“Greedy and vain,” she hummed with amusement once the shirt was gone, once it was placed to lie over the back of the couch. He was lovely, but she didn’t need to relieve him of his clothes to know as much. There were wonderfully addictive benefits to being able to sense the world around her, the size and shape of things without ever needing to see at all.
Should she be bothered by the notion of him being greedy and vain? Were those characteristics of a person one should find displeasure in? Mayhap. That she found amusement in his admittance of both said many things about her.
“I am an open book, if you must know,” she went on. “There is very little I will not tell when asked—feelings included.” As he lifted his hips she leaned in, palms and fingers sliding over the skin along his hips and thighs. She stilled her movements only when his nails scraped her scalp, eyes closing as she leaned into his touch and smiled as he spoke. “That, for instance, feels quite lovely.” And then she opened her eyes to meet his gaze and pulled all of it away, her palms continuing their trek down to his calves to kneel. She broke eye contact to take his shoes off, his socks, and then his pants entirely. She placed them on the floor next to her, folding the pants carefully before setting them atop his shoes and socks.
“You may be disappointed then,” she murmured, taking one his feet in her hands. Fingers pressed, rolled, and caressed. Thumbs smoothed out from where his toes began and then up towards the bend where his shin began. At the same time, the tips of her other fingers created a gentle pressure along the middle of his sole, pushing in the opposite direction. “I am not capable of lying. Omitting, aye, but never lies.” She had told him before, but perhaps she had not worded it as well as she should have. Or perhaps he had ignored it altogether. “You may lie to me, for I cannot stop you. But I would rather you be as honest as you can manage, seigneur de cœur.” she watched her hands, his foot, as she massaged—as she listened to him recite.
“Lovely words. Do you have your own?” She wondered about that, if he made poetry and easily as he recited it. He had another story to tell her, but she could wait. Perhaps after they were finished.
Should she be bothered by the notion of him being greedy and vain? Were those characteristics of a person one should find displeasure in? Mayhap. That she found amusement in his admittance of both said many things about her.
“I am an open book, if you must know,” she went on. “There is very little I will not tell when asked—feelings included.” As he lifted his hips she leaned in, palms and fingers sliding over the skin along his hips and thighs. She stilled her movements only when his nails scraped her scalp, eyes closing as she leaned into his touch and smiled as he spoke. “That, for instance, feels quite lovely.” And then she opened her eyes to meet his gaze and pulled all of it away, her palms continuing their trek down to his calves to kneel. She broke eye contact to take his shoes off, his socks, and then his pants entirely. She placed them on the floor next to her, folding the pants carefully before setting them atop his shoes and socks.
“You may be disappointed then,” she murmured, taking one his feet in her hands. Fingers pressed, rolled, and caressed. Thumbs smoothed out from where his toes began and then up towards the bend where his shin began. At the same time, the tips of her other fingers created a gentle pressure along the middle of his sole, pushing in the opposite direction. “I am not capable of lying. Omitting, aye, but never lies.” She had told him before, but perhaps she had not worded it as well as she should have. Or perhaps he had ignored it altogether. “You may lie to me, for I cannot stop you. But I would rather you be as honest as you can manage, seigneur de cœur.” she watched her hands, his foot, as she massaged—as she listened to him recite.
“Lovely words. Do you have your own?” She wondered about that, if he made poetry and easily as he recited it. He had another story to tell her, but she could wait. Perhaps after they were finished.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
The following 1 user Likes Blade's post: Tindome
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Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-12-2014, 02:40 AM
Byronesque [Closed] - by tindome - 11-12-2014, 02:41 AM
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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