A/N: After watching Pocahontas today (for the first time) I got the sudden urge to write this. It's not my best work, but I hope you enjoy. :)
The moment he locked eyes with her, John Smith was utterly lost.
He just couldn't look away from her. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her, what with her sunkissed skin and hair as long and black as a fierce winter night. The woman's eyes were so dark that it was hard to breath (or was it because of the water he was surrounded by?).
She had never seen someone like him either. He was pale, yet his hair was the color of the sun. His eyes were endlessly blue, like the clearest part of the river on a cloudless day.
John could only wonder who she was, for just as he was about to ask her…
She fled, as sudden as she had appeared. But he was determined to not let her escape.
He could not recall when he put away his weapon, but he would never forget the way her skin felt against his. Her hand was warm and soft to the touch, very feminine, and for a moment his eyes lingered on her lips, wondering if they were just as soft as her hands.
What would she do if I came close enough to steal a kiss?
His hands were calloused, hardened from the many adventures he'd had. Surely, she wouldn't think that they felt that pleasant.
Little did he know that all she saw was a tall, and handsome stranger with a strong grip, wearing strikingly odd clothes. And when the sun hit that silver thing on his head, he seemed to glow warmly, which lured her even closer to him (though it would be his calm, deep voice that did it).
She had him under her spell and he didn't even care.