You make ME squee! <3 >> Word Count: 3+
Sirius by Nat
The scent of her teased him, curled within his lungs like a dense mist rolling in from the ocean. It was not the luring, familiar smell of salt and spray, but the fragrance of pure femininity, the alluring wafts of luxury and seduction. There was no mistaking such a scent, not after he had breathed it all the way in, and felt it sizzle within his blood. His good mood heightened, and rose further still when the woman herself appeared, promptly answering his beckoning purr.
She had donned sumptuous green and yellow fabric for the occasion, and as always, his narrow pupils roamed where they pleased, tracing pleasant paths along the curves exposed to him, and the curves hidden. Black lips twitched in that barely-there smile, but his acidic eyes sparked enough to show his pleasure. The air around the monarch seemed to hum with the glowing brilliance of his mood, and his people thrived on it; Some with equal glee, some with mounting terror, for a man so passionate in his foulest mood could be even more unpredictably dangerous in his merriest one.
Her expression was humble, but he sensed a warm arrogance to her, something fleeting and quickly hidden. Yellow teeth glittered at the woman in a fast, sharp smile, one which grew ravenous as she voiced her customary congratulations. "Sons," He rasped, delighted anew at the prospect of a thing, "An heir to the greatest kingdom crafted on this pile of dirt. I hope my people sing their joy at such a thing," And there was a flicker within his gaze, something reptilian and serpentine, something that was measuring her responses carefully. Even now, the king of liars would seek out falseness in those who followed him. Suspicion here was a way of life.
He stepped nearer to the doggish beauty, but did not touch her, not yet. His tall, lanky frame cast a neat shadow over her exotic features, and he smirked arrogantly, a peacock in full display. "Have you missed me, dear Isabella? I have been so busy, tending the mother of my blood," A soft chink was muted by the folds of his cloak as the man shifted his weight, concealing whatever prize was held within. Sirius knew the woman's tastes well enough, and the cold and beautiful thing stored within his secret pocket would suit her magnificently.
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