Post by max on Feb 23, 2010 18:10:57 GMT 10
Lady Stardust VI
PG-13
296
Joren
1/E
Continuing on from Joren singing David Bowie and kissing Kel...
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He knows that they are staring; Faleron and Owen and Margarry, the commoners who can’t help but recognise Mindelan’s Lady Knight, but somehow it has ceased to matter, and Kel’s mouth is soft against his own, and her arms around his neck are strong and sure.
He breaks away for air and Zahir is gathering up cloaks and coats and striding towards the exit with a disdainful ‘I think we’ve stayed here long enough,’ and he wonders briefly if this has been the Bazhir’s plan all along as Kel’s fingers twine through his own and the hood of her coat comes up over her head.
Lalasa or the princess or her ladies or Uline have managed to coax her out of her page-boy haircut, and now a fringe sweeps over her head, her hair cut asymmetrically to frame her face in angles that illuminate her dreamer’s eyes and rosy mouth, and there is a lock of hair that hangs down the left-hand side of her face, framing her jaw, and he is astounded at how much he wants to push it aside and kiss the skin beneath.
He rolls the taste of roses over her tongue and Margarry tactfully steers Owen away and then Zahir and Faleron make some not-excuse or other and the two of them have come to her quarters in the city, and her fingers net through the lacings holding his cloak shut at his throat and she kisses him again, sweet and sure, but when she pulls away he can see the flush of alcohol in her cheeks.
‘You’re drunk,’ he says, stepping away.
‘I don’t want you to… regret this.’
Her body is curled against his again, hands laced behind his neck, and she whispers ‘I won’t.’
And he is undone.
PG-13
296
Joren
1/E
Continuing on from Joren singing David Bowie and kissing Kel...
------------------------------------------------------------------
He knows that they are staring; Faleron and Owen and Margarry, the commoners who can’t help but recognise Mindelan’s Lady Knight, but somehow it has ceased to matter, and Kel’s mouth is soft against his own, and her arms around his neck are strong and sure.
He breaks away for air and Zahir is gathering up cloaks and coats and striding towards the exit with a disdainful ‘I think we’ve stayed here long enough,’ and he wonders briefly if this has been the Bazhir’s plan all along as Kel’s fingers twine through his own and the hood of her coat comes up over her head.
Lalasa or the princess or her ladies or Uline have managed to coax her out of her page-boy haircut, and now a fringe sweeps over her head, her hair cut asymmetrically to frame her face in angles that illuminate her dreamer’s eyes and rosy mouth, and there is a lock of hair that hangs down the left-hand side of her face, framing her jaw, and he is astounded at how much he wants to push it aside and kiss the skin beneath.
He rolls the taste of roses over her tongue and Margarry tactfully steers Owen away and then Zahir and Faleron make some not-excuse or other and the two of them have come to her quarters in the city, and her fingers net through the lacings holding his cloak shut at his throat and she kisses him again, sweet and sure, but when she pulls away he can see the flush of alcohol in her cheeks.
‘You’re drunk,’ he says, stepping away.
‘I don’t want you to… regret this.’
Her body is curled against his again, hands laced behind his neck, and she whispers ‘I won’t.’
And he is undone.