Itâs almost been two years since Markus had occupied your home with his services. At first, you detested the idea and had often reminded him of how unfair it all seemed to you. He knew little of the cruel extremities the outside world would have for him. At times, you found that terribly unfortunate but there was a lovely depth to him that filled your home with tremendous warmth and security. Something he grew close to. Appreciated.Â
Itâs Autumn now. You searched out your window from a soft, comfortable chaise. A blue shawl draped over one shoulder and lay bare the other. The sunset caught your attention, glimmering on the large sunroom panes. There was a book, closed in your lap, almost slipping away.Â
Markus approached you with some tea. The small, circular swirls of hot vapour bloomed into the air and departed. The aroma was sweet and inviting. He had the odd perception that your sudden pensive stare was related to the chilly air. You accepted nonetheless and the light from the sun had scattered across his face in such a way. You thought he looked remarkably handsome.Â
âThank you.â You kindly spoke in earnest of his thoughtfulness. The cup of tea left his hand and yours, ever-so-slightly, brushed against his. Fingers just a bit curious and innocent. It wasnât just gratitude. Although you were filled to the brim with it, overflowing even. You began to notice a change in Markus. Catching him stealing longer glances in your direction. Becoming more intimate in your opinions. Then your cheeks flushed. Not visibly but certainly swelled with an abrupt hotness. Hadnât you been doing the same? Oh, this time of year makes you feel all sorts of cosy and foolishly romantic. You sighed at the thought, it felt more like a redirection than any form sincerity.
Markus spent additional time developing his hobbies. When you contemplated how strange of a behaviour that was. The more surrounded by him you felt and it was a flourishing feeling. He joked about a new melody he played on the piano and how the emotional piece was inspired by your presence. Your conversations grew longer and he would wrap you in a philosophy that was oceans deep. When he wasnât teasing you with your poor chess skills, he was silently sketching you with flowers in your hair. You could tell he was quite happy.Â
You adored the clutter of sound he made. Shuffling through books until he found one he liked. The small sounds too. His hands against the cloth of the curtains, drawing them open in the early mornings. Carefully rummaging through boxes for art supplies or packed away books or asking what the Christmas tree star was for.Â
There were times he had questions. About his creation and what it had meant to you. Those surprised you the most but you were always honest and understanding. He would look upon you with respect and thankfulness at the answers you did not have to give him. One thing was for sure. More than sure.Â
Markus had brought you back from this meditation. âAre you ill then?â He suggested and you tittered with a reality. âPerhaps of the heartâ. He bent his head only slightly and somewhat mockingly. âOh, you get out of here.â And now he snickered, with a pleasant grin and moved your feet over to sit. You always got away with telling yourself he didnât understand. The way you admired the green in his eyes and the beautiful thoughts in his mind. It slowly occurred to you that what you felt, he might have felt too.Â
âI can see why you always like reading here.â Now his gaze was fixed on the russet and amber leaves, falling and twisting in the breeze. His smile crooked to one side and faded back naturally. You wanted to ask why but all had subsided almost instantly. Of course, you knew why. He wasnât so different, in fact; he was so much more.Â
Without a word, you inched your hand across the texture of the chaise, Markus none the wiser. Your heart was caught in your throat. What would he think? Your enduring exhale caught his attention and he looked directly down at the closing space between both hands. With a humble rest on his face, he smoothly slithered his fingers on top of yours. Tracing them and studying the fineness of your knuckles. It was an entirely new experience for him. Measuring your smaller hand into his. You turned your hand over, palm up and he laced his fingers with yours briefly. Half inquisitive and half wanting. It wasnât a needless desire. It was the purity of touch he simply craved to know. Not from anyone else, the thought had never arisen before. He needed your touch.Â
You synced your hand with his, palms firmly pressed together, slipping between his fingers playfully with your own. He closed his hand and yours was safely locked in his. Your other hand swept delicately to the side of his face. Cupping his cheek, trailing down and stroking your thumb across his lips. He took your hand away, pulling you closer. Such a puzzling instinct for him to have, you mused over. Is it so unbelievable? He feels warm and generous. Now youâre thinking too much. Breath hastier, your chest rising and falling. Markus picks your chin up, silencing any further racket in your mind. From this close, he is exceptionally handsome. His eyes are greener and filled with ribbons of blue.
The cool wind brushes against the windowpanes with urgency and is the only sound filling the backdrop. Your arms fold around him as he tenderly presses his lips to yours. Eyes closing, everything fades. His mouth examines the sensation a moment longer. The sound of your lips parting and rejoining several times, sends a shiver down your body. Your moist breath collides with his closeness until all you can taste is him. He slows now, his pace more considerate and filled with passion. The last caress of his lips is the longest and he slowly peels them away with a hand sweeping your cheek.Â
The moment is dreamy as the Autumn leaves float down, onto the ground just outside. Everything is new. Markus and yourself. He lays his head in your lap and cordially asks you to read him the book you had nearby. His voice is pleasing. You open the book, and whilst holding his head you begin. Markusâ smile is modest and he is soothed in many ways. Autumn definitely feels cosier.Â
dailybridgerton
titsay
kaledo-art
2087
