Aren't you lucky? 375 words as my final count tonight, which isn't enough to put in the LJ, but is just enough to share here! (Shh. Pretend you feel lucky. Punks.)
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She did something with the tip of her tongue and the inside of his lips that managed to stem thoughts of Lilah and one-upmanship completely, allowing for a flood of thoughts closer to "where the devil did she learn that?", "or that?", and "how quickly can we get into the building?".
He broke contact and started fumbling for his keys, which were, unfortunately, in the front pocket of his jeans. Getting them out would require digging, finesse, and perhaps a moment spent thinking of something unpleasant--John Major in a leotard might do, though not if he didn't first close his eyes and move about ten paces aware from the source of the stimulation.
"This is even more public, isn't it?" she finally said when they'd both caught their breath. "Inside? Now?"
It didn't matter that he knew she was talking about the building; the words themselves were enough to make it so that John Major could have been buggering Prince Philip to the tune of "Mandy" and it wouldn't have made a dent in his arousal. He extracted the keys with some difficulty.
"Yes, that seems like a good idea."
He took care not to touch her as they made their way through the halls to his flat lest he find himself unable to stop; it came as something of a surprise to note that he still had something that bore some resemblance to a sense of shame, however small. It was an oddly cheering realization.
That they made it to the couch with their clothing intact was nothing short of a miracle, though not of the sort that would qualify either of them for sainthood. Buffy attacked him like a starving man would attack a feast, her hands and mouth everywhere, and he was quite content to be devoured.
The slits in her skirt were as convenient as she had indicated; he slid his hands through them to caress the bare skin of her legs as she worked her hands back under his shirt. His fingertips skimmed over the smooth lines of muscle on her thighs, working their way slowly upward until they hit the jut of her pelvis.
"I know we've covered your inappropriate fighting attire, but do you often go patrolling in a skirt..." He brushed a thumb lightly over the soft curls he'd discovered. "...with nothing underneath?"
She arched against his touch before responding. "More often than is good for me."
He kissed her, then withdrew his hand despite her whimper of protest. "I believe you said something earlier about handcuffs?"
(and then, I managed to write more.)
"Mmm-hmm. And you said something about padded ones?"
"I did. They're in the bedroom." Which was where he was wishing very much to be as her fingers worked at his belt buckle.
"Is it far?"
"Thankfully, no." She'd managed to undo his belt buckle, and was fiddling with the top button of his pants.
"Good. I guess this means I should get off of you now, doesn't it?"
"Essentially, yes." His zipper gave way under her insistent fingers. "Unless you'd rather stay on the couch?"
She withdrew her hands, and it was his turn to let out a wordless protest. "Somehow, I get the feeling the bed would be more comfortable. Besides, I'd kind of like to break the habit of missing them." Buffy slid off him and onto her feet in a fluid motion that would have been impossible for almost anyone else, even without the handicap of high heels. "Do you trust me?"
"Why?"
"Because I'd like to be the one doing the cuffing."
"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."
Good stuff, Ple. Took me a moment to work out it was Wesley and Buffy- but that's just me being stupid. It says PMM at the top.
John Major is in a whole new light after Edwina Curry's revalations, but I guess Wesley might not know that. However, for the Brits you might consider using someone else (or not. Could be funnier as is).
I like the way you tell us what he's going to say before he says it.
"I know we've covered your inappropriate fighting attire, but do you often go patrolling in a skirt..." He brushed a thumb lightly over the soft curls he'd discovered. "...with nothing underneath?"
Grin!
John Major is in a whole new light after Edwina Curry's revalations, but I guess Wesley might not know that. However, for the Brits you might consider using someone else (or not. Could be funnier as is).
Well, I think the whole world's aware of Major's love-ins, but he's still not what I'd call a physically appealling fellow. (Especially not in a leotard).
He's what sprang to my mind the moment I thought "Hmm, what's the least sexy thing I can think of?"
And then, for the "even less sexy award", the Major/Prince Philip combination was the only thing that came near to disturbing enough.
He's what sprang to my mind the moment I thought "Hmm, what's the least sexy thing I can think of?"
In this case, that's a pretty fair test. I might have gone for someone else (not because I find him attractive, but because he now has other connotations), but I think it'll work in context.
John Major could have been buggering Prince Philip to the tune of "Mandy"
Thank you
very
much for this image. Sheesh. Going to find the brain brillo now.
Thank you very much for this image. Sheesh. Going to find the brain brillo now.
Okay, perhaps the HK warped me for life, but I think it serves to get the point across.
perhaps the HK warped me for life
Baby, you were bent waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay before that.
Baby, you were bent waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay before that.
And it made you scream, dinnit?
