Self-control, Or Lack Thereof
By
Miriae
Caesar watched intently as Ichihime sat primly on the grass. He then shifted his blue eyes to the blue-haired scientist seated beside him. The corners of Da Vinci's lips were quirked down in deep thought, his hand holding the pencil hovering above the canvass.
"Is there a problem?" he asked the scientist—who was now working as his commissioned painter—as he peered at the still blank canvass.
Da Vinci heaved a long sigh and shook his head dramatically. "Ah, General Caesar. This is a catastrophe! I couldn't possibly paint the beautiful Ichihime-sama looking so stiffly like that!"
Caesar narrowed his eyes and looked back at his wife who sat with her back straight, her lips set in a thin line. Indeed, she looked too uptight. He frowned. "What then do you suggest?"
There was an odd glint in the purple eyes of the painter. Da Vinci peered behind the canvass and gave Ichihime a wide smile. "Ichihime-sama, no need to look so tense! Would you be so kind to follow my instructions?"
The Oda Princess blinked and nodded. "If it will be of benefit, Da Vinci-dono, of course I would."
"Excellent! Now, Ichihime-sama, be a dear and sit in a more...relaxed position please. Excellent! Try leaning back with one hand supporting you—yes, that's perfect!"
Caesar narrowed his eyes, Ichihime did look more relaxed and that was good, but still he was vigilant.
Da Vinci furrowed his brows. "Now, try tilting your head to the side—yes, that's it!" He then started sketching vigorously for a few minutes until he stopped, a frown on his face.
"What is it now?" Caesar asked warily.
Da Vinci, once again, shook his head. "It would help if you could show more skin, Ichihime-sama. I'm afraid you are being swallowed by your clothes!"
Caesar's eyes widened as he almost choked, "What?!"
Holding the folds of her kimono, Ichihime looked unsure. "I don't think it's necessary, Da Vinci-dono."
"It's for art, my lady!" Da Vinci announced solemnly. "Also, just exposing a bit of your neck would do fine!"
Caesar glared. "Not necessary—"
"...Is this enough, Da Vinci-dono?" Ichihime said as she pulled one side of her kimono down just slightly to expose part of her clavicle.
"Ichihime!"
"Perfetto, my lady!" Da Vinci responded in glee. "You're just the perfect muse! But just a little more please!"
Caesar watched in discomfort as Ichihime lowered her kimono, ever so agonizingly slow, exposing the pale expanse of her neck. He swallowed uneasily.
"Just a little more, my lady, and tilt your head to the side—perfect!"
He took a deep, shuddering breath, when the folds reached her shoulders. And when he could almost peek at the ample swell of her breasts, Caesar finally snapped.
"Begone! NOW!" he growled fiercely at Da Vinci who knew it was in his best interest to follow. The painter left the garden with a snigger—he did enjoy that he could actually annoy the usually cool and collected general.
Furiously, Caesar stalked towards Ichihime who stared at him questioningly. He grabbed the folds of her kimono and pulled them shut.
She tilted her head and Caesar swallowed to keep his restrain—how could she look so innocent and yet ravishing at the same time? Did she know how she tortured him? "Caesar-dono...?"
He replied as calmly as he could through gritted teeth. "Don't do that again."
Ichihime pouted in confusion. "Do what...?"
Caesar shut his eyes conceding. He was far too gone. Finally, he smirked. "Never mind." He took her hand and pulled her back into the mansion.
Self-control be damned. He didn't have much to begin with anyway.