justprompts: What is your favorite way to spend a day off?

[hecalledmeivy]

At times, Ivy could really be a sweet girl. She was well-behaved, most of the time, and nice, most of the time, and conscientious, most of the time.

Then there were times when she wasn't Ivy at all, when she was the Archive, and then she wasn't sweet at all. She was five thousand years old, and the age of the body didn't matter at all.

And then there were times when the age of the body did matter.

That had become clear when she had been abducted at eleven. It had shone through a few more times during the years, and could well be summed up as... 'difficult adolescence'.

For no matter how powerful the spirit within was, there were hormonal tides that just would not comply to that control. There were unexpected tear storms at thirteen, and even a couple of vague occasions that, if they weren't aborted in a timely fashion, could almost be regarded as trying to run away from home, a few weeks after her fifteenth birthday. It was - slightly, probably, for some people - better than attempted suicide, but she'd drunk that cup in the previous generation, and she knew she owed herself a heiress, so she didn't go that far.

But sixteen... sixteen marked a different approach to puberty.

Sixteen marked the time when she finally realized just how much she wanted Kincaid.

Of course, certain memories from maternal predecessors may have had a part in that realization. As well as the fact that he'd been there for her when she'd been emotionally so broken down that she didn't know what to do next, and that hadn't happened to her in millennia.

But in the end, it may have been just because Kincaid was, well, one very good-looking man, and he was there, all the time.

When she didn't have particular duties, she sometimes loved spending entire days soaking knowledge from around the world... while watching him, lazily, go about his daily routines.
Working out, for example.

And one day, it was too much.

It was a warm day, and she was herself sweating under the thin linen robe, but watching him do his exercises, muscles rippling under the slightly tanned skin, the golden hair going slick with perspiration, the load of the body registering minorly, but for her, very noticeably on his face... the way his breath came out in small grunts at times... Well, it all made it feel a whole lot more hot.

When he vanished to shower, she almost wanted to follow him there, but for some reason that seemed too much like trapping him. And really trapping Jared Kincaid was not a good idea, and she knew that well enough by now.

Instead, she was waiting for him, in his room, as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Very wet. Towel negligently - and lowly - wrapped around his hips, so the water dripping from his hair and chin slid along his skin, collected in little pathways, and found its way, inevitably, towards the midrift that she couldn't keep her eyes off from, now and again.

While a part of her claimed, emphatically, that what she was doing wasn't exactly a good idea, she quite well knew it was what she wanted. Desired.
And her smile was sweet.

Even if her eyes were intent, playing between his eyes, his lips, and further down.

She inhaled slowly, and her voice was easy. Well, not quite.

"Smells good."

Comments

[houndforhire.livejournal.com]

Shit.

He didn't know, specifically, what caused her sudden retreat, what caused her to go from sixteen year old vamp to scared little girl in seconds. But this, at least, he was far more prepared to handle.

State of undress forgotten or at least pushed to the side for the moment, he dropped to one knee and put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her forward a little so he could hold her. "Ivy." The name Dresden had given her, the name she had taken for her own; they both liked it, she kept it, and it gave her a point to anchor herself to, not the Archive. Herself, the growing girl.

He'd always liked Dresden a little for that, and he sometimes wondered if the wizard had figured that out.

"Ivy..." Soft. Steady. "Hey, there..." Come on, talk to me.

[hecalledmeivy.livejournal.com]

What have I done?

The blue eyes, wide open still, brimmed with tears, but they didn't spill. She didn't deserve crying for, not for...

Through interlaced fingers, she started whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Jared, I didn't mean to, I'm just like them, I'm sorry..."

It wasn't often that she used his first name, really. But she wasn't talking to the figure that was there. She was trying to apologize to the person inside... the inner person that she had tried to violate in a way that - she should know better than most - hurt and hurt for years and years...
Even if the name was not the one he had been given all those years back, at the very beginning. It was the most direct way she could think of to try and reach him, to get him to feel that she meant it.

He'd tried to stop her. But it had seemed so... right.

It wasn't.

[houndforhire.livejournal.com]

"Oh, sweetie..." He sighed. It wasn't as though he had to think too hard to figure out what she meant. Who she meant.

Damn. He hadn't meant for this to happen either, although he hadn't exactly caused it, either. Just one of those things.

"It's okay," he murmured, stroking her hair. Turning her loose long enough to grab the quilt folded at the end of her bed and bundle her up in it. "Shh... it's okay, sweetheart. It's all right."

He sat next to her on the bed this time, tugging her into his arms. No qualms about doing so when it was like this, when it was them, for comfort and for company.

[hecalledmeivy.livejournal.com]

Oh no, he hadn't caused it. She had, all on her own.

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, then shuddered and threw her arms around him, clinging. "I'm sorry, I am. I wanted to, but ..." She swallowed and added, absolutely honestly now. "...not if you don't."

Oh wait, she wasn't supposed to cry for herself, right? Why was she then?

[houndforhire.livejournal.com]

He smiled a little, combing his fingers through her hair, still holding her and saying nothing at first. He wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to say what he was thinking.

"It's too soon," he said, finally. "Give it some time, okay? Let things settle down for you and..." with a slightly rueful smile. "Give me some time to get used to the idea of you as a grown-up. And then... we'll see."

If she grew up, or at least, got out of the rampant teenage hormones phase, and still wanted him... he'd figure out what to do then.