Lilting tune echoes through her mind, intermittently interrupted by the gentle wooing of the sea as it dances and rocks against the waves. Arms lift, poised above her head as she pivots upon one toe – dancing as she might imagine a ballerina to do so. She then freezes, trapped in his gaze. Like a deer caught in headlights she stares at him before a smile breaks across her features. "Come on Chuck," she calls out to him. She then moves closer, like a ghost across the misty dunes. Midnight passed but an hour before, and the full moon is large, hanging just past the midway point of nightfall. Pallid hues scatter across her skin, across the white nightgown that clings to her, hugging every curve, cutting off somewhere between her knees and her thighs.
Forgotten is Blair, forgotten is the
past;
what beauty and myths stand here before him!
Her hand is offered and he takes it; accepting the warm embrace. He imagines this is a dream; pure heaven. When he wakes, disappointment shall be his but for now, he will relish in the moment. Squeezing her tiny hand, lithe fingers, he chuckles. "You, Serena, are something else," he states casually. She is beauty, she is perfection. There is a mystique surrounding her tonight – perhaps she is drunk, drunk off the world's finest vodka, drunk off abandoned love. But she is under the influence of something, intoxicated by the poison of emotion – and he is drunk off her grace and sheer elegance in mourning.
Madness – it is madness that intoxicates them both tonight.
She forgets herself, dropping the notion of Dan without question. Her eyes are lost in the gaze of the one who watches her, the one who observes but never participates in her dance. The angel, the nymph of the seas; she dances so elegantly for the devil, the one whose heart has been stolen.
For a moment, she is Calypso and he is the master of the seas – Davy Jones seeking redemption.
Angel of beauty pulls him closer, drawing him near to her. Bodies touch for the first time as she closes in around him. Right hand slowly leaves his, crawling up his chest to rest upon the back of his neck. Left hand lingers within his own, lifting it – poised to waltz. She speaks nothing, but he begins to lead – taking control on the dunes as he would on the ballroom floor, or within the sheets. Together they move, as one unified entity, welded together in perfect harmony. She hums softly, a melody drowned out by the calling of the sea, its beckoning growing louder as they dance down the dunes, nearing the water's edge.
Her cheek presses to his and his dark eyes closed, lulled by
her tender touch.
Madness – sheer madness – this cannot
be!
"Chuck," she breathes against his skin, pulling away, but only slightly. Slender waist is now in his clenches, tugged closer to his body as they move together. Smile flickers across her features and though he does not return it, he is smiling inwardly. Then she arches forward, upward on the balls of her feet, as their lips meet. Tender kiss, gift from the heavens, is pressed to his lips – enticing, passionate, endearing. His mind comes blank, memories sweeping over him. But memories of Blair? – oh no, to be forsaken! He dreams instead of a time past, a time where he once professed his love for someone with beauty that, at the moment, far exceeded that of the petite brunette.
On one knee he knelt before her, sincerity reflecting in his eyes. He croons and pleas with her, that the kiss she had given him was of true love, true adoration. He knows this now – knows that she was intended for him. Forever. But she giggles and shies from him, denying him the affection he wishes to bestow.
Now,
dreams can come true;
can't they?
Sighing wistfully as she pulls away, his eyes open and lips quirk slightly as he arches a brow to her. "The Hamptons are not close enough to West Virginia for such sibling affection, S," he teases. But her dark eyes, heavily lidded and burning with emotion, do not fade nor narrow. Drunk, intoxicated with lust, she purrs a soft response, barely audible against his ear.
"But tonight, we are in paradise."
