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by LockandKey on Thu Nov 07, 2013 8:21 pm
As soon as he’d arrived, Isla had stood, already leaving.
"I will not be long,” she told them both, and before he could offer to be nearby to protect her in case anyone should wander by she was gone. He watched her form disappear into the darkness, the words dying on his lips, and firmly closed his mouth. He’d half stood, but now lowered himself down from his crouch back onto the ground by the fire, feeling suddenly overtaken by a dark mood. Why should it bother him that she didn’t need or want his protection? He picked up a nearby broken stick and tossed it into the fire, watching the sparks it sent up leap up into the black sky.
“Alex,” began Isaac, sounding more cautious and reserved than usual. Alysander looked over at him, frowning. The man continued, fidgeting with his hands. “You said you weren’t married to Isla, but... Is there something between you?”
Alysander looked at him sharply, then turned to stare into the fire. Was there something between them? Isla wanted there to be, or she thought she did. She wasn’t taking into account the fact that she was a selkie though, and that her greatest desire was to return to the sea and her seal kith and kin. His own feelings were muddled. Isla was a nice enough girl, but he couldn’t say he felt any sort of real romantic feelings for her. There had been a few strange moments of lust, and he was growing fond of her, but he wasn’t interested in anything more than a casual relationship, and that would surely only hurt her. It was idiotic for them to be involved.
“No,” he finally answered, his tone more terse than he’d meant.
Isaac was silent for a moment, but his head was tilted to the side and one side of his mouth was tight, which Alysander took to mean he was thinking about something. After a moment, Isaac’s posture straightened, and it was clear he’d come to a conclusion.
“So you don’t mind if I... If I try to... you know...” Clearly he wasn’t sure exactly how to say what he meant. Perhaps he was having a crass thought that he couldn’t find polite words for, or maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted from the dark haired beauty.
“I do’na recommend it,” he advised. “But yer both free to do as ye like. I do’na own her. I’m just helping her find what she lost.”
They both heard scuffling and the sound of Isla returning, and by mutual silent agreement the conversation was dropped.
"Well that was a nice swim. Feels better not to be so dusty."
Alysander grunted, not looking at her, but across from him Isaac had straightened up, his eyes widening. His adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Isla,” the man said, rather more breathless than usual. “I’m afraid I can see right through your chemise. Did you know?”
Alysander’s eyes widened in shock, and in a reaction he could not stop, he turned to look. Isaac was quite right. The firelight turned her thin white chemise almost transparent. He could see the gentle curves of her hips, the narrowing of her waist, the slight swell of her breasts. There was a thin sliver of space between her slim thighs, and as his eyes traveled upward beyond her navel, he could see the vague impression of pert nipples through the cloth.
Alysander sprang to his feet and grabbed for her hand, steering her away from the fire and toward his tent. “That man,” he was muttering angrily, and pulled the flap of the tent aside, urging her through the opening. Really though, it had practically been like seeing her nude...
He followed in behind her quickly and let the drape fall shut, and suddenly they were in total darkness. The memory burned against the back of his eyelids, and it didn’t matter that his eyes could no longer see. He now knew with some amount of certainty how the contours of her body formed a delicate hourglass. His heart raced, thudding loudly in his ears. His hand was around hers, and both had to stoop to fit inside the tent, though he had to stoop far more, and in his haste his balance was quite precarious. His felt himself overbalance and tip forward, then half caught himself on one knee, for a moment locked in a kneeling position. He had too much forward momentum though, and his free arm windmilled, then caught Isla’s shoulder, pushing her onto her back before he fell on top of her, barely catching himself with one arm from crushing the tiny female.
He froze, then scrambled to pull himself up and rolled away. He didn’t roll far, confined by the tent, but he was no longer on top of her, no doubt making her uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to say after Isaac’s true but thoughtless observation.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’a thinking.”
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