Run With The Devil

Flirting Lessons

Deon's pov

Angelo, Vincent, and Marco had taken it upon themselves to educate me in the fine art of flirting. I had been skeptical at first, but their insistence had swayed me. They each had their own methods and tips, ranging from subtle compliments to more direct advances. My goal was clear: I needed to understand and engage in this behavior to better connect with Lyra.

Every day, I put their advice into practice. I started by incorporating small, flirtatious gestures and comments into our interactions. It was a delicate balance-too much and it could seem forced, too little and it might not make an impact. I was cautious, ensuring that my advances felt natural and genuine rather than rehearsed.

At first, Lyra was noticeably uncomfortable. Her responses were brief, and she seemed to avoid eye contact whenever I leaned in a bit closer or made a comment that could be interpreted as flirtatious. I could see the nervousness in her eyes, but there was also a flicker of curiosity.

One day, as we were discussing some project details in the living room, I decided to try a more direct approach. I leaned in slightly, my tone softening. "You know, Lyra, I've always admired your dedication and strength. It's not just your abilities that are impressive-it's how you handle yourself."

Her eyes widened a little, and she looked away quickly. I could see the blush creeping up her cheeks. It was a small victory, but it was a step forward.

"Thanks, Deon," she said, her voice slightly strained. "I'm just trying to do my best."

I smiled, taking note of the slight shift in her demeanor. The more I practiced, the more I noticed her responses evolving. Each day, she seemed to grow a bit more accustomed to my advances. Her nervousness was still there, but it was mingled with a growing intrigue. She would ask questions with a hint of curiosity and respond to my remarks with a shy smile.

During one of our sessions in the garden, I decided to test a new approach. I had been advised to use physical touch sparingly but meaningfully, so I gently placed my hand on her shoulder as we talked about the day's events.

"You know," I said, my voice low and warm, "I find it fascinating how you always manage to stay so composed, even in challenging situations. It's one of the many things I admire about you."

Her reaction was immediate. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, her shoulders dropping slightly. She glanced up at me, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of surprise and something I couldn't quite place.

"Really?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, smiling. "Absolutely. It's not just your abilities but the way you handle yourself. It's impressive."

There was a pause, and then she let out a soft, almost reluctant laugh. "Thank you, Deon. That means a lot."

The more I engaged in these interactions, the more I began to understand the nuances of flirting and its impact on Lyra. It was clear that she was becoming more comfortable with the idea, even if she was still processing her feelings. The nervousness in her eyes was tempered with a growing interest, and I could see her starting to respond more openly.

Angelo, Vincent, and Marco watched my progress with interest, offering feedback and encouragement. They were pleased with the results, noting the positive changes in Lyra's reactions.

For me, it was a learning process-one that required patience and sensitivity. Each day, I aimed to refine my approach, to be attentive to Lyra's responses and adapt accordingly. It was a delicate dance, but one that was worth the effort.

As I continued with my lessons, I found myself growing more attuned to Lyra's needs and feelings. It wasn't just about learning to flirt-it was about understanding her better and building a deeper connection. And while the journey was far from over, I felt a renewed sense of purpose in my efforts.

Lyras pov

The teasing had started out playful, but it was starting to grate on me. One of Deon's men kept calling me "The Female Flash," and while at first, I tried to ignore him, it wasn't long before it got under my skin.

"Hey, Flash, how about a race? Or are you too fast for us normal folk?" he jeered, laughing along with the others.

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "You know I'm faster than you," I muttered, trying to keep my cool, but I could feel the frustration building.

"That's what all superheroes say," he added, still mocking.

Before I could even think of a retort, the air shifted. The men around us suddenly gasped, their laughter dying out. I felt my feet lift off the ground, and in a quick blur, I was suddenly being held against someone's chest. I blinked, startled, looking up to see Deon's face right above me. His arms were firm around me, effortlessly holding me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

Deon smirked down at me, his expression both amused and protective. "I'll be taking the superhero away for a few minutes," he called back to his men, his tone teasing as he mocked them. "Then you can go back to playing."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his words, seeing the annoyed but playful expressions on the men's faces as they groaned in mock defeat. As if by instinct, I found myself leaning slightly into Deon's chest, feeling safe despite the suddenness of it all.

He walked away from the group, still carrying me effortlessly. His stride was calm, casual, as if this was just another normal day for him. I glanced up at his face, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor but too surprised to say anything. His smirk hadn't faded.

When we reached his office, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. Still holding me, he walked to the center of the room and, with a graceful but firm motion, set me down on the large wooden table in the middle of his office.

I sat there, my legs dangling over the edge of the table, staring at him with wide eyes. I wasn't sure what had just happened or why he had brought me here. "What was that for?" I asked, still confused.

Deon leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms, his smirk growing. "You looked like you needed a break from those idiots," he said casually. "Besides, I couldn't just let them keep teasing you like that."

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes slightly, trying to figure out if he was serious or just playing. "I could've handled it," I said, though my voice wasn't as confident as I'd hoped.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and smooth. "Oh, I know. But you shouldn't have to." He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto mine with that same mischievous gleam. "And maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you alone."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I found myself at a loss for how to respond. Deon's gaze was intense, playful yet serious at the same time, and I could feel a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside me.

"I-" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"Relax, Lyra," he said with a smirk, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of me, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. "I'm just making sure you're okay. You don't have to be so tense all the time."

I looked down at his hand, feeling the warmth from where his skin touched mine. It was such a small gesture, but for some reason, it had an unexpected effect on me. My emotions were swirling-confusion, curiosity, maybe even something else. I couldn't quite figure it out.

Deon straightened up and backed away slightly, giving me some space. "Come on," he said, his tone softer now. "You need to start getting used to these guys, but they also need to respect you for what you are."

I blinked, not sure what to say, but nodded. He was right, of course. They might joke, but I needed to make sure they understood that I wasn't someone to mess with. And yet, even as I sat there, my mind was more focused on Deon and the way he looked at me-not with pity or frustration, but with something else entirely. Something I couldn't quite place yet.