~MOUSE~
The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood as the needle pierced through Ophelia's skin with relentless precision.
For now, she was grateful for the distraction.
The flutter in her stomach and the heat in her cheeks was something she was very much not used to.
She lay in silence, her arm draped over her face, a feeble attempt to shield her gaze from the man next to her.
Each stitch felt like a miniature betrayal, a reminder that her body wasn't built for what she used it for.
Not built for fighting.
She hated it.
König moved with a seasoned proficiency but his mood felt lighter, as if he were still smiling.
She couldn't tell if it was a compliment or not.
His fingers, calloused and steady, danced over the thread and her skin and she tried to ignore the fire it sent coursing through her.
She had seen his fingers. They were littered with scars.
She could feel each bump from a scar touching her skin as he worked and it seemed to only make the fluttering in her chest worse.
Unable to stand the silence Ophelia cleared her throat and smiled again.
"So, how old are you COL?" Her voice sounded confident and somewhat bored to her own ears but she could not ignore the way his skin on hers made her feel.
It was wrong.
He was her superior and fucking violent but the feeling wouldn't go away.
König grunted in response, his attention never wavering from the task at hand.
As he pulled the stitches tight, a low murmur of discomfort escaped Ophelia's lips, but her eyes remained hidden beneath the shelter of her arm.
He was silent for a moment before he finally spoke.
"Twenty-nine,"
Ophelia's mind whirred, the revelation settling in the air.
Twenty-nine.
The number echoed in her mind, and she tried to process the realization that he was not much older than her.
He was stoic beyond his years. He seemed much older.
But she thought she could see the youthfulness in his eyes and voice sometimes betraying a resilience that refused to be extinguished.
She fought against the urge to let her mouth fall open in shock.
Instead, she bit her lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood as she redirected her focus to the pain.
She didn't really know what to say to that.
She sighed in relief as the sharp snip of scissors cut through the oppressive atmosphere and she felt her side relax.
She flinched gently as she felt his scarred fingers gently press down a bandage, the tip of his finger running over the sides to stick it down.
It was gentle and slow and much too intimate.
Her mind went blank as she quickly tried to move her body away.
YOU ARE READING
The Mouse and The Monarch
Fanfiction~She embodied the essence of his world, a captivating masterpiece sculpted with the strokes of both his fervent passion and haunting despair~ Ophelia Moreau. Otherwise known as Mouse. A French Sergeant turned KorTac Operative who has major temper i...
