Tease!

Lovely, as always.

connie's a big tiara wearing tease. And PMM has written the best song fic ever.

connie's a big tiara wearing tease

Don't forget leather-pants-wearing-tease, which is how you all convinced me to start writing slash and not just talking about it. Hm, just might be a new tag line in there.

Continued from P.M. Marcontell "Bitchy Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies" Jan 5, 2003 2:58:24 am EST

(and the 8 posts following it.)

"It's an interesting proposition." Wesley stood and beckoned towards the hallway. "The last time a Slayer had me tied up, she tortured me to within an inch of my life." Buffy flinched a little at the mention of Faith and he smiled before continuing. "I'd like to see you do better."

***

Nothing like a dare to get a girl going. Especially one invoking her competitive spirit; Wesley wanted better? Well, he'd get better.

Maybe.

She hoped.

It was always possible that months of ruthlessly pushing sex to the back of her mind had left her unprepared for actually doing it. Sort of like a pop quiz right after summer vacation or something. Great, now she was keyed up and panicking.

"Nervous?"

She jumped. It was possible she was a little nervous. "Nope." Not, of course, like she was going to admit it.

Right. Bedroom. Bed. Wow, it had been a while since she'd actually had to deal with one of those. Or deal with the part where you have to think about taking off your clothes, rather than wonder how they came off. Nervous, but not for the reasons he was probably thinking.

He ran a hand down the side of her neck, traced the scoop of her blouse. "And if I said I thought you were lying?"

The top button slipped out of its hole as his fingers dipped lower. She met his gaze. "I'd probably accuse you of projecting. After all, I'm not the one with Slayer issues."

A faint smile and another popped button were his only responses. Fair enough. She held still, letting him undress her slowly. It turned out, if you let someone else do it, you didn't have to think about it at all.

He didn't comment on her lack of a bra. Firm hands brushed against her nipples while he pushed her shirt off, then glided down her body to undo the zipper on her skirt. The skirt joined the shirt on the floor, leaving her in just her boots.

Breaking away, Buffy walked to the bed, carefully swinging her hips as she moved. She sat down, leaned back on her arms, and lifted a leather-clad foot.

"Boots too," she said.

Wesley knelt in front of her, one hand holding her ankle while the other pulled the zipper down so slowly she could hear each tooth give. His mouth grazed the inside of her knee, then slowly made its way down the newly-exposed flesh of her calf.

It occurred to her that it was possible that this counted as torture, in which case, they'd somehow gotten their roles reversed. Not that she was complaining. She waited until he finished undressing her to address the issue.

"Cuffs?"

"Top drawer."

She got up and opened it while he took off his clothes. He hadn't been lying about the handcuffs--they really did come padded. And in several colors. As did few other things she felt silly not recognizing. Maybe if there was time, she'd ask about them. Right now, she had more important things to take care of, such as remembering what to do once she had someone at her mercy.

Like riding a bicycle, Buffy told herself. All she had to do was trust her instincts, which were, at the moment, telling her to do some exploration. She started with the nasty-looking scar, trailing her fingertips over and around the damaged flesh, letting her nails bite into the surrounding skin as she scattered light kisses across his jaw.

She slid down his body, sharp teeth grazing the sharp jut of his collarbone. Her hands moved to stroke the inside of his arms, teasing until he let out a low moan and shifted against the restraints.

Buffy lifted her head, trying to gauge his reaction. "How's that?"

"It's a start," he admitted.

Her eyes wandered down his body, catching the razor-thin marks that littered his chest. Older scars than the one on his neck. She traced the longest of them with the edge of her thumb.

"Hers?" Buffy figured she didn't need to bother with specifics; he'd know exactly who she meant. She was right.

"Hers."

She gave him a grim smile, then drew a nail down the length of it, re-opening the wound and reclaiming it from Faith. "Mine," she corrected.

Plei, I'll read it later. Right now, can you repost the link to the rewrite challenge? I have until the end of today to sign up, right?

It's called the Remix Challenge, but I don't seem to have got the link to hand. I'll look a few other places for you.

The link is somewhere in my inbox.. one moment..

[link]

Well done, Plei.

BTW, does anyone know where they're posting the slashing the slashers fics?

[link]

Thanks!