It takes some resolve, but I finally manage to get up on... on all fours. There's an image I don't need. In fact, my whole body makes a sight that we really don't need right now. Frowning, I glance down at myself, or what I can see of myself that is. His robe makes me look even smaller and skinnier then he must think I am already. How flattering
( ... )
"That an invitation?" I ask, teasingly, as his body reconnects with mine. Feel free to use it whenever you want. If that isn't one of the hottest things he's ever said, well then I've got a heartbeat. Open invitation, much? That's just... God, he really shouldn't go around saying things like that when I can't respond to them properly. And properly means me being a little rougher than I want to be with his back messed up. I'll just have to cash in on that comment later
( ... )
My eyebrows shoot up in amusement. Is that an invitation? I suppose it is, though for me it was nothing but obvious. I've told him I love him more then once. And with that comes the whole package. To be a complete sap, that means my heart, my soul, my mind and my body. Everything. "If you think you can handle it," I tease, giving him a smirk
( ... )
I smirk back at him. Oh, he has no idea how much I can handle it. That's exactly what I want from him. Everything. There's no halfway for me, so if we're doing this then I want everything, all of it, no matter if he wants to give it to me or not. I don't care if he doesn't like it about himself, I still want it. He's mine, and that means the whole package
( ... )
"It was right here," I say, glaring at Gunn when he enters the office. "Right where I left it...err...the uh, other day." And for *once* can I not turn red with that implication
( ... )
Finishing off my mug of blood as Cordy closes her eyes, I walk over to the sink and rinse out my mug. I notice Wes's mug is in there already. He finished that quick, I guess. He still needs some food, though. Glancing around for the usually box of pastries, I take a quick 360 of the office
( ... )
Tailzal demon? No, no, that wasn't it. It sounded similar though. Frowning, I pushed up my glasses and thumbed through the texts I had gathered from the shelves. I hoped I had the right ones, I wasn't so sure I was ready to get up and walk over there to get some others at the moment. There were faint voices outside. I recognized Cordelia and, of course, Angel. I think I'd recognize that voice anywhere
( ... )
He doesn't acknowledge me at all when I speak. Smiling, I snag one of the chairs, and have a seat, knowing I'll have to wait it out until the research demon gets its claws out of him. He turns page after page, flipping back and forth between a few intermittently
( ... )
Another sigh, - I seem to be doing that a lot lately - gets out when he tries to bring logic in to this discussion. Logic has nothing to do with this. He’s the one who insisted on us being honest to each other. He’s the one who insisted I tell him how I feel. I am, telling him how he makes me feel when he does that. Logic, for one, has nothing to do with it. The fact that I am extremely uncomfortable telling him al this, does. The fact that I’m laying here like an idiot, going against everything I was brought up to believe, because I want to be honest with him, that’s the important part. But he doesn’t understand that.
I let him talk on and close my eyes in a sign of frustration. Not the point, Angel. *Not* the point. I’m about to reach up to grab my glasses when his hand slips over mine. My heart skips a beat for some reason. As if you don’t know the reason. He’s the reason. My lips twitch a bit, a shimmer of a smile threatening to break out. His words however make it stop before it’s all out, herding said smile behind the gate of
( ... )
Hmm. He doesn't look happy. I'm trying to explain this the best I can, but all I'm getting is a look of utter frustration. Not sure if he was tossing his glasses at me, but they seem to land on his the nightstand anyway, without hitting me. And there's yet another sigh. Okay. Go ahead, Wes. I don't know what else to say
( ... )
There's a teeny little smile on his face when I lace our fingers together. That's a good sigh, that means I've managed not to screw this up too badly. Unless... Unless what? Stop listening to those voices in your head, Pryce. They're not going to help you now, they only tend to lie at you. You know that, so knock it off
( ... )
Well, at least he realizes he was being a "prat," as he puts it. Yeah. Not your punching bag, Wes. I mean, I want to be there for him, but I don't want to be walked all over either, especially when I have no idea why I'm being walked on. Never really was one for getting walked on, and Angelus certainly wasn't. But, I don't want to make him feel like he can't talk to me just because he thinks it won't go over well. I guess we got past that, but still, I would have preferred going the talking route without the snapping in between
( ... )
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I let him talk on and close my eyes in a sign of frustration. Not the point, Angel. *Not* the point. I’m about to reach up to grab my glasses when his hand slips over mine. My heart skips a beat for some reason. As if you don’t know the reason. He’s the reason. My lips twitch a bit, a shimmer of a smile threatening to break out. His words however make it stop before it’s all out, herding said smile behind the gate of ( ... )
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