SPICED WINE, WHAT ARE YOU >> Word Count: 3+
Sirius by Nat
She gave him a mild, unreadable look, one which Sirius returned with a false calmness. Beneath his skin and flesh, his blood sizzled.
Acquiescing to her gesture, the tall monarch ducked his head and followed the dame into her den. A grand room opened before him, and he was struck a-new at its furnishings, its civility. Isabella's home was a small slice of London, and he breathed in the sultry scents with a peculiar pang of longing for the gentry he had left behind for this rugged wilderness.
Following proper etiquette, he remained standing until she flourished at a seat, her soft, sensual voice accompanying the gesture in a dainty offer. Black lips twitched, but the man did as she bid, moving to sit on the cushioned surface. "That would be lovely," He murmured gently, eyes still roving the interior of the room with an unabashed curiosity. Everything reflected little aspects of the woman - Unlike his still-barren chamber, now a womb for the pile of furs that served as a nest for his sons and their beautiful mother.
The fragrance of the wine began to warm his nose, and Sirius settled himself comfortably, crossing his ankles beneath the polished surface of the table, and resting his interlaced cream fingers atop it. Her question provoked a slow smile, sharp yellow daggers glittering alongside the King's luminous eyes. "They are in good health, la mia signora... Reaping the luxuries that I can offer them. Such is the way with princelings - They've yet to come of an age where they can understand the joys and responsibilities that await them," His caramel voice was pensive, faraway. His attention was drawn back by the sliding of clay on wood, and one cream hand moved to cup the neat bowl-mug that was given.
Her mention of glass was met with a seeking look, and although he offered no opinion on the matter, a mental note of it was stored away. Narrowed pupils did not miss the shifting of her body, and he made no move to hide the roving appreciation of his gaze. There was a wordless agreement between them on this matter - It did not cost to look upon her, and his sight, being the sight of the kingdom, was not often denied such a thing. "That I do. The oldest son is precious indeed - He will inherit our little world," A wry smile enhanced these words, and he paused to take a sip of the warm spiced liquid, enjoying the way it slid down his throat. "I will have to train him hard, of course; Soft men do not make good kings. But that is the way of it. They are both born of the North, and have the North in them." He said nothing of Clover, choosing not to share his plans for the golden-haired damsel. This was not overly due to any pressing reason; More the fact that, of yet, he was as unsure of his plans as Isabella. While Clover was perfect for bearing his children, with her purity and her blue blood, he did not know love as she did. It was a strange situation indeed.
Another slow sip was given, and he felt the warmth spread through his stomach and veins. "Delicious," Came the teasing purr, eyes glancing once more at her voluptuous form.
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