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Post by Daniel nó Mandrake on Sept 23, 2011 15:39:23 GMT -5
Well, I wasn't in the fountain. That had to be a promising sign.
There was a split second when the noise of the world died away entirely leaving me with nothing but the sound of her gasp, dying like the last notes of a symphony in my ears. I could almost taste it, in colours, on my tongue and my fingertips trembled in reaction as I withdrew my hand. I blinked, in some surprise, at the intensity of it all – not really minding, in those swift, delirious seconds, what she could read on my face.
I can, when obliged, do the impassive Mandrake but I've never been very good at it.
“Usually they're begging for more,” I said, drawing back a little and striving for a lighter note, although in truth it did little to dispel the tension that had filled up the air between us until it felt like I was a breathing through a syrup of sudden desire. A fountain rim was really not the place for this – not unless we both wanted to cool off literally.
All the same, there was something in both her remark and her eyes that sent a shudder of warning through me – not that I was likely to heed it. They made us learn about Shahrizai. Complicated didn't even begin to cover it, and even by Shahrizai standards Naia seemed off the scale. I had no idea what she was thinking in those moments, but I felt the pull of her nature, that “hey, why don't you betray your country for me” Shahrizai magnetism.
It made the part of me that is, was, and always will be Kushiel's sit up like a wolf scenting blood. But I'm not a complete idiot. I suspect there are some Shahrizai who break Mandrakes for fun, and some who do it by accident. A sensible man would surely have heeded his instincts and politely disengaged.
But me. Oh dear. I find the strong irresistible. And the risk only made it a sweeter proposition still.
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Post by Naia Shahrizai on Sept 23, 2011 23:51:12 GMT -5
"I imagine they are..." The words just slipped out and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks immediately. For a Shahrizai I was so bad at this sort of thing, it was honestly embarrassing. I could just imagine what Sinclair would say if he could see this, well aside from dragging me away as fast as he could - he hated Mandrakes. He also hated Shahrizai, however, and we'd seen how that had worked out.
My mouth felt dry all of a sudden and I dropped my gaze to the water and licked my lips, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out how to keep ahead in this exchange. When I looked back up I was smiling, not the happy-go-lucky smile of earlier, but something much more ... primal. It was something I hadn't felt in a long time and the idea of testing myself against him like a bird beating its wings against the glass was so tempting that for a moment I almost forgot we were in public. I raised my eyes and then raised the stakes a bit as well.
I leaned forward suddenly, heedless of the letters that cascaded down the side of the fountain like a paper waterfall. Reaching out, I slid my own finger down his jaw, but softly, enjoying the sensation of his skin against my sensitive fingertips. I liked to touch things, to really feel them, and I did that now, staring directly into his eyes and trying to see something there that would help me get what I wanted out of him. If I could just figure out what that was exactly.
"But I imagine that your regular clients aren't much of a challenge, are they? Some people don't like to beg... the trick is getting them to do it anyway." Not that I had had much experience in that department, I reflected wryly. Still, he didn't know that. The challenge was implicit in my words and as I dropped my hand, I wondered if he would accept it ... and if he did, how long I would last before I was just another patron, begging for more.
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Post by Daniel nó Mandrake on Sept 27, 2011 7:09:57 GMT -5
I was vaguely aware of the incongruous rustle of paper as she leaned towards me but my focus had narrowed to her, and her alone. I’d almost forgotten we were in public, as I turned instinctively into her caress. At the very least it broke the spell of her eyes, which had held me long enough that I’d begun to wonder precisely who was predator and who was prey. I don’t necessarily find it helpful to always draw such distinctions, since the relationship between the one who yields and one who apparently does not, is complicated, and there are many different ways of yielding, but I kept having to remind myself that what I was doing was ... dangerous. Especially when everything she did, consciously or otherwise, seemed to want to convince me it wasn’t, and that I could seduce a Shahrizai, or rather let myself be seduced by one, and it’d be fiiiine. Obviously I didn’t think she was going to draw me to my destruction, but I knew I could lose myself in her, oh, far too easily.
I could feel her ambivalence almost as strongly as I could feel her desire, and I wasn’t sure how best to navigate its treacherous straits. Unlike some of my compatriots, I don’t scorn or fear submission, but I also suspect I’d be terrible at it. I know breaking Mandrakes, from the top or the bottom, is a hobby for some and, although I thought Naia would never be like that, from the way she was looking at me, I couldn’t work out which one of us she wanted on our knees. I wasn’t sure she knew either. It would almost have been comical if I didn’t know through experience the pain and confusion of being pulled always in different directions.
Also, for someone who had confessed she’d never been a patron of Valerian, she seemed remarkably confident about what my patrons were like, and what I wanted from them. But, then, I admired her bravado, and I wasn’t about to do anything to wound her pride – not when I liked it so much. I caught up her hand again, my grip firm but not painful, and drew it back towards me. I didn’t have any particular plans for it – at least not yet – but I wanted to see how she’d react to me doing it. It was, after all, restraint of a kind.
“Is that what you want, Naia?” I asked, softly. “To beg and plead, even though you think you don’t like it?”
There was, however, no such ambivalence in me - from the way my blood was roaring through my veins, it was evidently an idea I liked very much indeed.
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Post by Naia Shahrizai on Sept 27, 2011 15:27:54 GMT -5
"...even though you think you don't like it..."
The words echoed in my head with a strange intensity ... never had I felt so open. It was a simple sentence, meant, to my mind, simply to draw me in and challenge me the way I had done him. He couldn't possibly know how very true it was, underneath everything else. It was the heart of why I tried so hard to do the opposite, because there was that part of me, always, who yearned for nothing more.
He took my hand and simply held it, and I let him, because I liked the way it felt to do so. A thousand responses to his questions flickered through my mind: some sarcastic and cutting; some breathless protestations; some a combination of the two. I was suddenly hyper aware of the flow of life around us, the papers that floated on the water of the fountain, the light summer breeze. I said the only thing I could say.
"Yes."
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Post by Daniel nó Mandrake on Sept 28, 2011 9:43:59 GMT -5
I truly hadn’t been expecting that. The stark honesty of her reply was breathtaking, and I’m sure it stripped me bare as much as it did her. I felt that strange tenderness that nevertheless – in me – expresses itself as a desire for pain and tears, submission both forced and willing, a dark kind of romance that makes me delirious with longing for it.
I brought her fingertips to my lips for a brief kiss, heedless to complications, my wariness abandoned in the intoxication of the moment, utterly enthralled by the promise of her. It was an inadequate gesture, a poor vehicle for everything I wanted from her, and with her, in those seconds, but the persistent splash of the fountain behind us reminded me where we were. Although I didn’t know how long I’d manage to control myself if I stayed much longer.
“A perfect answer,” I said, my voice as ragged as I felt. I tried to smile but we’d gone far beyond an easy playfulness. “Come and find me at Mandrake, and I’m yours.”
The messages I’d meant to be delivering were all ruined, and I couldn’t find it in me to care, as I cast one final glance at at Naia, and began to walk away.
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Post by Naia Shahrizai on Sept 30, 2011 12:22:27 GMT -5
I watched him go with my lips slightly parted and my heart pounding wildly, every nerve in my body afire. Not following him straightaway was possibly the hardest thing I'd ever done.
It was too soon, however, and I knew that going right now would break the spell. I needed some time to think about him, to imagine what could happen at Mandrake House, to toss and turn with this idea for a few sleepless nights before I gave in to it. That I would, eventually, I was sure.
Or at least I was right then, with the scent of him still in my nostrils. Bemused, I gathered up his letters and decided that the least I could do would be to get the ones that were readable where they were going. It was unlike me to be so considerate, but doing this was a little bit like being connected to him, somehow, and I wanted that feeling to last just a little bit longer.
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