Small Purple Eyes

Her eyes immediately dropped to her hands.

"Don't look at me like that," she ordered sternly.

"Like what?" Xellos asked blithely.

Filia glared at the floor. "You know."

He tilted his head to the side. "How would I know if you don't tell me?"

The tips of her ears were turning red. "Don't look at me like… like how you look at me," she finished helplessly.

"What?" he huffed, with no little amusement. "So I'm not allowed to look at you at all?"

She gestured to the important paperwork in front of her, still refusing to make eye contact with him. "I am too busy for you to look at me right now!" her voice whistled.

She hunkered down at her desk. Pen in hand, she began writing in the margins, but for some reason she was unable to do math right now. Her heart was thudding. He was still doing it, damn him. "Close your eyes!"

"No."

He knew. He'd probably known before she had how much his gaze affected her. How it had always affected her. Way back when she thought she hated it: how his gaze pinned her; how her breathing got shallow; how her palms would sweat. She just thought she was afraid or angry. And, in retrospect, she was probably both those things. But that wasn't all.

There was something… animalistic about those eyes. So focused. So sharp. So small. They had always, always made her feel like she was the only thing he could see against the backdrop of a world that was too bright for him. Like she was real.

She scribbled a furious tornado before throwing down her pen and storming up to the monster. Snatching up his hand, she led him into her bedroom.

"Wherever are you taking me, Filia?" Xellos asked. This was one of his classic bits, where he pretended not to know what was going on and act ever so surprised that a priestess would behave in this manner—like they hadn't already done this countless times. He probably thought it was funny and, well, someone had to.

Filia broke out her most commonly used article of pillow-talk: "Shut up."

She eased her back against the door, shutting it behind them. Her posture gave every indication of being pressed into the door even though he hadn't moved yet. He was waiting for her.

He didn't have to wait long as she dragged his hand between her legs.

He let out a low whistle. "You're not playing around today are you, Filia?"

"You… started… it."

Xellos curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture. "Yes, by looking at you."

Filia ignored that. She knew that Xellos knew that with his eyes wide open he really only had one expression: depraved interest. Filia didn't waste much time being jealous, but deep down in her most private of thoughts she would admit to the fact that she hated that he ever showed those eyes to anyone else.

She kissed him and finally the gaze was broken. She could feel the pressure of it lift. Xellos was, indeed, psychotic enough to kiss her with his eyes wide open, but not this time.

Perhaps he was more relaxed this time. More in control than he usually was. But he liked to think he was always in control, didn't he?

She dropped to her knees. After a moment, she hooked her thumbs into his pant's waist and pulled down.

He let out a curious sound. "This is new."

She was, perhaps, a little uncertain now, but she'd dared herself into this position and pride wouldn't allow her to turn back. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against him before finding the courage to go deeper.

He let her go on, silently watching her all the while, until her eyes flicked up to look at his face. Coyly. Nervously.

It was like being hit by a thunderbolt.

Oh dear, dear, dear. What was it about eye-contact?

Her gaze was so different from his. Her irises, large and so blue they were almost black, ringed impossibly large pupils, blown wide because it was a dark room, she was in a state, and she was looking at someone she cherished.

Her gaze was black and omnivorous—like she was trying to make out every detail of him in the dim light.

She lowered her eyes once more and the feeling lessened, but its aftershocks were still being felt. She gripped the backs of his legs. She was getting more confident.

Was it the intimacy of a look? To know that someone's attention is focused on you and you alone? Was it the very idea of being seen? Not just looked at, but seen?

"Enough," he said.

It was more than enough.

She looked up at him. Her wide eyes magnified and wet. He put his hand underneath her chin, barely touching her skin with his gloved fingertips but nevertheless guiding her into a standing position with only that mild pressure.

He wrapped her head in both his hands and brought her in close. Her lips parted in concern. He kissed her deeply before she could ask whatever question was on them.

He broke away. "And you have the nerve to say I started this," he quipped.

She laughed, just a little, but a laugh out of her was a rare thing indeed.

He grasped her hand and held it almost daintily in the air, as though he was about to lead her onto the dance floor. Instead he walked her over to her own bed—of course, perfectly made up, and with too many superfluous pillows stacked upon it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the too-many pillows and let her legs fall to either side.

Her wide eyes still watched him. Unlike him, she needed to keep them open to see. It was a choice for her to see.

He loomed above her, pressing a kiss just above each eye.

"You've got pretty eyes, Filia."

"You…" Filia began, but cut herself off with a strained sound as he pressed in.

And what would she have said? "You've got pretty eyes too." It was true enough. Their narrow shape, their unusual color, the way they never quite caught the light. They were pretty, but it seemed almost infantile to call them that.

They were pretty in the way a glinting fang was pretty; a sheer cliff was pretty; a bubble in an IV was pretty. The way a thing that could definitely kill you was pretty. "Pretty" wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the right word either.

Sublime, Filia's mind provided as she let out a sigh. Sublime was the word.

But you couldn't very well go up to someone and say: "You've got sublime eyes," no matter how true it was. It just didn't scan right.

"Mm…" she murmured, trying to get her words out. "Xellos… please…"

"Please what, Filia?"

She struggled for clarity. "Open your eyes."

He could've responded with banter. With an "Oh, now you want me to look at you." Instead he just did. He opened both eyes and subjected her to the full, heated intensity of his stare.

And it sent her over the edge.

It always, always did.