Angel
set his hand against the small of Gwen's back as he ushered her out the door
of the hotel--made a point of it, as if to flaunt the fact he was touching
her. His fingers sizzled against her skin. She liked his touch, the way his
long fingers curled against her back, but she didn't like the reason he was
touching her.
Still,
she let him make his ridiculous Alpha male gesture until he had guided her
out of the hotel. Then she said, tightly, "Get your hands off me."
He did,
looking a little startled, but quelling it as he opened the passenger door
of his ridiculously large car. "Gee, Gwen, you've never complained about
my hands on you before."
The accusatory
tone stung. She got in, dared a look at him as he closed the door and walked
around the front of the car.
When he
got in on the driver's side she said sharply, "You don't get to use me to
piss off Cordelia."
His flinty
eyes softened a little, but his gaze slid away from her and his jaw worked,
teeth grating. He was angry, she could tell. Not just pissed-angry. Wounded-angry.
The kind of angry that burrowed in deep and stuck there, and made you want
to lash out at everyone and everything around you.
He settled
down behind the wheel, started the car. She watched his hands, haunted suddenly
by the memory of those long, slim fingers inside her. She pushed it away.
"Things
not working out so well with the girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone perhaps
a little too flip, but it was hard for her to think about him loving that
brittle girl, at the same time remembering the night they'd spent together
before Cordelia had come back.
He slammed
the car into gear and peeled out, tires screeching. "She's not my girlfriend,"
he snapped, "and neither are you."
She gaped
at him. He wasn't like this--she knew he wasn't. He was soft words and careful
hands, cool mouth full of the taste of Merlot--
"Oh, my
God," she said. "Could you be a bigger bitch?"
He looked
at her, and the startlement in his face was almost comical. Then his expression
changed, remorse creeping into his dark eyes. He let her see it for a split
second, then fixed his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah,
you're sorry all right. Sorry excuse for a human being." Now she was angry.
Pissed-angry.
"Guess
it's good I'm not one, then." His voice had tightened up again.
She studied
him. His hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles showed
white. "What did she do to you?" Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
Angel looked like he was fighting with the aftermath of an emotional evisceration.
His eyes
slid sideways, toward her, but he didn't turn his head to look at her directly.
His hands worked on the steering wheel. Gwen noticed the car had sped up,
and wondered if Angel realized it, distant as he seemed to be. He was silent
for what seemed a long time, while the speedometer hit sixty, sixty-five,
seventy.
"You don't
have to tell me," she blurted finally, as the red needle touched eighty,
but at the same time he said, "She fucked my kid."
Gwen's
eyes widened. Angel flicked a glance toward her again, apologetic this time,
as if perhaps he felt it inappropriate to use obscenities in front of a lady.
"You have
a kid?" she said. "You literally have a kid, and your girlfriend literally
fucked him?"
He made
a face. "It's a long story."
"It's
a long drive to Death Valley."
His mouth
quirked; he laughed a little, and started talking.
#
It really
wasn't that long a story, relatively speaking. Not as long at the one he'd
murmured to her in his bed a few weeks ago. Weirder, though, she had to admit,
and the curse story had been weird enough.
"A lot
of people did crazy things that night," she said after a moment. She still
hadn't quite had time to absorb the rest of it, the part where vampires can't
have children but somehow he did, and the part where the kid was eighteen
years old even though he'd been born last year. "I mean, there was fire falling
from the sky. When you think it's the end of the world, you do weird stuff."
She remembered
what she'd done. She'd sat in her huge bed--just huge enough to constantly
remind her she could never share it with anyone--watching TV, watching the
news reporters babble about what was going on in LA. It was hard to stay
calm when the news anchors were so rattled.
And she'd
picked up the phone six times at least and called Angel Investigations, but
every time she'd gotten either a busy signal or the answering machine.
She'd
lain awake half the night wondering where he was, if he was okay. While he
probably hadn't thought about her at all, what with confronting the lava
beast, having stakes shoved into his throat, and finding his little doxy
schtupping his teenaged son.
She'd
said it before and she would probably say it again--his life sucked even
more than hers did.
They were
on a long stretch of dark highway by now, approaching the desert. Angel had
slowed down a little, but was still cruising well over the posted speed limit.
The car ran smoothly, she noticed. He must keep it in good shape. She didn't
have an extensive knowledge of classic cars, but she knew enough to know
this car was older than she was. Of course, her motor purred pretty smoothly
when Angel touched her, too.
"You ever
put the top back?" she said suddenly.
He looked
at her. "Only at night. I've found it's a little hard to drive with my body
bursting into flames."
He was
mocking her a little, and unnecessarily, but she decided to ignore it. "So
what do you do in the daytime? Ride around in the trunk?"
His mouth
twitched a little. "Mostly I sit on the floor with a blanket over my head."
"Huh."
She decided not to say anything else, mostly because she found this image
amusing, and she had the feeling his ego had taken about as much pummeling
as it could handle at the moment.
He looked
out the front window, at the road. The highway was pretty straight here,
making for easy driving. She looked out her own window, watching the stars.
"I'm sorry,"
he said after a time. He sounded sincere this time. "About before. I shouldn't
have snapped at you like that."
Gwen turned
toward him, studying his face. His eyes were so dark they looked black in
the vague light. "You know what I like about you?"
"Um...no?"
She had a feeling he'd been searching for a quip and had failed to find one.
"When
you say you're sorry, you really mean it."
This seemed
to baffle him, and Gwen realized she'd been right in her assessment of him.
He was so utterly sincere it would have been comical if he wasn't...well,
so sincere. And that made it hard for her to take anything he'd said to her
personally. At least, not the bad things, because she knew they'd been in
response to pain.
He recovered
his stoicism after a moment and shrugged. "Well, you're the third person
today who's called me on the carpet for being a bitch, so I guess I must
deserve it."
"Really?
Who else in your life has the nerve to tell you the truth?"
"Lorne,"
he said, then frowned again. "And Cordy."
She'd
meant her comment lightly, but now she gaped at him, not sure if she was
amazed or appalled.
"Cordy?"
"Yeah.
She told me to get over it."
Now Gwen
was definitely appalled. How could he love a woman who would treat him like
that? I would never-- For a split second, frantic, she thought she'd said
it aloud, but he didn't respond, so apparently she hadn't. "Man, she's got
some balls," she said instead.
Angel
deflated a little, slumping at the shoulders, his hands shifting again on
the steering wheel. "I wouldn't know. I've never actually been in a position
to find out."
Gwen blinked.
His humor came so rarely, and was usually so wry, that it caught her off
guard. She rallied quickly. "That'd put you off, huh? If you got in her pants
and boom there's a big dick looking you in the face?"
He laughed,
and she couldn't hold back a smile, gratified that she'd made that sound
come out of him.
"Might
not put me off as much as you'd think."
This surprised
her. "Oh, really? My goodness. You have layers."
His smile
had genuine warmth in it. The faint light glinted off his teeth, his eyes,
then the smile faded.
"I never
really asked you if you wanted to come along," he said. "I'm sorry about
that. So would you like me to drop you off somewhere?"
She considered.
They were heading for some mysterious cave in Death Valley, to retrieve a
mystical creature that very well might eat them even though they were planning
to protect it. And Angel was offering to drop her off, so she could get on
her way to Tahiti, where it was warm and presumably there were no giant lava
beasts running around slaughtering people.
She smiled.
"It's okay. I got your back."
"Thanks."
He seemed a little less tense, finally. "I knew there was a reason I wanted
to bring you along."
His words
made her warm, much more than they should have. She'd been trying very hard
not to get too attached to him, and she'd succeeded for the most part, but
every once in a while that feeling of connection came up out of nowhere,
and she started thinking about him in inappropriate ways.
What she
was thinking right now was totally inappropriate. She didn't care.
"Speaking
of layers," she said, "that hooded sweatshirt thing is really not your best
look." He tended to dress more formally, she'd noticed, in high-quality shirts
that needed cufflinks that he didn't bother to wear. She'd sent him a box
of shirts not long ago, to replace the one she'd ruined ripping it off him.
She'd picked expensive ones, mostly silk blends, in dark colors, of course,
with high collars that would look good under his long, black coat. This hoodie
thing looked almost silly, if anything could actually look silly on him.
She really
wasn't interested in critiquing his fashion sense, though. She slid across
the wide seat until she was right next to him, and unzipped the sweatshirt.
He had a gray cotton shirt on under it, a lightweight knit, softer than a
T-shirt. She slid a hand across his chest and found his nipples already pebbled,
ready to play with.
"Gwen--"
"Is there
a problem?"
"Well--I'm
driving, for one thing."
"Looks
like a pretty straight stretch of highway, and there's not much traffic this
time of night." She trailed her fingers down his stomach. "And, as I recall,
I owe you an orgasm."
"Two,
but who's counting?"
"Apparently
you are." His pants had some kind of flat metal hook fastener that she was
going to have a hell of a time getting undone without his cooperation.
"Well,
math has always fascinated me," he said.
She decided
not to bother with the pants and instead peeled up the bottom edge of his
shirt. She still had her gloves on, so the lovely jolt of skin-to-skin contact
was, for the moment, impossible. But it was still fun to slide the tip of
her finger into his navel. He jumped a little, and she wondered why. She
was positive she hadn't sparked him.
"Gwen..."
he said again, his voice a little lower this time. She wished she could see
his face, look at his eyes to see if his irises had gone almost black, like
they had the last time, in his bedroom.
"Yes?"
"No offense,
but the last time I had sex with you, I couldn't pee for a week."
"Do vampires
pee?"
"Not after
they have sex with you, they don't."
She couldn't
tell if he was joking or not; his voice was too strained with arousal.
"I'll
keep my gloves on."
He turned
his head toward her, his eyes glinting. Gwen slid her hand down, over his
fly, feeling him literally growing under her fingers. That was a good feeling,
she noted. To feel a man's body respond like that to your touch--it was heady.
Intoxicating. He'd already been hard when things had gotten underway last
time, but this time she was starting more or less from scratch. Or tickle,
or caress, or whatever she decided to do with him.
She shifted
her hand a little, tracing her fingernails down the growing ridge under his
fly. He made a noise, a sort of breathy, gaspy sound, and slid down in the
seat a little, laying his right arm along the seat back. She realized this
was acquiescence--he was moving so she could undo his pants.
So she
did that, sliding his zipper down, pulling his soft cotton underwear out
of the way until she got to his skin.
Then,
looking at the big, bobbing beast she'd just released, she realized something.
"Ummm...I
don't really know how to do this."
"It's
not that hard."
"Looks
pretty hard to me."
"It's
not that difficult. Especially when you're working with a guy who
never gets any."
"So you're
easy?"
"For the
most part." He shifted his hips a little, sliding his shaft up against her
palm. "Take off that damn glove."
"Are you
sure?"
"Yeah.
Who needs to pee?"
She obediently
slipped off the long, black glove, then stared at her hand. Her fingers were
shaking. She had gone hot and weak inside, just thinking about touching him.
"What's
wrong?" he said. He was far too attuned to her moods for the shortness of
their acquaintance. It freaked her out sometimes.
"Just
adjusting the current," she said, which was half the truth. She flexed her
fingers, hoping that made it seem more believable, then reached for him again.
And it
was skin on skin again, that incredible rush of contact that had become like
a drug for her. And she hadn't touched him here last time. She hated to admit
it, but she'd actually been a little bit afraid to.
Now she
wished she had, because this was amazing. The skin here was so soft, so unbelievably
soft, like silk or fine velvet filled with steel. He made an odd, choking
sound in the back of his throat as she slid her fingers up the length of
him, over that incredibly soft skin, to where it made a soft sheath over
his glans.
She had
completely drained the current from her fingers--an effort of will it had
taken her literally a decade and a half to perfect--and hesitated a moment
just to be sure she could sustain it, before carefully, delicately pushing
the velvety hood back and touching the sleek skin beneath.
He slammed
the back of his head into his headrest, his left hand convulsing on the steering
wheel. Gwen glanced at the speedometer. They were going ninety-five.
"Might
want to ease up on the accelerator."
He blinked
at the dial. "Yeah, right." She waited until he'd eased back down to eighty,
then continued her exploration.
It was
difficult, holding the current back for this amount of time, but she did
it, channeling the flow elsewhere as she carefully tormented him. His hand
on the seat back moved forward to cup her head, caressing her hair. Sparks
flew when his fingers touched the back of her neck.
"Tell
me what you like," she said. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just
grab hold," he said. "Not too tight."
She fisted
her hand gently around him and he began to thrust through the curl of her
fingers, slowly at first, drawing his full length in and out. His face remained
straight ahead, but he didn't seem terribly focused on the road. It was a
good thing it was a straight shot here, with no landmarks to watch for, no
hairpin turns and no stoplights.
"Is that
good?" she asked, though she could tell by the tension in the body that he
was responding appropriately.
"Good,"
he said tersely--another good sign, that tight voice. "Spit on your hand.
And there should be some napkins or something in the glove box."
This confused
her a minute, and she let him go so it could sink in. Then she figured it
out--lube, to make it better for him, and something to clean up with after.
"I wouldn't
worry about it, but these pants have to be dry-cleaned." He sounded almost
apologetic.
Gwen couldn't
help smiling. "Trust you to worry about your clothes." She flexed her fingers,
taking advantage of the moment to let the current run. It would be easier
to get it back under control if she let it flow for a moment.
"Dry cleaning
is expensive." He watched her as she sat there doing what probably looked
to him like nothing, and finally said, "Could you hurry a little?"
"Sorry.
Just give me a second."
"Are you
okay?"
She looked
up. He was eyeing her with concern, which surprised her.
"I'm fine.
Just redirecting the current. It's hard to hold it back that long."
"Oh. I
just--"
She opened
the glove box and found a stack of Subway napkins. That seemed appropriate.
Then she realized Angel hadn't finished his sentence.
"You just
what?" Behind the Subway napkins were a few from Der Weinerschnitzel. That
was even better. She pulled out those.
"I don't
want you to think you have to do this. You don't owe me anything, Gwen."
Gwen spat
into her hand, trying not to be too gross about it. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw something twitch, and looked down. Her preparations seemed
to be further arousing Angel rather than putting him off.
"I know
that, Angel." She took a moment to clamp down on the current a little more,
then closed her hand again around his long, hard shaft. "You have no idea
how much I want this, do you?" She worked him gently, then a little harder.
His head fell back again and she heard his teeth clench. "I could sit next
to you and hold your hand and that would be incredible, but this is so much
better."
Her hand
moved more easily on him now, sliding over that velvet skin. He pulsed his
hips a little, but she had mostly taken over the rhythm by now. His thrusting
before had given her the general idea. She pressed her thumb against his
glans, sliding over that smooth skin. He gasped and closed his eyes a moment,
then snapped them open as if only then remembering he was driving.
"You learn
fast," he said, his voice breathy. He braced his back against the car seat
and bucked under her hand, thrusting harder and faster, eyes glued straight
ahead. Scooting as close as she could, she hung onto him as he slid in and
out of her fist.
"Now,"
he said suddenly. "God, Gwen, now," and she was so fascinated by the thick
length of him plunging through her fist that she barely got the napkins into
place in time.
She wanted
to see this, too, though, feel as much of it as she could. She was half in
his lap now, feeling his body clench and shudder, feeling his cock pulse
in her hand, watching him spill himself into the paper napkins.
Then,
suddenly, he laughed. Startled, she looked into his face. She was almost
close enough to kiss him.
His body
loosened against her as he laughed, the last seconds of his orgasm wringing
out of him.
"God,
Gwen," he said. "Der Weinerschnitzel?"
She smiled,
smugly dried him off, and zipped his pants.
#
He was
strangely silent, after his moment of mirth, and spent the next half-hour
staring glumly out the window until Gwen, concerned, finally blurted, "You're
not turning evil, are you?"
He started
a little. He'd been pretty lost in his thoughts, there. She could almost
see him come back to himself, as his mouth moved a little, not quite smiling.
"No. Not
much of a worry this time. Too much on my mind. Plus I'm not drunk."
"Want
to talk about it?"
He shrugged.
"I already did."
She nodded.
She'd expected as much. And she had to admit she really didn't want to hear
him mooning over Cordelia right after she'd jerked him off.
That had
been fun. And they had enough time to do it again.
"She's
a bitch," said Gwen, not really thinking. "You shouldn't waste your time
on her."
He seemed
to actually give this serious consideration. "Well, she's always been a bitch.
But since she came back--she's been different."
"Then
let her go and move on." Her tone was colder than she'd intended, but he
needed to hear this. "And while you're at it, you might want to look at the
gas gauge."
#
They stopped
for gas the next chance they had. Getting out of the car, Angel said, "Make
a pit stop if you need it. I don't want to stop again unless we have to."
Gwen got
out and stretched, then joined him where he stood next to the car, waiting
for the tank to fill. "I didn't bring any money. Can you spare change for
a Coke?"
He produced
a five from his wallet and gave it to her. "Thanks," she said. "You want
anything?"
"Yeah."
He grabbed her, pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly. When he let
her go, she smiled, actually a little embarrassed. At least one person was
watching them with interest, probably of the prurient variety.
"Anything
else?" she asked.
"Nope.
That'll do."
Gwen went
inside to the bathroom, then came back to the car with her Coke. She had
to spend a little extra for a plastic bottle rather than buying a metal can
out of the machine. She took a long swig, offered it to Angel. He shook his
head.
The car
took a long time to fill, but eventually they were back on the road. Angel
had put the top down, and Gwen leaned back, watching the dark, beautiful
stretch of starry sky.
"This
is nice," she said.
"I like
it better this way."
The wind
slid through her hair. She liked the way it felt. "A vampire driving a convertible.
Why does that seem weird?"
"I don't
know. Would it be less weird if I drove, say, a Rolls Royce? Or a Hyundai?"
"Point
taken." She studied his shadowed profile. He had a long, straight nose, sharp
at the tip. "When did you start driving?"
He thought
a moment. "Nineteen...nineteen forty something, I think."
"That
late? I was picturing you tooling around in a Model T."
"Nope.
I pretty much figured cars were just a fad until it got impossible to live
in denial anymore."
"So you've
been driving, what, sixty years or so?"
He looked
at her. "You got a point, Gwen?"
"You think
you could keep this car on the road and teach me to give head at the same
time?"
Angel
blinked his surprise. "Doesn't seem to me like you'd need much teaching."
"You calling
me a slut?"
"More
like a natural talent."
This gave
Gwen a twinge of pride she didn't want to think too much about. But at the
moment, Angel looked less broody than he had since he'd gotten drunk and
so pleasantly divested her of her technical virginity. This made Gwen happy,
in spite of everything. "So, what do you think?"
"I didn't
wreck us before."
"I can
control the current in my hands. Not so much in my mouth."
"Ah. Good
point." He considered, keeping his eyes on the road while he did so, and
his amused expression shifted back to serious. "You sure this isn't a payback
thing? Like, I gave you two orgasms, now you have to give me two?"
She shook
her head. "Honestly? This is an, 'I really want to know what your dick feels
like in my mouth,' thing."
He chuckled,
giving her that tilted grin that made her all weak and needy inside. "Well,
hell, Gwen, I've got nothing better to do."
"Me neither,"
said Gwen, and unzipped his pants.
She had
a fairly good idea what he wanted this time, so the intimidation factor was
greatly reduced. The hardest part was trying to keep the current under control.
To a great extent, it was a matter of voluntary versus involuntary muscles.
Thus she could feel and control the movement of the electricity in her tongue,
but the rest of her mouth was iffier.
She thought
about it a minute, redirecting as much of the current as she could. At the
same time, she stroked him gently, fingers on top of his clothes, exploring
his chest, his stomach, then slipping under the gray shirt to touch his skin.
She loved the way his skin felt--cool and smooth, taut with his well-sculptured
musculature.
He had
leaned back in the seat again, relaxed, adjusting his hips for easier access,
eyes on the road, his right arm again across the back of the seat, out of
her way. It was darker on this stretch of the highway, as the moonlight had
faded to almost nothing, and she could barely see him. It was a new experience
for her, navigating by touch. Especially navigating another human being.
Or at least a hunky male creature, human being or not.
The wind ruffled
her hair, traced cool fingers across her shoulders. Angel just waited, seeming
content to let her finish her preparations.
Finally, she swallowed,
and the usual bitter tang had faded enough from the back of her throat that
she thought she might be ready. She let her hand slide down his stomach,
to his fly. He was even less erect than he'd been before. Good. That gave
her some extra work to do, and that struck her as potentially entertaining.
He settled
back with a sigh as she adjusted his clothes. Then, a little hesitant, she
bent her head and licked him.
He jumped.
She turned quickly to look up at him, but she couldn't see his face well
enough to judge his expression.
"I'm sorry.
Did I shock you?"
"No. Just
. . ." He trailed off. His free hand came to nestle at the back of her neck,
gently lifting her head. He pulled her up and kissed her softly. "Have fun,"
he said, and then guided her gently back down into his lap.
That little
jump must have meant he'd liked it, then. Smiling, she licked him solidly,
base to head, noticing he was a good inch longer than he'd been before.
Have fun,
he'd said, so she set out to do exactly that, finding every flavor and texture
on him she could find. Eventually he started making little gasping, breathy
noises as his hips moved under her, squirming, pulsing a little, though she
could tell he was trying very hard to keep from shoving himself right down
her throat. She couldn't pull him in all the way to the root--her mouth just
wasn't deep enough for that--but she did the best she could, and he seemed
to appreciate it.
The electricity
was rising, though. She could taste it. The head of his cock literally sizzled
in her mouth and he made a noise that sounded disturbingly whimpery. But
when she started to pull back, he caught the back of her head in his hand,
holding her still. His fingers tangled in her hair, caressing her scalp.
That felt good, she thought, and worked her head against his hand as his
strong fingers worked back. The way she was moving her head changed the rhythm
a little, but judging by the sounds he was making, and the way the car seemed
to be speeding up, he liked that, too.
And he
tasted good. She didn't think she could get enough of that flavor, of skin
and general vampire lust, even edged as it was with the taste of her current,
which was getting more and more difficult for her to hold back. Focusing
hard on that, she dragged the voltage back as much as she could, but she
could still taste the sparks.
Suddenly
his fingers jerked at her hair, pulling her head back, or trying to. Ignoring
the signal, she went the opposite way, pushing him as far back down her throat
as she could. He bucked into her, his thighs hard under her hands. She could
feel the pulsations down the length of his shaft and swallowed in the same
rhythm.
She couldn't
really taste anything beyond the sparking current at the back of her throat,
which she thought might be a good thing, but it felt good, matching her rhythm
to his, taking him as far inside her as she could. He had let go of her head
and she heard him slam his fists into the steering wheel.
"God,
Gwen, God!"
And then
he made another noise, something she'd never heard out of him before. It
startled her and she twisted her head just enough to peer up at him.
Shit.
He had sprouted fangs. And he was growling. That noise didn't even sound
human. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what she was doing, convulsively
swallowing the last of his orgasm, because she had a feeling not letting
him finish was about the worst thing she could do right now.
She clung
to him until he was done, then slowly let his softening shaft slip from her
mouth. Almost afraid to look up at his face, she kissed his stomach softly,
then carefully turned her head.
He was
breathing fast and hard, recovering. He breathed a lot, she'd noticed, for
somebody who didn't have to, but it was nearly always in response to emotion.
His head was still back against the headrest, his hands white-knuckled on
the steering wheel. As Gwen moved, he peeled one hand away from the wheel,
moving his arm so she could maneuver out of his lap.
He looked
at her. Through still-yellow eyes, fangs peeking over his lip. His mouth
looked even wider with the fangs in it. She was glad it was dark. As much
as she hated to admit it, the vamp face disturbed her. Frightened her, even.
"Are you
okay?" she asked him. "Did I hurt you?"
He laughed
once, and it carried an edge of embarrassment. "Yes, and yes. But kind of
no. Shit." He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, and his face shifted
back to human. "Sorry about that."
So she
hadn't turned him evil. That was good. She would hate for the world to get
sucked into hell or something because she gave good head her first time out.
That would be embarrassing. "It's okay," she said, aware her voice sounded
more trembly than sincere. Suddenly, strangely, she felt uncomfortable with
what she'd just done. She felt oddly dirty.
"Gwen."
His voice was gentle. "What's wrong?"
She scooted
a little away. "I just..." She didn't know how to express it. "Maybe I shouldn't
have..."
He reached
for her, pulling her back toward him. "You wanted it, I wanted it, what's
the problem?"
"I made
you do that face thing," she blurted, and only then realized that was what
was really bothering her. It had made her feel like she had violated him,
by making him show her something she knew he didn't like her to see.
"It happens."
Pulling her a little closer, he kissed her forehead. "It's not a big deal."
"No?"
"No. Not
at all."
She had
no choice but to take him at his word, but she had no doubt he was telling
her the truth. Something about the softness in his voice told her that. And
she'd gotten the impression he wasn't much for lying. So she matter-of-factly
zipped him back up, adjusted his shirt, and laid her head in his lap. She
liked it there. It was comfortable. After a moment, his hand settled down
on her shoulder, then stroked her hair gently.
She stared
into the dark hollow under the steering wheel for a while, feeling his legs
shift under her face from time to time, then finally said, "I'm going to
tell you something intensely personal and a little embarrassing."
"Why?"
"It seems
fair."
He was
silent for a moment, his long fingers tracing the back edge of her ear. "Okay,
if you feel like you need to."
She cleared
her throat. "I named my favorite dildo after you."
He laughed.
"Is it a big one?"
"Biggest
one I have."
"I'm honored."
She smiled,
nestling into him. "Do you think we're going to live through this thing?"
His finger
slid across her cheekbone, gentle. "I hope so, Gwen. I really do."
She reached
up, caught his hand with hers, and closed her eyes.
END.
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER/PSA: The driving in this story was performed
by highly trained fictional characters. As a general rule, it is considered
extremely unsafe to go down on a vampire while he is driving eighty-five
miles an hour on a California highway in a large convertible, particularly
if there is any chance whatsoever he may turn evil. In other words, do not
try this at home.
