Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non
"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for ( Read more... )
Yes, those fantasies, where our slight height difference is exaggerated to the point where he towers over me. It's stupid, I know. Sometimes he pins me against a wall, sometimes it's over a desk or in the back of a car - but every time I picture it he is smooth and aggressive and takes command of me effortlessly. I'd let him. God knows I'd let him. He never could in reality, not for anything, so why in my imagination is he always such a natural? Sometimes I have to snap myself out of a daydream halfway through a conversation. In fact, it's getting out of control. I can't help myself; I want him, and I think about it all the time.
But it's not supposed to work like that, is it? Isn't it meant to be the employee who fantasises about his boss, and not vice-versa?
Sometimes I wonder if I really have got it the right way round. He's so ready to correct me and put me down, to order me around and tell me what to wear or how to talk, that he may as well be my boss. And I let him get away with it because... I like it. It's nice to have someone worry over me and make my decisions for me, especially when I get to watch him at work, snarling down the phone or elbowing open the door to my office with an armfull of today's papers. He moves... not gracefully, but quickly and assuredly. Arrogantly, if I'm honest. He really is getting too big for his boots. I should take him down a peg or two, but every time I try he just ends up shouting about how self-absorbed I am and how I don't know what it's like to do his job.
When that happens I simply melt, because no-one except Gordon is allowed to let rip at me like that. No-one. And yet he does. And he gets away with it, because he's so sexy when he's furious - the insults fuel my fantasies, his angry sneers finding their way into a million different scenarios, each more sordid than the last.
It's a bit pathetic.
But sometimes I catch him looking at me, in almost exactly the same way he looks at secretaries and stewardesses: admiring, but all the time calculating pros against cons. I know it's just a media thing, but deep down I can't help wondering if - just maybe, just once, just for a moment - he's having the same thoughts about me as I do about him.
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(I'm still not used to feeling sorry for fanon!Tony, but I fear that with great fics like this one day it would be normal and I do not want)
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(MTE! :( Dealing with that is what strapverse is for...)
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♥
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Anyway, thanks for the comment :)
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