A/N: Prompt Learning. Originally posted 18/5/07
"No," he says, eyes fixed on her fingers, a dark curl clinging sweat-damp to his brow as he shakes his head, laying down his sword and moving behind her. She stands motionless, every untouched inch of skin achingly conscious of the slim, strong body so close to hers, of the movement of calloused hands so confidently adjusting the position of her own, of the scent of him.
"—like this." His breath is warm on her cheek; she inhales sharply, revelling in the sudden answering tension in him. They stand so for a swift eternity, blood pounding in her ears like waves on a distant, deserted shore.
She can feel the intensity of his gaze, now shifted to her face, and remembers to lower her sword before turning in his arms. His eyes seem almost black when she meets them, burning with dark flame that flares as she rests her palm on his chest and lets the hand that held the blade wander upwards to tangle in his hair.
His breath grows ragged and he murmurs hoarsely as he pulls her hard against him.
"I think our lesson is over, Miss Swann."
She smiles against his mouth.
It is not.