Post by Cassiopeia Reyes-Hart on Oct 24, 2008 15:39:31 GMT -5
Cassiopeia did her best to look busy and preoccupied in the gym later that day, folding spare towels all crooked and putting them away haphazardly—as she wasn’t really watching what she was doing. The room was empty except herself, the various equipment, and then—the oh-so-drool-worthy, currently shirtless and sweat-covered—First mate, Morgan Halcyon. With nothing much to do before the mission began, Morgan had ducked into the gym for a workout and Cassi—with nothing else she’d rather be doing than watching him work out—had covertly snuck in after him.
He didn’t much notice her presence, per usual. Even though she had taken Madam A’s advice and dressed today in one of her shorter skirts—a pale lavender jean material—with a metal hoop belt on over it and a tight black mini-shirt with a matching purple skull-and-crossbones painted over her breasts, complete with a set of bunny-ears. But then, right at this moment, him being oblivious to her attention was actually working in her favor for once. That way Cassi could stare her fill at him shadow-boxing in a pair of black gi bottoms and nothing else, and not have to worry about getting caught.
She sighed after she’d finished with the towels, drifting along the edge of the spacious work-out room toward the counter near the back, her silvery eyes never quite leaving the tall male in the center while he moved. It was a lot like dancing, actually. Just a lot more . . . virile. She felt her cheeks flood with heat as she watched the well-trained muscle along Morgan’s chest, arms and back flex and tighten with his quick, powerful movements, dark ebony skin glistening with the proof of his exertions.
Cassi watched with devouring eyes as he twisted and turned in his deadly dance, his handsome face hardened with a strangely thrilling expression of pure concentration. She was watching so hard she forgot to pay attention to where she was going, and ran smack into the counter with a loud thump. To which she yelped, having banged her knee pretty hard. She immediately rubbed at the injured area, hissing with discomfort.
Ow, ow, ow, ow!
Beside her, Morgan suddenly pulled to a halt, blinking at her in confused surprise. He reached up to shove a few of his dreads back from where they’d fallen into his eyes. “Cassi? You alright, luv?”
Crap, crap, crap, crap!
She straightened with a jerk, whirling back to the First Mate and giving him an overly cheery grin. “Oh, yeah. I-I’m fine! Perfectly! Totally. Just . . . banged my knee. Nothing big.” She motioned airily with her hand, attempting to stop herself from rambling like a moron. She could feel the tips of her ears burning already. “Just, don’t mind me. Go back to your . . . your thing.”
He heaved a sigh at that though, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’m ‘bout done for the day.” He stepped over to the towels and picked up the first one he came to, scrubbing at his face a little before slinging it over his broad shoulders. While Cassi was kicking herself in the background.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
He suddenly glanced back at her again, making her tense, eyes wide. For a moment she thought he might’ve known what she was thinking, causing the color to deepen on her face. Yet he merely frowned a little before, “where in th’ bloody hell is Ivan?”
She blinked. “Oh. H-he . . . he’s . . . I told him I would take over,” she mumbled inanely. That seemed to sour his expression even more, muttering something under his breath about needing to have a talk with crewmembers foisting their jobs off on little girls before he stepped back fully into the back room to shower and change.
Cassiopeia huffed after he’d left. Little girl! Little girl! She wasn’t a little girl, goshed darn it! She was a full sixteen years old! What was it going to take to get through his thick, stubborn, blind-as-a-bat—.
The sound of the shower turning on derailed all other thoughts. Cassi hesitated, her breath stalling somewhere in her throat, her face getting pinker with the smutty direction her thoughts were taking. Then she immediately chastised herself. She really shouldn’t. It was rude, and an invasion of privacy. But then she bit her lip. She would just take a little, itsy bitsy peak. He would never know, and she would certainly never tell . . . .
Cassiopeia was rabidly curious as to just all of what lay beneath those black gi pants.
Making up her mind, she slipped into the back room on silent, bare feet, and then into the girl’s shower room. It was the closest she could get to him without actually being in the same room, as she didn’t want this to be painful on top of disorienting. She slowly sat down on the cool tile, and then took a deep breath before concentrating.
Slowly, the world around her faded into a chaotic distortion of color. And then, distinctive parts began to form and take shape, and her swirling eyes widened to the size of saucers.
(To be continued in the NC-17 section).
He didn’t much notice her presence, per usual. Even though she had taken Madam A’s advice and dressed today in one of her shorter skirts—a pale lavender jean material—with a metal hoop belt on over it and a tight black mini-shirt with a matching purple skull-and-crossbones painted over her breasts, complete with a set of bunny-ears. But then, right at this moment, him being oblivious to her attention was actually working in her favor for once. That way Cassi could stare her fill at him shadow-boxing in a pair of black gi bottoms and nothing else, and not have to worry about getting caught.
She sighed after she’d finished with the towels, drifting along the edge of the spacious work-out room toward the counter near the back, her silvery eyes never quite leaving the tall male in the center while he moved. It was a lot like dancing, actually. Just a lot more . . . virile. She felt her cheeks flood with heat as she watched the well-trained muscle along Morgan’s chest, arms and back flex and tighten with his quick, powerful movements, dark ebony skin glistening with the proof of his exertions.
Cassi watched with devouring eyes as he twisted and turned in his deadly dance, his handsome face hardened with a strangely thrilling expression of pure concentration. She was watching so hard she forgot to pay attention to where she was going, and ran smack into the counter with a loud thump. To which she yelped, having banged her knee pretty hard. She immediately rubbed at the injured area, hissing with discomfort.
Ow, ow, ow, ow!
Beside her, Morgan suddenly pulled to a halt, blinking at her in confused surprise. He reached up to shove a few of his dreads back from where they’d fallen into his eyes. “Cassi? You alright, luv?”
Crap, crap, crap, crap!
She straightened with a jerk, whirling back to the First Mate and giving him an overly cheery grin. “Oh, yeah. I-I’m fine! Perfectly! Totally. Just . . . banged my knee. Nothing big.” She motioned airily with her hand, attempting to stop herself from rambling like a moron. She could feel the tips of her ears burning already. “Just, don’t mind me. Go back to your . . . your thing.”
He heaved a sigh at that though, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’m ‘bout done for the day.” He stepped over to the towels and picked up the first one he came to, scrubbing at his face a little before slinging it over his broad shoulders. While Cassi was kicking herself in the background.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
He suddenly glanced back at her again, making her tense, eyes wide. For a moment she thought he might’ve known what she was thinking, causing the color to deepen on her face. Yet he merely frowned a little before, “where in th’ bloody hell is Ivan?”
She blinked. “Oh. H-he . . . he’s . . . I told him I would take over,” she mumbled inanely. That seemed to sour his expression even more, muttering something under his breath about needing to have a talk with crewmembers foisting their jobs off on little girls before he stepped back fully into the back room to shower and change.
Cassiopeia huffed after he’d left. Little girl! Little girl! She wasn’t a little girl, goshed darn it! She was a full sixteen years old! What was it going to take to get through his thick, stubborn, blind-as-a-bat—.
The sound of the shower turning on derailed all other thoughts. Cassi hesitated, her breath stalling somewhere in her throat, her face getting pinker with the smutty direction her thoughts were taking. Then she immediately chastised herself. She really shouldn’t. It was rude, and an invasion of privacy. But then she bit her lip. She would just take a little, itsy bitsy peak. He would never know, and she would certainly never tell . . . .
Cassiopeia was rabidly curious as to just all of what lay beneath those black gi pants.
Making up her mind, she slipped into the back room on silent, bare feet, and then into the girl’s shower room. It was the closest she could get to him without actually being in the same room, as she didn’t want this to be painful on top of disorienting. She slowly sat down on the cool tile, and then took a deep breath before concentrating.
Slowly, the world around her faded into a chaotic distortion of color. And then, distinctive parts began to form and take shape, and her swirling eyes widened to the size of saucers.
(To be continued in the NC-17 section).