"I cannot believe I'm letting you do this to me."
There's laughter, and music playing softly in the background. A small current of wind wafts in through an open window, carrying the warmth from outside into Brooke Davis' expansive bedroom.
"Quit bitching, Pretty Boy. Besides, it looks so good!" she giggles. "There, now I'm done. As usual, my work amazes me."
Lucas Scott sits up on Brooke's bed to look at his left foot, propped up on one of Brooke's fluffy pillows. It looks just like any normal teenage boy's foot - relatively large, with a prominent arch, but what really stands out would be the array of colors found on each toe.
Pretty much every tint of the visible spectrum is represented on each of his five digits. It's done very neatly, with little lacquer on his cuticles. She's obviously very experienced in the art of toe-nail painting. He pulls her onto his chest as the pair falls back on the bed, admiring Brooke's handiwork.
"You know, you do really have some pretty feet," she grins at him. He laughs back softly, his hand wiping a strand of her beautiful auburn hair behind her ear and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
It's been a normal Friday night-a normal game-night, rather. Between the culminations of the Scott brothers' scoring, the Tree Hill Ravens were victorious against some unknown team from one of the smaller bordering suburbs. It hadn't been a surprise to anyone.
Afterwards, Nathan had disappeared with Haley, Peyton had driven off by herself, and Lucas was left with Brooke. Informing Keith that he was going to stay late after and help clean up the gym with Whitey, he had fled with Brooke in her vehicle to her home, her extremely empty home.
And then they were here, with Brooke painting his toenails after commenting on just how boring he was and how he needed to live a little. So with vibrancy only Brooke Davis possessed, she soon had Lucas stripping off his socks and receiving a pedicure.
"It's good to know that if I ever find myself needing a job, I could turn to painting people's toes," Brooke informs through spattered giggles. "I mean-we could go on dates and do each others' nails!"
Lucas laughs. "It'd be just like a slumber party!" he says in mock-valley girl fashion.
"Well, lookey there! Honorable Lucas Scott cracked a funny!" Brooke jokes as she crawls up her man's body.
Their legs intertwine as Brooke traces his lips with her fingertips. They are warm and moist under her touch. His hand grasps hers as he kisses the back of it. He leans in for more, but she pulls away, reveling in his agony as she teases him.
"I'm hungry," she laughs as she pulls him off the bed to his feet. She can't help but stare down at his illustriously-colored nails and cackle.
"Shut up," he states menacingly, but his serious face breaks and a lop- sided grin forms. She leans forward, her hands finding themselves sliding down into the back pockets of his jeans, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him gently on the mouth.
Brooke leads him downstairs by the hand, and soon they're sitting in the Davis' monstrous kitchen. She's got a pack of chocolate chip cookie mix that she drops onto the counter.
"We're going to bake cookies," Brooke declares triumphantly, a hand upon her hip.
Lucas sneers at her. "Please. Brooke, you can't even make Blue-box macaroni and cheese!"
"Hey now, it was just burnt a little bit - and besides, I've got you here to help, right lover?"
Lover.
Love.
Soon their hands are digging into the soft batter, the cookie dough sticking to their fingers and undersides of their hands. They mix it up, laughing all the while. Lucas picks up a fistful and drops it into Brooke's hair.
She stares at him for a while, in disbelief. Then her mischievous grin appears on her stunning face and soon she has the bowl in her hands. Before Lucas can stop her, she pours it on his chest.
"Shit! That's cold!" Lucas yells as the sticky material falls down his body and drips to the floor. "Girl, you are screwed."
She's guffawing as she turns on her heel and dashes out of the kitchen, Lucas Scott hot on her heels. Her hand encloses a doorknob, and soon she's running on the well-paved poolside in her backyard.
"Yes ma'am! You're going in!" Strong arms enclose around her waist, and then she's flying through the air, a breeze wafting through her hair. And then she's swimming, the water cool yet heavy with her clothes.
She resurfaces and throws her head back, wet-hair whipping behind her in supermodel style.
"Come on in, big boy." Brooke splashes, water landing at his feet. He rushes to the edge, then cannonballs into the clear liquid. He comes up next to her and she playfully swims away, kicking her feet heavily behind her.
He navigates through the waves and grabs her ankle, pulling her into him like he's capturing some beautiful, exotic, cosmopolitan, endangered species. Their faces are close, his breathing warm on her face. He sees the cool, blue reflection of the pool surface on her face, and then careens his head in to kiss her.
It's passionate, beautiful, as wet arms travel down each other.
"Remember the last time we were in the pool?" Brooke whispers seductively in his ear as she nibbles on it. Lucas can only mutter timidly against her neck in reply - he feels almost ashamed for the way he acted back then because his feelings have changed so substantially, his desires for Peyton diminishing, while those aimed at Brooke increasing at an uncanny velocity.
They get out of the pool, the cool night air eliciting gooseflesh along their bare bodies. Brooke finds a blanket and lays it out along the cobblestone ground bordering the mass of water and falls down onto her stomach, a bottle of wine in one hand with two glasses in the other.
"I'm not even going to bother asking where you got that from," Lucas grins slyly as he falls onto his back, his head resting in the concave area residing in between Brooke's upper-back and behind. His feet dangle in the water as he gazes upwards, towards the stars.
"Brooke," he starts, taking a glass from Brooke as she pours some for herself. The wine is red as he holds the flute up before his eyes. For a scant moment, the skies above him are tinted red, and shake and slosh about as he moves the glass to-and-fro. She turns to face him, clad in her wet tee-shirt and cut-offs, her face serious, inviting. He feels like he can say anything to her, as her eyes gaze right through him - those eyes, a sea of emotion that changes with every hue of her irises, every flicker of her cornea.
"Do you ever wonder what else there is for us out there?" he asks slowly, leaning up to sip. The beverage is chilled, yet it's still hot as it goes down his throat, leaving a residual aftertaste that feels like his esophagus is burning.
"What a profound question you've got there, Mr. Philosopher. Are those the kinds of things that circulate inside that beautiful little head of yours?" she inquires sarcastically, her voice husky and low against the soft, lingering effervescence of night, with the croaking harmonies of bullfrogs in the background. She turns over onto her back, placing his head on her stomach. Her fingers play with his hair, traversing skillfully through his damp tresses. Finally, as if she's finally finished formulating what she wants to say, her hand comes to rest on his forehead as she takes another sip.
"Well, to be honest, I'm kind of hoping so."
"Why do you say that?" Lucas cranes his neck to look her in the face, which is masked almost completely by the shadows of the large weeping willow tree above them.
"I don't know. I mean, I'm not like you, Lucas. You'll be a success story wherever you go." She takes another swig then places the empty flute on the ground. "You're like the little-freaking-engine that could." She smiles sadly as she resumes playing with his hair.
Lucas pulls his legs out of the water and sits up, drawing her close to him. "I think that you're a lot better than what you give yourself credit for, Miss Davis," he says, kissing the tip of her nose softly. "You're certainly more than a failure to me."
That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to her, and she knows it. She kisses him softly, tenderly, and then rises to her feet, pulling him up with her. "Come on, baby. I think it's time we get you back home to Uncle."
"But I'm not ready yet," Lucas states, his face mere inches from hers. "Besides, I still have that cookie shit on my pants."
Brooke laughs and leads him inside. Seconds later the faucet is running, sending steaming water cascading out the nozzle onto the floor of the shower. Lucas sets one toe-nail painted foot onto the ceramic bottom then enters. He pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall at his feet.
The door opens again. She steps in, completely and utterly naked.
Lucas is stunned, shocked, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. This isn't the first time he's seen her naked; but this is the first time he's been completely beguiled by her stark nudity. Brooke is beautiful in every extent of the word.
She steps inside, the water rushing down her bare back and plastering her tresses to her face. She approaches him and he can already feel the heat exuded from her body.
Picking up her expensive body-wash, she squirts some at Lucas. He's gaping too much to stop as the blue, sticky material splatters all over his chest. She approaches and begins to rub the mess into his skin, her hand moving down to his navel and he moans. He leans his head back as the water washes into his hair.
"My, are we getting a bit aroused?"
He replies with a sexy, seductive smirk and Brooke giggles. "Well, try not to stare too much. I'm not done with you yet."
She turns him around, and lathers the substance into his back, in between his shoulder blades. She stands up, kissing the nape of his neck as her hands sneak around his waist.
"I need you Lucas."
Without a word, he turns around.
They kiss warmly, his hands caressing her soft, willowy body. Her hands are almost nurturing, gentle, and motherly as they move about his face, pulling him closer to her.
He feels alive, elated, electrified. He can barely stand as he faces the power of her love in all its majesty. Lucas' pants are removed and love is made as the water pours down like reviving rainfall to a desolate plain.
She doesn't want him to leave as they lay in the tub after it's finished, the water still falling above, intertwined in a mass of arms and legs. She leans her head back on his shoulder and closes her eyes, allowing water to soak her face. Again she cries, but this time it's for a different reason.
This place, this temple that she has allotted for herself, this small orifice in an intricate weave of situations she calls life was the only place she could face her demons, to meet her shortcomings head-on. Now she's been liberated by this boy, this Lucas Scott. She's been saved, rescued from all the things bad in her life and this shower is no longer needed for crying. She'll think of him and what they shared here, within these glass confines.
No longer a jail cell for judgment.
He is her angel and her Godsend, given to her to prove that there is still goodness and righteousness and chivalry in this world.
"You're so beautiful," he says, nuzzling her neck.
It tickles and her thoughts escape her. "You've gotta go, baby."
"I know."
"You want me to drive you home?" she implores in a hush.
"Nah, I got it."
They step out of the shower, but she pulls him close and starts to cry again. He's nervous and scared, afraid that he's done something wrong.
"Brooke, baby, what-what's the matter?"
"Thank you, Lucas," she verbalizes after a slight pause.
His face softens, his eyebrows rising as he smiles softheartedly. "For what?"
"Too many things to name."
He pauses, and then leans in to kiss away her tears.
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~
Thanks for all the stellar reviews - keep 'em coming, as that's what inspires me to write! I'm still deciding whether or not there is going to be one or two more chapters left in this story, so any input would be graciously appreciated. Thanks again!
There's laughter, and music playing softly in the background. A small current of wind wafts in through an open window, carrying the warmth from outside into Brooke Davis' expansive bedroom.
"Quit bitching, Pretty Boy. Besides, it looks so good!" she giggles. "There, now I'm done. As usual, my work amazes me."
Lucas Scott sits up on Brooke's bed to look at his left foot, propped up on one of Brooke's fluffy pillows. It looks just like any normal teenage boy's foot - relatively large, with a prominent arch, but what really stands out would be the array of colors found on each toe.
Pretty much every tint of the visible spectrum is represented on each of his five digits. It's done very neatly, with little lacquer on his cuticles. She's obviously very experienced in the art of toe-nail painting. He pulls her onto his chest as the pair falls back on the bed, admiring Brooke's handiwork.
"You know, you do really have some pretty feet," she grins at him. He laughs back softly, his hand wiping a strand of her beautiful auburn hair behind her ear and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
It's been a normal Friday night-a normal game-night, rather. Between the culminations of the Scott brothers' scoring, the Tree Hill Ravens were victorious against some unknown team from one of the smaller bordering suburbs. It hadn't been a surprise to anyone.
Afterwards, Nathan had disappeared with Haley, Peyton had driven off by herself, and Lucas was left with Brooke. Informing Keith that he was going to stay late after and help clean up the gym with Whitey, he had fled with Brooke in her vehicle to her home, her extremely empty home.
And then they were here, with Brooke painting his toenails after commenting on just how boring he was and how he needed to live a little. So with vibrancy only Brooke Davis possessed, she soon had Lucas stripping off his socks and receiving a pedicure.
"It's good to know that if I ever find myself needing a job, I could turn to painting people's toes," Brooke informs through spattered giggles. "I mean-we could go on dates and do each others' nails!"
Lucas laughs. "It'd be just like a slumber party!" he says in mock-valley girl fashion.
"Well, lookey there! Honorable Lucas Scott cracked a funny!" Brooke jokes as she crawls up her man's body.
Their legs intertwine as Brooke traces his lips with her fingertips. They are warm and moist under her touch. His hand grasps hers as he kisses the back of it. He leans in for more, but she pulls away, reveling in his agony as she teases him.
"I'm hungry," she laughs as she pulls him off the bed to his feet. She can't help but stare down at his illustriously-colored nails and cackle.
"Shut up," he states menacingly, but his serious face breaks and a lop- sided grin forms. She leans forward, her hands finding themselves sliding down into the back pockets of his jeans, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him gently on the mouth.
Brooke leads him downstairs by the hand, and soon they're sitting in the Davis' monstrous kitchen. She's got a pack of chocolate chip cookie mix that she drops onto the counter.
"We're going to bake cookies," Brooke declares triumphantly, a hand upon her hip.
Lucas sneers at her. "Please. Brooke, you can't even make Blue-box macaroni and cheese!"
"Hey now, it was just burnt a little bit - and besides, I've got you here to help, right lover?"
Lover.
Love.
Soon their hands are digging into the soft batter, the cookie dough sticking to their fingers and undersides of their hands. They mix it up, laughing all the while. Lucas picks up a fistful and drops it into Brooke's hair.
She stares at him for a while, in disbelief. Then her mischievous grin appears on her stunning face and soon she has the bowl in her hands. Before Lucas can stop her, she pours it on his chest.
"Shit! That's cold!" Lucas yells as the sticky material falls down his body and drips to the floor. "Girl, you are screwed."
She's guffawing as she turns on her heel and dashes out of the kitchen, Lucas Scott hot on her heels. Her hand encloses a doorknob, and soon she's running on the well-paved poolside in her backyard.
"Yes ma'am! You're going in!" Strong arms enclose around her waist, and then she's flying through the air, a breeze wafting through her hair. And then she's swimming, the water cool yet heavy with her clothes.
She resurfaces and throws her head back, wet-hair whipping behind her in supermodel style.
"Come on in, big boy." Brooke splashes, water landing at his feet. He rushes to the edge, then cannonballs into the clear liquid. He comes up next to her and she playfully swims away, kicking her feet heavily behind her.
He navigates through the waves and grabs her ankle, pulling her into him like he's capturing some beautiful, exotic, cosmopolitan, endangered species. Their faces are close, his breathing warm on her face. He sees the cool, blue reflection of the pool surface on her face, and then careens his head in to kiss her.
It's passionate, beautiful, as wet arms travel down each other.
"Remember the last time we were in the pool?" Brooke whispers seductively in his ear as she nibbles on it. Lucas can only mutter timidly against her neck in reply - he feels almost ashamed for the way he acted back then because his feelings have changed so substantially, his desires for Peyton diminishing, while those aimed at Brooke increasing at an uncanny velocity.
They get out of the pool, the cool night air eliciting gooseflesh along their bare bodies. Brooke finds a blanket and lays it out along the cobblestone ground bordering the mass of water and falls down onto her stomach, a bottle of wine in one hand with two glasses in the other.
"I'm not even going to bother asking where you got that from," Lucas grins slyly as he falls onto his back, his head resting in the concave area residing in between Brooke's upper-back and behind. His feet dangle in the water as he gazes upwards, towards the stars.
"Brooke," he starts, taking a glass from Brooke as she pours some for herself. The wine is red as he holds the flute up before his eyes. For a scant moment, the skies above him are tinted red, and shake and slosh about as he moves the glass to-and-fro. She turns to face him, clad in her wet tee-shirt and cut-offs, her face serious, inviting. He feels like he can say anything to her, as her eyes gaze right through him - those eyes, a sea of emotion that changes with every hue of her irises, every flicker of her cornea.
"Do you ever wonder what else there is for us out there?" he asks slowly, leaning up to sip. The beverage is chilled, yet it's still hot as it goes down his throat, leaving a residual aftertaste that feels like his esophagus is burning.
"What a profound question you've got there, Mr. Philosopher. Are those the kinds of things that circulate inside that beautiful little head of yours?" she inquires sarcastically, her voice husky and low against the soft, lingering effervescence of night, with the croaking harmonies of bullfrogs in the background. She turns over onto her back, placing his head on her stomach. Her fingers play with his hair, traversing skillfully through his damp tresses. Finally, as if she's finally finished formulating what she wants to say, her hand comes to rest on his forehead as she takes another sip.
"Well, to be honest, I'm kind of hoping so."
"Why do you say that?" Lucas cranes his neck to look her in the face, which is masked almost completely by the shadows of the large weeping willow tree above them.
"I don't know. I mean, I'm not like you, Lucas. You'll be a success story wherever you go." She takes another swig then places the empty flute on the ground. "You're like the little-freaking-engine that could." She smiles sadly as she resumes playing with his hair.
Lucas pulls his legs out of the water and sits up, drawing her close to him. "I think that you're a lot better than what you give yourself credit for, Miss Davis," he says, kissing the tip of her nose softly. "You're certainly more than a failure to me."
That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to her, and she knows it. She kisses him softly, tenderly, and then rises to her feet, pulling him up with her. "Come on, baby. I think it's time we get you back home to Uncle."
"But I'm not ready yet," Lucas states, his face mere inches from hers. "Besides, I still have that cookie shit on my pants."
Brooke laughs and leads him inside. Seconds later the faucet is running, sending steaming water cascading out the nozzle onto the floor of the shower. Lucas sets one toe-nail painted foot onto the ceramic bottom then enters. He pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall at his feet.
The door opens again. She steps in, completely and utterly naked.
Lucas is stunned, shocked, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. This isn't the first time he's seen her naked; but this is the first time he's been completely beguiled by her stark nudity. Brooke is beautiful in every extent of the word.
She steps inside, the water rushing down her bare back and plastering her tresses to her face. She approaches him and he can already feel the heat exuded from her body.
Picking up her expensive body-wash, she squirts some at Lucas. He's gaping too much to stop as the blue, sticky material splatters all over his chest. She approaches and begins to rub the mess into his skin, her hand moving down to his navel and he moans. He leans his head back as the water washes into his hair.
"My, are we getting a bit aroused?"
He replies with a sexy, seductive smirk and Brooke giggles. "Well, try not to stare too much. I'm not done with you yet."
She turns him around, and lathers the substance into his back, in between his shoulder blades. She stands up, kissing the nape of his neck as her hands sneak around his waist.
"I need you Lucas."
Without a word, he turns around.
They kiss warmly, his hands caressing her soft, willowy body. Her hands are almost nurturing, gentle, and motherly as they move about his face, pulling him closer to her.
He feels alive, elated, electrified. He can barely stand as he faces the power of her love in all its majesty. Lucas' pants are removed and love is made as the water pours down like reviving rainfall to a desolate plain.
She doesn't want him to leave as they lay in the tub after it's finished, the water still falling above, intertwined in a mass of arms and legs. She leans her head back on his shoulder and closes her eyes, allowing water to soak her face. Again she cries, but this time it's for a different reason.
This place, this temple that she has allotted for herself, this small orifice in an intricate weave of situations she calls life was the only place she could face her demons, to meet her shortcomings head-on. Now she's been liberated by this boy, this Lucas Scott. She's been saved, rescued from all the things bad in her life and this shower is no longer needed for crying. She'll think of him and what they shared here, within these glass confines.
No longer a jail cell for judgment.
He is her angel and her Godsend, given to her to prove that there is still goodness and righteousness and chivalry in this world.
"You're so beautiful," he says, nuzzling her neck.
It tickles and her thoughts escape her. "You've gotta go, baby."
"I know."
"You want me to drive you home?" she implores in a hush.
"Nah, I got it."
They step out of the shower, but she pulls him close and starts to cry again. He's nervous and scared, afraid that he's done something wrong.
"Brooke, baby, what-what's the matter?"
"Thank you, Lucas," she verbalizes after a slight pause.
His face softens, his eyebrows rising as he smiles softheartedly. "For what?"
"Too many things to name."
He pauses, and then leans in to kiss away her tears.
~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~
Thanks for all the stellar reviews - keep 'em coming, as that's what inspires me to write! I'm still deciding whether or not there is going to be one or two more chapters left in this story, so any input would be graciously appreciated. Thanks again!