Okay, definitely not ignoring. Freaking out, as Harmony would say.
"Hey! Ow." I whine in protest, not out of pain, but shock. What the hell was that? What am I talking about? What the hell is he talking about? The urge to get up and walk out of there is pretty damned tempting. It's a lot easier to run away than it is to listen to him say this stuff and glare at me, like I just told him Fred hated tacos. But his arms are locked around me pretty tight. Tight to keep me there, but tight that also means that he believes this stuff. I guess he can believe what he wants to believe
( ... )
Good lord, was that a whine? Of course it was. It's not as though I've not heard it before, but it *has* been quite a while. And it stings a little that the reason I've not heard that is because we've not been very close. Before the mind wipe. We were getting there, but I was so certain it would never be the same again. I guess I was wrong. Very wrong
( ... )
Okay, good, changing gears. This I can do. Praising Wes, piece of cake.
"If we're going with lovely, mmm," I moan at what he's doing to my neck, "you're lovelier. And that thing you're doing? Pretty lovely, too. Ah!" I gasp a little when he starts nipping my throat. If I hadn't just come... I slide my arms around his waist enclosing him in the same grip he's got me in. "Hot, might be a more masculine adjective. And you are that, Wes. Dangerous, too. Gonna be the end of me, if you keep that up
( ... )
“Do the Irish say ‘lovely’?” I murmur amused against his neck. I’d let the subject slide for now. But I wasn’t about to forget it, I wasn’t about to let him forget it either. He could, for now, but when it came to that, I was like a small terrier. Well, at least that’s what Cordy always said. God, I miss Cordy and I really ought not think about her to much while standing naked under the shower with our arms locked around each other
( ... )
I feel a growl rising (he's obviously not okay, but not willing to let a few things slide to take care of himself), along with the urge to be protective and tell him what he needs to do. He never puts himself first, always work, so now's my chance to try to get him to take a break and sleep or grieve or whatever. But I don't do either. He’s not my property. I should get used to that. This is work, and he knows what’s best. We didn't get this far by having me tell my top researcher to take the day off just because we had sex. Can't let this interfere with what needs to be done. One concession now and I'll be telling him all about the Circle, and letting him convince me not to do it
( ... )
The moment I draw back and pull up the wall again, I can actually see him recoil from it. Is it because of what we shared just now that I see this? Or did I just not want to see how he did it before? Or did I simply not see it? It hurts, it hurts as much as the walls around me. They come up easily these days. Walls which took years to carefully construct. New walls wrapped in insanity to keep sanity and the horrible pain away
( ... )
I'm going to miss that smile. Even if it's only until tonight. It's a beautiful thing, Wes smiling. But the fact that he doesn't remember what we were talking about makes me wonder what else is going on in his brain. I try to hide my curiosity when I look across the desk at Wes. Normally, he'd be telling me what we were talking about. Guess he was in a worse place than I thought. Or you really wore him out just now. The thought makes me want to smile, but there's Hamilton to talk about so any residual happiness fades fast.
"He's a nuisance. Worse than Eve. I need him out of my way for awhile, Wes." I look around his office, and notice the books everywhere, and the spilled whiskey on the floor. Is he really going to be able to handle this? And come back to you the same man? "I can't just tell him to go away though, he'd be even more curious about why I want him gone. I need someone to handle him for me. Be my liaison liaison." I smile a little at my play on words, but immediately fall back into serious mode
( ... )
Trying to get comfortable, while sitting down, after our activities, isn’t really something that is actually possible. I’m guessing I’ll be feeling this for days to come. Which brings a smile to my face, as it really don’t mind this kind of pain. It seems to ground me, make me feel what Angel and I shared was real. That it wasn’t one of my rather frequent illusions of late. And I’d had a lot of those. Wasn’t sure they were really gone. They seemed to come and go whenever they wished
( ... )
"Mhmm." I moan lightly against his mouth. Wasn't expecting that. How can this man make me feel so safe? There isn't a place I'd rather be than here with Wes's lips breathing over mine. I kiss him back lightly and let out lips part, but it's so intoxicating, I don't even notice I'm kissing him again.
Just a little taste of his lips, that's all, then we'll stop. His mouth practically invites me in. "Pretty boy." I murmur and take another taste. "Sound better?" I say between our mouths, just as low, and take one more kiss. "My boy." It comes out hard and low, and much more possessive than I thought it would. I pause too look at him, see if he's getting the message but his mouth is parted so nicely and I decide one more kiss won't hurt. He doesn't make this easy, the way his mouth keeps meeting mine, like he's going to let me keep kissing him as long as I want. Forever probably. And I can't keep from kissing him back
( ... )
Kissing Angel, I can already tell this though I must’ve known this for a very long time, is something I’ll never grow tired off. I’ve dreamed about it, imagined it, just as I’ve imagined and pictured us together a hundred, if not more, times before. And every time it had been wonderful, or even glorious if one wishes to be melodramatic. But the picture I painted for myself is just a bleak replica compared to the real thing. His mouth is firm as it presses on mine, though his lips are gentle and soft. His hand holding mine is like an anchor, yet holding on with so much are, as though he thinks I might break at any moment
( ... )
I like the way he looks at me so intently, like there's a puzzle to be solved on my face. I try to smile, and my cheek runs into his warm hand on my face. It's a good feeling, being caught in his warmth. A little sigh escapes. He's right, there's work to do. I should go corner Hamilton. Get that squared away
( ... )
Comments 25
"Hey! Ow." I whine in protest, not out of pain, but shock. What the hell was that? What am I talking about? What the hell is he talking about? The urge to get up and walk out of there is pretty damned tempting. It's a lot easier to run away than it is to listen to him say this stuff and glare at me, like I just told him Fred hated tacos. But his arms are locked around me pretty tight. Tight to keep me there, but tight that also means that he believes this stuff. I guess he can believe what he wants to believe ( ... )
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"If we're going with lovely, mmm," I moan at what he's doing to my neck, "you're lovelier. And that thing you're doing? Pretty lovely, too. Ah!" I gasp a little when he starts nipping my throat. If I hadn't just come... I slide my arms around his waist enclosing him in the same grip he's got me in. "Hot, might be a more masculine adjective. And you are that, Wes. Dangerous, too. Gonna be the end of me, if you keep that up ( ... )
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"He's a nuisance. Worse than Eve. I need him out of my way for awhile, Wes." I look around his office, and notice the books everywhere, and the spilled whiskey on the floor. Is he really going to be able to handle this? And come back to you the same man? "I can't just tell him to go away though, he'd be even more curious about why I want him gone. I need someone to handle him for me. Be my liaison liaison." I smile a little at my play on words, but immediately fall back into serious mode ( ... )
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Just a little taste of his lips, that's all, then we'll stop. His mouth practically invites me in. "Pretty boy." I murmur and take another taste. "Sound better?" I say between our mouths, just as low, and take one more kiss. "My boy." It comes out hard and low, and much more possessive than I thought it would. I pause too look at him, see if he's getting the message but his mouth is parted so nicely and I decide one more kiss won't hurt. He doesn't make this easy, the way his mouth keeps meeting mine, like he's going to let me keep kissing him as long as I want. Forever probably. And I can't keep from kissing him back ( ... )
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