S

 PRETTY BOY .  

        eyes roll as they’re accustomed to, a  tired sigh parting pink lips at her persistence towards existential conversation. she’s hoping for far too much,  but that isn’t  his fault.   ❝          JEEZ,  DAPH,  relax, i’m just admiring your assets !  how am i supposed to help myself when you’ve made yourself so comfortable  ?   ❞  hands decide to animate, eyes disobeying given order  &  dipping back down south to what he finds far more interesting. palms rest themselves against heavenly frame, brushing slowly over the  curve of her hips atop his own, reluctantly being jerked back into conversation. 

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        ❝   WHY  WOULD  I  EVER  GET  SICK  OF  BEING  CALLED  GORGEOUS  ?     ❞  believe  it  or  not,  he’s  being  somewhat  serious  now, digging  a  little  deeper  beneath  his surface—  the  root  of  his  arrogance  baring  itself  in  some  regard  to  the  latter  half  of  her  question.  ❝  besides,  who  cares  what  other  people  think    i  know  i’m  the  complete  package.  &   my  opinion  is  the  only  one  that  matters,  so.   

                 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓, 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. Daphne, self-proclaimed protector of her fellow girls, with his crown of fingers ‘round her waist. She can’t quite decide if it feels more like dominance or appraisal. Still, the way he eyes here isn’t predatory –– it’s not quite hungry. It’s all very, very confusing. He’s very confusing. The things he’s saying, strangely enough, make sense. How to feel about that?

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Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she cares too much what others think of her. But how not to? In the end, she decides he has the power not to care, while she is bound to. Maybe Daphne could stand to learn something from him… though she’d NEVER tell him that. Her hands shift from her sides to brace themselves on his chest. It’s firm. Strong. Masculine in a way that makes her tremble, ever so slightly.  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re not a king. Before he can interject, she adds,  Maybe you’re a devil. A snake.  She leans in, resisting a smirk. “ Does that make me Eve? ” 

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