Tick-tock...

[rogue_lawyer]

Here’s a fun test: try sitting still and not doing a single damn thing for one minute. Just sit and count, slow and proper, one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, right up to 60. Boring, huh? Think you could do it for five minutes? How about 45? There are 60 of those shockingly long minutes in an hour, 24 of those hours in a day, 7 of those days in a

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[_keep_me]

He's not invincible echoes down the hall and through my ears as if he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs

[rogue_lawyer]

We’re going to meet with Hamilton? On second thought, how about I just stay in my cage? It’s not that I’m afraid of him, exactly, but when your first impression of the guy that your girlfriend has been living in fear of for the last couple months is a view from your knees, watching through pain-blurred eyes as he faces down your worst enemy … let’s just say it makes for some interesting classical conditioning. And, okay, maybe a tiny bit of fear.

Angel turns around, shackles in hand, but I don’t get the chance for a snide remark because something in his expression changes. Maybe just a flicker of gold in his eyes, but it’s enough to make me pause. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own little personal quest to drive Angel insane that I forget I’m playing with fire

[_keep_me]

“If you wanted to hold my hand that bad you could’ve just said ‘please’.”Hell. This is it, and I should know. He couldn't possibly have said that. It takes a full five seconds to fight back the urge to say, "please." When our fingers brush it's another five seconds before my brain returns back to my head, and then the little bastard is sneering at me. Way too much anger in this kid, maybe he needs a new outlet. I caught that look though when our fingers touched. Looks like I'm not the only one having control issues

[rogue_lawyer]

Copping a feel?! God, I hate it when he patronizes me … the fact that he’s about a thousand years older than me aside. “Learn to relax?” I laugh, trying to decide if that little slip up had been all in my head. Freud would have a field day with us. “From you? Face it, hero: your soul is about as permanent as a Post-it … wouldn’t want you relaxing too much on us now.”

He marches off towards the elevators, making me break into a quasi-jog to keep up with him and feeling for all the world like a kid on one of those brat-leashes at the mall. This is beyond humiliating, and it only gets worse when he shifts and my hand is dragged over his hip. What the hell? And now he’s got the nerve to glare at me like that was my fault

[_keep_me]

“Fun? You think I’d come down here to chat you up for fun? If you think this is me having fun, you must be more hard up for company than I thought. And I’d probably get more information out of you, if you learned when to open your mouth, and when to keep it shut...”

Show us on the dolly where the bad vampire made you touch him…

His words crawl into just the right spot under my skin to make the need to shut that impudent mouth rise to the surface. Picks just the right words to get me riled up every damn time

[rogue_lawyer]

Apparently, the sound of Angel finally snapping is a musically aesthetic ‘ding!’ Good thing I kept my comment about him “chatting me up” to myself. The elevator sways a bit as Angel shoves me against the wall, getting in my face and letting the demon out to play. He runs his tongue over his fangs as he threatens me, like some kind of porno flick gone to the monsters, and all I can do is pant and glare and pray he doesn’t notice that he’s getting me hard with his undead bad cop routine.

Never said I wasn’t a little bit twisted.

“That the best you got, huh? Making faces at me?” I sneer. I’m going to have bruises in the shape of his fingers striping my shoulders, and I don’t even mind. Bite me, kill me … kiss me, I don’t care … just do something … His features smooth back into a human grimace, and I’ll never tell him that this is the face that frightens me more. The one that just might cause me to lose control.

“You haven’t touched anything but that little bitch Eve for months now; I doubt you could handle anything more substantial

[_keep_me]

I breathe deep, practically licking the air trying to taste his fear in the small space, and I get the faintest smell of arousal. So, the little lawyer isn’t as cool as he wants to be. Remember Darla. He likes ‘em dead.. He smells so good, and that heat so close is calling. The taunting draws me in, but I still try to hold back. There’s a tiny buzz that I think may be whispering, “this is so wrong,” but I can’t seem to care. His smell reels me in almost as well as the way he shoots off his mouth.

“I think you like the way I make faces at you Lindsey. I think you like it...” I take a step closer. “A lot.” The heat radiating off him and that panting he’s doing are the only things registering at this point. His laugh is just a hum and the sneer and snarling are an invitation. “All talk, Lindsey? I think you’ve got that backwards, boy. I’m not much for talking.” I say, perfectly level and low, predatory instincts kicking into high gear

[rogue_lawyer]

“You want to feel something real, Lindsey? Feel this.”

Slide of his hips over mine (Oh god, he knows…) and I’m trapped in that funny little moment when you know there’s going to be contact, kissing even, in about a second, and it’s so wrong, and it’s Angel for crying out loud, and goddamn me to hell, but I may have pressed forward, just a little, and then we’re kissing.

And the noise in my brain just stops.

I already knew what this would feel like. He’s shoved me around enough that I know how his body feels, pressed up close and personal against mine. How he can make any hope of escaping a moot point with the force of his hands. The only new sensation is the rough, almost vicious attack of his mouth against mine, and it drive everything over the edge into completely new territory.

Apparently, the sound of Angel coming back to his senses is the same elevator-chime ding. It’s hard to shove someone away from you when you’re chained together, and harder still when aforementioned someone’s stupid hands are clenched around fistfuls

[_keep_me]

I just kissed Lindsey McDonald.

My mind’s still racing, repeating every second on a loop of taste, touch and smell.

*He* leaned into it. *He* grabbed my shirt. Grabbed it so tight and pulled just enough I thought it was going to rip. My brain’s devouring the details, saving them for later even though I just want to forget. I want to remember that this never happened, and not keep going over and over the details so that I can’t forget.

I just kissed Lindsey McDonald.

I am not a teenager who can’t keep his hands to himself. I’ve had a few years to practice a little self-control. Self-denial. I know how to do that. But Lindsey...Fuck. It’s an effort not to run my hands over my face and show just how weird this is. There may be aftershocks running through me still. Hard to tell with Lindsey trembling next to me.

Lindsey’s trembling?

“That was … new.” He says it so casually, I’m having a hard time believing him. What with the trembling and grabbing my shirt and all

[rogue_lawyer]

I tense automatically as he jerks my cuffed hand towards him, but it’s only to tug out the wrinkles my fingers have left in his precious shirt. Bastard. My thoughts go hyper-paranoid, and suddenly I’m convinced he did that just to throw me. Never mind the less-than-disgusted hum he made in answer to my remark, or the sideways look he just snuck as I studied the patterns in the carpet. He knew what that would do to me, and he’d done it out of spite. Or something. It’s the only logical explanation.

Not so logical is the way he turns and starts to damn near pet me as he straightens my own shirt. I shoot a startled glance up at him before I can remember why I was looking at the floor to begin with, the ever-intense look on his face making my already racing heart give a thump I’ll bet he can hear. “Don’t want it to look like we haven’t been treating you well, harassing you.”

Words. I can deal with words. They make a hell of a lot more sense than the confusingly nuanced realm of touch. “You’ve been harassing me since I met you,” I point

[_keep_me]

Lindsey is looking at me like I just spat on him. I scowl. Can't take anything at face value. Always has to be a plot with him. I'm practically rolling my eyes when he starts in on how much I've harrassed him, but the flash of his tongue and my mind's crawling back to the kiss, my body ready to do it again. No. He *hates* you and you returned the favor easily enough before.

"I think this could be chalked up as a slow day for us."

"Hmm. Yeah, slow. Guess we'll have to see about that." Wonder what fast would be like. I let out a huff, mostly at myself. As the doors open, I drag him along to my office, taking perfectly normal strides...and thoroughly enjoying making Lindsey work to keep up.

I have my hand on the door knob as he lauches into the requisite threat, and let it open before walking inside.

"Oh, crystal clear, Lindsey, but this conversation isn't over. And don't forget, you're going back to your cell, so there will be another elevator ride to look forward to." I try not to let the smirk escape into an evil

[rogue_lawyer]

Continued over yonder...