They thought he was proposing marriage?! What?! How?! Was that how it was done in Serenian culture? That's what it looked like? Fang's head spun, and she couldn't be more relieved to get away from the onlookers as he guided her along.

So this was what it felt like from the other side, then. Like any innocuous gesture could be unintentionally offensive or scandalous. Yikes.

But soon enough they were out of range, and Spike picked back up where they left off. And what he said sent another pang of guilt through her. He...he thought he was tipping them for good service and to help cover the damage. She thought he was paying for her. 

Ohhhh dear...well now she just felt like a jerk.

She stole a sidelong glance up at him and then looked away, giving his hand a squeeze. "I see..." she said slowly, regret in her voice. "That...makes sense. I...oh goddess, Spike, I should have known better, with you of all people. And I didn't want to think that. But...well, in Thanatos, sometimes they work the streets, and someone might bring them to a certain establishment, shall we say, and pay the establishment for giving them a place to, you know. I'm not sure of all the specifics but I thought...maybe that was..."

She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek, and finally turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I think I'm just a little..." She waved her free hand, trying to think of the phrasing. "Unbalanced right now. After everything that happened on the ship. I know I've been acting like I'm okay. I'm really trying to be."

The change in his expression was instantaneous—and it gave her the answer before his words did. The regret, the fear, the confusion. He would have had to be a spectacular actor to pull off so many expressions in such a short time, and so convincingly on top of it—and while he was very skilled in a number of areas, Fang somehow doubted his skill there.

Did he...really not understand?

She had desperately hoped she was reading the situation wrong. Hadn't he defended her when Echen had thrown that word in her face? He had nearly slit his throat for that! And there was not one instance, not a single moment in time, when he had ever made her feel lesser. There was not a single moment where he made her feel disrespected or unsafe. When she looked at Spike she saw, and felt, security and affection—and that was why it hurt so, so much.

And yet, deep down, as much as Fang tried to ignore it...insecurity had taken root. The words had stung. The looks had stung. She had been assaulted for it. And though she had made a noble effort to hide it, she was afraid of what people thought of her, and always had been, especially here in a foreign land where she knew she would be judged.

And then...last night happened. And this morning. She indulged in pleasure for pleasure's sake with a Serenian man. More insecurity. More guilt. It all compounded, bubbling under the surface, and no matter how hard she pressed the lid down...eventually the pressure made it boil over.

The coin on the counter had done it. But. His eyes and words were telling a different story?

"No, Fang, I love—"

He cut off. What? He loved what? But then he continued, clarifying...and Fang visibly relaxed, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders as the hurt softened to hope. And then, taking her by surprise once more, he dropped to one knee and took her hand as he begged forgiveness.

That drew the attention of several onlookers who gasped and turned to watch the "proposal", some scandalized, some vibrating with excitement or jealousy or wistfulness over such a romantic display. If they had been nearer, however, they might have noticed that the couple's facial expressions did not match the scene.

Fortunately for Spike, Fang was completely oblivious to the cultural significance. She startled, but only because she hadn't expected him to practically prostrate himself. She gave a quick glance around, hyper-aware of the stares, and gave his hand a little upward tug.

"Of course I forgive you," she whispered. "I...I believe you. I'm just...I'm sorry, I'm a little confused. Ah, get up, Spike, people are staring..."

Biting her lip, gathering her thoughts, she let out a sigh and worried at a lock of her hair, twisting and untwisting it around her finger anxiously. "Why did you throw money on the counter as we left, then? You'd already paid for the room the night before." She shifted her eyes away. "It...it made me think you were paying for...having me."

@nephero

---

It was the morning light shining directly into Mei Yi's closed eyes that finally roused her. Even filtered through the dingy window it was still bright enough to bother, and with a yawn and a groan, she threw her arm over her face. Bleh. She was normally an early bird, rising at dawn with a perkiness that made the night owls cringe, but her head felt achy and she didn't want to move.

Except the rest of her was kind of sore, too, now that she was awake enough to notice. Probably had something to do with the chair she was curled up in.

...chair?

Cracking her eyes open and rubbing the sleep away, Mei flicked a look around the familiar room with a mixture of confusion and...triumph. Huh! So she'd earned room and board after all! Or something like that! She didn't actually remember how; she remembered dinner and talking over wine, and it was right around the history lesson that things started to get fuzzy. She didn't remember how she'd gone from the stool to the chair, and worst of all, she couldn't  remember if she'd finished the lesson or given the appropriate quizzes to check comprehension and retention. Ohhhh boy. Hopefully it hadn't gone completely off topic. It had been a while since she'd had that much wine at once, but any beverage was a danger in her vicinity when she was on a roll, as she tended to be a mindless sipper.

With another yawn and a stretch that made her spine crack, she slid out of the chair. It was early still, and quiet. Shea must be asleep or otherwise occupied. Whatever the case may be, she had promised breakfast, right? Or maybe he had? Ah, it didn't matter! She was hungry, not quite hungover but also kind of sort of, and she certainly owed him for letting her crash instead of shooing her out the door.

And that's how she ended up back in his kitchen. She found one of her books open on the table—not her notebook, but a smaller one she'd brought with her from a library in Thanatos. She instantly recognized it: Saya Ling's Compendium of Beasts, Vol 2, and currently it was opened to a page on the Thunderblacks. Oh. Ohhh, yes, it seemed their history lesson had taken a turn at some point (or, optimistically, she'd finished and then segued into dragons, because oh man, she loved dragons) and she couldn't remember what that was about.

After discreetly closing it and plopping it back into her bag to clear up space, she put more poultice on her leg (it was looking, and feeling, much better), rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

Soon, Shea's kitchen had become a research project.

Mei gathered a few veggies from his garden and then set about raiding his cupboards and ice box—and got distracted by both. With extra time on her hands now that they weren't both hogging space and trying to whip up dinner, she took a moment to really examine the contraption. She even drew up a rough sketch and labeled all the parts she could see and remember from his description. Truly, it was magnificent! There must be a way to accomplish the same effect without using forbidden magics, surely? She made a note to explore that line of thought more later.

Then as she plundered his spices, that became another detour of its own as there were a few herbs she didn't recognize, perhaps ones native to this area. Those went into her notebook in the section on plants. As she set aside the spices she wanted and put away the ones she didn't, she casually reorganized them. Alphabetically. Using his language of course, not hers, because that wouldn't make sense for him. It was good practice, though, since she spoke the Trader's Tongue more than she wrote it.

...And breakfast still wasn't made and she still didn't know what she was making with the ingredients she had spread out over the counter and grouped into loose meal ideas. Some sort of potato fry up or something? But there was a hiccup: she had no idea where to get water since Shea had provided it via magic last time.

Alright. Plan B!

He had flour, salt, and milk, and there was butter. Gathering those up on the counter and searching until she found a suitable mixing bowl and spoons, she combined ingredients until it looked like roughly the consistency she needed. She had a flint so she lit the hearth and grabbed a pan.

Soon enough, Mei was settled comfortably by the hearth flipping dough with her hands, which were covered to the wrist in flour—along with a significant portion of the entire front of her as well as his floor.

The kitchen was a mess of half finished and abandoned projects.

But hey! Fresh flatbread!

Fang was quiet as he set her down, and was quiet as she straightened out her clothes and her hair, using that to buy time to collect her thoughts. She didn't look at Spike as he apologized; more like she looked at anything else but him.

Breathe, breathe, just breathe.

Finally she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin to look up at him, eyes filled with hurt.

"Do you..." She swallowed down the lump in her throat and pressed on before she lost her courage, or before she choked on her words as her chest squeezed. "Do you really see me that way? As a whore?"

Should be fine, Spike said. 

They could leave discreetly, he said.

Except the next words he said were, "Come along, lover," and then she was swept up into his arms like a bride.

Fang let out a yelp of surprise, threw her arms around his neck to hold on, and her eyes went saucer-wide as he marched toward the door. Face flushing with heat, she squirmed in his grip and let out a strangled whisper-yell of, "What'reyoudoing?"

It was very clear what he was doing. 

Out the room they went and down the stairs, and this was sort of how she'd pictured them escaping out the window except that had been OUT THE WINDOW. Not down into the very occupied main room where several patrons we're taking meals. And while Fang had spoken of leaving with her head high and unashamed, that was very much not what happened. Absolutely mortified, she let out a groan and buried her face in the crook of his neck...and that did not help matters. Somehow, she managed to do a walk of shame without walking while Spike looked like the cat that got the canary and the cream.

And then... "Best night ever."

Noooooooo...

And had he thrown extra money on the counter?!

WAIT JUST A MINUTE.

Soon they were outside, and for several long minutes Fang could say nothing, lost for words entirely, her face still buried. When she finally found the words to speak, it came out a gritted, "Put me down, Spike."

Fang was so distracted with the mess that she didn't notice Spike's staring, nor the effect it had on him. She was too busy waddling to the washroom, her clothes bundled in her arms, where she cleaned herself up as quickly as she could—while simultaneously trying not to panic.

Was she absolutely out of her mind?

She'd told him to do it. Begged him to, really, riding the high of pleasure and more than a little lingering religious guilt. But now that it was done and she was wiping away the consequences, she couldn't help but regret it. It was such an incredibly stupid thing to do when she was in no way prepared, equipped, or willing to carry a child. Children had always been a "maybe one day, maybe" that had leaned heavily on the "no" side of "maybe" and that hadn't magically changed—but goddess she couldn't help the gnawing guilt that she should just enjoy this just for the sake of enjoying it.

And now...goddess, the last thing she wanted was to deal with a bigger consequence when she wasn't even in her home country.

She stayed in the room a little longer than she needed just to calm down and wash her face with cold water, and when she felt decent enough she dressed and stepped back into the room. Her sarong reached her ankles, and her top was sleeveless and bared her midriff and pierced navel, tying around her neck. Not exactly Serendipity appropriate, but she imagined they could do something about that while they were here. She pulled her hair free of its braid, letting it fall around her shoulders in waves, courtesy of the overnight braid.

Spike was also dressed when she returned, and then he made that coy little quip at her that made her smile sheepishly.

"We'll see. I think maybe you have the right idea, though. It's not a big deal, right? So if we just act casual and normal, it'll be fine."

Right?

Quinn sucked in a deep, bracing breath with a small spike of shame at how easily they'd been baited—and taken it—and tried not to choke on the smoke. Which certainly did not help with the irritation. No, no, Synthia was absolutely right: they all needed to get it the fuck together if they were going to do this. Tyler was a walking pet peeve, but that was absolutely not an excuse to match the childishness and lose their own head.

And then there was the other. The nervous little lizard-like man currently chowing down who seemed unconcerned about anything else but free food, something he and the Connlaothian seemed to have in common. 

Wait, was he...was he using two knives?

Quinn rubbed at their temple, not wanting to admit aloud that maybe there was something to Tyler's barb, but...no. Surely everyone here had signed for a reason. Like actually being interested in this beast and feeling confident enough in their skills to handle it. The only person Quinn hadn't quite been able to get a read on was the Adelan.

Sliding a sidelong look over at Tyler as she helped herself to the Connlaothian's drink (was he going to just take that?), they looked back to Synthia. "Apologies. That won't happen again," they said, and repeated, "What else can you tell us about this creature?"

Fang openly watched Spike as he walked about the room, able to appreciate his form even more now, but when he returned with his coat she couldn't help but give it a skeptical frown. She didn't have to try it on to know she'd be absolutely swimming in it and that it would keep her nice and hidden.

But.

She was also pretty sure anyone with half a brain could deduce who the short person under the big man-coat was, and also...

Unable to help it, she sank her face into her hands with a soft fit of laughter. "Oh, I should think that'll make me look even more conspicuous and ashamed! I may as well wear a tabard announcing my 'crime' and stand in the village square!" Lifting her head from her hands, still grinning, she reached out and caught Spike's arm, tugging him in closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," she said, and leaned up to kiss him. "You're so sweet to consider my comfort here, but..." A deep breath. "You're probably right. Maybe I should just...try not to care so much? Walk out with my head held high? It's not like we did anything unnatural. I'm not ashamed of you or what we shared. Truly."

She pushed up off the bed, rising to her feet—and then made a face when, as though on cue, gravity did its thing and his...evidence...trickled down her thigh. 

Raizel left far too soon, off to "fight the squid" (Cadmus had to lift an eyebrow at that; the phrasing was weird as hell), but he supposed they couldn't be lazy forever. Scents only lingered so long; best to go while it was still fresh and get the whole nasty business over with as soon as possible.

It had been nice while it lasted, though, and her heat lingered even after she left. He was too awake to nap again now, but he still rolled over into the warm spot where she'd been laying like a cat curling up in a patch of sunlight. And then, after he'd mentally braced himself for the long night ahead, and after hearing muted voices outside the door, he decided it was probably time. He rose and pulled on one of the shirts she'd brought, smoothing it out and frowning thoughtfully as he examined it.

It was a pretty nice shirt. Be an awful shame if something happened to it, and knowing his luck it was existing on borrowed time, now.

Raizel returned, which explained the voices, and he sort of awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed as she went about picking up and packing. And when she asked if he was ready, he could only smile sheepishly.

"Oh, I have everything," he said, motioning up and down to himself. Wasn't like he needed all the human necessities. He could hunt what he needed, he could curl up in a tree to sleep, and his fur and feathers provided warmth and protection from the elements. His boots were next to hers by the door—all thanks to her and her heroics. 

Hm, wait. Actually... 

"Ah, mostly everything. Fuckers have the rest of my shit, but I'm only really interested in the sword. I left it with them and I wasn't going to make you buy some cheap new thing. It's fine, I'm my own weapon and I plan on getting it back, anyway."

Pushing up off the bed to stand, he scrubbed his hands through his hair, which had indeed dried all wrong and had a flat spot where he'd been laying on it. "I can carry everything, if you don't mind adding my clothes to your pack. Gods know I'll need the extras."

Leave discreetly? 

That got Fang's attention and she craned her neck to look up at him hopefully. Sure, she knew he was right, no one knew them here, she knew on an objective level that it didn't matter and they'd never see these folks again, but the idea of making eye contact with anyone in that inn after everything was...

Quite mortifying.

"How would we do that?" she asked slowly, shifting a look toward the window. They were on the second floor, after all. Her eyebrows climbed. "You're not suggesting...?"

Fang didn't really know what was so funny—it was just something she'd noticed! But Spike's laughter was contagious and no matter how she resisted it, she soon fell into a fit of giggles, laughing all the harder because she wasn't sure why she was laughing. She just felt...giddy, a little high and pleasantly tired after what they'd done with the sensations still lingering.

It was Spike's words that sobered her again. Maids?

Well. Of course. They couldn't just stay here forever and someone had to clean the rooms between stays. But...

The angry pounding on the walls. The sounds they'd made. The state of the bed. Fang glanced down at the sheets—white, of course they were white—and realized with slow-building horror just how messy they were, stained with a small smear of red she hadn't noticed before in the nighttime and—

Well, and her own current mess slowly leaking from between her legs.

With a groan, she buried her face against Spike, mumbling against his skin, "...everyone's gonna know."

"You smell nice."

The whispered words and warm breath tickling his neck, sending a pleasant chill across his skin, didn't exactly jolt him awake since he had been lingering just on the cusp, but it did gently lift him out of it right as he had started to fade. Eyes cracking open, half-awake and not quite ready to be fully awake, Cadmus peered down at the familiar black-and-white head tucked under his chin—and he felt a familiar swell of warmth in his chest. A brief flash of nostalgia. 

With a tired smile, he shut his eyes again.

Gods, he had thought of that night more than he cared to admit, what he should have done, what he shouldn't have done, what could have gone differently or what could have been. He honestly didn't know why he cared so much, and yet...there it was again. Raizel cuddled in and it was like satisfying a craving for something he hadn't even realized he'd wanted, her scent enveloping him. Not a bad one. She hadn't washed yet, true, but beneath the sweat and faint, lingering smell of blood, there was that familiar scent that was just...her.

He would know her anywhere; scent was the most powerful vessel of memory. He'd noticed it when he tracked her. He had just...not wanted to accept it.

Her arm around him, her leg thrown over his hip, he let out a sleepy sigh as he was once more fully wrapped up in her warmth. Shifting a little, he slid his other arm under her so he could embrace her fully and pull her in tighter. "Mm. Sure this isn't the dream?" he murmured, and let out a yawn as he slid a hand up her back to play with her hair at the nape of her neck.

"Or...hm. Maybe it's not a dream. Maybe I didn't survive after all. I didn't know about the squid. But hey, this isn't half bad as far as 'nice things that flash behind your eyes as you get choked out and drown' goes." His arm was starting to go numb, so with a little stretch he rolled onto his back and brought her with him.

This time he wouldn't run, he vowed. No matter how rough things got. 

Was she...blushing?

With her light skin it was easy to notice the subtle little changes in color, and it wasn't like her to trip over her words when she usually had such a quick wit. But her words were a little stilted, just for a second, before she recovered smoothly right back to her usual self. His eyes narrowed a little, puzzled. Huh. His first thought wasn't that it was the little kiss, because she'd kissed his hand, too. Instead he found himself backtracking over his words, wondering if he'd said something too weird—which also didn't make sense. If she wasn't put off by everything he'd said about shifting, then he couldn't imagine what could do it.

He also wasn't oblivious to her staring. But considering they were talking about shirts, he figured she was probably just sizing him up.

Odd.

But then she was off, and there was a brief, lingering moment of concern, that maybe he'd made the wrong call. Maybe he should have offered to go with her, or to go instead even if he'd be slower. It could be risky—but he quelled the thought.

No, she was a grown-ass woman who could likely kick his ass in a fistfight in human form. She knew how to handle herself. Why was he concerned about that now?

Well, no sense dwelling on it; they had a schedule to stick to, after all.

The bath was indeed wonderful, and though Cadmus felt a little guilty for it while Raizel was out working, he indulged a bit and took a little longer than he needed. 

Okay, maybe a little too long.

The night had been stressful to say the least; hunting Raizel, learning it was her, trying to save her and then the both of them, all the murder attempts, and then when all was said and done his sleep had been interrupted by a murder-kiss. He'd been exhausted but the coffee had worked its magic—for a time. 

As Cadmus soaked in the bath, the warm water soothing his sore muscles, he soon came back around the other side to something he'd never before experienced: the caffeine crash. He wasn't even aware of nodding off; he'd only leaned his head back against the rim and closed his eyes for a second. And yet some time later he came to again when the water got too cold and a twitch shook him, like falling in a dream and jerking awake just before the splat.

Sucking in a breath, heart racing, he looked around in confusion before it all came back. 

Ah, shit.

He was pruney.

How much time had even passed?!

He rushed through the rest of his bath and came out of it clean and smelling of soap, his black hair plastered to his head and dripping onto his shoulders. Throwing on his breeches before he rushed out, he was relieved to see it was at least still light out. Thank gods. Slipping back into the room, he shut the door behind him.

And the tension melted.

Raizel was back, so it had to have been a bit, but it seemed he wasn't the only one who got hit with the crash. Alright, good, he didn't have to feel too guilty then.

For a moment he just stood there, watching her sleep, debating if he should wake her. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed, the pain of earlier smoothed away...and he just couldn't do it. Raizel had gotten as little sleep as he had but between her grief and being betrayed and hunted and roughed up and threatened...yeah, she absolutely had a worse night than he had. 

There was still a little light left. They could afford it. She deserved the rest, and it was probably better that they went in fresh; he could keep an eye on the time.

Settling down beside her facing the window, he stretched an arm across her middle, his face nestled against against her hair, and settled into his role as Light Watcher. He'd give her until dusk, he told himself. Enough time for the bath to have warm water again while giving her time to bathe. 

Solid plan.

Spike followed close behind her while she was still in the throes of climax, and the sensation of his own release, the way he pulsed and spasmed and filled her with heat, the way he yelled her name at his peak, only helped to draw it out. He kissed her and her own mouth was hungry against his, one hand sliding to cup his cheek and keep him there as she breathed him in and tasted him—and even tasted herself still on his lips.

Nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing else existed. Just the two of them and this room, sharing in each other and learning their bodies.

Carried to the bed once more, which seemed now to be a trend, Fang sprawled out as Spike laid her there, boneless and content. Her chest heaved as she gulped in air, her skin was deliciously sensitive all over, and soon Spike was collapsed against her. With a slow stretch like a lazy cat, Fang rolled onto her side and nestled into him.

Reality, and clarity, slowly crept back in. As she nuzzled her cheek against his chest, eyes closed, a thought occurred to her. Probably not the important one, but it was a start.

"I don't think I've ever heard you curse before," she murmured sleepily.

It was wild how easily he moved her about, handling her like she was weightless. Fang barely had time to register him leaving her before the world spun and her back was to the wall, and suddenly he was hoisting her up, her arms around his neck and her legs over his arms. She yelped in surprise as she clung to him, blushing hotly, searching his face with wide eyes as she hung there for what felt like eternity...and felt incredibly exposed. In truth, he didn't keep her waiting long.

Soon he was slamming into her again, her screams turning into sobs of pleasure as he took her with an intensity that rode almost to the edge of pain, but never quite crossed it. She felt powerless in his arms, unable to move, unable to do anything but just take it, but goddess, she was surprised at how much she loved it. And even more—she trusted him. She trusted with her pleasure and her safety even as he took complete and utter control, and perhaps it was that trust that made her love the surrender.

And so she gave herself to him completely, meeting his eyes even though she shyly wanted to look away, lips parted as her cries blended with his and echoed off the walls. Something was, indeed, happening, that tight, heated pressure building between her legs as she clenched around his cock, legs stiffening, her breathing becoming more ragged. Her hands tangled in his hair like she was holding on for her life—and then he said those familiar words.

"M-me too," she gasped, and clutched him harder, desperately. "Stay," she whimpered. "Please stay. Inside me. Please, please...!"

But her pleading cut off with sobbing scream as she tipped over the edge, trembling uncontrollably—and she kept her eyes on his as she did.

Cadmus Black-Gryphon—Slayer of Distracting Eyelashes.

The ridiculous name, and her Commanderly delivery of it, got a chuckle out of him—even if he did roll his eyes hard. "You know...maybe you were a General in your past life. Or a sergeant," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as though seriously considering it. "I could see you calling the green leafs maggots and making them cry. Anyway."

He peered up at her as she stood, sorry to see her go but knowing she was right, and offered up a small smile as her touch lingered on his skin. "I didn't think I'd magically cured all your trauma in the span of a conversation, but...I'm glad talking helped. Even if only a little."

Something to weather their edge, as she'd put it. He liked the sound of that.

Brushing imaginary dust off his breeches, he joined her, rising to his feet with a groan and a slight crackle of bone. Ugh, he'd forgotten how uncomfortable prolonged sitting on a hard floor was in this body. A bit stiff, he rolled his shoulders and popped his back, and then perked up at the mention of a bath.

She was speaking his language. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling dirty, and gryphons were fairly meticulous about their grooming. Even if he was going to get sweaty and dirty all over again tonight. A magic bath, too? Not just cold water in a river? He considered the offer, hedging because it seemed more polite to let her go first—but perhaps this would be more efficient. He didn't know what supplies she needed, since he didn't particularly need any himself. She would probably be able to gather them faster than he could locate them.

"If you don't mind? Ah."

Pulling his coin purse from his pocket, he folded it into her hand. "I can at least help pay for everything," he said. "Besides, I need a shirt if you wouldn't mind? Maybe a couple extra since I'm cursed?"

He was trusting her, giving her all the money he carried like that. Maybe it was a stupid, naive move, but he hoped she could see it as the gesture of good will that it was. Money passed off, he turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. 

"Be vigilant," he told her, releasing her hand. "They should have moved on by now but you're still a mark, and they don't all work at night."

...Really?

Pulled to her feet, Fang peered curiously up at Spike, surprised—and touched—by his answer. He just wanted to make her feel good? That was it? It was such a sweet, selfless act that she felt herself melt with a strange fluttering in her belly. It didn't change the fact that she still really, really wanted him, but...

There would be other opportunities, right? They had come here with a goal, and they owed it to Maya to commit. They couldn't just stay in bed all day exploring each others' bodies. Responsibility! Diligence! She was a priestess, for Inima's sake, and she needed to pull herself together!

Ugh, but she supposed she could see why such things were discouraged. Spike had become very...distracting, she thought as she watched him turn to undress, her eyes wandering over the contours of his scarred back all the way down to his shapely rear...

Nope! She jerked her eyes away, turned, and went to dig into her bag for her clothes, sucking in a bracing breath. She would have to clean up a bit first for obvious reasons, but she could be fast. 

She had just grabbed out a top and long sarong when she felt Spike's hands in her shoulders. She startled, opening her mouth to ask what he was doing, but soon she had her answer. Pushed up against the wall, she braced herself so her forearms were rested against it—and then drew in a sharp breath when she felt his cock sliding against her sex. Oh. Oh. Wait. Like this?! 

Desire, need, and a little embarrassment swept through her in a breathless rush as she pressed her cheek against the wall to peek back at him in question.

And then he gave her exactly what she wanted.

The first thrust took her breath away, and she didn't think she caught it again after that. The position had him sliding deeper than before, hitting sensitive spots and new spots altogether at brand new angles. Goddess, she had thought he'd taken her roughly that first time but here she felt truly claimed. Perhaps it was the fierceness, the primal urgency, or perhaps it was that she felt truly at his mercy pinned like this and barely able to see him. Yet through it all, with a strange thrill, she realized she liked the sound of being his, of belonging to him—which were all thoughts to deconstruct later.

Fang's screams of pleasure echoed through the room, and someone banged on the wall from the other side, but their shouts were drowned out by her cries and for the moment, at least, she just didn't care. She arched back into his pounding and clawed at the wall for purchase, for as his body slapped against hers, rocking her forward, she started to feel herself slipping. It didn't help, either, that between the primal rutting and the exploration of his hands and lips, she felt that aching pressure begin to build anew—and her legs were going weak. It was getting harder and harder to keep upright, and she gasped out to Spike, "I-I'm gonna fall!"

Did that feel good, he asked.

Face flushed, lips parted, chest heaving with gasping breaths, Fang peered at Spike through her lashes, slightly incredulous. She was still shivering and she had cried out loud enough to wake the dead and he asks if it felt good?

She nodded weakly, swallowing hard. "I think you can tell? Maybe?" she ventured with a sheepish laugh, scrubbing a hand over her hot face. "Sweet goddess, where did you even learn that?"

And yet, even though her body was awash with heat and pleasure and tingling to her toes, that strange, deep ache remained, a need for something more despite the satisfaction. If anything, her release only made her more hyper aware of it, made her craving more intense—and she realized it was him. He was the missing piece. She wanted to feel that again, but she wanted him filling her while she did, wanted to feel him plunging in deep until she could take no more with his body hot against her own.

But. There was no way she could say that. Despite their intimacy, the idea of initiating or asking something so...so dirty...was intimidating beyond belief. And besides, it wasn't fair after he had made her feel so amazing. She wanted him to feel that good, too.

Lifting up onto her elbows, she took a deep breath. "It was so good, I can't even...no, not good—it was amazing, Spike," she said softly, and lowered her eyes, biting her lip. "But, ah...what about you? Is there, um, anything I can...?" She trailed off, losing the nerve.

"Wh-what?!" Fang managed to gasp out, still half trying to process that this was happening. Because while she had definitely read some things, enough to know some of the basics and even a few different ones mentioned in the scandalous poetry she'd read, quite a few were still a mystery to her. This was one of them. Well, up until that moment.

It was difficult to think; did he expect a coherent answer out of her?! Crying out, she squeezed his hand tightly and arched into him, her other hand grabbing at the sheets so she didn't pull at his hair; she didn't want to hurt him, and oh goddess it was intense. His arms around her legs, tense and trembling with pleasure, controlled some of her wild squirming and kept her in place. Which was probably a good thing, because she felt herself rapidly losing control.

"I-I...I slept..." She cut off with a moan and clapped the hand that had been clutching the sheets to her mouth, biting her finger. "I slept...oh goddess, Spike, I don't know!" she cried out, the sound edging close to a sob as she threw her head back. "Spike, oh goddess, please!"

Raizel didn't need his protection, but he wanted to give it to her—and gods, did he regret ever making her feel hunted and afraid. She was a perfectly capable woman. She was fierce and formidable in her own right, brave to the point of recklessness. She was no dainty waif; there was toned muscle beneath his embrace and she was nearly as tall as he was. 

And yet, right then she felt so small.

She kissed his palm and then leaned into it, and it was such a sweet, tender gesture that he felt his chest tighten inexplicably. It felt, in a way, like acceptance, like maybe she didn't hate him so much after all—and like maybe he was stupid for thinking she ever did. Even when she was angry she'd never stopped seeking out these little points of contact.

How oblivious was he, he thought as she settled against him, her head against his shoulder as she idly played with his hand.

Cadmus bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing as something poked at the edges of his mind, thoughts he had kept locked away and for a damned good reason. He shoved them back. Not now. Right now, he was content to hold her quietly, letting her have her thoughts and process what she needed to at her own speed.

Soon enough, she was off again, and he let out a little laugh against her hair as she spoke of her reputation, and then was going off about meals and payment and warmth. He blinked at her, meeting her eyes when she looked at him with that familiar playfulness. 

"Bad deal? For me? Are you kidding?" He cracked a smile, equally teasing. "You're free entertainment, Raizel. The things that come out of your mouth? That and..."

He trailed off, because as he had been watching her face as he spoke, subtly studying her with her so close to him: the flush in her cheeks, the brilliant blue of her eyes, the fullness of her lips...

He wanted to kiss her.

The thought blindsided him even though it had been hovering at the edges for a while, his throat tightening and pulse quickening. He jerked his eyes up from her lips to her eyes with a rush of guilt. What the fuck, Cadmus? What the actual fuck? She was hurt and vulnerable with her heart raw and bloody before him, and his first impulse was to kiss her? Now? Of all fucking moments? Oh, yes, how very sensitive, Cadmus. Because that was definitely what every woman wanted when she was picking up the pieces of her trauma strewn all about her feet—

Ah. Shit. 

He wanted to kiss her.

It wasn't like it was an unusual thought. She was gorgeous.

But it was her. Raizel. Not a random fling at a tavern you had a go at and then never saw again.

Realizing he had left his sentence hanging for far too long, he reached out and brushed at her cheek, just below her eye. "Sorry. Got distracted," he said. "You had an eyelash just..." He pretended to flick it away. "Got it. It's gone now."