Title: Nervous Energy
Author: Jinni (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things Anita Blake belong to Laurell K Hamilton, et al.
Distribution: The normal places.
Summary: Angel makes a trip to St. Louis, taking Fred as part of her entourage. What happens when Fred gets a bit antsy? 20 Minutes With Fred
Fred had known it was a mistake to come here, so soon after getting up the courage to even leave that little room she called home. Those restraining walls that both kept her in and everything else out. The walls here weren’t familiar. They were dark with splashes of color. White and red on black. The red looked like blood, in her opinion, though considering the entire complex belonged to a Master vampire, maybe that was the look he’d been going for.
She stood up, leaving behind one such red-colored chair, and began to pace from one side of the room to the other. Where was Angel? He’d said this would only take a few minutes and that then they could go back to their hotel room. Well, his few minutes and had come and gone and she was still here, waiting.
Maybe he’d left her?
No, she shook her head. Angel wouldn’t leave her here. He was her friend and friends didn’t do that to friends.
Right, she affirmed with a nod of her head, pausing in her frantic pacing. She wrung her hands absently, looking around the room. They could have at least given her a television or a radio or maybe a mathbook – something to keep her mind occupied while she waited.
She began to pace again, cycling through different problems in her head.
The sum of –
“Are you going to keep doing that?”
She paused, eyes going wide. She’d forgotten all about him. Jason, that’s what they’d said his name was. He was a were-something-or-other. That meant he turned furry once a month, at the least.
“Sorry,” she flashed him a timid smile and sat down in the chair she’d only just vacated. She twisted the ring on her right hand, feeling the smooth silver glide around her finger over and over again.
“Are you nervous or something?”
She jumped, glancing up into his amused blue eyes. “No. Of course not. Why would I be nervous?”
He smirked, leaning forward in his own chair so that he was resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. The front of his shirt dipped open to expose a fair expanse of perfect skin, and she found herself drawn to it unthinkingly. Such pretty smooth skin – and inside of there was a . . .what had Angel said again – werewolf? She’d never met a werewolf before.
Well, before now, that was.
“You just seem jumpy.”
“Bored,” she corrected quickly. Too quickly, she winced. She tore her eyes away from his chest to look back into his eyes, blushing when she realized that the smirk he now wore was solely because of her impromptu play at being a peeping-Fred. “I’ve got too much energy to sit still right now.”
He laughed, low and soft. It was a nice enough laugh, suiting him to a tee. The kind of laugh that made her think of naughty things, she averted her eyes from his, choosing the floor as a neutral resting place for her gaze. There was nothing he could construe from her looking at the floor – was there?
“I’m ready, willing and able to help you work off some of that. . .energy.”
She blushed furiously, not bothering to look up. Hadn’t that nice vampire warned her about this? Jason was a flirt, though he’d done quite well not flirting with her up to this point. She swallowed, refusing to meet his eyes. “It’s not that kind of energy, thank you.”
“You sure?” There was a rustle of fabric and then his face appeared in front of hers, forcing her to look at him. His hand rested on one of her knees and warmth radiated out from that point, causing things low in her belly to tighten. God, but he was handsome. “You seem really. . . tense. . .”
She shut her eyes. Alright, so it had been a while for her. A very long while. It wasn’t as if Pylea had been overflowing with places to meet a good man. She’d lived in a cave, for goodness’ sake!
His hand slid higher on her leg, his thumb rubbing patterns over the denim of her jeans, inching ever further up her thigh.
This was wrong, she told herself. But it felt so right, having someone touch her like this, after so long. Maybe he was right. Maybe this is what she needed.
She leaned down instinctively, knowing that she would meet his lips without ever opening her eyes.
It was a soft kiss, unlike what she’d expected from the forward young shifter. He pressed against her mouth gently, an entreaty. When his tongue came out to lick lightly at her lower lip she opened her mouth willingly. His tongue slid in without another second’s wait as he began to taste her from the inside. Her hands flexed in the arms of the chair, even as his fingers continued an upward motion on her thigh.
God, she’d missed this. Touching. Being touched.
She returned his thorough kissing, sliding her tongue without inhibition into his mouth. He tasted like something sweet, maybe that soda he’d been drinking when they first came into the room. She explored the crevices of his mouth, groaning as he did the same to her.
Her hands left the arms of the chair, coming to rest on his shoulders as the urge to join him on the floor, to get level with him, began to increase. Her body was tingling everywhere that he touched, exciting pleasure with every soft stroke of his fingers.
She slid off the chair, her hands grasping at his shirt, fingernails scraping lightly over the exposed skin between either half of the flimsy blue material. Gauze, she told herself as she tilted her head back, away from his mouth, allowing him access to her neck. The shirt might as well have been gauze. See through and delicious to the touch, it didn’t cover him at all.
And she wanted it to cover him even less.
His mouth worked on the smooth skin of her neck, licking and nipping at the flesh.
When his fingers brushed lightly over her breast, through the think cotton of her tank top, Fred felt like she might come undone. He found one hard nipple and twisted it hard through both the top and her soft bra. A sharp groan escaped her mouth and she blushed, finally opening her eyes to look at him.
His blue eyes were dark with lust, flecks of gold rimming the edges. He looked beautiful, feral.
“God, Jason,” she purred, arching under his touch as he cupped one of her breasts, kneading the flesh in his palm. His mouth attacked her neck again, before moving on to her mouth. She was moaning, whispering his name into his mouth. Begging for more as much as she could –
The brunette jerked away from Jason, eyes flying to the, now open, door. “Angel? You’re. . .back.”
She groaned in silent frustration, unhearing of anything else he said as Jason stood up, tugging at his shirt. Embarrassment should have been the first thing she was feeling, but it wasn’t. Just when she was about to get rid of some of that energy, finally come down of off this wire she’d felt like she was walking since coming back from Pylea -
Damn Angel and his bad timing.