Disclaimer: I, sadly, know for a fact that Eoin Colfer does not own me.
Sweet Desperation
There he is, sitting down in such a relaxed manner, one delicately wrought hand holding an unworthy fork, the other a steak knife. He handles them gently, his fingers caressing their surfaces, which do not deserve his touch.
Then he grips the fork tightly in a quick jerk, and jabs down with an impetuosity that startles me.
Jab, jab, he pokes and prods mercilessly, the knife now coming in at a sharp angle to tear away the desired piece.
Oh, if only I could be touched in such a way, if only he would run his fingers down my skin, and then dig into me with his nails with such ferocity.
He focuses all of his attention onto the ripped piece of succulent meat, the juices dripping down the sides of that contemptible utensil.
Closer, he brings it towards his face, knife laid forgotten on the edge of the china plate, and my eyes follow the fork's slow ascent…
It pauses, less than a centimeter away from those pink lips, hanging there torturously in midair.
Repressing the urge to yank away the morsel of food that lingered before his lips, to reach over the table and instead pull him closer to me, I fidget, my fingers playing with the edge of the lace tablecloth that lays rumpled in my moist hands.
The lips part slightly, then more and more as they slowly brush across the surface of the meat.
I felt a shiver run up my back and settle at the nape of my neck, as I lean forward, unable to pull my gaze away from the riveting sight, my hands shaking beneath the table. Hurry, just put it in your mouth, just eat it.
The thumping in my ears tells me otherwise.
A flash of red, and his tongue emerges, rubbing against the bottom and then the sides of that scrap, licking the juices that trailed down the cold metal of the fork.
A trickle of warm barbecue sauce runs down the side his chin.
I suppress a moan.
His tongue retreats, and disappears. I felt myself release my breath, that mockingly inviting appendage having lost its power over me once out of sight.
Just to have in its stead the heathen entering into that forbidden holy sanctuary. In an instant a momentary rage engulfs me and then vanishes just as quickly.
He chews, fork lowered, eyes closed.
"Exquisite," he murmurs, his voice low and sensual.
I can only imagine the ecstasy.
YS-
That felt good, completely great to write. Kudos to anyone who figures out the characters of this story…not that it's difficult to imagine, anyhow..ahahahahahha..