Author's Note: Ever remember a feeling, a memory, a sight- just by seeing a color?
Disclaimer: Blair and Chuck were meant to be. Me? Owning GossipGirl? Not so much. :/
Red means passion and fire, crimson blood, scarlet lips, raging fury.
Her lips are crimson tonight, and they pout at him teasingly. They shimmer faintly in the candlelight, the shine of what he knows is raspberry sparkle lip gloss over a layer of red lipstick. Ruby red, shimmering lips.
Red is suddenly his favorite color.
-
Dark, caramel gold means purity that hasn't lost virtue by its tainting.
Her skin isn't as fair as Serena's, but golden. Dark, tanned gold. Like caramel: melted sugar; so sweet, so tangy, but more satisfying than just powdered sugar. Her skin is caramel and flawless, an endless expanse of beautiful skin.
Dark gold is suddenly his favorite color.
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His eyes, growing dangerously darker by the second, travel downward. He inhales sharply and swears.
-
Black is the color of the lust in his eyes, of lacy lingerie, of darkness, of secrets, of regrets, of fishnets that stretch for miles, of veiled caramel.
What is she wearing? he thinks wildly. Is she trying to torment him? Her body is scantily clad in black lace, black satin, cloth that feels as smooth as crème to his fingers as he leans forward and grips her waist. What is she wearing? He thinks it's too much. Fishnets stretching over caramel skin, folding as she leans up to him, hovering those tempting red lips near his own. But all he can see is black, covering her, presenting her, wrapping her like a present on Christmas. A present for him.
He thinks he'll use black wrapping paper from now on.
-
And just as his lips move to touch her red ones, one hand moving to caress her caramel skin, one hand moving to tug at the black clothing-
He looks into her eyes.
And stops.
They peer at him expectantly, dark brown eyes reflecting the candlelight, confusion clouding them slightly. He raises his hand to run through her dark brown curls, tugging at them slightly, pressing them to his mouth, inhaling her scent.
He sighs in relief, in happiness, in guilt, in reluctance, in three words that he'll never say, in three words she won't say until it's too late.
-
Brown is her innocence, her playfulness, her sadness, her heartbreak, her mischief, her guilt, her mistakes. Brown is soft and delicate and curling around his fingertips, and curling him around her fingertips. Brown is the reflection of him that he can see in her eyes.
He leans to meet his lips to her red ones, his hand moving from caramel skin to black lace and back. He tugs at her hair and breathes in her scent.
Not once does he look away from her eyes.
-
Brown.