Hayate Ishikawa (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} splitimpulse) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} nosuchplace,@ 2009-02-20 00:26:00 |
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Thursday: December 20, 2007
Who: Hayate and Chris
When: Late Night
Where: Hayate’s Cottage
What: There are other ways to exert control.
WARNINGS: Mature sexual content between an adult and young teen.
Often she would lose herself in a book upon the cushions of his sofa, quietly reading the pages as her eyes roamed over text before her. Her hair would fall into her face, and her fingers would idly reach up and tuck it behind her ear without leaving the book in front of her eyes. She would read steadily, breathing in a mild manner, absorbed in the text like it was another world and she was already in it. Her eyes spoke of her belief in it. In them he saw devotion and a glimmer of hope, a spark come alive and burn for an hour or however long she continued to be immersed in her fantasy world.
A book could never give to him what he received from simply watching her. She was his only fantasy, and a book would never measure up to what he could have here, now. Chris enjoyed reading, though, and he liked to see her happy. He refused to ask her to do things for him on most occasions; instead, he would ask her what she wanted to do, and they would do that. If Chris felt like reading, then she would read and he would watch her read in silence, mulling over his thoughts and finding ways to easily occupy them.
Hayate watched her as he sat across from her, wondering how they could remain silent for such long periods of time as they did nothing in particular; her, reading — and him, watching her read. A strange arrangement, of course, but they both liked it. Hayate needed no other reason or excuse to justify their choices in pastimes; he needed no excuses for anything, lacking a proper conscience to require them in the first place.
It might have been the reason for his next idea as well.
Finally, he grew tired of only sitting there and rose from his spot, ascending the stairwell to his room. Up there, he acquired a box from his closet and made his way back down the steps to the sitting room, where he presented the box to Chris. A secret smile decorated his face as he held it out to her.
“Go on,” he urged gently. “Open it.”
Who: Hayate and Chris
When: Late Night
Where: Hayate’s Cottage
What: There are other ways to exert control.
WARNINGS: Mature sexual content between an adult and young teen.
Often she would lose herself in a book upon the cushions of his sofa, quietly reading the pages as her eyes roamed over text before her. Her hair would fall into her face, and her fingers would idly reach up and tuck it behind her ear without leaving the book in front of her eyes. She would read steadily, breathing in a mild manner, absorbed in the text like it was another world and she was already in it. Her eyes spoke of her belief in it. In them he saw devotion and a glimmer of hope, a spark come alive and burn for an hour or however long she continued to be immersed in her fantasy world.
A book could never give to him what he received from simply watching her. She was his only fantasy, and a book would never measure up to what he could have here, now. Chris enjoyed reading, though, and he liked to see her happy. He refused to ask her to do things for him on most occasions; instead, he would ask her what she wanted to do, and they would do that. If Chris felt like reading, then she would read and he would watch her read in silence, mulling over his thoughts and finding ways to easily occupy them.
Hayate watched her as he sat across from her, wondering how they could remain silent for such long periods of time as they did nothing in particular; her, reading — and him, watching her read. A strange arrangement, of course, but they both liked it. Hayate needed no other reason or excuse to justify their choices in pastimes; he needed no excuses for anything, lacking a proper conscience to require them in the first place.
It might have been the reason for his next idea as well.
Finally, he grew tired of only sitting there and rose from his spot, ascending the stairwell to his room. Up there, he acquired a box from his closet and made his way back down the steps to the sitting room, where he presented the box to Chris. A secret smile decorated his face as he held it out to her.
“Go on,” he urged gently. “Open it.”