Lacy

“There's a time and place for everything, and I believe it’s called 'fan fiction'.”
― Joss Whedon

“His hands as he worked were deft and sure, but so gentle -- he was being careful not to hurt me any more than he had to. I sat very still, hardly daring to move.

I was in love with him.

The knowledge swept through me, truer than anything I'd ever known. Oh, my God, I was in love with him.”
― L. A. Weatherly

“For a long time we just held each other, our hearts beating hard. My eyes were closed, my face pressed against the warm dip between his shoulder and neck. Alex. I felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within me, as if something I'd been looking for my entire life had just slotted into place, making me whole.

Finally Alex drew back. Stroking my hair from my face, he kissed me slowly, and I wanted to melt. "I can't believe that I can just do that whenver I want to now," he whispered. "You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years."

Years. My heart skipped, hoping that was true. "I think I can live with that," I said. Hardly able to believe that I could touch him whenever I wanted to, either, I slid my hand down his arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin. "Do you want to go to bed?" I asked softly. Then, for the second time that night, I felt my face flame at the question.

Alex smiled and touched my cheek. "You still mean sleep, right?"

"Still sleep." My skin was on fire.

"Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I'm sure I'll manage to drop off. Eventually." His smile turned teasing. "Do I have to put my shirt on?"

I couldn't help smiling, too, though embarrassment was still singeing through me. "No, I'd rather you didn't," I admitted.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel

“Willow's eyes flew to his, startled. They stared at each other. Her foot felt small under his hand; he rubbed it lightly with his thumb, feeling the silky heat of her skin, his pulse hammering through his veins. He felt like he was falling. All he could see was her.

She looked closed to tears. "Alex--"

Leaning across the corner of the table, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and warm. With a sob, Willow returned the kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. He opened his mouth, tasting her; felt her hair tumble down around his hands. Happiness burst through him, exploding through his chest. Willow. Oh, God. Willow.”
― L.A. Weatherly, Angel Burn