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The Mansion

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"Hey, peanut."

He's glad to see her. Damned glad. The thing about old friends is that they're always friends. That's what he hopes, anyway. It's what he needs. His foot is laid up, propped on pillows, wrapped in ace bandages now. He's two hours before another round of ice bath and he's going to enjoy them. More so, it seems, with her company.

It's impossible for him not to notice her beauty. She's always had it. Soft, feminine. That graceful and abundant kind of femininity.

"I'm glad you came by."
 
She smiles at him, because he uses his old familiar nickname for her, because it's impossible for her to not smile. There is concern in her eyes as she lets her gaze drift from his face to his ankle now wrapped with bandages, though, and her brow furrows a little.

"What happened?"

She wants to scoot closer to him, to nestle into the crook of his arm and settle her head on his shoulder with that easy sort of relationship they've always had. But she doesn't. Not yet. Instead, she reaches to unhook the straps of her shoes so that she can stretch her legs out on the space of couch between them.

"I couldn't stay away. I think you might have known that, though."
 
"I'd hoped."

It is an answer for her - not the one she'd looked for. If the decision of distance was to be made, he made it. Always proactive. Always decisive. The stretch of his arm wound it around her soft hips and pulled her into his side so that he could take the comfort of her warmth against him.

"A poorly-timed jump at the gym. I ripped a ligament off the bone. I've surgery on Saturday."
 
She settled into his side like she belonged there, snuggling against his shoulder exactly the way that she'd wanted. He'd always been good at that - knowing what she wanted before she ever even told him. He had the advantage of knowing how to read her face, though, how to read the expressions and nuances. For him, she was an open book whose pages were worn and frayed with regular use and favoritism. His explanation of his injury earns him a sympathetic look even as she wraps an arm over the front of his torso allowing her just a fraction more closeness.

"Ouch, surgery? That's no fun."

Feeling a little self-conscious, she reaches to smooth her skirt over her left knee where her legs curl on the couch behind her. There's a scar there, running the length of the inside of her knee and then some, from her own surgery only a year ago. Tilting her head to look at him, she lets out a sigh.

"I'm glad you were here."
 
"Can't escape even if I wanted to." A small smile.

The jest isn't lost. Neither is her movement, the twitch of that hand, the smoothing of her skirt. I take liberties, drag my fingers up the length of her calf. The run of silk under my touch excites me. Wakes my body, stirs it. All at once that pleasurable sensation of girl beneath my palm runs me hot, leaves my breath ragged. But my touch doesn't slide up far beneath her skirt, it lingers on her scar, strokes the mark under my thumb with lazy affection.
 
"Would you want to?"

It's a candid question, rife with unanswered curiousity. The feel of his hand beneath her skirt causes her breath to hitch a little. It's not unexpected, but it does leave her heart hammering a beat against her chest loud enough that she can hear it in her ears. He knows just the way to get under her skin, and she can feel her defenses lowering even as his thumb just slides back and forth against the scar along her knee. It's a sensitive spot - both physically and emotionally, and the fact that she doesn't push his hand away is a testament to itself.
 
"No." It's as simple as that with him. It always is.

For now, his hand does not wander higher. It lingers along that knee, slips beneath it, trails near it. Lean muscle. Soft skin. The comfort of her against him. Sweet scented, utterly girlish. He turns his head on inspiration and presses his lips to her brow. A faint, subtle affection.
 
She's always appreciated the simplicity he offers. When he wants something, he doesn't split hairs hemming and hawing over getting what he wants. Instead, he knows how to just spit it out and get it.

"Good."

She leans her head a little further into his lips, resisting the urge to tilt it back so that she can meet his lips with her own. The sweetness of his affection, causes her to burrow in a little further and she lets out a contented sigh against his shoulder. Green eyes shift toward the television, where she doesn't recognize what's on.

"Anything good on television?"

She's looking for something that they can settle into together, something she can lose herself in while she loses herself in him. Little snippets of time stolen away are all they have, but are all the more worthwhile.
 
It'd been a movie on ESPN. A documentary about an unfortunate incident, a black eye on sports, when an innocent young man reached for a foul ball. It's compelling. It's a story about people and how truly primal we all are. It's a tragedy.

He turns it. Flips through and finds Megamind on HBO. The remote settles on the arm of the couch beside him as his arm coils around her tummy to meet the one behind her.

"It's not Up! or Nemo but it's alright."
 
Megamind is a funny movie. Funny enough that she actually outright grins when she sees the big blue title character and his companion with the fish-in-a-fishbowl-head, Minion.

"I like this movie. Up! was really good too, though."

The movie is at the part where Megamind has just recently defeated Metro Man, and he and Minion are dancing down the street. The physical comedy of it makes her giggle and for a time she lets lost in the funny of the movie. The fingers against his torso trace little patterns absently and mostly of their own accord.

"Kiss me?" It seems like a sudden proclomation, her head tilted back so that she can look at him and offer him her mouth in the same instance.

Something about the closeness of being snuggled together, the easy enjoyability of it all, has her wanting his lips on hers.
 
A male dressed in gray cotton pajamas walks rather uncomfortably into the kitchen and opens the fridge to pour himself a glass of juice. The house is quiet except for a faint hiss that he can hear downstairs. Someone must be watching TV in the entertainment room. He steps towards the island and places the orange juice on the counter before walking into the pantry and pulling out a couple of croissants. Back at the island, he remembers some recent events that cause his lips to curve into a grin even as he takes a bite and then a sip to wash the food down his throat. Suddenly his eyes close. Lips pursed. A delightful little sensation of pain travels through his body. Legs shift slightly as he twitches, realizing it's not the time to be getting excited or aroused. There would be plenty of that once his Lady wakes up. How quickly the tables turned in this Mansion. Brushing the thoughts of chocolate and bananas aside, he quickly finishes eating the food and
heads to the study. There's work to be done. As he plants himself down into the chair, carefully, he can't help but notice the empty box along with the torn wrapping lying on the floor next to her desk. It causes him to squirm in his chair before his eyes turn to the screen and slightly shaky fingers start hitting the keys.
 
APassionateFlame said:
Megamind is a funny movie. Funny enough that she actually outright grins when she sees the big blue title character and his companion with the fish-in-a-fishbowl-head, Minion.

"I like this movie. Up! was really good too, though."

The movie is at the part where Megamind has just recently defeated Metro Man, and he and Minion are dancing down the street. The physical comedy of it makes her giggle and for a time she lets lost in the funny of the movie. The fingers against his torso trace little patterns absently and mostly of their own accord.

"Kiss me?" It seems like a sudden proclomation, her head tilted back so that she can look at him and offer him her mouth in the same instance.

Something about the closeness of being snuggled together, the easy enjoyability of it all, has her wanting his lips on hers.
Click to expand...

Small fingers drew lazy circles, figure eights. They run across the edges of my abdomen, up along the broader stretch of my chest. I have felt these little affections before - a long time ago. They are a familiar comfort. My hand lifts, runs through her hair, traces the silk of her mane down where it lays along the arch of her neck.

"Kiss me." She says.

And who would deny her? Who'd care to? The beauty curled against me implores, speaks with those little words and the gentle clutch of her fingers in my shirt. I am bending all at once to her, reaching until the soft line of her lips presses to mine and her taste is there. Sweet. Feminine. The thin line of my lips works gently against her own, spreads until we are a tangle of lips and the soft, velvet dart of her tongue against mine.

Warmth arches through me. Sudden. Unrelenting. It's a fire that starts in my belly and grows until it reaches my skin. I feel hot against her, muscles taut and ready. The strength of my hand spreads itself along her cheek to hold her face to mine.

If this continues we'll have to abandon this place, Cait's couch and the living room. We'll have to find a secluded place.

It's been so long.
 
A kiss asked for. A request answered with lips on lips and tongue on tongue.

The warmth of his mouth is inviting, the darting tease of his tongue is intoxicating. The heat of his skin against mine spreads like a wildfire, lighting me up until I feel like I'll burst. Fingers clench against his shirt, holding him close - drawing him closer still even as his hand settles against my cheek to hold me to him.

It's just a kiss, but it's so much more.

It always is with us, always has been. It's what I love about us, what keeps me coming back like a moth to the flame.

Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that we're not somewhere private. The world has narrowed down to just him and me, though, and I can't find focus anywhere but his lips on mine and his hand where it clenches in my hair along my cheek.

When the kiss breaks - and it does so reluctantly and only so I can do that minor little thing called breathing - I can still feel him on my lips. He's staked his claim as surely as a man can, and I can feel the proof of his claim lingering along my lips and on my tongue. I want to climb into his lap - but his ankle is injured and straddling him would lead to a series of events I'm not ready to play out in somebody else's living room for absolutely anyone to see.

"It's never just a simple kiss with us, is it?"

Even as I speak I can feel myself being drawn back to him - he's magnetic and I'm transfixed, green eyes dropping to the line of his lips and giving my desires away.

Kiss me, touch me, want me. Unspoken desires linger close to the surface, waiting to be answered.
 
She stumbled into the bathroom to lean over the sink and stare at her reflection. Ugh. Brushing the hair out of her face it dawns on her there's something stuck to the mirror's surface. She squints. Then grins.

"I'm adorable??!!" she muttered but with deep, abiding affection in her voice.

The bathroom is used. Her hair is groomed and drawn up into its usual ponytail. It sways from side to side slightly as she dresses and wanders off to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. That first sip.

Zip.

The caffeine works it's way to her brain and makes it stir. Another yawn. A grimace. Now the hard work begins today. Gods, she hates moving or moving people to be exact. Either way. It doesn't matter. She has made at least eleven moves in her own life all over this continent, beyond and back. Postponing it wasn't going to get the work done. Her help was needed, desperately. All else would have to wait, for now.

Ejecting herself from the kitchen, she made her way to the study and found the tile M left her, making her smile again. She scribbled him a few brief words on a sticky note and left it on his desk. He was busy, away at a meeting. Another gulp of coffee as she contemplated what was required today. Off to it. The day wasn't going to get any younger.
 
Richard flew to the door and gave it a small rap. Sir Thomas answered in good form. Richard leaned forward and gave Sir Thomas a note with an invite for the lady of the house when she got a chance. Richard bowed and left for the castle.
 
I managed to get out of bed today, later than my usual. This weekend I pushed my body beyond its limits to extreme pain. We all did. There was no choice. Everyone gave 120 percent, how could I give less? I can't. My nature says if everyone is giving 120 percent, I need to give at least 125 and I end up giving more. I'm paying the price for it now, constant pain and barely able to move, but today is better than yesterday, the mission was completed. Do I feel accomplished, I do. I didn't do it alone by any means and everyone involved should feel proud of themselves.

This is family. When someone needs help, it's given. Sometimes, not the way the person is asking expects. But, sometimes, expectations can't be/shouldn't be met or they need to change. The bottom line is that help is given, period. It's family.
 
She eased into her desk chair with a slight moan, sitting back and sipping her coffee as she waited for her computer to fire up. She owed posts and could now see to them with family business out of the way. A quick glance at her calendar and it made her sigh. It was October, which meant the holidays were rolling in again. She loved the holidays, from Halloween all the way through Valentine's Day and even though her home was open to visitors, it was encouraged even more when the holidays rolled around. Her mind was already plotting decorations and menus.
 
Daisies for her, arranged in a vase already. The bright little spot of color a quiet, necessary thank you for her thoughts and concerns. There's a six pack in the fridge for M, he'll find it. These two are pretty solid folks. He appreciates them.
 
Coffee in hand I meandered down to the entertainment room. Just because. I made as habit of it since Ice moved in. I am usually always surprised and this time was no exception. I never knew what he would leave me, but it was always flowers. I adore flowers, especially roses, but all flowers are beautiful. This time it was daisies and he had them in a vase. I find daisies whimsical. They make me smile. I did.

He's a caged lion. Will be for awhile yet. He'll get through it. I know he will. At least for the moment, the maids are safe, but there's no telling how long. For now, the house is steeped in peace and comfort. He's thoughtful, that one, and kind. Another glance and then I'm running lightly back up the stairs in search of M.
 
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