Status: One-shot
Senses
Senses
He swirled the rim of a crystalline cocktail glass, swaying both his alcohol and hand in motion to the music gliding through his aristocratic atmosphere. The company proved critical, yet deceptive with vacant smirks of false delight at the sight of their legal partners, and the desirous ignorance of mostly bare ladies from between last night’s sheets. Sheets which currently lay in the tired arms of those inferior to scandalous order. Lovers held soft hands towards their liquor, rejecting the poles of diamonds encrusted wedding rings for a moment of indulgent sadism. Ivory stained features cursed opulent walls with he presence of angelic cherubs, withholding their cherished arrows within the grasp of stone darlings, yet striking their bows with the touch of voluptuous embraces. For the walls were not much grander, with echoes of cream authority splattered against striped plainness. A rightful décor of grand successes, overwhelmed by the mask of vulgar reputations.
The parting between congregations of chestnuts dared not quiver, despite longing to bear the flavours of their master’s hand upon a flawless, disobedient curl. Within his glance, visions of exposed backs and stunning postures painted an impression of seduction upon one’s mind, paired with the wriggling of figures beneath silk bed sheets. Oh, how many female hearts had melted beneath, or, in most cases, above, the heat of such chocolate pupils, transfixed upon his fellow sweetheart. What an eye, what eyes, for devious doings of fair girls in fair dresses, and the solemn delight of deceiving both oneself and paramour with even the simplest of actions, such as brushing a dainty palm. Even marriage sustained no resistance against his callous clasp on the female fancy, as his bed had often played host to the most wealthy opportunists, often addressed as “wives” by their peers.
The birthday of Chuck Bass had never been celebrated in a conventional manner, and constantly bared gifts of trust funds and many congratulation. Manipulated plastic had been denied the affections of a childhood Chuck, leading him to play with far more fragile and artificial toys. Nor the flicker of ink, lacing a premium page with words of “love”, or the collision of ebony lines forming kisses near a beloved signature, opting to seek plump lips upon the pure faces of impressionable darlings. He preferred to influence them in mind, and not in alcohol. Rather, in taste, too, as the acid of his mouth burned upon theirs until met with aesthetic coffee the following dawn.
In particular, this birthday, that of his 20th year thieving the affections of girls on the upper-east side, was entirely unconventional to any being who had never witnessed the grand galas, and sins of favoured philanthropists. Aristocratic grins crowded around elegant tables, as fine china cascaded around the room contained thin the fists of waiters, almost simultaneously releasing their luggage. Seemingly perfect, yet his irises refused to dismiss such a wonderful neckline, adjoined to an increasingly exquisite face.
Dining alone, her body held beneath a cluster of teal design. Perfection glistened in the darkness of her eyes, as caramel whirls whispered tempting thoughts as they swayed near to the lobe of her ears.
Dismissing himself from a table of tedious socialites, Chuck approached the young ladies’ chair, his footsteps fluctuating with escalating delight. For a bare-faced beauty was rare amongst a city of powder mannequins. The woman winced at such a graze upon the tip of her left shoulder, yet continued to scan the menu before her.
“What do you suggest?” Inquired she, finally facing him. In the honesty of his grace, her eyes felt a sudden bound to studying his every flinch and strike.
Chuck’s rose lips curled, a sight of smolder appreciated by both his prey and his viewers. As an actor upon the stage, who’s lines of wit stir the interest of both the audience and future night’s exhilaration in a parallel role. Extending his torso towards the woman, only to adjust his spine to reach the tickled rim of her ear against the flicker of his warm breath, as the words released from his fuscia lips:
“I suggest”, pausing between lethargic words to enhance the torture of her longing, “the bass”.
Chuck’s jaw stung from the hasty touch of his accomplice, causing imbalance to disrupt his charismatic lure of a sultry demeanour. Gripping his cheek with the energy only supplied by an enchanted woman, the female replied.
“Well, I suppose I’ll take one to go”
The parting between congregations of chestnuts dared not quiver, despite longing to bear the flavours of their master’s hand upon a flawless, disobedient curl. Within his glance, visions of exposed backs and stunning postures painted an impression of seduction upon one’s mind, paired with the wriggling of figures beneath silk bed sheets. Oh, how many female hearts had melted beneath, or, in most cases, above, the heat of such chocolate pupils, transfixed upon his fellow sweetheart. What an eye, what eyes, for devious doings of fair girls in fair dresses, and the solemn delight of deceiving both oneself and paramour with even the simplest of actions, such as brushing a dainty palm. Even marriage sustained no resistance against his callous clasp on the female fancy, as his bed had often played host to the most wealthy opportunists, often addressed as “wives” by their peers.
The birthday of Chuck Bass had never been celebrated in a conventional manner, and constantly bared gifts of trust funds and many congratulation. Manipulated plastic had been denied the affections of a childhood Chuck, leading him to play with far more fragile and artificial toys. Nor the flicker of ink, lacing a premium page with words of “love”, or the collision of ebony lines forming kisses near a beloved signature, opting to seek plump lips upon the pure faces of impressionable darlings. He preferred to influence them in mind, and not in alcohol. Rather, in taste, too, as the acid of his mouth burned upon theirs until met with aesthetic coffee the following dawn.
In particular, this birthday, that of his 20th year thieving the affections of girls on the upper-east side, was entirely unconventional to any being who had never witnessed the grand galas, and sins of favoured philanthropists. Aristocratic grins crowded around elegant tables, as fine china cascaded around the room contained thin the fists of waiters, almost simultaneously releasing their luggage. Seemingly perfect, yet his irises refused to dismiss such a wonderful neckline, adjoined to an increasingly exquisite face.
Dining alone, her body held beneath a cluster of teal design. Perfection glistened in the darkness of her eyes, as caramel whirls whispered tempting thoughts as they swayed near to the lobe of her ears.
Dismissing himself from a table of tedious socialites, Chuck approached the young ladies’ chair, his footsteps fluctuating with escalating delight. For a bare-faced beauty was rare amongst a city of powder mannequins. The woman winced at such a graze upon the tip of her left shoulder, yet continued to scan the menu before her.
“What do you suggest?” Inquired she, finally facing him. In the honesty of his grace, her eyes felt a sudden bound to studying his every flinch and strike.
Chuck’s rose lips curled, a sight of smolder appreciated by both his prey and his viewers. As an actor upon the stage, who’s lines of wit stir the interest of both the audience and future night’s exhilaration in a parallel role. Extending his torso towards the woman, only to adjust his spine to reach the tickled rim of her ear against the flicker of his warm breath, as the words released from his fuscia lips:
“I suggest”, pausing between lethargic words to enhance the torture of her longing, “the bass”.
Chuck’s jaw stung from the hasty touch of his accomplice, causing imbalance to disrupt his charismatic lure of a sultry demeanour. Gripping his cheek with the energy only supplied by an enchanted woman, the female replied.
“Well, I suppose I’ll take one to go”
♠ ♠ ♠
I hope you liked it, m'dear xD