Where We Are; Sargon

[Ainslie Darling]

For You <3

Ainslie was blushing terrifically. She had never been this giggly, this giddy, this...girlish. Not even when she had been, well, a young girl. No boyfriends or dates. Plenty of "suitors" but those were never fun. But now she had someone to giggle secrets about behind her hands. She had someone whose touch made her shudder delightfully. She had someone who brought a blush to her cheeks just from the thought of him.

She had Sargon.

Sargon who she was currently cuddled up against as the television glowed dimly, Dear John playing over the screen. The lights around them were shut, the only illumination aside from the movie coming from the candles flickering. Gods, Sargon really was the perfect man.

Smiling softly, she curled her toes into the fabric of the couch and nuzzled her nose against his collarbone. "Thank you for inviting me tonight," she murmured softly. It had been exactly what she needed, just something to chill to after the stress of everyday life. "I'm really happy I could be with you." Biting her lowerlip gently, she sent him a soft smile, eyes shining.

[Sargon]

This was pretty much what Sargon had always secretly, deep deep down wanted. He'd never really had a girlfriend--he was more the friends-that-are-girls type. He was the nice, loveable, puppy-dog sort of guy that preferred to call as many girls possible 'friends'. It didn't even bother him that he'd never had an actually girlfriend. Truth be told, even when he was younger he didn't want (or need) a girl like that. He was happy being him, single, and all. Although, of course, if by some means he w ere to be transported bakc in time, he would not even hesitate to try for Aibslie, if he had known her then. He felt as if he might've felt the same way he did now even before, no matter when they had first met.

He bad seen this in plenty of movies. So, naturally, he had decided to try it. A candelit dinner was said to be very, very romantic, as well as relaxing and cute. So he had set up a little place in his kitchen. It had been actually really neat, with candles lit all around and all of the other lights turned off. Se seemed to enjoy it, and he rather thought he had done a particularly good job. And when they had finished their cute little dinner, Sargon had set up a movie. Dear John, to be exact. He hadn't seen it, and he didn't know what it was about. However, the guy at the movie rental had told him that it was a good movie, that girls liked. He didn't know if the guy was saying that just to get Sargon's money or something, but he rented it anyway.

Right now they were cuddled on the couch, the only light in the whole room being from the candles and the tv screen. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cuddling her close. She then spoke, and he looked down at her beautiful face. "Oh, it's no big deal. I thought something like this would be fun," he admitted, his voice just about as soft as hers. He smiled happily as she said that she was happy to be with him. Well, he was happy to be with her, too. "We really should do this more often," he said softly, his voice drawling a tad. He kept his eyes off the screen, and continued to look at her face. He stroked her cheek lightly. "You look pretty," he said, somewhat stupidly. But she was pretty. Really pretty.

[Ainslie Darling]

Ainslie didn't know how she spent any time not kissing this man. Her lips were just seconds away from his and she could be kissing him right now and god did she want to. But she didn't. Because strange as it seemed, she liked not kissing him just as much as she liked kissing him. She liked talking to him and laughing with him and touching him and just being with him. She didn't want to rush things with him.

With almost all her other relationships, Ainslie had fallen into bed within the few two or three dates. And it worked out, more or less. It was either just the one night, which Ainslie had been aiming for, or the relationship progressed. But they never met anything. But that could just be because of the people involved. None of the others came even close to Sargon. None of them made her feel the way she did when she was with him. None of them had done for her what he had done for her. None of them had... None of them had made her fall in love with them. Because she was pretty sure she was in love with him. And they hadn't even gone to bed once together yet.

"We really should do this more often." Ainslie laughed softly, her nose bumping against his a little. "I agree." She loved getting all dolled up and going out on the town with him. But she liked sitting comfortably in one of their rooms, just watching some silly, sweet movie together. As long as she was with him, sharing time with him, she was happy.

"You look pretty."

She laughed at his apropos nothing statement, shaking her head a little. "Well thanks," she replied, eyes locked in his. She could look at his eyes forever... "You look really pretty too." Smirking a little, she dropped a feather-light kiss to his lips. Well, Ainslie wasn't blind after all. Sargon was beyond attractive. Hell, her sisters hadn't believed her when she had shown them a picture of him and told them he was her boyfriend. Of course, it wasn't just the looks Ainslie liked about him. But she would be lying if she said it wasn't a nice addition.

[Sargon]

Sargon, too, had gone to bed with other people (hey, he was a man, after all) but he hadn't ever felt any sort of pull like he had with this girl. He could already tell she was something special--and he never, ever wanted to let her go because he felt like she was probably the biggest thing in his life so far. It sounded much cheesier when he thought about it, but it really was.. how he felt around her. To put it simply, though, he thought them together would make a pretty great romance movie. Well, the kind no one wants to see because it has a happy ending, of course.

His thoughts were getting jumbled and he had to shake his head a bit to try and clear them up. The movie was pretty much just background noise for now, and he didn't really mind. He hadn't gotten the movie because he really wanted to see it. Because, of course, the real point of tonight was her. He, too, had a few pictures of her--and when he showed them to his friends, they pretty much just laughed at him, because they thought he was only so desperate as to pretend he had a girlfriend. It didn't bother him though, because he knew (or thought he did) that she loved him.

He grinned at her response. "Pretty? Me? Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" But his semi-indignant smirk was wiped off his face as she kissed him. He loved when she kissed him. Even just kissing her was great. He snuggled closer to her, leaning down to softly brush her lips with his once more.

[Ainslie Darling]

At his indignant replies, Ainslie just grinned. "It's a compliment, silly. You're very pretty, if you haven't already noticed." If thousands of other women hadn't already told him.

Now, Ainslie wasn't really a jealous woman. She was possessive, though. What belonged to her was hers. And Sargon was hers. And when other women stopped and looked when they walked together on the street, she felt a little sense of pride (because he was with her after all). But then there was something a lot like jealousy. Because they didn't even know Sargon. They were just judging him on his looks. And if they thought that they could even begin to stand a chance with him, they had another thing coming.

He pulled her closer then and took her in for another kiss. Ainslie smiled, eyes falling closed. Leaning back against the couch, she tangled their legs together and kept him close to her. Her hands found their way into his hair, tickling his scalp. Mmm, kissing Sargon. Like she said: she loved it. She loved him. She....

"I..." she murmured against his lips, eyes still closed. "I love you, Sarge."

[Sargon]

"Well then." he said. He pouted slightly. "But pretty doesn't sound very manly. If it's a compliment, though, I'll take it. Thank you," he added, with a small grin. He guessed that he could learn to live with someone who viewed him as pretty. Especially if that someone was her. Nobody besides her had ever called him 'pretty'. Well, ok, maybe that little girl in first grade had because his long hair made him look kind of girly. But that didn't count.

Sargon wasn't really jealous, either--but he, too, was possessive. He had noticed, when he was walking around with her, that other men would sort of stare at her. But instead of making him angry or jealous, he just felt immensely proud. Proud to be with her, proud that he was hers and that she was his. And, if things went the way he planned, she would always be his. He wasn't ever, ever going to let her go. He had found something truly good here, with her, and he was gonna hold it close.

He definitely liked how relaxed that this was. They were just easily able to cuddle, kiss each other, and everything. He listened as she said something. his heart skipped a beat or two. Did she really mean that? He was hoping so. because he... "I love you too, Ains," he said, closing his eyes and kissing her again.

[Ainslie Darling]

Well, pretty might not sound very "manly" but Sargon should not be feeling insecure on that point. No one was more man than him. They hadn't made love yet but things had gotten heated between them before. And in those sessions, Ainslie had gotten her hands on his abs, his pecs, his arms, his shoulders... There wasn't an ounce on the boy that wasn't hard muscle. So while she may call him "pretty," he had to know there was no way she meant "pretty boy."

She tugged him into switching positions. Her back resting against the arm of the couch, him leaning over her. Her legs around his waist, her hands in his hair... She was so caught up in the mechanics, so caught up in touching him, she almost missed it. Just five words long and then swallowed by a kiss. "I love you too, Ains."

It gave her the shakes. Her fingers trembled and so did her lips. "Fuck, Sarge," she gasped out. She had said it before; had had other men say it to her as well. But it had never sent a shot of adrenaline right to her heart. Hearing those words from him made her want to curl up close to him, closer, inside him, and never leave. She wanted to defy physics and occupy the same space as him.

Her stockings had gotten pushed to unevens, one around her ankle and the other around her mid-shin. The skirt that had barely skimmed her knees before was no hiked up dangerously high on her thighs. The flower that she had carefully arranged and then replaced and then rearranged was slipping and Ainslie could not care less. She didn't have to be perfect for Sargon: he loved her in jeans and Converse. She didn't have to be perfect for Sargon: he loved her. And she loved him. And... Would tonight be the night? Would tonight be the night?

One hand slipped from his hair, down the side of his face, over his neck to rest on his collarbone. "Sargon..." she whispered. She broke the kiss, pressed her cheek close to his. "Sargon," like a prayer it left her lips. "I'm really happy I found you," she told him breathlessly.