Desire's Prisoners (Captain Syverson/Henry Cavill Fancast Fic

Part 4: Dinner & Dessert

You take your time cooking. You investigate the kitchen slowly as you go, giving yourself time to acclimate and hopefully get a better grip on your feelings. You can hear Sy stirring about the house, though you don't know what he is doing or where he is inside it, for that matter. You take deep breaths to soothe your nerves, allowing the smell of food to relax you and waft through the house. You are suddenly thankful you spent time with the cook growing up; you can make a meal for two or for a party.

Tears fill your eyes. You never dreamed your imprisonment would be this way. You are ready to fight other women. You are ready to protect a poor soul like Gabrielle. You are ready to be in solitary confinement. You are ready for a lot of things, but not this. You simply are not ready for him, your private jailer, your private warden to "train" you.

You assessed Sy even as you bucked against him earlier. He is not a violent man, at least, not toward women. He is a no-nonsense man; you smile, noting your warden's similarity to your father, missing him so, but immediately steel the warm feeling that comes with it. Sy is shorter than your father, smaller, but he looks just as strong...perhaps because he is younger.

You didn't miss that body—Sy looks battle ready even if he hasn't seen it in some time. His eyes are very blue, and you watched the tint change with his mood-steel calm, glints of gray with concern, electric blue when he was lighthearted, a storm at sea when he takes you...stop it, you tell yourself. Don't drown in those eyes, just learn to interpret them so you can find ways around them, you tell yourself, no matter how beautiful you think they are... That stupid system you hate had picked your jailer, and you have to mentally give them credit: They picked right.

You are plating food as Sy enters the kitchen, reminding you of a beast led by his nose. He stands behind and almost over you as you go about your task, seemingly inhaling the meal that promises to be delicious, but you feel like he is also sniffing your hair.

"Jasmine?" he murmurs.

"What?"

He shakes his head, and swallows hard. "Nothing."

Your whole body tingles with awareness. He was sniffing your hair. They allowed you to pick your scented soap, which you thought was ridiculous, but now makes sense. And he was right-you used jasmine...and he likes it.

He sits down and looks at the food as you bring it to him.  "You can cook."

"My father had a chef."

"This will be quite a pleasure then," he says, still looking at the food. "I have not had a trainee in some time. I am usually in charge of the others to make sure they are not abusive, but they asked me to take you on."

You have nothing to say to that. You go to the cooling unit and see quite a few choices to accompany the main course. You turn and put your hands behind your back in "at ease" position. "What would you like with this?"

He recognizes the military stance, and tenses.

That's right, you got more than you bargained for, you tell him with your eyes. You don't know who you're fucking with.

His gaze roves over your body and again, the sets the unwanted sensual tension between you. You lift your chin, telling yourself not to care, and await his answer. "I don't care, really."

"May I suggest you eat first, and wait a little on drinking?" you ask as you turn to the cooling unit to make a selection.

"To speed my digestion."

You turn with a fruity but light wine. "Yes."

He smiles slowly. "Thank you, I'll take your suggestion." He gestures for you to sit.