Author: Rain Lee Morgan
Rating: R to be on the safe side
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Buffy and Methos both see something they really want.
She gasped in awe and wonder, unknowingly drawing the attention of the room’s sole occupant.
Buffy’s mind went blank, her breathing slowed, until almost as if in a trance she approached the display.
Her thoughts seemed clouded, her reactions slow.
Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the path that led from her to the exhibit.
For the first time in a long time Buffy felt the stirrings of want in her blood.
So strong and almost painful was the sensation that her breathing sped up until soft pants was all she could manage in her excitement.
That she felt this desire while staring at an inanimate object didn’t seem to penetrate the fog her mind was immersed in. All she was aware of was that what she saw before her was about the most perfect example of maleness she had ever seen.
Slowly, savoring the sensations, the newness, and discovery, she let her eyes take in what pulled her, what demanded her attention.
She licked her lips and closed her fists as the urge to just pounce washed over her, the nearer she got to it.
Breathing deeply, she held herself in check until she fought down the impulse.
She did, however, allow her eyes the freedom to roam.
When she knew she had more control she raised her hands, almost hesitant to touch the object, afraid to break the spell that had woven itself around her when she first glanced into the room; she outlined the curves and edges.
Finally, she let her fingertips trace the hard edges and steely length, her eyes glazed over in pure craving.
She wanted it.
Not willing to wait a moment longer she wrapped her hands around her prize and carefully, greedily lifted and weighed the heavy length.
A small whimper escaped her lips and her eyes dilated as she let all her senses explore the new treasure. The feel of the thick shaft and kid soft covering over hard steel caused her fingers to flex.
In the shadows of the room, half hidden behind a large bookcase, Methos tensed, and stood perfectly still; a predator, scenting his prey.
He watched as her fingers flexed around the grip.
Watched as she held the heavy weight easily.
Methos shifted, and made a small sound in the back of his throat.
A sound of pure need, made rough with his want.
He watched the small blonde stroke his Ivanhoe, the sword he’d lost over a year ago.
Surprisingly, they both thought the exact same thing.