Darling & Commander

The General: 11

Brock Cortes POV:

"Wake up, commander. We have plans today."

The warm smell of lily of the valley fills my vicinity, and I can feel my ever present scowl crack into a grin as I feel her chin on my chest.

"Call me that again and you shall find yourself unable to attend these plans you speak of." I lick my lips with a chuckle as her face clouds my vision.

Galla.

I do not believe I shall ever find myself accustomed to the feeling of her nestled in my arms when she sleeps. I hope I do not ever, truth be told.

"Someone is feeling flirtatious." She flouts at me.

I give her a grin I have found myself releasing in her region supplementarily.

"A smile from the icy cold general? Oh my," Galla fakes a swoon, rolling over under my comforter.

I give her a silly annoyed look, grabbing at her waist under the blanket and tickling her sides. She squeals, thrashing away from my hands. I persist, pulling her in again before titillating her belly again. Galla shrills in laughter as she writhes under my touch again.

"Fine! Okay- Brock! You prevail, let me-" She shrieks a rip of cachinnation as I wiggle my fingers between her shoulder and neck, causing her shoulders to shoot up as her fit of giggles only worsens. 

In a change of circumstance, she somehow manages to flip herself on top of me, straining to hold my wrists down. I could easily get her off of me, but I convince myself to play the game.

"Finally." Galla wheezes, still tittering as she clutches her stomach.

"Too far?" I wince apologetically.

"Just enough." She calms down, until she realizes the awkward position she has found herself in.

Her lap is settled upon my chest, hair falling over her shoulders gracefully as she leans down when speaking.

"We have things to do today, correct?" I let an eyebrow slide upwards.

"Yes," A smirk unfurls when she adds, "Commander."

My heart catches in my throat at the sultry tone of voice coming from her innocent lips.

"Are you sure, darling?" I tug gently on a strand of her hair to urge her closer. "No going back."

"I know." She follows my unspoken order of leaning down, eyes twinkling and lips parting.

Just as my fingers find the nape of her neck, just as our eyes meet, just as I feel myself twitch in desperation and angst-

"May I prepare her for the ball now, General Cort- oh my goodness!" 

A maid has strolled into my room with every intention of dolling up Galla, and here I am forgetting that I scheduled her appointment to the modistes.

"My apologies, ma'am, I seemed to have just awoken." I feel the blush creep onto my cheeks as I lift Galla from off of me and give her a gentle nudge forwards.

"What?" Galla reddens as well, cocking her head on an angle in uncertainty.

"I booked you an appointment at the modistes. For the ball tonight." I tell her, fingers in my hair self consciously.

"Oh." She lets out a breath of air. "Now?"

"Yes." I nod, urging her towards the maid. "Merlyn will escort you."

"Hello." The maid squeaks awkwardly, and Galla makes a pitchy noise back to her.

"Oh, good, you both squeak in communication. Lovely." I snort.

"Oh hush." Galla backhands me, and I wink at her before she is lead away by Merlyn.

I can hear them squeaking down the hallways, and my stomach squeezes at the sound of Galla's laughter.

I hope this never gets old.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

"Is she ready yet?" I scowl, grumbling about how long this is taking.

Merlyn shakes her head, not meeting my eyes.

"Are you going to speak to me?" I raise a brow, and when she does not talk, I roll my eyes. "Well this was fun while it has lasted."

We're sitting on a velvet bench outside of the room Galla is supposedly getting ready in, and I am sweating in the navy blue suit I got dressed in.

Three hours ago.

My hair is slicked back from my face, and I resist the urge to nervously muss it up. It is a habit I have noticed about myself in the past hours. My fingers twitch without my intention.

I am highly strung, skittish, and jittery. I know Galla does not care what I look like, but I hope I can get back into my pajamas within a short period of time. It gives me anxiety imagining an entire night of socializing and dancing. Much less enduring it. Galla will have to be the companiable one, because otherwise I will be scowling the whole night and scaring attendees off.

"Oh my goodness- Brock... you look so.."

I look up from my position of twiddling my fingers, and feel every fiber of my being catch on fire when I see her.

Galla.

Her fair skin is flawless, chandelier lights cascading across her body like she's an angel. Her luscious silky locks cascade over her shoulder in brown and blonde hues, parallel to a sun kissed meadow. My heated gaze roams down her body, adorned in a resplendent wispy blue ballgown that hugs her curves just consummately. She is not garnished with makeup, and this woman truly has no need for such thing. It would only smother the voluptuousness she radiates in the form of an ethereal aura. There is an insatiable cacoethes burning in my soul.

Thirst. Hunger. Craving. Desire. Pining. I become rapacious and unappeasable under her charming, innocent hexes. This nymph will be the death and all of my angels for me.

My feet stumble as I blunder over in her direction like a dolt, enraptured by her iridescent beauty. 

I might drop dead.

Galla is flawlessly breathtaking. Her heart shaped lips are plump and parting, needing and ready for mine. Captivating. Bewitching. Breathtaking. She almost feels inapproachable.

Just absolutely torturing me. Baiting. Beguiling. Titillating. Alluring. Tempting.

She is just tormenting me with this beauty of hers, this wide eyes parted lips expression that has got me willing to hang the moon for her. 

Her eyes search mine for something, and her ankles stagger as the heels she wears teeter. I grip her waist as she clutches my arm, and now we are standing a quarter of a finger apart. I feel myself twitch for a moment alone with her, but summoning all the honor I have left in my being, I stabilize her and step away.

"Brock..." She looks at me with an expression of desire.