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A hot bath, an imminent cold drink and all children in bed have cheered me up somewhat, though I'm still snuffly and throaty. I saw this meme floating around and it looked like fun. I hadn't realised how many first kisses I'd done, but these are some I like. Umm. R rated in bits, I guess, if anyone who reads me cares, heh.
The sticky stuff is donut jelly btw ::grin::.
(Giles/Oz)
Shifting Like Sand
Oz’s eyes lock onto his and there’s something deep inside that’s new. Giles feels his neck prickle with atavistic alarm. Oz reaches out to the stickiness on Giles’ hand again and pauses, his finger hovering. Then he scoops up a fingerful and moves it towards Giles’ mouth instead of his own.
Then the taste of sweetness is lying against his lips and he’s moaning around Oz’s finger as it thrusts inside his mouth, his tongue laving it, his teeth nipping at it and Oz is straddling his lap and they’re kissing, wild and rough kisses, panting against each other, falling to the ground, rolling and ripping at clothes, until Giles stops, pushes himself up and looks down at Oz.
The green eyes narrow and Giles shakes his head. It isn’t fear of discovery that halts him; the library might as well not exist for most of the students. It isn’t fear of consequences either.
No; as Giles stands, straightens clothing and walks over to swallow the last of his lukewarm coffee, he’s thinking that now he knows he’s not alone in this...trade, they’ll play it his way. Without looking at Oz, he says, casually, “Last night of full moon tonight. Tomorrow night I want you here again. Waiting for me. In the cage. Naked.”
Oz stands with a fluid, dangerous grace that was his before the wolf and walks over to Giles. He’s smiling and his lips are in that lovely wide curve. His fingers reach, dance and slide over the hard length outlined clearly and Giles feels his breath catch on a sob.
“Sure...,” Oz says agreeably. “If you’re waiting outside it naked when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
And their eyes meet and Giles begins to laugh.
Equals.
(Spike/Xander)
Predatory Acts
“It’s good to be a little scared, you know. I won’t mind.” The voice was insinuating now, mocking but not unfriendly. Xander wanted it to stop it talking. He was having trouble with words; trouble making them fit what was inside his mind. He was shedding concepts as a snake sheds skin and he had a feeling that if he thought about what he was doing he might find a reason to stop. He didn’t want to stop.
“Going to have you now. Last chance to run. I’ll catch you, of course, but I’ll let you try.”
Xander grinned, feeling assurance flood back, as though the very idea of running away had freed him from fear. It was his lips that took Spike’s, a simple hard press of skin on skin at first. He’d kissed girls before – not many, but some. They had giggled, noses and teeth bumping his own awkwardly, mouths gaping like foolish fish. He had done his best to match their movements but he couldn’t say that it had been as much fun as he’d expected. This was different. The lips against his were cool and firm, opening up just enough to let their tongues meet. The kiss deepened and suddenly Xander was moaning, little whimpering noises, wrapping his arms around Spike, feeling Spike’s hands move down his back, palms flat, stroking him through his cotton shirt. The hands pulled impatiently and his shirt came untucked. When Spike’s hands slid against his skin Xander felt his hips jerk forward reflexively. When the vampire’s nails scored his back, raking it from shoulder blades to waist, he threw back his head and howled, the sound torn from him, leaving him emptier of humanity than he had been before.
Spike laughed, eyes sparkling with appreciation. This was going to make up for the long journey and all the crawling he’d had to do. The lad was such an intriguing mix of naivety and lust. No time to teach him much, but Spike decided that he wanted more than he could take in an alley. He thought of Drusilla but she was far away and this – this was nothing. It didn’t count.
“Listen, mate. This place is going to be crawling soon when they kick the kiddies out of that club. Let’s go somewhere quieter.” Spike caught Xander’s arm and tugged at him.
Xander annoyed him by looking down at the body on the floor, hesitating at the thought of leaving her. The woman was starting to move, her hands groping, scrabbling pathetically against the ground. Spike cursed mildly and went to her, dropping to his knees and looking up at Xander. “Come on then – do it fast.”
Xander fell to his knees beside Spike, head tilting as he looked at the woman. “She’s dying...”
“Yeah, think I took a bit much. She’s not going to make it.” Spike’s fangs flashed as he grinned. “Be a kindness to put her out of her misery.” With a swift, practiced, movement he bent his head and tore out her throat, drinking for a moment before thrusting her at Xander.
(Xander/Spike)
Errand Boy Blues
He does just as I tell him and it’s enough to make my teeth dig into my bottom lip hard enough to draw...oh, God I did. I’m bleeding slightly and his eyes just flared hot and if I thought he looked good before, I’m going to have to invent a new word now, because he’s leaning back, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped around his cock, sliding long fingers, loosely curled, up and down, mesmerising me.
“Want me to kiss that better?”
I crawl up the bed, knocking his hand away, grabbing it and pinning it with the other above his head. I can feel the bones move as his fist clenches then relaxes. “You don’t get to touch it now,” I say. “My turn. My toy.”
He arches beneath me, rubbing it against me and yeah, I compared them. It’s a guy thing, right? I’m thicker. He’s longer. We’re both hard. Does it need to get fancier than that? I don’t think so. The rubbing is like two cats saying hello, bumping and slithering past each other, over and over. I’m panting, my head goes back and I’m jerking my hips, once, twice, stopping with an effort and then doing it once more, just because I can.
He’s looking at my mouth, looking at the smudge of red, and he’s in just the right place that I can dip my head and kiss him without an effort. clever Spike. He deserves a reward. He eats my mouth, delicate laps of his tongue against my lips, not a kiss, not ever, getting faster, biting down - and I swear the fangs came out and he forced them back. I want to feed him then, just in that moment, want to offer him my throat, but chip or not, something saves me and I pull back and slide down that body, licking and kissing and biting as I go, making him moan and curse and say my name, over and over until it’s echoing in my ears. Then he’s in my mouth, layered smooth hardness, tasting of need, smelling of sex. I know that smell. It’s been on my hands too often not to recognise it now.
(Hester/Peter) They're OCs in a historical fic I wrote set when the Mayor was founding Sunnydale. He's a Watcher, her sister's just been turned. Might go and read it again; forgotten what happens.
The Alperts Chapter Seven
Peter froze for a second, mouth hanging open, trying to process what Hester had just said. When he succeeded, he ran after her, scooped her up in his arms and took her back inside, ignoring her pummeling fists and grinning at the inventiveness of her cursing.
“Tsk, that’s not the way a lady talks,” he said reprovingly, dropping her on the couch and standing between her and the door. Without taking his eyes off her he shut the door with a kick and said firmly, “Killing Wilkins is impossible, Hester and will only lead to your death. He’s already sent vampires after you, remember. Besides, what weapon do you have?”
Hester stood up and pulled a stake from her purse. “This should do the job, I think,” she replied. Her attitude was one of collected, icy calm, as if struggling wildly in the arms of a man was something that happened to other women, but not to her.
Peter sighed. “He’s not a vampire,” he pointed out sarcastically. Hester said nothing, pointedly, and he flushed. “Very well; it could still kill him, but you seem to forget that you are a woman, a young, not overly strong woman and he is a man. There’s a certain advantage he has over you when it comes to speed and strength. How could you get close enough to use your weapon?”
Hester’s head drooped and he heard a catch in her voice as if she were beginning to cry. “You’re right, of course, Peter. You must forgive me. It’s all been such a shock and I’m so worried about Sophie –” She looked up and he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. As he began to stammer reassurances, she walked towards him slowly, her full lips trembling. Resting one slender hand on his sleeve, she looked up at him beseechingly. “Won’t you help me, Peter? Please? I need you and - I think you’re dead now.”
“What? I’m what?”
A sharp pain shot through him and he looked down to see that she had the stake pressed hard against him, her lips now set in a thin, mutinous line. “That is how I would get close enough!” she hissed, pulling the stake back.
“Oh!”
A strained silence fell. Hester stood, tapping the stake against her open palm as she waited for him to speak. Peter sighed, raising his hand to rumple his hair, a rueful smile spreading over his face. “I can see I underestimated you, Hester.”
She relaxed and his hand swept down, slapping the stake away and coming back to lash against her face. He halted the blow, the back of his hand lying against her cheek and saw the colour drain from her face. Furious with her for provoking him and himself for responding, he took refuge in instinct, grabbing her shoulders and kissing her, his lips hard and demanding. Hester had never been kissed like this before. Hasty, fumbled caresses in secluded corners at dances, yes, but not often, and they had been as arousing as a visit to the dentist. This was different. Peter knew what he was doing and as pleasure rippled through her body, she realised, to her surprise that she did too.
The kiss ceased to be a battle and became a striving towards a mutual goal. Hester was barely aware of her surroundings. Peter’s mouth on hers, his hands, his body, were all that mattered and for a few minutes that was enough. Then, reluctantly, she remembered Sophie and that was enough to break the spell.
Peter groaned as she pulled away from him. He could not believe that he had acted so rashly and he waited, resigned, for the flash of her hand as she slapped him, or her icy voice raised in a reprimand. As ever, Hester refused to act as he expected. She gave him a shy smile and blushed slightly. Peter felt his heart tear in half and realised through the buzzing in his ears that he had fallen in love with her, not with the kiss, but with the smile.
Fred/Lilah
Done in the name of Love
“Are you trying to be funny here? Guess not. You turned your back on him, remember? When I do that, it’s so he can get at my ass with his tongue.”
Fred’s hand came up and cracked across Lilah’s face. “You’ve got a dirty mouth,” she said. “Your momma should’ve washed it out with soap more often.”
Lilah’s hand came up and rested on the scarlet handprint Fred had left on her cheek. “Wonder if seeing this will turn him on, knowing it’s from you?” Fred shuddered suddenly, her palm burning coldly where it had lain against Lilah’s face. Lilah moved in closer, forcing her against the wall without touching her. “I think it will. Want to pass on any other messages? I’m sure he’d like a kiss.”
Fred’s eyes opened wide and then Lilah’s mouth was brushing hers, full lips, smooth with lipstick, red and cool as a strawberry popsicle. Her eyes closed as the kiss deepened, her lips parting just enough to let Lilah’s tongue slide along them, leaving them tingling like her hand. Lilah pulled back, looking at her with satisfaction. “Oh, he’ll love kissing me after that,” she murmured.
Fred’s hand came up and she scrubbed at her mouth violently, trying to hide the fact that the kiss had been as refreshing as rain, as light as petals drifting down from a blossoming tree to brush against her lips. Lilah reached up and captured her wrist. “Don’t do that. The last person I kissed was Wesley; it’s like he’s right here with us, isn’t it?”
Fred shook her head, the image of Wesley’s mouth on Lilah impossible to escape. “Leave me alone,” she said, shivering in Lilah’s grip, her body starting to flush with sudden, unexpected warmth. What was the matter with her, she thought as the heat mounted. Feverish, so hot...was she sick?
Lilah’s lips thinned. “Shouldn’t have hit me if you wanted that.”
The sticky stuff is donut jelly btw ::grin::.
(Giles/Oz)
Shifting Like Sand
Oz’s eyes lock onto his and there’s something deep inside that’s new. Giles feels his neck prickle with atavistic alarm. Oz reaches out to the stickiness on Giles’ hand again and pauses, his finger hovering. Then he scoops up a fingerful and moves it towards Giles’ mouth instead of his own.
Then the taste of sweetness is lying against his lips and he’s moaning around Oz’s finger as it thrusts inside his mouth, his tongue laving it, his teeth nipping at it and Oz is straddling his lap and they’re kissing, wild and rough kisses, panting against each other, falling to the ground, rolling and ripping at clothes, until Giles stops, pushes himself up and looks down at Oz.
The green eyes narrow and Giles shakes his head. It isn’t fear of discovery that halts him; the library might as well not exist for most of the students. It isn’t fear of consequences either.
No; as Giles stands, straightens clothing and walks over to swallow the last of his lukewarm coffee, he’s thinking that now he knows he’s not alone in this...trade, they’ll play it his way. Without looking at Oz, he says, casually, “Last night of full moon tonight. Tomorrow night I want you here again. Waiting for me. In the cage. Naked.”
Oz stands with a fluid, dangerous grace that was his before the wolf and walks over to Giles. He’s smiling and his lips are in that lovely wide curve. His fingers reach, dance and slide over the hard length outlined clearly and Giles feels his breath catch on a sob.
“Sure...,” Oz says agreeably. “If you’re waiting outside it naked when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
And their eyes meet and Giles begins to laugh.
Equals.
(Spike/Xander)
Predatory Acts
“It’s good to be a little scared, you know. I won’t mind.” The voice was insinuating now, mocking but not unfriendly. Xander wanted it to stop it talking. He was having trouble with words; trouble making them fit what was inside his mind. He was shedding concepts as a snake sheds skin and he had a feeling that if he thought about what he was doing he might find a reason to stop. He didn’t want to stop.
“Going to have you now. Last chance to run. I’ll catch you, of course, but I’ll let you try.”
Xander grinned, feeling assurance flood back, as though the very idea of running away had freed him from fear. It was his lips that took Spike’s, a simple hard press of skin on skin at first. He’d kissed girls before – not many, but some. They had giggled, noses and teeth bumping his own awkwardly, mouths gaping like foolish fish. He had done his best to match their movements but he couldn’t say that it had been as much fun as he’d expected. This was different. The lips against his were cool and firm, opening up just enough to let their tongues meet. The kiss deepened and suddenly Xander was moaning, little whimpering noises, wrapping his arms around Spike, feeling Spike’s hands move down his back, palms flat, stroking him through his cotton shirt. The hands pulled impatiently and his shirt came untucked. When Spike’s hands slid against his skin Xander felt his hips jerk forward reflexively. When the vampire’s nails scored his back, raking it from shoulder blades to waist, he threw back his head and howled, the sound torn from him, leaving him emptier of humanity than he had been before.
Spike laughed, eyes sparkling with appreciation. This was going to make up for the long journey and all the crawling he’d had to do. The lad was such an intriguing mix of naivety and lust. No time to teach him much, but Spike decided that he wanted more than he could take in an alley. He thought of Drusilla but she was far away and this – this was nothing. It didn’t count.
“Listen, mate. This place is going to be crawling soon when they kick the kiddies out of that club. Let’s go somewhere quieter.” Spike caught Xander’s arm and tugged at him.
Xander annoyed him by looking down at the body on the floor, hesitating at the thought of leaving her. The woman was starting to move, her hands groping, scrabbling pathetically against the ground. Spike cursed mildly and went to her, dropping to his knees and looking up at Xander. “Come on then – do it fast.”
Xander fell to his knees beside Spike, head tilting as he looked at the woman. “She’s dying...”
“Yeah, think I took a bit much. She’s not going to make it.” Spike’s fangs flashed as he grinned. “Be a kindness to put her out of her misery.” With a swift, practiced, movement he bent his head and tore out her throat, drinking for a moment before thrusting her at Xander.
(Xander/Spike)
Errand Boy Blues
He does just as I tell him and it’s enough to make my teeth dig into my bottom lip hard enough to draw...oh, God I did. I’m bleeding slightly and his eyes just flared hot and if I thought he looked good before, I’m going to have to invent a new word now, because he’s leaning back, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped around his cock, sliding long fingers, loosely curled, up and down, mesmerising me.
“Want me to kiss that better?”
I crawl up the bed, knocking his hand away, grabbing it and pinning it with the other above his head. I can feel the bones move as his fist clenches then relaxes. “You don’t get to touch it now,” I say. “My turn. My toy.”
He arches beneath me, rubbing it against me and yeah, I compared them. It’s a guy thing, right? I’m thicker. He’s longer. We’re both hard. Does it need to get fancier than that? I don’t think so. The rubbing is like two cats saying hello, bumping and slithering past each other, over and over. I’m panting, my head goes back and I’m jerking my hips, once, twice, stopping with an effort and then doing it once more, just because I can.
He’s looking at my mouth, looking at the smudge of red, and he’s in just the right place that I can dip my head and kiss him without an effort. clever Spike. He deserves a reward. He eats my mouth, delicate laps of his tongue against my lips, not a kiss, not ever, getting faster, biting down - and I swear the fangs came out and he forced them back. I want to feed him then, just in that moment, want to offer him my throat, but chip or not, something saves me and I pull back and slide down that body, licking and kissing and biting as I go, making him moan and curse and say my name, over and over until it’s echoing in my ears. Then he’s in my mouth, layered smooth hardness, tasting of need, smelling of sex. I know that smell. It’s been on my hands too often not to recognise it now.
(Hester/Peter) They're OCs in a historical fic I wrote set when the Mayor was founding Sunnydale. He's a Watcher, her sister's just been turned. Might go and read it again; forgotten what happens.
The Alperts Chapter Seven
Peter froze for a second, mouth hanging open, trying to process what Hester had just said. When he succeeded, he ran after her, scooped her up in his arms and took her back inside, ignoring her pummeling fists and grinning at the inventiveness of her cursing.
“Tsk, that’s not the way a lady talks,” he said reprovingly, dropping her on the couch and standing between her and the door. Without taking his eyes off her he shut the door with a kick and said firmly, “Killing Wilkins is impossible, Hester and will only lead to your death. He’s already sent vampires after you, remember. Besides, what weapon do you have?”
Hester stood up and pulled a stake from her purse. “This should do the job, I think,” she replied. Her attitude was one of collected, icy calm, as if struggling wildly in the arms of a man was something that happened to other women, but not to her.
Peter sighed. “He’s not a vampire,” he pointed out sarcastically. Hester said nothing, pointedly, and he flushed. “Very well; it could still kill him, but you seem to forget that you are a woman, a young, not overly strong woman and he is a man. There’s a certain advantage he has over you when it comes to speed and strength. How could you get close enough to use your weapon?”
Hester’s head drooped and he heard a catch in her voice as if she were beginning to cry. “You’re right, of course, Peter. You must forgive me. It’s all been such a shock and I’m so worried about Sophie –” She looked up and he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. As he began to stammer reassurances, she walked towards him slowly, her full lips trembling. Resting one slender hand on his sleeve, she looked up at him beseechingly. “Won’t you help me, Peter? Please? I need you and - I think you’re dead now.”
“What? I’m what?”
A sharp pain shot through him and he looked down to see that she had the stake pressed hard against him, her lips now set in a thin, mutinous line. “That is how I would get close enough!” she hissed, pulling the stake back.
“Oh!”
A strained silence fell. Hester stood, tapping the stake against her open palm as she waited for him to speak. Peter sighed, raising his hand to rumple his hair, a rueful smile spreading over his face. “I can see I underestimated you, Hester.”
She relaxed and his hand swept down, slapping the stake away and coming back to lash against her face. He halted the blow, the back of his hand lying against her cheek and saw the colour drain from her face. Furious with her for provoking him and himself for responding, he took refuge in instinct, grabbing her shoulders and kissing her, his lips hard and demanding. Hester had never been kissed like this before. Hasty, fumbled caresses in secluded corners at dances, yes, but not often, and they had been as arousing as a visit to the dentist. This was different. Peter knew what he was doing and as pleasure rippled through her body, she realised, to her surprise that she did too.
The kiss ceased to be a battle and became a striving towards a mutual goal. Hester was barely aware of her surroundings. Peter’s mouth on hers, his hands, his body, were all that mattered and for a few minutes that was enough. Then, reluctantly, she remembered Sophie and that was enough to break the spell.
Peter groaned as she pulled away from him. He could not believe that he had acted so rashly and he waited, resigned, for the flash of her hand as she slapped him, or her icy voice raised in a reprimand. As ever, Hester refused to act as he expected. She gave him a shy smile and blushed slightly. Peter felt his heart tear in half and realised through the buzzing in his ears that he had fallen in love with her, not with the kiss, but with the smile.
Fred/Lilah
Done in the name of Love
“Are you trying to be funny here? Guess not. You turned your back on him, remember? When I do that, it’s so he can get at my ass with his tongue.”
Fred’s hand came up and cracked across Lilah’s face. “You’ve got a dirty mouth,” she said. “Your momma should’ve washed it out with soap more often.”
Lilah’s hand came up and rested on the scarlet handprint Fred had left on her cheek. “Wonder if seeing this will turn him on, knowing it’s from you?” Fred shuddered suddenly, her palm burning coldly where it had lain against Lilah’s face. Lilah moved in closer, forcing her against the wall without touching her. “I think it will. Want to pass on any other messages? I’m sure he’d like a kiss.”
Fred’s eyes opened wide and then Lilah’s mouth was brushing hers, full lips, smooth with lipstick, red and cool as a strawberry popsicle. Her eyes closed as the kiss deepened, her lips parting just enough to let Lilah’s tongue slide along them, leaving them tingling like her hand. Lilah pulled back, looking at her with satisfaction. “Oh, he’ll love kissing me after that,” she murmured.
Fred’s hand came up and she scrubbed at her mouth violently, trying to hide the fact that the kiss had been as refreshing as rain, as light as petals drifting down from a blossoming tree to brush against her lips. Lilah reached up and captured her wrist. “Don’t do that. The last person I kissed was Wesley; it’s like he’s right here with us, isn’t it?”
Fred shook her head, the image of Wesley’s mouth on Lilah impossible to escape. “Leave me alone,” she said, shivering in Lilah’s grip, her body starting to flush with sudden, unexpected warmth. What was the matter with her, she thought as the heat mounted. Feverish, so hot...was she sick?
Lilah’s lips thinned. “Shouldn’t have hit me if you wanted that.”