Bad Boy - 2
~Hyperion Hotel, Monday, 12:30 am~
Willow had managed to get her few toiletries put away when there was a quiet knock on the door. “Yeah?” She called out, hobbling out of the bathroom.
“Ah, ma rouge, I just came by to see if you were settling in alright.” Asher entered the room as though he owned it.
“Yeah, well, it could have been worse.” She shrugged.
“What do you mean by that?” Asher frowned.
“Well, at least I’m with someone I know.” She answered.
“How well do you know mon ange?” Asher helped her over to her bed and sat down next to her. He couldn’t help but feel jealous that the young vampires knew his redhead before he had met her.
“That’s sort of a loaded question, isn’t it? I mean, I think I know Angel pretty darn well. I’ve got a pretty good glimpse of his bad boy side, and I’ve seen him brood plenty, and I think once I saw him laugh, but I’m not promising that. But, that doesn’t mean I’ve seen the same side of him you have.”
“Ah, that is a very intelligent answer, ma chaton. You are wise beyond your years.”
“Yup, four going on forty.” Willow mumbled bitterly.
“What is that, my dear?”
“It’s what my dad always said about me. I was four going on forty.”
“Ah.” Asher nodded. “That is a good trait to have, no? To be both young and old simultaneously?” He placed her hand in his, and began tracing random patterns.
“I don’t know, I always thought it was an insult.” Willow watched his fingers dance across her palm. It was hypnotic, not as hypnotic as his eyes could be, but she was beginning to believe that any part of Asher could be mesmerizing if he wanted it to be. “I mean, aren’t the most exciting years supposed to be your twenties? So if you’re always either four or forty, then you sort of miss the good stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I thought my forties were quiet nice.” Asher had a quirky grin that let Willow know she could ask about it, but probably did not want the answer. “And as for my twenties, they were nothing special.” He shrugged. It wasn’t quite true. He was whelped in his twenties, but they were hardly a positive memory.
“You’re a special case.” Willow blushed, suddenly feeling warm.
“You are special too.” He muttered, leaning closer to her.
“What are you doing?” She glanced up at him suddenly.
“Nothing unexpected.” He answered.
“Okay, that’s not a good answer.” Willow backed away, feeling her back hit the headboard.
“Relax, ma chaton. I have yet to hurt you. Why do you not trust me?”
“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?” Asher looked at her innocently through his veil of perfectly blonde hair.
“You’re feeding on me.” She whispered. “You’re making me blush, and sweat, and think naughty thoughts.”
“Perhaps, but where is the harm in that?” He answered.
“Well, there’s a lot of harm in that.” Willow frowned.
“Such as…” Willow glanced around the room, not sure why she wasn’t frightened by the predatory gleam in Asher’s eyes. “Such as corrupting my fragile innocence and not keeping kosher and …”
“It is not the Sabbath, we would not be breaking kosher.” Asher smiled, and brought Willow’s hand to his mouth for a gentle kiss. “And, if you have not been corrupted in your society yet, then your innocence is hardly fragile.” He kissed her hand again, feeling the pulse quicken slightly. “I would never dream of besmirching your crystalline innocence.” He began slowly kissing his way up her arm, amused by how her eyes tracked his progress in silent fascination. “But I do not see how getting to know you better would do such a thing.”
“That’s not exactly getting to know me better.” Willow whispered, watching as his soft lips neared the crux of her elbow.
“Au contraire, it is getting to know you better, inch by glorious inch.” Asher could feel the ardeur settle around him, swishing around him like a tide slowly marching in. “I can think of no one I’d rather get to know better.”
“Yeah, well, I can think of several people I’d rather know better.” Willow muttered.
“Ma chaton, you wound me.” He smiled, moving in closer.
“Alright, that’s it. AN...”
Her yell for Angel was cut off, by Asher’s hand pressing to her mouth tightly. The scent of fear suddenly filled the room, but Willow refused to be paralyzed with it. In a desperate move, she bit Asher’s palm, breaking the skin.
“Ma chaton, that was not a wise thing to do.” Asher muttered feeling his control slip slightly, but not releasing his hold. “Do you taste my blood?” His eyes searched her face for recognition.
Willow met his eyes defiantly just as she had every time before, but this time she could feel herself falling into his thrall. As the slight tang of blood reached her tongue, she felt a wave of power fall over her, and she was undone by the sheer force of his will.
Asher let his power flow over her, hoping that her taking his blood would be enough to satisfy the flowing ardeur, but he could feel it still building around him. He was not sure he could live with taking any more sacrifices from her. “Shh, my love, shh.” He muttered, enthralling her with his voice. He saw her vibrant green eyes slip into that glassy haze that meant his thrall had worked. He pulled his hand away slowly and was relieved when she didn’t scream.
“Now, ma chaton, I am going to kiss you. Please, do not use your claws on me.” He whispered, his voice dry from the need of the ardeur rising. He leaned forward and gently placed his lips against hers, waiting a second for the inevitable slap, relieved when it didn’t come. Instead Willow leaned forward, into the kiss, not exactly sure why, other than feeling some sort of magnetic force pulling her towards this man. Asher deepened the kiss, gently prying her lips apart. As their tongues touched, the ardeur flared to life, crashing around them. Willow moaned, feeling far more alive than she ever had before, as though every nerve in her body was on fire. Asher held her tightly to him, riding out the passion, as the weak blood he had digested earlier that night became strengthened from her magic.
“Mademoiselle.” He whispered, listening as her quickened gasps slowed to a much more normal pace.
“What was that?” Willow mumbled.
“I am sorry.”
“Wow.” Willow gasped.
“You were right. I should never have…”
“That felt great.” Willow sighed.
“Oui, but you shall hate me now.” Shadows began developing around Asher’s face, preparing to cloak him from sight.
“I don’t know what to feel now.” Willow admitted.
“I did not mean this. I only meant to wish you a good night, ma chaton.”
“Well, that will certainly lead to interesting dreams.” Willow shook her head in shock. Oz had never kissed her like that.
“I must leave now.” Asher slowly backed away, letting his fingers trail down her cheek. “I’m afraid there is something I must take care of before sunrise.”
“Cold shower?” Willow looked up at him in sympathy. He nodded apologetically. “Yeah. Me too.” She mumbled. He looked up at her eagerly. “Separate cold showers.” She replied sternly.
He gave her a shy smile that she couldn’t help but return. Boy will be boys, even when they’re centuries old vampires. She sighed.
~Initiative Exam Suite, Monday, 12:31 am~
“You have ten minutes to take care of your needs.” Professor Walsh pointed towards a small bathroom done in institution stainless steel style.
“Professor Walsh?” Buffy glanced up in shock as the soldiers dropped their hold on her.
“You’ve got ten minutes, Summers, then we talk.” The professor replied, “unless, you’d prefer
“Ten’s good.” Buffy rolled her eyes. She would have preferred penguins to whatever kind of nightmare this was. She locked herself into the bathroom, taking a quick glance around. She was struck by the overwhelming sense of being trapped in a doctor’s office; she hated doctors.
Ten minutes later, as she was trying to comb through her hair, there was a pounding on the door. “Time’s up!” A soldier shouted through the door.
“Geesh, hold your horses!” Buffy eyed herself in the mirror. She was dressed in the scrubs they had left for her, drowning in the mint green material. She shoved her original clothes in the bag that had been thoughtfully provided for her. Buffy opened the door just as the soldier raised his hand to pound again. “Good grief, take a chill pill already.”
“He’s doing his job. You are the one who is running late, Miss Summers, but then I should expect it from you.” Professor Walsh said sternly. “Take a seat.”
Buffy looked around her. The room appeared to be an examination room of some sort, the only open seat being a hospital bed. “No thanks, I’ll just stand.”
“Very well.” The two women met in a stare-off, the guards backing away from them slowly, a gut instinct warning them that either woman could take them down in an instant. “Miss Summers, you were seen interacting with a hostile sub-terrestrial.”
“Oh, you mean that vampire we were interrogating before your commandos so rudely interrupted? What about it?” Buffy folded her arms in front of her chest.
“You helped him evade capture.”
“I staked him.” Buffy answered. “That’s not the same thing.”
“What do you mean, you staked him?”
“Insert wooden stake A into undead’s heart B, instant poof.” Buffy answered sarcastically.
“I don’t like your attitude.”
“You’re no Miss Congeniality either.” Buffy snapped back. “Right now my best friend is being held hostage, god knows where, by Spike! You holding me hostage like this isn’t helping us find her. Your army clones made me stake the one good witness we had for trying to find them. Your little tazer gun has knocked Giles out so bad that even if we weren’t being held in a little white room, we wouldn’t be able to be out looking for her. Excuse me if you’re not my favorite person right now.”
“That’s it! I’m not going to put up with this. Put her back!” Walsh bellowed out the order, and three soldiers immediately took a hold of Buffy and began dragging her towards the door. “You’re not getting out until you answer my questions my way,” was Walsh’s parting shot, as she stormed out of the room.
“God, what a diva.” Buffy muttered letting herself get put back in the white room.
“How’d it go?” Riley looked up at her hopefully.
“I so should have taken econ.”