Part 1 of 3
Flavor of the Day - 10/03/09 - Raffish
and Mocha #16. Look But Don't Touch
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1260
Word Count : 772
Word of the Day : raffish - characterized by or suggestive of flashy vulgarity, crudeness, or rowdiness; tawdry.
I really wanted to set this up more, but anything I try to start in that direction seems to forced and arbitrary that I thought I'd just go for it and let it fill in later. Hopefully it's all enough in character that it won't be coming out of nowhere even without all the details. Part 2 is half done and should come soon. Part 3 may be a bit longer in the making, but it's the last maple, so it better not take too long. Oh, and Olram, this is all your fault. Thanks? I guess.
“Hey, Lyss.”
Lyssa flashed a smile as Wyatt slid into place beside her, quickly adjusting his pace to her own. His eyes traced the low sweep of her neckline and his lips gave a twitch.
“Like it?” she said, with a flex of her shoulders that pulled the fabric tighter. He gave a swift and silent bob of his head in return. “Thought you would.” The rush was almost like magic, that such a simple gesture could turn most any man into a big, dumb animal and Lyssa had to swallow the urge to laugh.
Wyatt blinked, his steps tumbling in and out of cadence as he fought to pull his eyes from her bosom.
“So,” she said, feigning ignorance of his lack of composure, “where’s the captain tonight?”
Wyatt’s lips twisted around the thought. “Haven’t seen him all day,” he said after a moment.
“Funny,” said Lyssa, “I haven’t seen Ski today either. Not that that’s surprising.”
He gave a sniff. “More fun for us, I suppose,” he said, “without them breathing down our necks all night.”
“Mmm.” His eyes were on her again, mesmerized by the bounce of ill-confined flesh as they made their way down the stairs. Like a moth circling a flame. Though she supposed the flame never got to enjoy the chase.
They rounded the final corner and she reached for the door, careful to roll her shoulders again as she did so. A hand shot out, a thick, muscled arm leveled across her path as its palm met the wall. She dropped the hand extended for the knob with a questioning look to her companion. He was grinning ear to ear, a gleam playing across his dark eyes, and Lyssa tensed.
“We can wait a minute.”
“Oh?” she said, settling back against the wall, arms folded across her chest.
The foolish grin wavered as he fumbled for words. “I thought maybe we could have a moment. You know, long as we don’t have our shadows hanging over us.”
She squared her shoulders, and Wyatt winced as his eyes flicked to her breast again. “You don’t have to be such a tease,” he said.
Lyssa raised a brow, squinting in confusion at the half giddy, half-nervous face poised a bit too close now to her own.
“I know with your sister and Mr Irritable always hanging over your shoulders it’s all you can do. But they’re not here right now.”
“What?”
He frowned a moment, staring at her as though she were some horribly knotted mess of ropes he was trying to find the end of. He must have found it, because the grin returned, and the glint to his eyes ceased its flicker, moving instead to bathe the whole of him.
“What?” said Lyssa again, shifting against the wall, not liking having that look focused on her. It was the moth that was supposed to get burned, not the other way around.
“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?” The glint was even in his voice as he moved closer.
She opened her mouth to protest, understanding reaching her only a breath before his lips did. He caught her like that, lips parted, eyes open, voicing a muffled complaint into the kiss he pressed her with. He had one hand to the wall to either side of her, his body leaned near until she could feel the warmth it exuded, and Lyssa froze, too startled to respond, as his mouth worked against her own.
“Well?” he said, pulling away, his mouth twisting apprehensively as he let go of the wall.
“What,” said Lyssa, raking a hand over her lips, “do you think you’re doing?”
Wyatt frowned at her as he shuffled back a pace. “What you wanted me to,” he said.
“What I wanted?” Lyssa spat. “Says who?”
“Says the dress.” He waved a hand at the bulge of flesh caught between her folded arms. “Says the way you act, half the things you say.”
Lyssa shot herself a look and returned to glaring at him. “So I like you looking,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I want you in my bed.”
“But-”
“Maybe you should go.“ She nodded towards the door.
Wyatt laid a hand on the knob. “You’re not coming?”
“Not tonight.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t at all.” He gave it a twist.
Lyssa nodded, tightening her arms as the door swung out. With a last scowl her way, Wyatt slipped inside. She turned to retrace her path. One step, two. The door slammed behind her.
She halted, arms and jaw dropping at the sight of the gangly, stoop-shouldered figure at the base of the stairs.
and Mocha #16. Look But Don't Touch
Story : knights
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1260
Word Count : 772
Word of the Day : raffish - characterized by or suggestive of flashy vulgarity, crudeness, or rowdiness; tawdry.
I really wanted to set this up more, but anything I try to start in that direction seems to forced and arbitrary that I thought I'd just go for it and let it fill in later. Hopefully it's all enough in character that it won't be coming out of nowhere even without all the details. Part 2 is half done and should come soon. Part 3 may be a bit longer in the making, but it's the last maple, so it better not take too long. Oh, and Olram, this is all your fault. Thanks? I guess.
“Hey, Lyss.”
Lyssa flashed a smile as Wyatt slid into place beside her, quickly adjusting his pace to her own. His eyes traced the low sweep of her neckline and his lips gave a twitch.
“Like it?” she said, with a flex of her shoulders that pulled the fabric tighter. He gave a swift and silent bob of his head in return. “Thought you would.” The rush was almost like magic, that such a simple gesture could turn most any man into a big, dumb animal and Lyssa had to swallow the urge to laugh.
Wyatt blinked, his steps tumbling in and out of cadence as he fought to pull his eyes from her bosom.
“So,” she said, feigning ignorance of his lack of composure, “where’s the captain tonight?”
Wyatt’s lips twisted around the thought. “Haven’t seen him all day,” he said after a moment.
“Funny,” said Lyssa, “I haven’t seen Ski today either. Not that that’s surprising.”
He gave a sniff. “More fun for us, I suppose,” he said, “without them breathing down our necks all night.”
“Mmm.” His eyes were on her again, mesmerized by the bounce of ill-confined flesh as they made their way down the stairs. Like a moth circling a flame. Though she supposed the flame never got to enjoy the chase.
They rounded the final corner and she reached for the door, careful to roll her shoulders again as she did so. A hand shot out, a thick, muscled arm leveled across her path as its palm met the wall. She dropped the hand extended for the knob with a questioning look to her companion. He was grinning ear to ear, a gleam playing across his dark eyes, and Lyssa tensed.
“We can wait a minute.”
“Oh?” she said, settling back against the wall, arms folded across her chest.
The foolish grin wavered as he fumbled for words. “I thought maybe we could have a moment. You know, long as we don’t have our shadows hanging over us.”
She squared her shoulders, and Wyatt winced as his eyes flicked to her breast again. “You don’t have to be such a tease,” he said.
Lyssa raised a brow, squinting in confusion at the half giddy, half-nervous face poised a bit too close now to her own.
“I know with your sister and Mr Irritable always hanging over your shoulders it’s all you can do. But they’re not here right now.”
“What?”
He frowned a moment, staring at her as though she were some horribly knotted mess of ropes he was trying to find the end of. He must have found it, because the grin returned, and the glint to his eyes ceased its flicker, moving instead to bathe the whole of him.
“What?” said Lyssa again, shifting against the wall, not liking having that look focused on her. It was the moth that was supposed to get burned, not the other way around.
“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?” The glint was even in his voice as he moved closer.
She opened her mouth to protest, understanding reaching her only a breath before his lips did. He caught her like that, lips parted, eyes open, voicing a muffled complaint into the kiss he pressed her with. He had one hand to the wall to either side of her, his body leaned near until she could feel the warmth it exuded, and Lyssa froze, too startled to respond, as his mouth worked against her own.
“Well?” he said, pulling away, his mouth twisting apprehensively as he let go of the wall.
“What,” said Lyssa, raking a hand over her lips, “do you think you’re doing?”
Wyatt frowned at her as he shuffled back a pace. “What you wanted me to,” he said.
“What I wanted?” Lyssa spat. “Says who?”
“Says the dress.” He waved a hand at the bulge of flesh caught between her folded arms. “Says the way you act, half the things you say.”
Lyssa shot herself a look and returned to glaring at him. “So I like you looking,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I want you in my bed.”
“But-”
“Maybe you should go.“ She nodded towards the door.
Wyatt laid a hand on the knob. “You’re not coming?”
“Not tonight.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t at all.” He gave it a twist.
Lyssa nodded, tightening her arms as the door swung out. With a last scowl her way, Wyatt slipped inside. She turned to retrace her path. One step, two. The door slammed behind her.
She halted, arms and jaw dropping at the sight of the gangly, stoop-shouldered figure at the base of the stairs.