Drabble the second
More, pure, pointless, plotless fluff. Cavity alert!
Rated PG-13 (to be safe).
For my dear marie_j_granger.
Prompt: "Every little thing she does is magic."
Magic
It was magic, he always thought.
It was magic in how the smallest, simplest of things could affect him so much.
He was, he knew, a powerful wizard, especially now that he’d learned how to control and channel his magical ability. He had more self-control than most and was much better able to keep his cool, having learned both in the hard school of experience when it made the difference between living or dying. He was a powerful wizard.
But not with her.
There was some strange magic at work when she was with him, some strange magic, enchantment, in every little thing she did.
The sight of her could literally steal his breath away. Not just at moments when he might expect it, such as when she was naked, every inch of her beauty revealed to his loving, wanting, heated gaze… It was in other moments too, random moments that were insignificant in every other way. Seeing her fresh out of the shower, her hair wet and her face glowing, sometimes made his heart stutter. Sometimes it was seeing her in the mornings when she was still sleep-flushed and a little bleary-eyed. It was moments like when she made him a cup of tea without his asking, or the small, casual touches or the way she sometimes smiled at him and all he could think was, rather dumbly, My God, she loves me.
And at those times, he really couldn’t understand how or why he had gotten so lucky but he knew it was a miracle that she did love him.
It was magical how her touch could make him weak and yet strong at the same time, how a single caress could bring him to his knees and make him helpless. Magical how she could make him forget the rest of the universe until she was his reality…
It was magical how she could calm him, soothe him, comfort him when he was angry or sad or hurt.
It was magical how there were times, even when she was irritated or when they disagreed, when he would be conscious of love, that some tiny portion of his mind would pause to marvel at how they could argue but he never for a moment doubted their love, never doubted her.
He couldn’t explain it except to think that it was magic-the magic of love but more than that, the magic of her…
Rated PG-13 (to be safe).
For my dear marie_j_granger.
Prompt: "Every little thing she does is magic."
Magic
It was magic, he always thought.
It was magic in how the smallest, simplest of things could affect him so much.
He was, he knew, a powerful wizard, especially now that he’d learned how to control and channel his magical ability. He had more self-control than most and was much better able to keep his cool, having learned both in the hard school of experience when it made the difference between living or dying. He was a powerful wizard.
But not with her.
There was some strange magic at work when she was with him, some strange magic, enchantment, in every little thing she did.
The sight of her could literally steal his breath away. Not just at moments when he might expect it, such as when she was naked, every inch of her beauty revealed to his loving, wanting, heated gaze… It was in other moments too, random moments that were insignificant in every other way. Seeing her fresh out of the shower, her hair wet and her face glowing, sometimes made his heart stutter. Sometimes it was seeing her in the mornings when she was still sleep-flushed and a little bleary-eyed. It was moments like when she made him a cup of tea without his asking, or the small, casual touches or the way she sometimes smiled at him and all he could think was, rather dumbly, My God, she loves me.
And at those times, he really couldn’t understand how or why he had gotten so lucky but he knew it was a miracle that she did love him.
It was magical how her touch could make him weak and yet strong at the same time, how a single caress could bring him to his knees and make him helpless. Magical how she could make him forget the rest of the universe until she was his reality…
It was magical how she could calm him, soothe him, comfort him when he was angry or sad or hurt.
It was magical how there were times, even when she was irritated or when they disagreed, when he would be conscious of love, that some tiny portion of his mind would pause to marvel at how they could argue but he never for a moment doubted their love, never doubted her.
He couldn’t explain it except to think that it was magic-the magic of love but more than that, the magic of her…