The Player's Strategy

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  Upon reaching Edgar, (f/n) went to take the teddy bear from him. Granted, she was very cautious in doing so; she didn't need him trying something in the process. Thus, she was rather relieved when he just handed the stuffed animal to her. With it in her hands, she headed back over to the shelf and set the bear in its proper place. The moment she went to turn around, however, she felt arms wrap around her waist.

Instantly, heat invaded her cheeks, as she peered over her left shoulder to see Edgar's chest pressed up against her back. His chin rested atop her head, as he instructed her to face the shelf again. Wondering what he was up to, she decided to go along with his wish.

"Well, I did what you said, so what is it?" she questioned, trying to keep the embarrassment out of her voice and succeeding in doing so.

"I want you to look at the teddy bear clock," he simply replied, giving no indication as to what he was planning.

"Fine," she answered. Focusing her gaze on the clock, she noticed that it was now a few minutes past seven. Still, why did he want her to examine the time on the clock? Was there something important about that particular time? Moreover, why did he have to be so close for her to check the time? He could've remained in his previous position.

Furthermore, she could've just fallen into another one of his traps, which she once again would've willingly gone into. Her mind just seemed to turn dead to all warning signs when he was near, and it was insanely vexing. How could she let a single individual put such a spell on her? Whenever she tried to answer a question along those lines, words would fumble in her mouth and thoughts would crumble into nothingness. Was there even an answer she could reason out; was there an answer at all? Likewise, why was there a strange wet sensation on the left side of her neck?

At realizing this, she quickly came to her senses and attempted to break out of Edgar's hold. "What the heck do you think you're doing?" she yelled, as she felt the sensation disappear.

With her still struggling in his arms, he figured he might as well let her go now. Thus, he swiftly unsecured his arms from her waist and took a couple of steps back. She now faced him, and her cheeks were a bright red. Her left arm rubbed furiously at the left side of her neck, but she was merely spreading his saliva more. He still couldn't believe that she actually faced the clock for him; it was magnificent. Honestly, for her to follow such a command with no reason, no questions, was priceless.

He brought his right fingers up to his lips but kept his neutral expression. She still looked heatedly at him, but he could tell that she was just an embarrassed mess on the inside. His muse tried to hide that emotion, yet she failed in doing so. It was clear as a sunny day, and he delighted in it. Besides, the feeling of her soft and delicate skin against his tongue was pure rapture. To add to the bliss, she hadn't even noticed for the first few seconds; she was lost in her own thoughts, probably wondering why she was asked to look at a clock. Well, he hoped that was case. Regardless, he caught her in a moment of no defenses.

For those few seconds, he had total reign over what he could proceed with. He could've just as easily nibbled on her ear, licked her cheek or press his lips to hers. It all would've been so simple, and she would've been flushed in all instances.

Removing his fingers from his lips, he inquired, "Should we head down to the dining room and wait for dinner to be served?"

"You've got to be kidding me. Do you honestly expect me to let you gloss over what just happened? Why did you just lick my neck?"

"Why did you so easily follow my command? You should know me somewhat by now, (f/n). I wasn't expecting you to fall for that one. The fault rests on you again, not me. You permitted me to do something, while your back was turned to me."

"I don't think so," she countered. "You didn't have to wrap your arms around me; you didn't have to lick my neck. Your actions aren't my fault. They're yours." Of course, she dodged his question as well. If he could avoid hers, then she could push his aside.

Lifting up his arms and shrugging, he commented, "You caught me, (f/n)."

"HA!" she declared, pointing with her right index finger at him childishly. "Wait, what?" she finished, lowering her finger. She wasn't expecting him to accept the fault for his actions. He seemed to always find a way out of that blame, yet here he was welcoming it into his arms.

"You caught me. Did you know that you're too cute to resist at times? How could I help myself, when your enticing skin is right there before me? To be honest, the texture was a splendid thing to experience," he added, bearing his typical neutral countenance. "Does that answer your question as to why I had to taste your skin?"

Utterly stunned and completely paralyzed by that answer, (f/n) just stood with her mouth open a bit. Did he really just say that? Her ears couldn't believe it; they couldn't accept it. Those words weren't even near what she was expecting. Technically, she had anticipated an answer like that but not so detailed. Frankly, her cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she nearly wanted to collapse onto the ground. That was the craziest compliment she had ever received. How was she supposed to feel about that? Personally, she was overjoyed, but why did it feel like she needed to reject it with utmost firmness? Was it because it was so personal and created a rather abashing scene in her mind?

"(F/n), are you coming to dinner?" Edgar questioned, now standing in the doorway, which led out into the hall.
'
Composing herself, she glanced at the male and found herself immediately looking away. It was hard to look at him after he just permitted those words to leave his lips. "Umm ... yeah," she responded, as she played with the fabric of her robe. While she did this, though, she remembered a question she needed answered. "Edgar, who put the clothes in the bathroom?"

"A maid in the house did. I wouldn't peek in on you, (f/n). Now, come along," he uttered before turning his back on her and beginning to walk down the hall.

Since she was becoming hungry, she walked out into the hall and trailed behind him. Still, she couldn't look at him. She discovered that the floor and her feet were most interesting. Furthermore, they wouldn't tease or embarrass her. They wouldn't lay a beautiful green gaze on her and cause her reasoning to turn into jelly at times.

Stopping her movement, she widened her eyes. The thoughts, which seemed to endlessly compliment Edgar, just wouldn't leave her alone. Couldn't the d*mn male leave her alone for just an hour? Out of frustration she brought her hands up to her head and ruffled her wet hair. Of course, it didn't work as well as if her hair was dry, but it still provided the feeling she wanted. At least she could make it seem like she was ridding the thoughts from her head.

"You'll hurt yourself if you keep doing that," Edgar noted, as they began to walk down the stairs.

"You be quiet," she stated, looking at him to see him peering over his left shoulder at her. Quickly, though, she looked back down. She, however, heard an audible sigh come from the male's lips. His footsteps soon came closer, and they were approaching her. Thus, she forced herself to focus her attention back on him. Now, he only stood about a foot from her. Even though he was a step lower than her, he was still taller.

Giving no warning, like usual, Edgar lifted up his hands. (F/n) instantly took another step back up the stairs. In response to this, Edgar went up another step as well and latched his righy hand onto her left arm. He utilized his left hand to start smoothing out her (h/c) hair.

"Really, don't ruin your hair just because I managed to embarrass you again. You're such a child sometimes," he muttered before pulling away and seeming to give her hair a nod of approval.

"I'm not the one who makes toys," she remarked quietly, as she looked away from him. His blasted compliment from before just wouldn't leave her be. It was currently a constant nuisance in her mind.

"Hmm, I suppose that's true," he replied before he turned on his heel and continued down the stairs. "You admire me for it, however." He may be the toy-maker, but she was his loyal assistant. She was his loyal wooden soldier, who listened to his every command. (F/n) couldn't fight him even if she desired to, for her commitment to him wouldn't permit her to so.

Behind him, he could hear her footsteps descending the steps. Even in movement, she trailed behind him. No, she wouldn't abandon him. Thus, when he reached the dining room, he directed her to enter the space. She did just that. Furthermore, he pulled out her chair for her and motioned for her to sit. (F/n) obeyed him. These were simple things, but one couldn't have simplicity without complexity.    


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