Sang's POV
I know I'm not really supposed to be Googling things on my own, but it's for homework purposes, so I don't feel quite as badly as maybe I should for disobeying. Besides, how much trouble can I possibly run into online while looking up information on e.e. cummings? I smile to myself, thinking about Gabriel's response to that rhetorical question. "A metric fuckload, Trouble!"
Sighing loudly, I look over the assignment we received in English class today again. Ms. Johnson started a section on poetry. In an attempt to get the students more engaged with the material, each of us have been assigned a particular poet, about whom we are to become an expert. Oral presentations about the poet's background, and a recitation of our favorite of their poems will make up a huge part of our grade for this unit. Ms. Johnson assigned the poets randomly, and there was more than one loud groan heard from the class as students found out who they would be studying.
I didn't have strong feelings either way about my assigned poet, e.e. cummings. Not being familiar with his work, my expectations were tempered, although his apparent eschewing of capital letters annoyed me more than a little. Following rules, even grammar rules, has been ingrained in me and not capitalizing his name unsettled me in a weird way. Maybe I'd find out why he chose to do that as a result of my Google search, I rationalized.
I plugged my headphones into the laptop in front of me. I decided the best way to start my search for a favorite cummings poem was to actually hear one. I clicked on the Google icon and typed "e.e. cummings poems read aloud" into the search engine box. There were thousands of responses. Now I was the one groaning at the thought of having to wade through all the results to find what I was looking for; this task is going to take forever!
I clicked on a link to a poem called "i carry your heart." I read it quickly, and it reminded me of my boys, but I knew I should read more than one poem before I decided on one to present to the class. As I stared at the seemingly never-ending list again, my eyes happened upon an entry that mentioned the poem's reader as Tom Hiddleston. I remembered his name from the Avengers movies I had watched with the boys on several occasions. At least it's someone familiar, I thought as I clicked on the link to hear him read "may i feel" by cummings.
North's POV
"Sang Baby!" I called as I loped through Nathan's front door, a smile softening my usually harsh features. I knew she was home by herself because everyone else had missions or had shifts at the diner. I was excited at the prospect of spending some one-on-one time with my girlfriend.
My smile slipped as I realized there was no response from Sang. My heart began to hammer in my chest, and I picked up speed as I rounded the corner and headed to Nathan's bedroom. It's not like her to not answer when we call for her. My breath hitched in my throat, and my palms began to sweat.
I noticed the door to Nathan's bedroom was slightly ajar, and I pushed it fully open with more force than was necessary. I stopped in my tracks and took a deep, steadying breath. Sang was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her back to the door, earphones tucked into her ears, looking at something on her laptop.
I waited a moment for my heart to stop racing and to get my emotions under control. My family thinks I'm an overprotective, overbearing dick at times. And maybe I am. But it's because I love them. Even Luke. But especially Sang. The thought of her being hurt or in need tears at my heart and makes me say and do stupid things at times, which just reinforces my family's opinion of me.
Calmed since I know she's safe, I move quietly into the room a bit farther. From where I'm standing, I can see more of her face, which is rapt as she stares intently at the screen. I get a better look at what she's viewing on the laptop, too. It looks like a video of different clips, all of which have the skinny guy from the Thor movies in them. I notice she restarts the video the second it ends, with a deep, almost lusty sigh. My jeans tighten, and my blood warms at the small guttural sound she makes as she clicks the arrow to restart the video. Her attention is so focused on the screen that she still hasn't noticed my presence.
Sang's POV
I press the play button once again. It really is a lovely poem and Tom Hiddleston's voice in my headphones gives me the same tingly feeling that I get when North growls in my ear when he kisses me.
North. I close my eyes and cock my head to the side, as I listen to the poem again. This time, though, I imagine North and I taking turns reading the poem as a duet of sorts. I imagine his hot breath in my ear as he'd read the words in the poem, meant to convince the woman to allow him to make love to her. I imagine his eyes, darkening with desire, as I'd read the words spoken by the woman in the poem, coy at first, and then ultimately capitulating. And the final line of the poem, "You're mine," breathed out together. I shiver again at the thought, wondering if I could convince him to help me with my homework so we could make that fantasy a reality.
I sigh wistfully, and maybe with just a little sexual frustration, and open my eyes as the video comes to an end again. I breathe deeply in an effort to calm my raging hormones, and North's musky scent invades my senses. I quickly turn my head and see my North Star standing near the bed, staring at me intently. My eyes move from his chiseled, stoic features down to his broad shoulders, clad in a tight, black t-shirt. My gaze travels to his impressive chest, then further south to his powerful thighs hugged by a pair of black jeans. I make a quick mental note that his jeans seem to be a bit tighter and that he's straining a bit against the zipper. With that information, my eyes fly back to his.
A blush blooms across my cheeks as I remember what I was thinking just a moment ago as I watched the video. My mouth is suddenly dry, and my tongue darts across my lips in an effort to moisten them enough to speak. North's eyes track my tongue's movement like a lion, stalking its prey.
"Oh! Um, hello, North! How-how long have you been standing there?" I stutter.
North's POV
I'm not sure exactly what Baby was watching, but she seems embarrassed at having been caught. The way she was looking at me when she finally noticed I was in the room was enough to make me want to sweep the laptop off the bed and push her back against the pillows to show her just how much I've missed spending time with her. There's very little I want more at this moment than to feel her beneath me, her small, soft hands running down my chest to the waistband of my jeans.
Fuck! I've got to get my libido under control so I can figure out what she's been up to with the laptop.
"Hey, Baby," I drawl, smiling wolfishly at her. I move closer to the bed, never taking my eyes off of hers.
"I've been here for a few minutes. You sure were involved with whatever you were watching. Good video?" I teased.
Her face reddened. "Oh! Uh, no! I mean, yes. It was very go-. Uh, I mean, I was just doing some research for an English assignment, North Star! I promise!" She surreptitiously moved to close the laptop.
"Hold up, Baby." I moved to sit with her on the bed and stopped her hand from closing the laptop. Even that brief touch shot fire from where our skin touched straight to my groin, and my jeans became even tighter. "Don't stop studying on my account! You know how Kota feels about getting homework done. Can I help?"
"You don't have to! It's English. Poetry. Are you sure you'd..." she trailed off, looking at where my hand was covering hers on the laptop.
"Am I sure what? That I could help with poetry?" I asked a bit angrily. "I'm not just a grease monkey, you know, Sang Baby." I started to jerk my hand away from hers, but she quickly grabbed it and squeezed to keep me right where I was.
"No! North! I didn't mean that! Honest! Of course I know you *can* help. I just wasn't sure you'd want to. Poetry isn't everyone's cup of tea. Please don't be angry with me!" she implored.
I sighed heavily and squeezed her hand. Shit! I didn't mean to upset her, too. I want to bring back that other look to her eyes, the one where she looks like she can't wait to jump on me and rip my clothes off. "I'm sorry, Baby. I'm not angry with you. I...I guess I'm still on edge from when I first got here, and I called for you and you didn't answer. I got worried. So, anyway, what is the assignment, and how is Loki involved?" I tease.
She blushes again and drops her head. "It's not about Loki! We were assigned a poet about whom we have to present a biography, and then we have to pick one of their poems to read and explicate to the class."
"Okay, still not sure how the villain in the Thor movie relates, but which poet were you assigned, Baby?" I inquired.
"e.e. cummings," Sang replied. "And the video I was watching was one of his poems being read by the guy who played Loki," she huffed.
I smiled to myself, knowing I was about to surprise my baby more than a little.
Sang's POV
Honestly, I don't mind a bit of their good-natured teasing, but I'm still slightly embarrassed having been caught watching what is essentially word porn. I'm more embarrassed at how it affected me, but that's not something I'm going to share with North at this moment, either.
After I told him which poet I had been assigned, I watched as my North Star leaned back on his hands, his head lolling back, his eyes closing, and a small smile playing at his full lips.
I was more than a little shocked when his deep voice started. He kept his eyes closed, a serene look across his face, as he spoke.
"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)"
My breath hitched in my throat and hands flew to my mouth. North was reciting a poem. To me. From memory.
"i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you"
My stomach clenched, and my heart pounded hard and fast in my chest. The poem was beautiful and North's deep, resonant voice danced over the romantic words. I never understood what it meant to swoon before. Now, though? I was definitely swooning. I was physically leaning closer to him, hanging on his every syllable, watching his lips form the words of the poem.
"here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
My eyes welled with unshed tears. The poem is beautiful, true enough. But the emotion that North displayed while reciting it was what made my heart swell and heat pool in my belly.
He slowly opened his eyes as he finished the poem and looked at me. He moved to sit up a bit on the bed and turned to me.
"So, Baby?" he smiled and leaned toward me, closing the gap between us. He brought one hand up from the bed to tangle in my hair at the base of my skull, pulling me toward him. His sweet breath whispered against my lips, "Better than Loki?"
"So much better, North Star. So. Much. Better."