(sex) on the beach, with sharks (the sweetness and light remix)
Remix of (sex) on the beach, with sharks by not jenny.
There was this thing, a thing Angel and I did, where we kissed if we got too close.
Then I killed him.
Then he wasn't dead, and he was a secret, and we got too close. And then we kissed, and everyone knows, and who the hell are they to decide who I kiss or don't kiss? Sure, I kissed him, but that was more of a, a fluke. A kissing fluke, and who the hell are they?
They have never had to run a sword through someone they love, and think about feeling his hands sliding down their bodies, and, ew, I just had a gross mental picture, because I don't want to think about Angel and anybody but...
I kissed him, or he kissed me, and I know that'll never be enough. I know that, but I know better, and neither of us is willing, though ready, to get all groiny with each other again.
I don't know why they don't understand me, why they don't trust me. They either think I'm all, like, sweetness and light, or some ho-bag ready to bang the first pretty face that shows up.
Hell, if that's what they think, why shouldn't I? Not Angel, I know, because that would be of the bad, but Angel and I kissed, and now my skin feels like it's a live wire, except skin-like, instead of wire-like.
I feel like I'm buzzing, and I might as well get buzzed.
When I get to the bar, some dive that makes me sorry I didn't bring that fruity-smelling antibacterial gel, Faith is sitting there, in the back, but I decide to ignore her. It's a no-fights, no-bites night, and I'm looking for a pretty face. The bartender's not bad, and the drinks are damn good, but I'm not that desperate. I want sex on the beach, but the drink'll do just as well.
For now.
I don't know how long I'm drinking, or how drunk I get, but the second I stand up, Faith is there, pulling my arm, and why shouldn't I follow her to the bathroom? She's the prettiest face I've seen all night, and I did come to the bar on a mission.
She's angry, I can tell, but she wants me more, and I can tell that, too. Maybe because her hands are grabbing my ass and her tongue is thrusting into my mouth. She slams me against the wall, and I hope that no one else is in the bathroom, not that it's the greatest place to do this anyway, and oh.
She's there and she's hot and rough and her teeth drag against me, hurting me hurting me and hurting me more, and I want more and she gives me that much, and oh, oh, it's never been like this, I've never done this, and I want more, more, and she's growling at me, and then she bites me. Right. There.
The room shudders, or I do, and it's possible I scream.
And all she does is laugh.