((Takes place after the events of Approval Given. Contains references to adult situations.))
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Darkness swirled around her. And yet not just darkness. On the edge of hearing, there was the sound of music, of a string quartet playing dance after dance without a break, and yes, she could see those dancers moving about her through the misty gloom of the enveloping dark. As light and sound bled into her world. she realised she was at a ball, something could only have taken place centuries before her birth, and yes, she did not feel out of place. Her gown was black, made of richly brocaded silk, the waistline snug, the neckline deep, her arms left bare but for the white silk gloves that covered her to the elbow. On her feet were heeled silk slippers, and though she could feel no underwear per se, she knew she wore a delicate silk chemise and silk stockings gartered just above the knee. Her hair was swept back, up off her neck, curling tendrils left to brush her bare shoulders and show off the slender column of her throat. She couldn't make out the faces of those who danced around her, but she could hear them talking, laughing, innocent of the throbbing danger she could sense nearby.
The sound of soft laughter filtered through the ball room, blending with the string quartet. The sound was pleasant, warm and inviting on the surface. But at this ball, nothing was as it seemed. The laughter ebbed and flowed, soft and then louder as the dancers whirled past. Their faces were caricatures; over drawn with too bright rouge and lipsticks, too dark eye brows and eye shadow, noses curved up or down at nearly impossible angles. The dancers seemed to be having the time of their lives, oblivious to the beautiful young lady. They posed no threat, this circling mass of masks.
But in the middle of all of it, as if conducting the ballet to move to and fro stood a dark haired man. He wore the style of the day: a thick, red and black velvet frock coat with gold buttons and thick gold braid sewn at the hems. He wore a wide brimmed hat, decorated with three long plumes, two black and one white. Turning slowly in a circle, he watched as the dancers whirled about him, faster and faster. When he became aware of the beauty that stood watching on the outskirts of the dancefloor, he stopped to stare at her. He leveled nearly transparent blue eyes upon her and the dancers immediately stopped where they were. Still as statues, and they very well could have been, they all stared at the young lady.
The weight of those myriad curious eyes would have been heavy enough, but she felt herself mesmerised by eyes paler than any she had ever seen, caught between the palest of sky blues and sea greens set in a face that was almost unnaturally beautiful. He was the danger that stalked her dreams. He was what she should be wary of, the reason she should stay indoors at night and keep to the safe streets. And yet he was the reason she was here. Silent, hesitant, she took a step forward in a rustle of silken skirts, her deep breath visible against the dark, deep neckline of her gown.
It could have taken hours, or minutes, to approach the man of her dreams. Or was that in her dreams" He smirked, suddenly in front of her. No more than a foot away, he struck a classic waltz pose and then she was in his arms. The quartet struck up their song, but the dancers who had filled the room were suddenly gone. Somehow, impossibly, he had her in his arms. And while he kept the beat of the music, he spun her around and around at mind whirling speeds. The dark mist whirled about them, engulfing and enveloping.
As soon as his arms were around her, she had no sense of time, no sense of self. All she could see was him, those paler than pale eyes burning into hers, willing her to surrender, to give everything up to him; all she could feel was his strong arm about her waist, his cold hand holding hers firm, as he swept her about the floor. Unaware or perhaps uncaring, the other dancers faded away until it was only them, she and her mysterious partner, waltzing through the darkness in mists that seemed to whisper her name.
The music faded away, and so did he. The darkness prevailed and the tail spin he'd left her in was disorienting and chaotic. Sounds permeated the darkness; loud and raucous as if a million birds had filled the ball room. And as their cries reached a deafening cacophany, they were silenced. Bright daylight flooded the senses with it's brilliance. A gentle, warm breeze blew with the tang of salt water to tease the olefactory senses. The ground was no longer the polished hardwood of a dance floor but the loose, warm grains of sand.
The dark haired man stood nearly ten feet away, with foamy waves lapping at his feet. No longer clad in velvets and silks, he bore the soft cotton with bold black stripes; a swimsuit suitable for a well brought up young man. His hair curled upon his forehead and whisps of the inky blackness were lifted by the breeze. He was smiling, laughing and waving her over. "Come on, chicken! The water's not cold at all!"
Dizzy and dazed by the sudden shift from darkness to light, blinded by the sun and momentarily rendered dumb by the salt tang on her lips, she swayed, feeling warm sand between her toes. Looking down at herself, she saw a bathing suit that was almost too modest for the beach, striped in black and white as his. Raising a hand to her hair, she found it covered with a fabric cap, and looking up and down the beach, she could see faceless others dressed in the same manner. The smile on the handsome face that called to her urged an answering smile to her own lips, and she found herself running to join him, squealing with laughter at the unexpected chill of the sea water on her skin.
Yet the more she ran, the farther away he seemed. He continued to call to her, laughing and waving his arms. Further and further into the gently rolling waves that were nearly as blue as her eyes. The waves pushed and rolled, hiding him from sight one moment and revealing him in a new spot the next. And he kept calling for her, as if he were playing a game. "It's wonderful! Wonderful!"
Knee deep in the waves, she came to a stop, suddenly breathless and shocked, knowing deep in her heart that she was never going to reach him, that he was always going to be there, just on the edge of sight, a dark figure to shadow her steps. "Let me see you!" she heard herself call in frustration, stamping against the sea-soaked sand, clenching her fists in quiet fury. "Come back!"
"All you have to do is ask," came the whisper from behind her, directly into her ear. Strong arms circled her waist, pulling her back against him. "All you ever have to do is ask." The voice was soft, but gurgled as cool water splattered upon her sun-kissed shoulder. His skin was paler, as if saturated. His eyes were sunken, and blazed brightly from thier sockets. His hair was plastered to his head. "All you have to do..." his voice trailed off as the sun became blotted out by thick, dark clouds. The sky became a maelstrom, and the rain began to pelt down.
She jumped, yet the suddeness of her startlement felt detached, as though she were feeling it from a long way off. A gasp echoed from her across the waves as she felt herself encircled and drawn back against a strong, hard male body, as cold as the sea in which she stood, stronger than the earth that held that sea at bay. Twisting to look at him, she shuddered, half-afraid of the face he presented to her, that strangely morbid mask that whispered to her, kissed her shoulder. Her gaze was ripped upward as the sun suddenly ceased to shine, and she cried out in fright at the whirling storm above, ducking her head under the weight of heavy raindrops that seemed to soak through to her bones.
Even as the storm surged around them, he held her in his protective embrace. The ocean surrounded them, washing them of their clothing and giving the feeling of utter weightlessness. Once again the darkness swirled and surrounded them, blanketing them in velvety blackness. The drops that struck her skin became warm, sticky and smelled strongly of copper. He was between her legs, stroking and teasing the heat of her womanhood. His thick hair tickled her thighs and he made sounds of utter bliss, as if eating the most succulent of dishes. And as the darkness cleared, they were horizontal, upon a bed made lavishly with silk sheets the color of blood. The movements were fluid, hands sliding over skin. Coated in dark red, her blood, his blood. It mixed as he ravaged her body slowly; inch by inch. He touched her and tasted her flesh as if he had known exactly where to touch, how to touch; as if he'd been doing this very act for years.
Darkness swirled around her. And yet not just darkness. On the edge of hearing, there was the sound of music, of a string quartet playing dance after dance without a break, and yes, she could see those dancers moving about her through the misty gloom of the enveloping dark. As light and sound bled into her world. she realised she was at a ball, something could only have taken place centuries before her birth, and yes, she did not feel out of place. Her gown was black, made of richly brocaded silk, the waistline snug, the neckline deep, her arms left bare but for the white silk gloves that covered her to the elbow. On her feet were heeled silk slippers, and though she could feel no underwear per se, she knew she wore a delicate silk chemise and silk stockings gartered just above the knee. Her hair was swept back, up off her neck, curling tendrils left to brush her bare shoulders and show off the slender column of her throat. She couldn't make out the faces of those who danced around her, but she could hear them talking, laughing, innocent of the throbbing danger she could sense nearby.
The sound of soft laughter filtered through the ball room, blending with the string quartet. The sound was pleasant, warm and inviting on the surface. But at this ball, nothing was as it seemed. The laughter ebbed and flowed, soft and then louder as the dancers whirled past. Their faces were caricatures; over drawn with too bright rouge and lipsticks, too dark eye brows and eye shadow, noses curved up or down at nearly impossible angles. The dancers seemed to be having the time of their lives, oblivious to the beautiful young lady. They posed no threat, this circling mass of masks.
But in the middle of all of it, as if conducting the ballet to move to and fro stood a dark haired man. He wore the style of the day: a thick, red and black velvet frock coat with gold buttons and thick gold braid sewn at the hems. He wore a wide brimmed hat, decorated with three long plumes, two black and one white. Turning slowly in a circle, he watched as the dancers whirled about him, faster and faster. When he became aware of the beauty that stood watching on the outskirts of the dancefloor, he stopped to stare at her. He leveled nearly transparent blue eyes upon her and the dancers immediately stopped where they were. Still as statues, and they very well could have been, they all stared at the young lady.
The weight of those myriad curious eyes would have been heavy enough, but she felt herself mesmerised by eyes paler than any she had ever seen, caught between the palest of sky blues and sea greens set in a face that was almost unnaturally beautiful. He was the danger that stalked her dreams. He was what she should be wary of, the reason she should stay indoors at night and keep to the safe streets. And yet he was the reason she was here. Silent, hesitant, she took a step forward in a rustle of silken skirts, her deep breath visible against the dark, deep neckline of her gown.
It could have taken hours, or minutes, to approach the man of her dreams. Or was that in her dreams" He smirked, suddenly in front of her. No more than a foot away, he struck a classic waltz pose and then she was in his arms. The quartet struck up their song, but the dancers who had filled the room were suddenly gone. Somehow, impossibly, he had her in his arms. And while he kept the beat of the music, he spun her around and around at mind whirling speeds. The dark mist whirled about them, engulfing and enveloping.
As soon as his arms were around her, she had no sense of time, no sense of self. All she could see was him, those paler than pale eyes burning into hers, willing her to surrender, to give everything up to him; all she could feel was his strong arm about her waist, his cold hand holding hers firm, as he swept her about the floor. Unaware or perhaps uncaring, the other dancers faded away until it was only them, she and her mysterious partner, waltzing through the darkness in mists that seemed to whisper her name.
The music faded away, and so did he. The darkness prevailed and the tail spin he'd left her in was disorienting and chaotic. Sounds permeated the darkness; loud and raucous as if a million birds had filled the ball room. And as their cries reached a deafening cacophany, they were silenced. Bright daylight flooded the senses with it's brilliance. A gentle, warm breeze blew with the tang of salt water to tease the olefactory senses. The ground was no longer the polished hardwood of a dance floor but the loose, warm grains of sand.
The dark haired man stood nearly ten feet away, with foamy waves lapping at his feet. No longer clad in velvets and silks, he bore the soft cotton with bold black stripes; a swimsuit suitable for a well brought up young man. His hair curled upon his forehead and whisps of the inky blackness were lifted by the breeze. He was smiling, laughing and waving her over. "Come on, chicken! The water's not cold at all!"
Dizzy and dazed by the sudden shift from darkness to light, blinded by the sun and momentarily rendered dumb by the salt tang on her lips, she swayed, feeling warm sand between her toes. Looking down at herself, she saw a bathing suit that was almost too modest for the beach, striped in black and white as his. Raising a hand to her hair, she found it covered with a fabric cap, and looking up and down the beach, she could see faceless others dressed in the same manner. The smile on the handsome face that called to her urged an answering smile to her own lips, and she found herself running to join him, squealing with laughter at the unexpected chill of the sea water on her skin.
Yet the more she ran, the farther away he seemed. He continued to call to her, laughing and waving his arms. Further and further into the gently rolling waves that were nearly as blue as her eyes. The waves pushed and rolled, hiding him from sight one moment and revealing him in a new spot the next. And he kept calling for her, as if he were playing a game. "It's wonderful! Wonderful!"
Knee deep in the waves, she came to a stop, suddenly breathless and shocked, knowing deep in her heart that she was never going to reach him, that he was always going to be there, just on the edge of sight, a dark figure to shadow her steps. "Let me see you!" she heard herself call in frustration, stamping against the sea-soaked sand, clenching her fists in quiet fury. "Come back!"
"All you have to do is ask," came the whisper from behind her, directly into her ear. Strong arms circled her waist, pulling her back against him. "All you ever have to do is ask." The voice was soft, but gurgled as cool water splattered upon her sun-kissed shoulder. His skin was paler, as if saturated. His eyes were sunken, and blazed brightly from thier sockets. His hair was plastered to his head. "All you have to do..." his voice trailed off as the sun became blotted out by thick, dark clouds. The sky became a maelstrom, and the rain began to pelt down.
She jumped, yet the suddeness of her startlement felt detached, as though she were feeling it from a long way off. A gasp echoed from her across the waves as she felt herself encircled and drawn back against a strong, hard male body, as cold as the sea in which she stood, stronger than the earth that held that sea at bay. Twisting to look at him, she shuddered, half-afraid of the face he presented to her, that strangely morbid mask that whispered to her, kissed her shoulder. Her gaze was ripped upward as the sun suddenly ceased to shine, and she cried out in fright at the whirling storm above, ducking her head under the weight of heavy raindrops that seemed to soak through to her bones.
Even as the storm surged around them, he held her in his protective embrace. The ocean surrounded them, washing them of their clothing and giving the feeling of utter weightlessness. Once again the darkness swirled and surrounded them, blanketing them in velvety blackness. The drops that struck her skin became warm, sticky and smelled strongly of copper. He was between her legs, stroking and teasing the heat of her womanhood. His thick hair tickled her thighs and he made sounds of utter bliss, as if eating the most succulent of dishes. And as the darkness cleared, they were horizontal, upon a bed made lavishly with silk sheets the color of blood. The movements were fluid, hands sliding over skin. Coated in dark red, her blood, his blood. It mixed as he ravaged her body slowly; inch by inch. He touched her and tasted her flesh as if he had known exactly where to touch, how to touch; as if he'd been doing this very act for years.