Title: Seduction Scene
Author: Aussie
Rated: T+
(300) word drabble for the Disquiet challenge.
With each upward stroke anticipation burned through her. She was certain he’d reach higher to caress the sensitive skin of her inner thighs this time.
His deep voice added to the heat flowing through her. He’d brought a book. Only William Adama would bring a book with him when he planned to seduce a woman.
She should be annoyed. The seduction was supposed to be her idea.
The candles, the kiss, the phone call, the fact that she was wearing his soft brown robe (rifled from his quarters along with a new set of tanks after her run) when she’d opened the hatch... Yet, after all her careful planning, he was the one doing the seducing.
He’d only laughed when she’d bragged about being in possession of the robe. He’d dismissed her choice of book (Picon poetry) for the one he was now reading.
Sweat pooled in the valley of her breasts. Her bones were liquid; her limbs weak and fluid. A rush of moisture gathered between her legs. She licked her lips. Her mouth was the only place that felt dry.
Yes, he’d planned this seduction just as carefully as she had. And the book was proof. Why would he need to bring a novel along with him to discuss a fuel situation?
She realised he’d fallen quiet. His long pauses between sentences had been almost as arousing as his narration. Of course, during these silences, his hands had never stopped their flirtatious wanderings. This time though, he hadn’t resumed reading.
She opened her eyes and their gazes met.
“I love you.”
The romantic notion of combining love and lust at last made sense to her after all these years.
Who was seducing whom ceased to matter. Everything was always better between them when they were equal partners anyway.
Author: Aussie
Rated: T+
(300) word drabble for the Disquiet challenge.
With each upward stroke anticipation burned through her. She was certain he’d reach higher to caress the sensitive skin of her inner thighs this time.
His deep voice added to the heat flowing through her. He’d brought a book. Only William Adama would bring a book with him when he planned to seduce a woman.
She should be annoyed. The seduction was supposed to be her idea.
The candles, the kiss, the phone call, the fact that she was wearing his soft brown robe (rifled from his quarters along with a new set of tanks after her run) when she’d opened the hatch... Yet, after all her careful planning, he was the one doing the seducing.
He’d only laughed when she’d bragged about being in possession of the robe. He’d dismissed her choice of book (Picon poetry) for the one he was now reading.
Sweat pooled in the valley of her breasts. Her bones were liquid; her limbs weak and fluid. A rush of moisture gathered between her legs. She licked her lips. Her mouth was the only place that felt dry.
Yes, he’d planned this seduction just as carefully as she had. And the book was proof. Why would he need to bring a novel along with him to discuss a fuel situation?
She realised he’d fallen quiet. His long pauses between sentences had been almost as arousing as his narration. Of course, during these silences, his hands had never stopped their flirtatious wanderings. This time though, he hadn’t resumed reading.
She opened her eyes and their gazes met.
“I love you.”
The romantic notion of combining love and lust at last made sense to her after all these years.
Who was seducing whom ceased to matter. Everything was always better between them when they were equal partners anyway.
22 comments | Leave a comment
