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Disclaimer: Pretender characters aren’t mine, because I’m not Steve or Craig… but I can pretend I am. And, the way I figure it, they’d be hypocrites to sue me for doing something that they introduced to the masses… Not that it would stop them.
Waterbead
By Serendipitous Cake
He is a voyeur when he stares at her. Beholding her shape and form. Contemplating the softness of her skin, the curve of her breasts. His look is lustful, but inquisitive. He wants "her" as her--skin, bones, flesh and soul. He wants her as his own.
In the shower, she permits him to watch, knows that he is. It is what she wants. It is seduction. It is decision.
When the waterbeads caress her skin, she likes his eyes to follow them. She likes to see him imagining that he is a waterbead himself, rolling down her skin at a gentle speed.
She never invites him in. He never asks.
When he touches her, she flowers with seeds of possibility. She never stops him. It is always what she wants. It is what she waits for.
He likes to trail down her skin, flowing off her bended knee, unraveling its mystery, making her naked to the world.
He is a bead--whether of water, sweat, or desire, he never knows. She believes he is all of them.
She likes when he trickles down her spine, plays in the hollow of her throat, dips into her navel. He is revealing her. He is unmasking her, pealing away the layers of lies, truths, and sacrifices.
He finds her, and she allows him to. She likes that he searches.
It is the game they play. Water and Skin. Moth and Flame. Run and chase.
Fin
AN: This is roughly based around/on Splashdown’s song "Waterbead."
Waterbead
By Serendipitous Cake
He is a voyeur when he stares at her. Beholding her shape and form. Contemplating the softness of her skin, the curve of her breasts. His look is lustful, but inquisitive. He wants "her" as her--skin, bones, flesh and soul. He wants her as his own.
In the shower, she permits him to watch, knows that he is. It is what she wants. It is seduction. It is decision.
When the waterbeads caress her skin, she likes his eyes to follow them. She likes to see him imagining that he is a waterbead himself, rolling down her skin at a gentle speed.
She never invites him in. He never asks.
When he touches her, she flowers with seeds of possibility. She never stops him. It is always what she wants. It is what she waits for.
He likes to trail down her skin, flowing off her bended knee, unraveling its mystery, making her naked to the world.
He is a bead--whether of water, sweat, or desire, he never knows. She believes he is all of them.
She likes when he trickles down her spine, plays in the hollow of her throat, dips into her navel. He is revealing her. He is unmasking her, pealing away the layers of lies, truths, and sacrifices.
He finds her, and she allows him to. She likes that he searches.
It is the game they play. Water and Skin. Moth and Flame. Run and chase.
Fin
AN: This is roughly based around/on Splashdown’s song "Waterbead."
