Will She Be Loved? vengefulpassion
Left dizzy from his kiss, a myriad of emotions assaulted my brain, and the sensations that were battling for supremacy in a mind over matter war, were deliciously confusing and arousing. Working hard to keep from smiling, I told myself that not even Buffy could tear him away me, not when I was naked, ripe and wanting him with, as trite as it might sound, ever fibre of my being.
In a way his words were confusing. He was afraid of his feelings, and I couldn’t help but wonder why? Was this pure lust that was motivating his actions, or was it something more? The idea of England doing things to me, that even by his own admission were outside of his ‘fuddy duddy,’ persona, made the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand at attention. I wanted to question him, and ask if those things stemmed from his heart, or down lower, from the place between his legs that was down obviously demanding satisfaction.
Satisfy it, yes that's what I wanted to do needed to do, my hands dared me to move down and slowly stroke him there, but he was being cryptic as usual, and as cute as it could be, I needed to understand where I stood with him. If I was just to be a casual lay, I’d accept that, I would, as the younger crowd would say, fuck his brains out, and before he would end it, I’d leave to go to Borsa, the clan and my mission damned. Yanos was dead, the curse lifted, my presence in Sunnydale no longer required. But damn it, he’d miss the sex!
My arms slid up his stronger ones, wrapping around him in a tight embrace, my naked skin rubbing against his still clothed body, my lips pressed against his, and like a snake the tip slithered its way in his mouth, where it wrestled with him, finally conquering his own rather excited tongue.
“Tell me what you mean by wanting to do things that you can’t share with any other person?” My question finally verbalized, could it be because of his emotions or was it something else? Standing in his arms I felt safe even if I were naked, and I loved being in them. As my thoughts raced, memories of my possession by Eyghon flickered quickly through my brain, quickly I squelched my inner panic, and then it occurred to me he might be referring to his Ripper past? Then my mind took off in a hundred differing directions. Could he be contemplating some archaic ritual like one he'd performed with Ethan Rayne or worse yet the idea of his sacrificing a chicken or some other nonsense also made an appearance in my already over active imagination. If he dared do anything other than make love, I’d just have to kill him. It was as simple as that, blood sacrifice, leaving to help Buffy, definite excuses to justify the evisceration of a man when the woman of his dreams, even if he couldn't figure it out, was standing naked before him.
“You aren’t thinking of a sacrificial chicken or something are you?” I batted my lashes at him teasing, hoping that was all it was, something from my imagination. My heart couldn’t help but fear his answer, he wasn’t the kind of man to settle down, or have a girl friend, and I wanted to be in his life, not just for one night, but a hundred and one nights. Looking at him expectantly, I waited, hoping my fears were for naught.
In a way his words were confusing. He was afraid of his feelings, and I couldn’t help but wonder why? Was this pure lust that was motivating his actions, or was it something more? The idea of England doing things to me, that even by his own admission were outside of his ‘fuddy duddy,’ persona, made the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand at attention. I wanted to question him, and ask if those things stemmed from his heart, or down lower, from the place between his legs that was down obviously demanding satisfaction.
Satisfy it, yes that's what I wanted to do needed to do, my hands dared me to move down and slowly stroke him there, but he was being cryptic as usual, and as cute as it could be, I needed to understand where I stood with him. If I was just to be a casual lay, I’d accept that, I would, as the younger crowd would say, fuck his brains out, and before he would end it, I’d leave to go to Borsa, the clan and my mission damned. Yanos was dead, the curse lifted, my presence in Sunnydale no longer required. But damn it, he’d miss the sex!
My arms slid up his stronger ones, wrapping around him in a tight embrace, my naked skin rubbing against his still clothed body, my lips pressed against his, and like a snake the tip slithered its way in his mouth, where it wrestled with him, finally conquering his own rather excited tongue.
“Tell me what you mean by wanting to do things that you can’t share with any other person?” My question finally verbalized, could it be because of his emotions or was it something else? Standing in his arms I felt safe even if I were naked, and I loved being in them. As my thoughts raced, memories of my possession by Eyghon flickered quickly through my brain, quickly I squelched my inner panic, and then it occurred to me he might be referring to his Ripper past? Then my mind took off in a hundred differing directions. Could he be contemplating some archaic ritual like one he'd performed with Ethan Rayne or worse yet the idea of his sacrificing a chicken or some other nonsense also made an appearance in my already over active imagination. If he dared do anything other than make love, I’d just have to kill him. It was as simple as that, blood sacrifice, leaving to help Buffy, definite excuses to justify the evisceration of a man when the woman of his dreams, even if he couldn't figure it out, was standing naked before him.
“You aren’t thinking of a sacrificial chicken or something are you?” I batted my lashes at him teasing, hoping that was all it was, something from my imagination. My heart couldn’t help but fear his answer, he wasn’t the kind of man to settle down, or have a girl friend, and I wanted to be in his life, not just for one night, but a hundred and one nights. Looking at him expectantly, I waited, hoping my fears were for naught.