the garden | michael langdon

chapter seven; the meadow.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Primrose held her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter as she stood still as a statue in her hiding place.

Michael smirked as he saw the skirt of her dress blowing gently in the breeze, revealing her position behind the tree trunk. He stalked towards her quietly, slowly approaching the hiding place until...

*crack!*

He rounded the corner and she had gone.

"That's cheating, you know!" He shouted, playfully. He could hear her giggling faintly in the distance.

*pop!*

He transmutated to the spot in front of her behind the large rock, where she'd been hiding.

"Two can play at that game." He grinned. He reached out to grab her before she disappeared again.

*snap*

Primrose was running now, not even trying to hide. Her bare feet, the soles brown from the earth, ran through the soft green grass of the meadow. She had never been to the meadow without a chaperone, but she decided to bring Michael here so they could play freely. She felt so rebellious here...

In the meadow.

Unsupervised.

With a boy.

The adrenaline of the chase was rising in her chest and exiting her in the form of laughter. This is so much fun! she thought to herself. I feel just like a regular girl.

In her state of jubilation, she hadn't noticed Michael transmute right in front of her. He captured her in his arms, but the force from her running knocked them both over and they tumbled together toward the earth.

"Found you." He spoke, breathlessly.

Primrose had landed on top of him in the fall, and she quickly became aware of how close their bodies were. She had never been so close to another man like this, and she felt electricity running through her body at the sensation.

His hair, once perfectly coiffed, had fallen in front of his clear blue eyes. She pushed the curls behind his ear, her fingers trailing across his skin, taking in each detail, tracing the contour of his face.

"You're a very nurturing person, aren't you?" Michael smiled.

Primrose shrugged. "I like looking at something barren and seeing what can be done with it."

"Then perhaps you're the person I've been looking for." He said.

Prim raised an eyebrow.

"You are caring." He clarified. "It's rare for me to come across someone like you."

Prim felt her heart ache at his admission. She didn't know much about Michael beyond his powers, but she could tell he'd had his heart broken once or twice. The sadness rolled off of him in waves.

"You know, I think you're the only person I've ever met that hasn't wanted something from me." He laughed, mirthlessly.

He rolled them over, her back gently hitting the ground as his broad frame now enveloped her, like a dark cloud blocking out the sun.

"You're so mysterious," Prim observed. "Why is it you say so little about yourself?" She asked.

"There's very little to say." He replied evasively. He leaned in forward, a wicked grin stretching across his face. "And what about you?"

Primrose started to squirm beneath his touch, her naivety only spurring him on. "Me? Michael, you already know everything there is to know about me."

"I know what your powers are, and I know who your mother is, and what she would do to us if she saw us together like this, but I don't really know you." He ran his hand up her body, starting from the exposed skin of her upper thigh, to the dips of her hips and waist, till his hand reached the spot just beneath her breast. Prim gasped at the contact.

"Michael, I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, what are your... desires?" With his last word, his palm reached the expanse of her breast, the action exciting her more than she'd care to admit.

"Is it me?" He asked, his voice low and seductive. "Do you desire me?"

"I'll bet you've never even been kissed, have you little lamb?" He chuckled, darkly. "Do you want that?"

She nodded her head frantically as he lowered his head to place a chaste kiss to the lower part of her neck.

"Can't hear you, princess." He said, teasingly. "What is it you want? Who is it you want?"

"M-Michael, it's you. I-i want you." She let out of the smallest of moans, the vibration of her voice against his cheek awakening the deep desire within him.

"You want me and I want you, and that's all either of us needs to know." He spoke, firmly.

Her fingers ran through his soft blonde hair as he leaned in to finally place a kiss upon her lips, until suddenly her grip became too tight and she pulled sharply at the root. He winced at the unforeseen pain in his scalp as her eyes glazed over and her lips parted. He looked at her and she looked through him, as if she were seeing past him and looking at what was inside.

"Constance... she left you..."

Michael felt the air grow cold as he realized what she was doing. He removed her hands from his hair and pinned them both above her head. "Don't ever speak that name." He warned her, his fingers digging into her wrists painfully.

"Wandering that big, empty house all those years..."

"Stop it." He begged, angry tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"...so alone... so alone..." she sobbed, gently.

The shock of his fingernails piercing through her skin, marking the flesh with crescent moon shapes was enough to jolt her out of her trance. She looked up at him and felt immeasurable guilt when she saw the look of hurt on his face; the hurt she had inadvertently caused.

"I'm sorry, I-i didn't mean to do that." She stuttered.

"No one's ever been able to do that to me." He sniffed, looking away as he wiped the tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket.

"You are lonely..." she said tenderly, Michael's eyes now desperately searching hers for any hint of deception; he hadn't been this vulnerable with anyone in a long time, and every other instance had ended painfully.

"I'm lonely too."

Suddenly their lips are connected, violently and passionately, teeth clash and collide with frenzied sexual hostility. He bites down on her lip and she retaliates by lifting her hips upward to grind against the now prominent bulge in his trousers. She panted against his ear as he rutted against her, her legs wrapped around his figure, inviting him in. She needed him like she had never needed anything before. She wanted him inside her, permeating every inch of her being, invading every corner until there was nothing left of her; she wanted only him.

But she would not have him.

Not if Cordelia had anything to do with it.