Calloused Hands By: Lisa Cooper
Calloused hands traveled slowly up pale legs, eliciting a giggle when they ran up smooth sides and over a flat stomach. Slightly chapped lips met soft ones in a gentle kiss that quickly turned passionate, and those calloused hands ran themselves all over the pale body, familiarizing and memorizing themselves with each dip and curve. Words of possession and affection were whispered in shared breaths, chests quickly rising and falling as skin brushed against skin and each sought that delicious friction that would bring them as close to the stars as they could get. A gasp of pleasure, and quickening movements, and then… Harsh breathing and low chuckles and soft kisses as they both come down, having reached the stars together and found ecstasy. The owner of the calloused hands rolls over onto his back, smiling softly when his companion snakes her thin arms around him and snuggles closer to him. As she drifts off to sleep, he stares at the ceiling, letting his mind wander.
He thinks of his friends, and the young woman that he was hired to tutor in the arts and sciences of the world. He thinks about her fiery red hair falling in gentle waves about her dusky shoulders. He thinks about her intriguing gold eyes, and the fire that flares up in them when one speaks about adventures and daring battles. He thinks about the ringing sound of her laughter in response to someone’s joke, and the way it fills the entire hall with its cheerful sound. He thinks about the soft smile that spreads across her face when she’s watching children play in the courtyard and thinks no one is watching. He thinks about how fiercely protective she is of those that she cares about, and how she would willingly throw herself in the line of danger to save someone. He thinks of all of these things, mulling over them in his mind, but the one thing that sticks out to him, is how he wishes that things were different.
In his dreams, he’s allowed to tell her of his affections for her and he’s allowed to pursue those affections and make them manifest. In his imagination, their relationship is not frowned upon by a society that condemns relationships between an Iasiri scholar and a Human noble woman. In a different world, things would be different, so very, very different.
Sighing, he wipes his mind of such sad, pathetically hopeful thoughts, and turns to his companion. Propping himself on an elbow, he leans over her, silently watching her eyelids flicker as she dreams. Of course, she is very beautiful, he thinks, but she is nothing compared to the fire rose that is his lady Portia. But then again, at least this relationship is not condemned and looked down upon. Sorrow lingering in his eyes, he runs a hand through pale blonde curls and smiles when she mumbles something in her sleep.
“Gilly,” he whispers, “Gilly my dear, wake up. I have something that I must tell you.”
“Gustav,” her tired voice groans back in response, “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping.”
“It is very important,” he leans down and nibbles at her earlobe, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck just below her ear. When no response comes, he lifts his head to look down at her, chuckling low in his throat to see that she’s already gone back to sleep. Sighing in defeat, he settles himself down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I love you,” he murmurs into her neck. And though he’s said it, and on some level means it, the only thing that he can think of, is that, those words are meant for different ears but will never reach them.
He thinks of his friends, and the young woman that he was hired to tutor in the arts and sciences of the world. He thinks about her fiery red hair falling in gentle waves about her dusky shoulders. He thinks about her intriguing gold eyes, and the fire that flares up in them when one speaks about adventures and daring battles. He thinks about the ringing sound of her laughter in response to someone’s joke, and the way it fills the entire hall with its cheerful sound. He thinks about the soft smile that spreads across her face when she’s watching children play in the courtyard and thinks no one is watching. He thinks about how fiercely protective she is of those that she cares about, and how she would willingly throw herself in the line of danger to save someone. He thinks of all of these things, mulling over them in his mind, but the one thing that sticks out to him, is how he wishes that things were different.
In his dreams, he’s allowed to tell her of his affections for her and he’s allowed to pursue those affections and make them manifest. In his imagination, their relationship is not frowned upon by a society that condemns relationships between an Iasiri scholar and a Human noble woman. In a different world, things would be different, so very, very different.
Sighing, he wipes his mind of such sad, pathetically hopeful thoughts, and turns to his companion. Propping himself on an elbow, he leans over her, silently watching her eyelids flicker as she dreams. Of course, she is very beautiful, he thinks, but she is nothing compared to the fire rose that is his lady Portia. But then again, at least this relationship is not condemned and looked down upon. Sorrow lingering in his eyes, he runs a hand through pale blonde curls and smiles when she mumbles something in her sleep.
“Gilly,” he whispers, “Gilly my dear, wake up. I have something that I must tell you.”
“Gustav,” her tired voice groans back in response, “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping.”
“It is very important,” he leans down and nibbles at her earlobe, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck just below her ear. When no response comes, he lifts his head to look down at her, chuckling low in his throat to see that she’s already gone back to sleep. Sighing in defeat, he settles himself down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I love you,” he murmurs into her neck. And though he’s said it, and on some level means it, the only thing that he can think of, is that, those words are meant for different ears but will never reach them.