Fic: Healing B/X, B/Wes, X/B/Wes eventually FRM (7/?)
Spoilers: Buffy, Seeing Red; Angel, Sleep Tight
Summary: My own personal crackfic started with bunnies from RPGing with Fiareynne.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, just playing for fun, no infringement, etc.
Distribution: Want, take, have, just let me know where it goes.
Beta: the goddess,
antennapedia, any mistakes left are my own.
Feedback: adored.
Author's Notes: Just a short part this time. All other parts here.
The next day, the Magic Box.
“No, no, no! That’s sloppy, Buffy.”
Buffy bent over, her hands on her thighs, breathing heavily. Wesley was really putting her through her paces. Giles had never been this insistent. Then she had been a lot younger and fitter.
“Give me a sec, Wes, it’s been a while.”
“Which is why you must continue practicing, Buffy. You’ve neglected your training for far too long.”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”
“If you do not get it right, the next vampire or demon you face may be your last.”
Buffy glared at him, blowing a stray hair from her face. They stared at each other for a moment, neither one giving ground. Then Buffy looked away and grabbed her water bottle. Taking a swig, she straightened and faced Wesley.
“Okay. You’ve got a point. Show me the stance again.”
Wesley nodded and approached her. He showed her, arranging her hands and legs just so when she wasn’t getting it. Buffy tried to ignore the warmth of his hands and the tingle she felt at every touch. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t like Wesley like that, didn’t want to like Wesley like that. She had a good thing with Xander.
“So, how’s business?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
“It’s going well. Anya had papers for me this morning. I now own twenty percent of the Magic Box. There is no need to worry about my financial security. Now, no more attempts at distraction, Buffy. Proceed.”
He assumed a defensive stance. Buffy took a breath, forcing herself to focus. She attacked. Left hook, right uppercut, swing, pivot, repeat. Wesley kept up with her, nodding in approval as she moved through the routine. Then she came to the part she that was giving her trouble.
Roundhouse kick, punch, feint, leg sweep, lunge. The lunge was what threw her. She wasn’t fast enough coming up from the leg sweep. Wesley countered with an arm block and she missed. Colliding into him they both tumbled to the mat.
Buffy panted and blinked, finding herself on top of Wesley. Their faces were inches apart from one another. She attempted to shift her weight and…oh! Wes let out what sounded like a groan. Buffy looked at him, his gaze intense, his cheeks red.
“Buffy….”
She leaned down, closed the gap between them and kissed him. It was soft and gentle at first, but Wes shifted and his hand came up. It moved to the back of her neck bringing her closer. He was kissing her back, harder. Buffy responded. Then her brain kicked in. She rolled off Wes. They were both breathless and flushed.
“Oh god,” she muttered.
“Buffy, I’m sorry.”
“No, Wes, I….” She got up, grabbed her bag. “I can’t….” She ran, not looking back.