Her riposte drew an amused smirk from him. A sharp curve at one corner of his mouth, the pull of it revealing a flash of his elongated canines. Amber eyes stared up at him with a defiance he found endearing. Elliot thought it was cute the way she thought she could disobey him. He owned her, and this show of disregard was a game she liked to play. He continued to work at her buttons as she criticized his leadership skills. A haughty scoff from the back of his throat as he pulled the end of the blouse from her dark jeans.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, releasing her wrists. He could have easily held her in place with magic, but it more amused him to know that she would do as he said. “My leadership if fine,” he replied, finishing with the buttons. While he had both hands to work with he also snapped open the button on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper. He grinned, pleased to find that the lingerie she had worn beneath this insufferable outfit matched. “It is you who is in need of refinement.”
Elliot pushed her arms down so he could pull the shirt off of her. He let the satiny material fall to the floor, before hands back on her hips forced her to turn around and face the bookshelf he’d previously had her pinned to. “You insist on disobeying me,” he explained, pushing her hair over her shoulder so he could unhook her bra. He slid the straps down her arms, and discarded the article in much the same was as the blouse. Strong hands back on her hips pulled her body against his, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass.
“Perhaps, you delight in the punishment,” he suggested, lips moving against the soft skin of her shoulder, as if they both knew that wasn’t the case, exactly. Hands skirted upwards, until he cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing across each nipple in turn. There were a dozen nicer and softer places that Elliot could have had her, but Elliot was neither soft or nice or considerate of such trivial things.
When he was finished with her, having had his way with her in the library without care for an audience or the rarity of the book he had collected, Elliot carried Eden back to her room. He left her clothes in the library, because after all, messes were still her job. He laid her down on her bed, while he drew a bath for her. Water just hot enough and filled with all those ridiculous salts and oils that she was so fond of.
He transferred her satisfied and weary form to the claw footed tub that was realistically big enough for two. He helped her bathe, and he washed her hair. Not because he felt any sort of affection for her, but because he’d learned from his mother that you never put your tool away dirty.
You took care of things if you wanted them to last.
He worked silently, and when the last of the suds were rinsed from her chocolate brown hair, Elliot left her to finish the task on her own and fully expected her to return to her duties.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, releasing her wrists. He could have easily held her in place with magic, but it more amused him to know that she would do as he said. “My leadership if fine,” he replied, finishing with the buttons. While he had both hands to work with he also snapped open the button on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper. He grinned, pleased to find that the lingerie she had worn beneath this insufferable outfit matched. “It is you who is in need of refinement.”
Elliot pushed her arms down so he could pull the shirt off of her. He let the satiny material fall to the floor, before hands back on her hips forced her to turn around and face the bookshelf he’d previously had her pinned to. “You insist on disobeying me,” he explained, pushing her hair over her shoulder so he could unhook her bra. He slid the straps down her arms, and discarded the article in much the same was as the blouse. Strong hands back on her hips pulled her body against his, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass.
“Perhaps, you delight in the punishment,” he suggested, lips moving against the soft skin of her shoulder, as if they both knew that wasn’t the case, exactly. Hands skirted upwards, until he cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing across each nipple in turn. There were a dozen nicer and softer places that Elliot could have had her, but Elliot was neither soft or nice or considerate of such trivial things.
When he was finished with her, having had his way with her in the library without care for an audience or the rarity of the book he had collected, Elliot carried Eden back to her room. He left her clothes in the library, because after all, messes were still her job. He laid her down on her bed, while he drew a bath for her. Water just hot enough and filled with all those ridiculous salts and oils that she was so fond of.
He transferred her satisfied and weary form to the claw footed tub that was realistically big enough for two. He helped her bathe, and he washed her hair. Not because he felt any sort of affection for her, but because he’d learned from his mother that you never put your tool away dirty.
You took care of things if you wanted them to last.
He worked silently, and when the last of the suds were rinsed from her chocolate brown hair, Elliot left her to finish the task on her own and fully expected her to return to her duties.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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