Simplicity
Author's Note: Haven't written MR in absolutely ages, but for some reason, it just felt right. I missed it so.
* * *
In the beginning, it hadn't been so hard. It was exciting, almost, and daring in a way. They were having a love affair right under the eyes of the maharaja. No, the Duke. He was the Duke. She kept forgetting that.
She yawned and turned in Christian's arms so that her back was snuggled against his stomach and chest. She loved how she seemed to fit perfectly there, how his skin seemed so dark next to her own pale flesh as his arms wrapped around her more tightly in his sleep.
He looked so young when he was sleeping.
But then again, he was quite young. Only a boy, really, while she hated to admit her own age. Christian had asked her once and she had merely laughed and shook her head. He'd tried tickling her, but that hadn't worked either, despite her shrieks of laughter. She would tell him anything else (And had.) but not her age.
She thought sometimes that she was living in a dream, that this was all some theatrical play and any minute would be the curtain call. She didn't want to bow. She wanted to continue being the courtesan secretly in love with the sitar player. She wanted to laugh like she did when Christian was around.
She didn't want to be afraid.
And she wasn't anymore, not now, not with Christian. She had even forgotten a bit about the blood that choked her sometimes, or at least pretended it hadn't happened. She was very good at pretending. He had told her that everything would be okay, and it would be. She believed not because he was so very eloquent with words (Though he was when he was properly inspired.) but because she was in love.
Yes. It was true. She, Satine, the whore, was in love with a boy who'd barely kissed a girl before. He was like a little doll for her to play with, and she did, though she didn't quite think of it as that.
She toyed with him in her own way, singing along with his songs and spinning elaborate stories for his script.
(What if the lovers were discovered, Christian? What then?)
And they were.
And then things weren't quite so simple.
Author's Note: Haven't written MR in absolutely ages, but for some reason, it just felt right. I missed it so.
* * *
In the beginning, it hadn't been so hard. It was exciting, almost, and daring in a way. They were having a love affair right under the eyes of the maharaja. No, the Duke. He was the Duke. She kept forgetting that.
She yawned and turned in Christian's arms so that her back was snuggled against his stomach and chest. She loved how she seemed to fit perfectly there, how his skin seemed so dark next to her own pale flesh as his arms wrapped around her more tightly in his sleep.
He looked so young when he was sleeping.
But then again, he was quite young. Only a boy, really, while she hated to admit her own age. Christian had asked her once and she had merely laughed and shook her head. He'd tried tickling her, but that hadn't worked either, despite her shrieks of laughter. She would tell him anything else (And had.) but not her age.
She thought sometimes that she was living in a dream, that this was all some theatrical play and any minute would be the curtain call. She didn't want to bow. She wanted to continue being the courtesan secretly in love with the sitar player. She wanted to laugh like she did when Christian was around.
She didn't want to be afraid.
And she wasn't anymore, not now, not with Christian. She had even forgotten a bit about the blood that choked her sometimes, or at least pretended it hadn't happened. She was very good at pretending. He had told her that everything would be okay, and it would be. She believed not because he was so very eloquent with words (Though he was when he was properly inspired.) but because she was in love.
Yes. It was true. She, Satine, the whore, was in love with a boy who'd barely kissed a girl before. He was like a little doll for her to play with, and she did, though she didn't quite think of it as that.
She toyed with him in her own way, singing along with his songs and spinning elaborate stories for his script.
(What if the lovers were discovered, Christian? What then?)
And they were.
And then things weren't quite so simple.