WISH I MAY, WISH I MIGHT

oh look a pregnant thing. his head would torque as his eyes trailed the curves of her long body. she was not an impressive little thing, and he found the fact that youth lived in her belly to be particularly trying, especially given that they weren't anything he cared about. they didn't deserve to be there. other men had disgusting motives. why was the body of a woman so desirable? he had a feeling the babes in her womb weren't crafted for their capabilities and genetics, no, it was far more likely that some boy got it up because she was one hot 'lil mama was a desirable lady aesthetically. He got no rise (no pun intended) out of such a thing. the boy rolled his shoulders, shrugging such a thing off, and moving to glide at her side, and roughly bump his shoulder into her side.

"You look dreadful," she was probably going to keel over at his remarkable methods of flattery and heightened ability to make her feel like shit. yeah, probably not. hey anything was possible. perhaps, he was just kinky. No not really. the green eyes found the same silver ones she held, unwavering, and unchanging, in emotion he would wait and stare and seek out her words with hunger. his words had been a bellowing crescendo of indifference. he cared little what she looked like, what she thought he thought she looked like, and above all, how she would react to the commentary she had so willingly put herself out there for.