Oh dear lord. I know that look. I've seen that look before. Usually it was aimed at Angel when he was calling her bluff. Or Gunn. But I don't think I've ever seen that look aimed at me. At least not more then once. Twice. Alright, maybe three times. But the point is, I know that look
( ... )
I realise my mistake as soon as he sets his bowl down, sits back on his couch. Two, three years ago? My doing this would have had Wes shrieking like a baby man and running for the next exit so he could, like, entertain himself for the next hour and a half while blushing furiously.
And as if I didn't know about the changes we'd both gone through? Wes' eyes take on a strange glint. No shrieking like a baby man and running for the next exit here. Not a chance.
"Is there any particular good reason I should stop you?"
"That depends," I whisper, my movements stalling for just a second, "Do you want to stop me?" My voice is low, husky. I'm watching as his tongue creeps out again, wetting his lips, realising we're on dangerous territory here. I probably could have explained it if we'd done the whole talking thing, spanked our inner moppets - had a little comfort roll in the proverbial hay so to speak. But this is different. Our teasing reached new levels and I'm not sure how to get back from that. I'm not sure I want to.
Well, isn't this an interesting shift in...things. We've always been close, and I know that if things hadn't gotten in the way, things might've been differently. Things such as say...a kiss gone horribly wrong in a library when we were both far to young. Not ready. Actually, I think that's exactly where it went wrong
( ... )
I watch as Wesley gets up off his couch and walks towards me, my ice cream forgotten. He's so close by again, warm, constant... And I'm back in that parking lot again, wanting to press my mouth to his. I denied it, sure, kissing my best friend in amongst all that pain wasn't the best plan I'd ever had. But this is different...
It's different because we're different and Wesley's telling me that this was my idea, that he doesn't object, and his voice is low, gravelly.
"I think the question should be, oh my fair Cordelia, do you want to stop?"I don't answer him when he asks that. I watch the corners of his mouth curve upwards and I'm torn between wanting to kiss him there, press my lips against his... And keep going with what I started. I look at him from beneath lowered lashes as my fingers keep undoing buttons
( ... )
I'm thinking she guessed right. That was a definite no. This should be wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. We may destroy a wonderful friendship when we wake up in the morning. But apparently this is something we both need. Something we both want. We've both changed and neither of us is who we were. And we'll never be like that again
( ... )
It should be weird, I think, as Wesley meets my eyes. Should be wrong, so very wrong. We're going to kill any chance of ever having a friendship again once we do this-- It's not like we're the two from Friends who lived happily ever after or all that hooey.
I have the feeling that maybe we won't get the happy ending but for now? This is enough. And I'm struck by how not weird all this is when Wesley slowly pulls the straps of my bra down, his hands on my shoulder, sliding down to cup my breast.
I take in a sharp breath of air, gasping as he flicks his thumb over me. His hands are rough, getting with the touching... Very much getting with the touching, yep, and then he's pulling me towards him.
"I'm a nerd dammit."Maybe it was destined to be this way, I think, right at the moment his mouth covers mine. Disastrous kiss, disastrous life - all coming together in a neat Fuck-Buddy package. But we're not fuck buddies. I don't know what we are, other than friends-- But I do know we're kissing and that it's so very far from that
( ... )
As I kiss Cordy, all thoughts of should we, should we not, flee from my mind. I let my tongue slip through parted lips as I press her body against mine. Cordelia tastes just differently then I remember, yet just like I've always imaged her to taste. Had that first kiss gone right. Had that second kiss actually meant something
( ... )
I unbutton his shirt slowly, my gaze never leaving his. He smiles and for just a moment I remember the old Wesley, that smile. I've missed him - not the old Wesley because this new one does me just fine... I've just missed him.
"I'm glad we've gained your majesty's approval." He tells me and I grin, pulling open his shirt, untucking it from his jeans. I see the scars, they'd be hard to miss, and I can feel the dark cloud threatening to pass-- Until I press my lips to his collarbone. He has scars - we both do - inside and out. But we'll talk about that tomorrow. Right now, I just want him to kiss me, something he does anyway, before his lips slide down my throat and, oh, biting. Teeth. God, I like that.
"Was it much better than the second time?"I smile. "You have to ask that?" There's nakedness now. Much nakedness. I'm missing a bra and Wesley has his hands unbuttoning and unzipping and-- "Hello! At a disadvantage here!" He's still wearing his shirt. And, might I add, most of his trousers. That's just wrong
( ... )
"Well, not really," I mutter, moving my mouth from one side of her throat to the other, using my teeth as I nip my way over. "Personally, I think this one is far better." And just as I'm about to slide her pants down, she bats away my hands, ranting about some disadvantage
( ... )
He mentions something about looking things up in his big books but... It's hard to pay attention when he's kissing his way down your skin like that. I'm no longer at a disadvantage, clothes-wise. Wesley is shirtless now, looking suitably ruffled in his dark jeans. I'm struck by the fact that it suits him, way better than the buttoned up be-tweeded look ever did-- But then I'm not thinking any more because Wesley has his hands on my ass.
Wesley. Has. His. Hands. On. My. Ass.
Two years ago? This might have been funny. Wesley. With his hands. On my *ass*. Except this isn't two years ago, a fact that's being driven home every time he touches me. We're here, it's now and Wesley's sweeping me off my feet - literally - carrying me into his bedroom.
Raising my eyebrow, I look up at her when she gives me a very Cordeliasque duh. A small chuckle escapes me as I bend my head and continue to kiss her scar. Each one is one to many as far as I'm concerned. And each one a result of the so called 'good fight'. I've my own, obviously, but they do not matter now. Hers do
( ... )
His hands are everywhere. I watch as he touches me, his fingers sliding over my skin so reverently that it seems like Wesley thinks he's dreaming or some crap because it's always soft. And I like soft as much as the next finely tuned romantic girl but, really, a little-- Ohhhkay.
Wesley got really good at the foreplay, apparently, because he knows just how to read my body, just where to touch and I'm spinning right there on his bed.
"You're too far away," I whine, and he pulls himself up towards me, let's me do a little playing of my own for a little while until he drops a kiss on my forehead, my nose, my lips.
"I'll never be far away again."I think we both know how loaded a statement that is. Wesley just made a promise and I look at him, determined to show him I'll return that tenfold, when his hand slips between my legs and my back arches slightly
( ... )
The moments those words leave my mouth, I notice how bloody loaded they are. But I mean it; I'll never be far away. Not if I can help it. Not unless she wants me to. And I as I look into her eyes, I can see the determination there for her to do the same. Which makes me smile softly at her
( ... )
Apparently Wes likes me being the disadvantaged-naked one here because, despite my protests, he's doing his best to distract me. Kisses, fingers-- Oh, God, his fingers are--
"Oh God..." I close my eyes as his finger curls inside me, hitting a spot that's pretty much destined to make me see stars if he keeps that up and then all of a sudden he's away again, sliding his leg over me and smiling.
Everything changes when he licks his finger like that. The finger that was just-- Oh, holy God. I hated Lilah. I was sorry I killed her and all, sure, but if she taught him all this then I can't really help my mini-Lilah-yay, especially when he tells me that he has other plans. "Oh, really?"
He works his way down my body, making my body sing with a tongue that was only ever useful for yakking, as I recall. And now he's, God, his breath tickles. His breath tickles and I'm wet and if he doesn't just do something I might overheat and die and he really doesn't want that. He touches my cheek and I'm about to protest that he's a bigger tease
( ... )
Now this is more like it. Apparently there is a way to silence Cordelia and make her babble. I should remember that, I may have to take advantage of that at some point. Or maybe not, I shouldn't think further then the here and now. That would only spoil the mood and I refuse to do that
( ... )
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And as if I didn't know about the changes we'd both gone through? Wes' eyes take on a strange glint. No shrieking like a baby man and running for the next exit here. Not a chance.
"Is there any particular good reason I should stop you?"
"That depends," I whisper, my movements stalling for just a second, "Do you want to stop me?" My voice is low, husky. I'm watching as his tongue creeps out again, wetting his lips, realising we're on dangerous territory here. I probably could have explained it if we'd done the whole talking thing, spanked our inner moppets - had a little comfort roll in the proverbial hay so to speak. But this is different. Our teasing reached new levels and I'm not sure how to get back from that. I'm not sure I want to.
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It's different because we're different and Wesley's telling me that this was my idea, that he doesn't object, and his voice is low, gravelly.
"I think the question should be, oh my fair Cordelia, do you want to stop?"I don't answer him when he asks that. I watch the corners of his mouth curve upwards and I'm torn between wanting to kiss him there, press my lips against his... And keep going with what I started. I look at him from beneath lowered lashes as my fingers keep undoing buttons ( ... )
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I have the feeling that maybe we won't get the happy ending but for now? This is enough. And I'm struck by how not weird all this is when Wesley slowly pulls the straps of my bra down, his hands on my shoulder, sliding down to cup my breast.
I take in a sharp breath of air, gasping as he flicks his thumb over me. His hands are rough, getting with the touching... Very much getting with the touching, yep, and then he's pulling me towards him.
"I'm a nerd dammit."Maybe it was destined to be this way, I think, right at the moment his mouth covers mine. Disastrous kiss, disastrous life - all coming together in a neat Fuck-Buddy package. But we're not fuck buddies. I don't know what we are, other than friends-- But I do know we're kissing and that it's so very far from that ( ... )
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"I'm glad we've gained your majesty's approval." He tells me and I grin, pulling open his shirt, untucking it from his jeans. I see the scars, they'd be hard to miss, and I can feel the dark cloud threatening to pass-- Until I press my lips to his collarbone. He has scars - we both do - inside and out. But we'll talk about that tomorrow. Right now, I just want him to kiss me, something he does anyway, before his lips slide down my throat and, oh, biting. Teeth. God, I like that.
"Was it much better than the second time?"I smile. "You have to ask that?" There's nakedness now. Much nakedness. I'm missing a bra and Wesley has his hands unbuttoning and unzipping and-- "Hello! At a disadvantage here!" He's still wearing his shirt. And, might I add, most of his trousers. That's just wrong ( ... )
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Wesley. Has. His. Hands. On. My. Ass.
Two years ago? This might have been funny. Wesley. With his hands. On my *ass*. Except this isn't two years ago, a fact that's being driven home every time he touches me. We're here, it's now and Wesley's sweeping me off my feet - literally - carrying me into his bedroom.
"Gorgeous." He whispers, looking at me ( ... )
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Wesley got really good at the foreplay, apparently, because he knows just how to read my body, just where to touch and I'm spinning right there on his bed.
"You're too far away," I whine, and he pulls himself up towards me, let's me do a little playing of my own for a little while until he drops a kiss on my forehead, my nose, my lips.
"I'll never be far away again."I think we both know how loaded a statement that is. Wesley just made a promise and I look at him, determined to show him I'll return that tenfold, when his hand slips between my legs and my back arches slightly ( ... )
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"Oh God..." I close my eyes as his finger curls inside me, hitting a spot that's pretty much destined to make me see stars if he keeps that up and then all of a sudden he's away again, sliding his leg over me and smiling.
Everything changes when he licks his finger like that. The finger that was just-- Oh, holy God. I hated Lilah. I was sorry I killed her and all, sure, but if she taught him all this then I can't really help my mini-Lilah-yay, especially when he tells me that he has other plans. "Oh, really?"
He works his way down my body, making my body sing with a tongue that was only ever useful for yakking, as I recall. And now he's, God, his breath tickles. His breath tickles and I'm wet and if he doesn't just do something I might overheat and die and he really doesn't want that. He touches my cheek and I'm about to protest that he's a bigger tease ( ... )
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