A/N: Hello everyone! Here's a little drabble (100 words) based on a one-word prompt from Nytd. The word was "mistletoe."
Tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: Not a damn thing belongs to me! ;)
Her eyes drilled holes in his head, his brain.
He didn't want to place his lips on hers, but he did so out of duty, a fate far more terrifying, he thought, than any atrocity the seas and their bloodthirsty savages could offer.
Forced upon him by his father, a man Beckett envied in that his stature matched his forceful personality.
But under the mistletoe Beckett was powerless to her. A Spanish girl, not pretty but not horrendous if you ignored her eyes, eyes that did not want to be ignored.
His hesitance made her stronger; made her mouth harder against his, his third attempt at a fiancée at only twenty-four years old.
"Merry Christmas, Culter," she purred, but he could not meet her eyes.