Milady deWinter (
aspecialkindofwoman) wrote in
all_inclusive2016-06-05 05:30 pm
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Entry tags:
Pour another round
There are many descriptors that can be applied to Milady deWinter. Perhaps the most important is the term survivor.
She will always do what she needs to do to survive. She's not surprised that things turned out how they did. Not really. She has learned to expect the worst.
But here she is back in this place. This strange, modern place where she can, if she wants, be anything she wants to be. Milady supposes now is the time to figure that out. Surely, it's only a matter of time before Athos lives through what she has. Will he still want her?
Someone will. Surely.
She sits at the hotel bar, draining one glass of sharp, bitter alcohol and signalling for another, her skirt - the finest Parisian silk - covering the barstool, the curve of her shoulder gleaming in the low light.
She will always do what she needs to do to survive. She's not surprised that things turned out how they did. Not really. She has learned to expect the worst.
But here she is back in this place. This strange, modern place where she can, if she wants, be anything she wants to be. Milady supposes now is the time to figure that out. Surely, it's only a matter of time before Athos lives through what she has. Will he still want her?
Someone will. Surely.
She sits at the hotel bar, draining one glass of sharp, bitter alcohol and signalling for another, her skirt - the finest Parisian silk - covering the barstool, the curve of her shoulder gleaming in the low light.
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That robs a soft gasp of him, unable to do much more than allow himself to give in to the physical relief that being in her presence allows him. Sometimes, he thinks she could have him out of his head and forgetting the world, which is what he needs now.
The blissful sound he lets out is proof of her control now.
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She leans down, ghosting words over his mouth. "To bed," she not so much urges as commands, gently easing off of where he touches her, even as her whole body tingles with it. Then she rises, a hand in his to rise too. It will be much more comfortable in bed.
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He slowly crawls atop her with a glint of idea in his eye, ready for more. "Ready?"
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Her own body shakes as the angle of his thrusts changes. Her fingers dig into his back.
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He may think she speaks for herself, but her expression will tell him otherwise. He loves someone else, not her.
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