A groan slips out as he cups my erection. My hips buck into his hand automatically. “God, yes,” I hiss, my eye closing for a moment. Savoring the feeling of his hand there. One of the placed I’d had given up on feeling it years ago. Big, strong hands roaming over my body, rubbing over my crotch. Just the way I had always imagined it when I wanked off to the image, alone in the shower. So gentle and caring that it makes me crave for more
( ... )
His chest is muscled and lean against mine, little sparks flying through me when our nipples touch while we writh together, both of us trying to find more friction, more heat, more of each other. What a well hidden secret, this tight, strong body Wes has that's rubbing sinously against mine
( ... )
This is too much and to little at the same time. I can feel my body heat rising, a sheen of sweat starting to cover my skin. It's to hot, and not even his cool body against mine is enough to tamper it. I need more; I need to feel more skin then what I'm feeling now
( ... )
He doesn't pull away and I can hear his heartbeat start to race, but I don't smell the fear I expected and cock jumps at the thought of biting him. Of him liking it. Begging for it. The thought makes me lick his neck and stifle a groan, but I can't, not now. Not this time. Maybe someday. If there is a someday.
His words tear into me. Anything you want. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve his devotion. I don't deserve to feel this good. He's will to give me anything and everything and all I've done- Not the time, Angel. He needs to know how much he's worth. I want to reassure him that he's everything. "You. Always you, Wes. I- God, that feels so good." Barely choking back on telling him I love him, my body helps disintegrate any other thoughts than pleasure when his hand wraps hotly around me. He's eager, I let him pull my pants down to give him better access.
The sight of him on his knees in front of me, and asking permission to taste me makes me press forward towards him. His breath teasing rapidly over the
( ... )
When we pull back from that rather fierce kiss and he promises me soon, I look into his eyes and smile. It's a breathy smile, since I'm having a bit of difficult getting some actual oxygen in my lungs. I cup his faced in my hand and rub my thumb over a cheekbone. My eyes lock onto his as he leans in for a much slower kiss. I groan into his mouth as I rub my tongue against his, my cock sliding against his stomach at the same pace
( ... )
His growl and the bite to my shoulder makes the demon surge to the surface, wanting to just take him and take him hard. I have to grip his hips to hold myself from ramming straight into him. It's a small miracle that I don't anyway. He's so hard and ready, and the sweat drenching his skin makes him so beautiful, I can't tear my eyes away
( ... )
A raspy gasp escapes me when I finally feel a finger circle my entrance. When it presses in at the same time I feel cool, wet lips wrap around the tip of my erection, I let out a cry. My back arched off the sofa, needing more of the lovely mouth. Beautiful mouth, torturous mouth. I shift around the fingers thrusting into my arse, moaning as I push back against them
( ... )
The kiss he gives me when I enter him is heartbreaking. I know it must hurt, but he keeps urging me on, the need to come overriding the burn of friction for both of us. His kisses get heavier, needier, and I kiss him back with all the need that's been boiling inside me for so long. And he's so tight around me. So hot. I push further into his heat, still moving slowly, but enjoying the slow steady ache being ripped from my body. He moves against me, meeting each thrust, making me wonder how much closer to perfect this could possibly get
( ... )
I love the way he moves against me. He's got these little shifts and squirms down to some kind of unconscious artform meant to drive me completely crazy. It's like his body has been storing up tricks over the years to use just on me. The thought that Wes might have imagined the two of us like this over and over makes something drop in my gut. A slow burn catches there, but also the knowledge that I need to get this right. For all those lost years that he never had anybody. Or that he had to turn to LilahI give a little chuckle when he gets flustered over what words to use. "Love listening to you talk, Wes." A lot. Probably a little too much for everyday office conversations, but nothing I can't deal with later most days. I'm close to his voicebox and can almost feel the little vibrations going through his throat. And he's still so fucking hot against me. I could stay like this forever. Might actually get warm someday, all the heat radiating from him. I pull him a little closer, drinking in the heat and leaning in to the
( ... )
My eyebrow rises when it becomes apparent he's lost complete track of the conversation we were having. Well, not completely, we *were* discussing taking a shower. Though, I have the idea he's only heard the fact that I do have a shower next to my office. A luxiourous one at that. "I think it's more then big enough for two," I say quietly, giving him a small smile.
Right, a shower is called for. Steeling myself to get off him and toward the shower, I give him a confused look when he catches my hand and cups my face with his free one. The look on his face it quite serious and I somehow doubt this has anything to do with showers. "Angel? What is it?"
A flutter skips the beat of my heart at his words. He doesn't care who knows. I suppose telling him that there had been guesses even before this, long before this, would be a mood breaker. Though, his serious face, the worry on it, makes mine plummet a bit. I don't like him being worried. He has enough on his mind, even if I don't know what it is he's worried about this time. I search his
( ... )
His response to me kissing his throat is surprising every time. I keep thinking he's going to shudder in revulsion, but every time I get the lightest smell of arousal when he offers his neck and shudders. It's intoxicating...and not helping me stay away from his neck at all
( ... )
Oh. There goes my heart again, doing that little flutter thing. If he keeps this up I’m really going to have an attack with the way it’s been beating irregular and skipping beats the last…hour or so. But the moment he said the word ‘protective’, I just couldn’t help myself. It’s still there, that feeling I thought would be long gone. That feeling of wanting to be protected by him, of wanting to feel safe with him, because of him. The feeling of being possessed by him
( ... )
The only real indication I have that I screamed rather loud is the sore throat I currently have. Thank the lord this place it soundproof. It feels familiar, and for a moment I am reminded of how it felt when I had my throat slit. Of that time when I was all alone, feeling even more desperate because the one man I'd do everything for wanted me dead. I had lost the only real person who was important to him and he wanted me dead
( ... )
It's better than a deep breath, seeing him so loose and sated. His shy smile is one more thing to file away, because it's so different. Such a different face than I've seen in a long time. He's still in there, that young, sweet man who can still make me smile. My brain takes a quick left turn and I suck in a breath when his hand latches onto my cock, a python coiled around its prey.
"Jesus. Ah." His hand is sure and steady, stroking, and stroking, and stroking some more. "Not a problem. Really." I manage to bite out. I've used you enough for a lifetime, I don't want to continue a trend. His hand on my cock though... Definitely not making the 'problem' go away.
"You were so good. You don't have to-" He slows down, and it seems like I can feel every ridge of his handprint riding slowly along my cock.
What do I want? My hand tightens on the back of his neck dragging him forward for a kiss, my teeth pulling at his bottom lip hoping to distract his hand, and maybe his brain from the question.
A crooked smile appears on my face at his exclamation. It only succeeded in my tightening my grip even more. He's a vampire, walking a fine line between pain and pleasure. Far more toward the pain side of that line and I'd be able to give him. This saddens me a bit, but I'll do my best to please him as much as he pleased me
( ... )
Every touch is perfect; he plays me so easily. I want to make this ache last, but I'm close and we both know it. Hearing him say he wants to doesn't make any of this less arousing. Even through the kiss his hand never faltered, kept trying to pull me over the edge. Just like he does with everything else. Always steady, always true. Even if it would make me hate him.
His tongue spreads an invisible sheen of blood across his lip, and I don't know which is more intoxicating, the blood I can only smell, or way he brushes his tongue so quicly over his lip like I might still be there if he can catch me fast enough. He tells me I have him, but instantly I wonder: for how long? When are you going to get taken away? When is someone better going to come along? What's going to happen when I have to shove you away...
"Harder," I whisper, as if I don't want to admit it. I know he knows I like the pain, but it just feels weird to say it outloud. To Wes. That bumbling, blushing Watcher who bounced on his heels and waited for an
( ... )
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His words tear into me. Anything you want. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve his devotion. I don't deserve to feel this good. He's will to give me anything and everything and all I've done- Not the time, Angel. He needs to know how much he's worth. I want to reassure him that he's everything. "You. Always you, Wes. I- God, that feels so good." Barely choking back on telling him I love him, my body helps disintegrate any other thoughts than pleasure when his hand wraps hotly around me. He's eager, I let him pull my pants down to give him better access.
The sight of him on his knees in front of me, and asking permission to taste me makes me press forward towards him. His breath teasing rapidly over the ( ... )
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Right, a shower is called for. Steeling myself to get off him and toward the shower, I give him a confused look when he catches my hand and cups my face with his free one. The look on his face it quite serious and I somehow doubt this has anything to do with showers. "Angel? What is it?"
A flutter skips the beat of my heart at his words. He doesn't care who knows. I suppose telling him that there had been guesses even before this, long before this, would be a mood breaker. Though, his serious face, the worry on it, makes mine plummet a bit. I don't like him being worried. He has enough on his mind, even if I don't know what it is he's worried about this time. I search his ( ... )
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"Jesus. Ah." His hand is sure and steady, stroking, and stroking, and stroking some more. "Not a problem. Really." I manage to bite out. I've used you enough for a lifetime, I don't want to continue a trend. His hand on my cock though... Definitely not making the 'problem' go away.
"You were so good. You don't have to-" He slows down, and it seems like I can feel every ridge of his handprint riding slowly along my cock.
What do I want? My hand tightens on the back of his neck dragging him forward for a kiss, my teeth pulling at his bottom lip hoping to distract his hand, and maybe his brain from the question.
I want... Cordy. Safe and ( ... )
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His tongue spreads an invisible sheen of blood across his lip, and I don't know which is more intoxicating, the blood I can only smell, or way he brushes his tongue so quicly over his lip like I might still be there if he can catch me fast enough. He tells me I have him, but instantly I wonder: for how long? When are you going to get taken away? When is someone better going to come along? What's going to happen when I have to shove you away...
"Harder," I whisper, as if I don't want to admit it. I know he knows I like the pain, but it just feels weird to say it outloud. To Wes. That bumbling, blushing Watcher who bounced on his heels and waited for an ( ... )
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