his body provided.
She laughed well enough to have her whole body shake in his lap when he told her he didn't think she imagined him great beauty. She found herself, hugging him then, squeezing briefly as one might when they were reassuring a confidant or a child--a lover--in a playful manner. It, with a combination of his vanity through words, and, the truth of her sight, was that which made her react so. "On the contrary," she said between short and bursting guffaws. "I find you unimaginably beautiful, Jean.
"And," she continued, enjoying the way he slipped the fabric from her shoulder, the way his body made motion against hers, and the way his humming vibrated gently through part of her, "I never lie, especially not if one asks the right questions." Still smiling, she pressed her face into his neck so that the bridge of her nose fit along skin and curls. Once more, she inhaled; once more, she relished the motion of their intercourse.
As he spoke she considered his facial expressions; those she could feel. The way his eyes opened and closed, the way he questions himself out loud, he way he shrugged, and the hesitance in his reply. It all coiled in her head, mixing and meshing as she tried to make something of the simplicity of it.
Did she feel the same? Was it why she remained in some places longer than others? Or was there a reasonable explanation? His reply wasn't the least bit romantic, implying that it was a genuinely honest answer. She could conclude that without a doubt.
"Hm..." she said, the noise short. "One's presence in my life is rarely contingent on their usefulness to me, I would hope." At this, she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, lips half blanketed in a barrier of his raven-colored wisps.
“Perhaps," she allowed quietly as she continued to rub circles into his side with her thumb while her fingers moved to tuck themselves into waistband of his trousers. “Perhaps you only imagine yourself to be a ‘series of compliments made flesh’ because you are so accustomed to others seeing you that way.
“Maybe…” she went on, “Maybe you have more in common with the books you allow to overtake your home. Tombs filled with words people enjoyed and then forgot, left to the shelf as time passes—as modern words replace the verses of Chaucer, as shinier things replace the dusty ones, as all people are contented to merely admire of the lovely covers that keep the stories that are from an age they no longer understand or connect with.
“Beautiful covers filling spaces that would otherwise be empty… they like it on their shelf, but rarely crack the binding.” At this she sunk into his embrace further, sighing as if allowing the air to escape would let her to fill every comfortable crevice his body provided.
She laughed well enough to have her whole body shake in his lap when he told her he didn't think she imagined him great beauty. She found herself, hugging him then, squeezing briefly as one might when they were reassuring a confidant or a child--a lover--in a playful manner. It, with a combination of his vanity through words, and, the truth of her sight, was that which made her react so. "On the contrary," she said between short and bursting guffaws. "I find you unimaginably beautiful, Jean.
"And," she continued, enjoying the way he slipped the fabric from her shoulder, the way his body made motion against hers, and the way his humming vibrated gently through part of her, "I never lie, especially not if one asks the right questions." Still smiling, she pressed her face into his neck so that the bridge of her nose fit along skin and curls. Once more, she inhaled; once more, she relished the motion of their intercourse.
As he spoke she considered his facial expressions; those she could feel. The way his eyes opened and closed, the way he questions himself out loud, he way he shrugged, and the hesitance in his reply. It all coiled in her head, mixing and meshing as she tried to make something of the simplicity of it.
Did she feel the same? Was it why she remained in some places longer than others? Or was there a reasonable explanation? His reply wasn't the least bit romantic, implying that it was a genuinely honest answer. She could conclude that without a doubt.
"Hm..." she said, the noise short. "One's presence in my life is rarely contingent on their usefulness to me, I would hope." At this, she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, lips half blanketed in a barrier of his raven-colored wisps.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
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Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-12-2014, 02:40 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-12-2014, 02:41 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 11-18-2014, 02:01 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-22-2014, 04:10 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 11-23-2014, 12:23 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-27-2014, 02:30 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 11-30-2014, 03:02 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 12-07-2014, 08:47 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 01-12-2015, 11:28 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 01-27-2015, 03:13 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 02-18-2015, 05:08 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 02-19-2015, 02:35 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 02-25-2015, 02:26 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 05-03-2015, 11:57 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 06-12-2015, 03:40 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 08-06-2015, 02:20 PM
Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 08-13-2015, 09:22 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 09-07-2015, 08:33 PM
RE: Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 11-23-2015, 10:21 PM
RE: Byronesque [Closed] - by Tindome - 02-27-2016, 09:35 PM
RE: Byronesque [Closed] - by Blade - 07-11-2016, 11:44 PM
RE: Byronesque [Closed] - by Tindome - 03-16-2017, 08:26 AM