08-10-2018, 06:18 PM
Marcus watched as she seemed to unconsciously move closer to him. In the cool, he could feel the heat coming off of her. Her deep brown eyes grew larger, filled his field of vision. So big, so beautiful framed by exquisite lashes. She spoke and he only half paid attention to the words, entranced by the crinkle of her nose when when she smiled, those full red lips so biteable. Without realizing, he wet his lips with his tongue, eyes lidding slightly.
The force, his slave forever, fed him a river of sensation: the slight perspiration in her heady scent; the ethereal glow of her ivory skin in the silvery moonlight; shadows carving the side of her neck; a pulsing thread of her carotid where he might nuzzle, or more fun, nibble and tease; the entrancing plunge of cleavage pebbled and inviting; the husky girlish laughter in her voice.
Her hand rested lightly on his wrist, silky skin soft to the touch, eyes looking up at him with a hint of inquiry. A slight smile touched his lips. His eyes were locked on hers and his lips parted, to lean down, to kiss her, to taste her. It would be so easy, lost in the infinite space, just of the two of them. No two people in the world understood the power as they did, he knew. Completely aside from her physical beauty, there was that. Adrift, he began to lean in.
And then paused...he paused, casting his mind back. He replayed the what she had said to him, frozen.
For the first time, uncertainty held him. This was a moment, an experience he did not want to miss. But anger and resentment in Malik welled up, though not overwhelmingly so.
He cracked the wall a bit.
He placed his hand on hers and his lips quirking up at the corners. Quietly, "Heh. Highland Park?" His lips pressed together, though still a smile. "No, I grew up in the Robert Taylor Homes projects. Bounced around foster homes since I was three until I went away to University on a scholarship." It was public record, of course. Anyone could look it up.
But still he never spoke of it. Public record was one thing. His childhood was something else. He wasn't aware that a look of sadness had washed over his face. Just saying it out loud conjured up too many images. He embraced the pain.
He debated saying more when threads of power brought Ascendancy's voice to them. He wasn't sure if he resented the intrusion or not. He turned his head to the balcony entrance and then back to her....
"We'd better go. Ascendancy likes an audience."
The force, his slave forever, fed him a river of sensation: the slight perspiration in her heady scent; the ethereal glow of her ivory skin in the silvery moonlight; shadows carving the side of her neck; a pulsing thread of her carotid where he might nuzzle, or more fun, nibble and tease; the entrancing plunge of cleavage pebbled and inviting; the husky girlish laughter in her voice.
Her hand rested lightly on his wrist, silky skin soft to the touch, eyes looking up at him with a hint of inquiry. A slight smile touched his lips. His eyes were locked on hers and his lips parted, to lean down, to kiss her, to taste her. It would be so easy, lost in the infinite space, just of the two of them. No two people in the world understood the power as they did, he knew. Completely aside from her physical beauty, there was that. Adrift, he began to lean in.
And then paused...he paused, casting his mind back. He replayed the what she had said to him, frozen.
For the first time, uncertainty held him. This was a moment, an experience he did not want to miss. But anger and resentment in Malik welled up, though not overwhelmingly so.
He cracked the wall a bit.
He placed his hand on hers and his lips quirking up at the corners. Quietly, "Heh. Highland Park?" His lips pressed together, though still a smile. "No, I grew up in the Robert Taylor Homes projects. Bounced around foster homes since I was three until I went away to University on a scholarship." It was public record, of course. Anyone could look it up.
But still he never spoke of it. Public record was one thing. His childhood was something else. He wasn't aware that a look of sadness had washed over his face. Just saying it out loud conjured up too many images. He embraced the pain.
He debated saying more when threads of power brought Ascendancy's voice to them. He wasn't sure if he resented the intrusion or not. He turned his head to the balcony entrance and then back to her....
"We'd better go. Ascendancy likes an audience."