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Molasses #22. False Start
Story : knights
Rating : PG-13
Timeframe : 1255 (after the library incident)
Word Count : 927
“So what are we now?” Rune folded his arms and braced himself against the frame of the closed door.
“Huh?” Lyssa lifted her head from the drawer she’d been perusing, tossing a wet mass of copper over her bare shoulders.
Rune squirmed a bit as his eyes traveled the edges of the towel wrapped around her middle, the top tucked forcefully across her breasts, pressing them together, the bottom dangling, half open, along the tops of her thighs. “I mean,” his voice cracked, “after what happened earlier…”
Her lips curled into a grin and she gave her ill-confined bosom a none too subtle thrust as she crossed the room to meet him. “You’re the one that threw me down on a desk,” she said. “What do you think we are?”
“I-“ Rune snapped upright, cheeks flushing hot, mouth falling open to chew the air with incoherent sputtering. He stuffed a hand in his collar and ground his palm against his neck. “You practically begged me to.” Her grin widened. “You’ve been throwing yourself at me since you got here. You’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”
Lyssa folded her arms across the edge of the towel, squeezing herself even tighter, and gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“That’s what I said.” She tossed her hands up as if in defeat and turned and swaggered back towards the bureau. “Sometimes,” she rummaged about in the drawer a bit, “I look at you and mostly I want to tear your clothes off, just to see how far you let me get.” She righted herself, a shirt hanging from her hands, and frowned at him. “And then sometimes you look at me, like, well, like you are right now, and…” She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I look at you like what?” said Rune, still kneading at the base of his scalp.
“Like you’re expecting an answer, expecting something.” She shook out the shirt and scowled some more. “I don’t know. What do you want?”
“Just to know where I stand. I mean, is this going to happen again?”
Her frown faded, replaced with an instant, slick grin. “Rather hope so,” she said, tossing the shirt on the end of the bed and returning to the drawer. “But maybe not on the desk next time.”
Rune gulped, his face burning. “And…and what do I call you?” he continued. “What do you call me?”
Lyssa looked up, one leg of a pair of pants in hand. Her eyes settled on his groin. “Depends who I’m talking to,” she said with a smirk, and his cheeks flared even hotter.
“I’m serious, Lyss,” he said. “Are we even permitted to be together, or is this something we have to hide?”
She yanked the remainder of the pants from the drawer and shoved it closed with a swing of her hip. “No one tells me what to do.”
“Lyss, you know that’s not what I-”
“No,” she said, the pants joining the shirt on the bed, “we don’t have to hide it. You know I wouldn’t stand for sneaking about like that. And it’s not like I have the family honor hanging on my shoulders. Mother’s not about to start stuffing princes in my face like she is Ski, if that’s what you mean.”
Lyssa was looking at the pile of clothes on the bed, so she didn’t see the way his face twisted at that, or the look of relief when he realized it had and that she hadn’t noticed. She turned back to face him, fumbling with the top of the towel in search of the seam, and he returned to rubbing his neck.
“But why do you need to define and label everything?” said Lyssa, prying apart the towel. “Can’t it just be what it is?”
“And what is it?” He swallowed hard as the cloth slid down over her breasts, exposing more pale flesh in its wake.
“I don’t know.”
He closed his eyes before the towel could fall completely away and steadied himself again along the doorframe. There was a stifled laugh from across the room and a rustling of cloth. Rune took a breath and opened his eyes to stare down at his feet as the sound continued.
“I love you,” he said. It wasn’t much above a whisper, but over the soft brush of fabric that was the only other sound the room held it was enough. There was a short pause as the sentiment was left to hang in the air.
“Right.” She sounded amused. Rune’s chest tightened and he jerked his head up. Decent or not, he wasn’t taking that without facing her.
“Look,” he said, struggling to meet her eyes and not linger on the way her shirt hung open off her shoulders, exposing a swath of toned abdomen and the valley where breasts met sternum. “I’ve tried to say it, more times than I could count. And then you look at me like you want to tear my clothes off, and…and I don’t know either.”
Lyssa’s face twisted in a look of contemplation bordering on pain. “I love you too,” she said after a moment.
“You don’t have to say it just because I did.”
She drew back, hurt, fumbling with the top button of her shirt. “But I do.”
“Maybe…“ Rune gave his sore neck one last squeeze and reached for the doorknob. “Maybe we just need to slow this down a bit.”
Lyssa eyed her open shirt, sullenly pulled button to hole, and sighed. “Maybe,” she said.
Story : knights
Rating : PG-13
Timeframe : 1255 (after the library incident)
Word Count : 927
“So what are we now?” Rune folded his arms and braced himself against the frame of the closed door.
“Huh?” Lyssa lifted her head from the drawer she’d been perusing, tossing a wet mass of copper over her bare shoulders.
Rune squirmed a bit as his eyes traveled the edges of the towel wrapped around her middle, the top tucked forcefully across her breasts, pressing them together, the bottom dangling, half open, along the tops of her thighs. “I mean,” his voice cracked, “after what happened earlier…”
Her lips curled into a grin and she gave her ill-confined bosom a none too subtle thrust as she crossed the room to meet him. “You’re the one that threw me down on a desk,” she said. “What do you think we are?”
“I-“ Rune snapped upright, cheeks flushing hot, mouth falling open to chew the air with incoherent sputtering. He stuffed a hand in his collar and ground his palm against his neck. “You practically begged me to.” Her grin widened. “You’ve been throwing yourself at me since you got here. You’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”
Lyssa folded her arms across the edge of the towel, squeezing herself even tighter, and gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“That’s what I said.” She tossed her hands up as if in defeat and turned and swaggered back towards the bureau. “Sometimes,” she rummaged about in the drawer a bit, “I look at you and mostly I want to tear your clothes off, just to see how far you let me get.” She righted herself, a shirt hanging from her hands, and frowned at him. “And then sometimes you look at me, like, well, like you are right now, and…” She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I look at you like what?” said Rune, still kneading at the base of his scalp.
“Like you’re expecting an answer, expecting something.” She shook out the shirt and scowled some more. “I don’t know. What do you want?”
“Just to know where I stand. I mean, is this going to happen again?”
Her frown faded, replaced with an instant, slick grin. “Rather hope so,” she said, tossing the shirt on the end of the bed and returning to the drawer. “But maybe not on the desk next time.”
Rune gulped, his face burning. “And…and what do I call you?” he continued. “What do you call me?”
Lyssa looked up, one leg of a pair of pants in hand. Her eyes settled on his groin. “Depends who I’m talking to,” she said with a smirk, and his cheeks flared even hotter.
“I’m serious, Lyss,” he said. “Are we even permitted to be together, or is this something we have to hide?”
She yanked the remainder of the pants from the drawer and shoved it closed with a swing of her hip. “No one tells me what to do.”
“Lyss, you know that’s not what I-”
“No,” she said, the pants joining the shirt on the bed, “we don’t have to hide it. You know I wouldn’t stand for sneaking about like that. And it’s not like I have the family honor hanging on my shoulders. Mother’s not about to start stuffing princes in my face like she is Ski, if that’s what you mean.”
Lyssa was looking at the pile of clothes on the bed, so she didn’t see the way his face twisted at that, or the look of relief when he realized it had and that she hadn’t noticed. She turned back to face him, fumbling with the top of the towel in search of the seam, and he returned to rubbing his neck.
“But why do you need to define and label everything?” said Lyssa, prying apart the towel. “Can’t it just be what it is?”
“And what is it?” He swallowed hard as the cloth slid down over her breasts, exposing more pale flesh in its wake.
“I don’t know.”
He closed his eyes before the towel could fall completely away and steadied himself again along the doorframe. There was a stifled laugh from across the room and a rustling of cloth. Rune took a breath and opened his eyes to stare down at his feet as the sound continued.
“I love you,” he said. It wasn’t much above a whisper, but over the soft brush of fabric that was the only other sound the room held it was enough. There was a short pause as the sentiment was left to hang in the air.
“Right.” She sounded amused. Rune’s chest tightened and he jerked his head up. Decent or not, he wasn’t taking that without facing her.
“Look,” he said, struggling to meet her eyes and not linger on the way her shirt hung open off her shoulders, exposing a swath of toned abdomen and the valley where breasts met sternum. “I’ve tried to say it, more times than I could count. And then you look at me like you want to tear my clothes off, and…and I don’t know either.”
Lyssa’s face twisted in a look of contemplation bordering on pain. “I love you too,” she said after a moment.
“You don’t have to say it just because I did.”
She drew back, hurt, fumbling with the top button of her shirt. “But I do.”
“Maybe…“ Rune gave his sore neck one last squeeze and reached for the doorknob. “Maybe we just need to slow this down a bit.”
Lyssa eyed her open shirt, sullenly pulled button to hole, and sighed. “Maybe,” she said.