It's not until one actually lets out a rush of air that one notices one is holding it. Which would be the case with me. It's not until I slowly let my breath out that I notice I was holding it. Half afraid he's wanted to talk some more. Half afraid he wasn't buying my explanation or my words, or didn't believe them. I mean, not like that was surprising, most people hardly listen to what I say at any rate. But I seem to be forgetting that Angel is about as much as a talker when it comes to these things as I am. Probably even worse then I.
"I think I can manage," I say, looking around for the best way to get of this bed. And its not until the words left my mouth once again that I realize I've said them. Well, at least I said 'think' and not 'I can manage'. Progress in small steps as they say. Swallowing hard, I scoot toward the edge of the bed and then put my hands flat down, pushing myself up. I knew what I was doing when I bought this bed. It may have been the only expensive thing in this whole crummy place, but it allowed me to actually show up for work in the morning. Afternoon, evening...whichever.
Giving him a small smile, I walk past him, brushing my hand over his as I make my way over toward the bathroom. "There it is," I say, pointing out the one obvious place the bathroom would be. "It's-it's not as big as yours..." Oh god! Freudian much? Maybe he didn't notice? "Y-your bathroom I mean. Err... and-and I know the bed isn't as big either but-but I think we should be able to manage. And I've some...no wait, that's not true, I need to get you some new."
Aaand, I'm babbling. Bloody marvelous. He already thinks I'm some crazy person who needs to be looked after for his own best interest. I was going to tell him I had some blood in the icebox, but I don't. I had to toss that out last month when it was getting stale. Haven't gotten around to getting some new, since I've no idea when he'd be back. Clearing my throat, I shake away that though for now - we can cross that bridge when we get there - and open the door of the bathroom.
"And here we are." Why am I so nervous? Because you don't want him to think you're as pathetic as your apartment, with the small spaces and the ten year old furniture. Oh. Right. Great, *now* I'm talking to myself again.
I wait for him to get off the bed, so he can lead the way. I don't even have to fight back the urge to help. Well, not much anyway. He does seem to be doing better, I'll admit that. Standing, I follow, and feel what can only be described as a little flutter when his hand brushes mine. I remember when I used to have to force myself not to think about little touches like that.
I look at him slightly amused as he flushes and stumbles through a comparison of what I think was supposed to be our bathroom sizes, or possibly he was referring to...other big things. Or maybe it was the door he was referring to? And there was a bed reference too. Whatever he was talking about it's managed to get him more than a little flustered. And the pictures that are currently running through my head can't be far from his, so that's probably not helping keep that pink from rising up his neck. I can't believe I make him blush so easily.
"You need to get me some new?" My forehead crinkles a little at that. That sentence made less sense than the rest. I shrug out of my duster and fold it over a little chair he's got in the corner. So I'm neat, sue me. I walk over to meet him in the doorway, wondering a little at what's got him in such a twitter. It's only a bathroom.
"Cozy." I say, slipping my hands around his waist. Now that is certainly cozy. Us. "And here. We. Are." I say, stepping in a little bit closer with each word. He looks so worried. I like that it's small. Feels intimate. Meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before letting them settle on his mouth, I lift my lips that fraction of distance that makes him taller than me and kiss him. It's meant to be reassuring, comforting, but I can't help the small edge of hunger it has.
Since he said the words shower and two, I think my brain started turning off and the predator started taking over. We probably can't do much of anything what with his back, but I can't help thinking about him naked, and naked Wes... well, my reaction to that is probably going to be pretty obvious in a little while. I should probably make sure we're on the same page.
"Am I making a leap here that maybe you wanted to...enjoy more than a shower?" I don't want to get in too deep here. A little control would probably be good for both of us. We aren't going to be able to go around taking showers and...other stuff all the time. I should try to reign myself in a bit. I should.
“Uh yes,” I stammer. “Blood. I ah, h-had some blood in there but it’s gone sta- anyway, I-I need to get you some new.” Lord, I wish I’d stop stammering like some idiot. What is it about him that makes me so nervous at times? The fact that I want things to be perfect? Need them to be perfect if I’m honest here. If they’re not perfect he’ll realize that I’m not what he wants or needs and he’ll be out of here so fast. I don’t think I could… alright, ‘live without him’ would be overly dramatic, but it’s pretty damn close.
Nervously waiting in the bathroom, I watch as he takes off his duster and folds it over the chair. I guess that’s one thing we’ll never have to argue about. He’s a neat freak, as Cordelia likes to say, just as I am. Well, aside from the research, or most people would think. Books all over the place, papers everywhere, but I know where to find things and that’s what’s important. Oh. I’m torn out of my thoughts as Angel’s arms slip around me. Now that *is* nice. Tilting my head, I look at him and the moment I do, our lips meet. My own hands land on his hips as I give myself over to the kiss.
Not that difficult, giving myself over to him when it comes to kissing, or touching. Especially since we’re not in a public place. We’re at my place where the chances of anyone stomping in are next to nill. Now there’s a very good thought. No need to worry about Cordy or Gunn barging in, or Fred needing something. Just Angel and I. Kissing. Though, air would be nice too. When we pull away, I suck in some much needed oxygen into my lungs and blink at him. Yup, brain freeze, it never seems to fail.
It takes me some time to realize he’s saying something, and then some more seconds to figure out *what* he’s said. “Oh,” I say weakly, turning to look at my very small shower booth. Enjoy more then a shower. I’d love too, but I doubt there’s room. “It’s a bit small,” I say softly, a note of apology in my voice. “But uhm…maybe we can get…errr….creative?” Not as though I’d know, I mean all my experience was in the rather large showers at school. Which weren’t very enjoyable.
Blood? He had blood for me? Huh. That's umm, good? I think. I'm about to tell him he doesn't need to get me any but that sounds like a pointless argument waiting to happen. Not being controlling, remember? It would be ridiculous to argue. He's just being thoughtful. He's not trying to suggest that you always need blood, or emphasize that you've got a different diet. Just being thoughtful.
This kiss had better do the trick. I don't want him to be so nervous with me all the time. I like hearing his heartbeat, but I don't like hearing it do that. His mouth meets mine easily, and I'm happy to take advantage of that. His mouth is sweet, and I slide closer without thinking. Seems to distract him a little. Distract him enough that he gets this fuzzy look on his face and doesn't seem to realize a word of what I'd said.
I raise an eyebrow at 'creative'. Oh, I like this part of Wes. The part that always aims to please, and can solve any problem. We don't have to be creative, though. Washing is good. Creative can come later. Or... God, I am useless at not wanting him all the time. I should be locked away, not allowed free reign of temptation.
"Either way, maybe we should start with less clothes, hmm?" I say already steadily working the buttons on my- his shirt open. Letting that drift to the floor, I dip my fingers beneath the t-shirt and start sliding that up over his head, with my hands taking some side trips, of course.
"I think I can manage," I say, looking around for the best way to get of this bed. And its not until the words left my mouth once again that I realize I've said them. Well, at least I said 'think' and not 'I can manage'. Progress in small steps as they say. Swallowing hard, I scoot toward the edge of the bed and then put my hands flat down, pushing myself up. I knew what I was doing when I bought this bed. It may have been the only expensive thing in this whole crummy place, but it allowed me to actually show up for work in the morning. Afternoon, evening...whichever.
Giving him a small smile, I walk past him, brushing my hand over his as I make my way over toward the bathroom. "There it is," I say, pointing out the one obvious place the bathroom would be. "It's-it's not as big as yours..." Oh god! Freudian much? Maybe he didn't notice? "Y-your bathroom I mean. Err... and-and I know the bed isn't as big either but-but I think we should be able to manage. And I've some...no wait, that's not true, I need to get you some new."
Aaand, I'm babbling. Bloody marvelous. He already thinks I'm some crazy person who needs to be looked after for his own best interest. I was going to tell him I had some blood in the icebox, but I don't. I had to toss that out last month when it was getting stale. Haven't gotten around to getting some new, since I've no idea when he'd be back. Clearing my throat, I shake away that though for now - we can cross that bridge when we get there - and open the door of the bathroom.
"And here we are." Why am I so nervous? Because you don't want him to think you're as pathetic as your apartment, with the small spaces and the ten year old furniture. Oh. Right. Great, *now* I'm talking to myself again.
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I look at him slightly amused as he flushes and stumbles through a comparison of what I think was supposed to be our bathroom sizes, or possibly he was referring to...other big things. Or maybe it was the door he was referring to? And there was a bed reference too. Whatever he was talking about it's managed to get him more than a little flustered. And the pictures that are currently running through my head can't be far from his, so that's probably not helping keep that pink from rising up his neck. I can't believe I make him blush so easily.
"You need to get me some new?" My forehead crinkles a little at that. That sentence made less sense than the rest. I shrug out of my duster and fold it over a little chair he's got in the corner. So I'm neat, sue me. I walk over to meet him in the doorway, wondering a little at what's got him in such a twitter. It's only a bathroom.
"Cozy." I say, slipping my hands around his waist. Now that is certainly cozy. Us. "And here. We. Are." I say, stepping in a little bit closer with each word. He looks so worried. I like that it's small. Feels intimate. Meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before letting them settle on his mouth, I lift my lips that fraction of distance that makes him taller than me and kiss him. It's meant to be reassuring, comforting, but I can't help the small edge of hunger it has.
Since he said the words shower and two, I think my brain started turning off and the predator started taking over. We probably can't do much of anything what with his back, but I can't help thinking about him naked, and naked Wes... well, my reaction to that is probably going to be pretty obvious in a little while. I should probably make sure we're on the same page.
"Am I making a leap here that maybe you wanted to...enjoy more than a shower?" I don't want to get in too deep here. A little control would probably be good for both of us. We aren't going to be able to go around taking showers and...other stuff all the time. I should try to reign myself in a bit. I should.
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Nervously waiting in the bathroom, I watch as he takes off his duster and folds it over the chair. I guess that’s one thing we’ll never have to argue about. He’s a neat freak, as Cordelia likes to say, just as I am. Well, aside from the research, or most people would think. Books all over the place, papers everywhere, but I know where to find things and that’s what’s important. Oh. I’m torn out of my thoughts as Angel’s arms slip around me. Now that *is* nice. Tilting my head, I look at him and the moment I do, our lips meet. My own hands land on his hips as I give myself over to the kiss.
Not that difficult, giving myself over to him when it comes to kissing, or touching. Especially since we’re not in a public place. We’re at my place where the chances of anyone stomping in are next to nill. Now there’s a very good thought. No need to worry about Cordy or Gunn barging in, or Fred needing something. Just Angel and I. Kissing. Though, air would be nice too. When we pull away, I suck in some much needed oxygen into my lungs and blink at him. Yup, brain freeze, it never seems to fail.
It takes me some time to realize he’s saying something, and then some more seconds to figure out *what* he’s said. “Oh,” I say weakly, turning to look at my very small shower booth. Enjoy more then a shower. I’d love too, but I doubt there’s room. “It’s a bit small,” I say softly, a note of apology in my voice. “But uhm…maybe we can get…errr….creative?” Not as though I’d know, I mean all my experience was in the rather large showers at school. Which weren’t very enjoyable.
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This kiss had better do the trick. I don't want him to be so nervous with me all the time. I like hearing his heartbeat, but I don't like hearing it do that. His mouth meets mine easily, and I'm happy to take advantage of that. His mouth is sweet, and I slide closer without thinking. Seems to distract him a little. Distract him enough that he gets this fuzzy look on his face and doesn't seem to realize a word of what I'd said.
I raise an eyebrow at 'creative'. Oh, I like this part of Wes. The part that always aims to please, and can solve any problem. We don't have to be creative, though. Washing is good. Creative can come later. Or... God, I am useless at not wanting him all the time. I should be locked away, not allowed free reign of temptation.
"Either way, maybe we should start with less clothes, hmm?" I say already steadily working the buttons on my- his shirt open. Letting that drift to the floor, I dip my fingers beneath the t-shirt and start sliding that up over his head, with my hands taking some side trips, of course.
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