paradisalost | They Say It's Your Birthday

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They Say It's Your Birthday

Who: Fred and Wesley
What: Fred plans an evening for Wesley on his birthday
When: Dec 22 - Dec 28, Wesley's Birthday Week
Where: Wesley's Parisian Apartment, Catacombs, Paris
Rating: PG 13 --> ? TBD by muses. Will Update as needed.

She couldn't say, exactly, when she'd made the decision.

If only because it felt as if there really wasn't a decision to make. The remaining distance between herself and Wesley had felt far more bearable with a mystical castle and the majority of a town separating them. Fred wasn't as certain about distance making things fonder anymore, so much as manageable. But now he was just across the hall.

Just across. And it might as well have been the same space, for all the protection from her own thoughts that offered. You couldn't see through walls, at least not in the traditional sense. But you could feel heat through them. It might be winter in Paris, but it certainly wasn't in Fred's small studio apartment.

And now? It was Wesley's birthday.

Maybe, back at home, that might've looked entirely different. Dinner, maybe. Another not-quite-as-planned date. And there always seemed to be some distraction or the other. But they weren't in Paradisa, they were in Paris.

And now she was back to the part to it not really being a decision.

It didn't take much to break into his apartment. She'd never had much trouble with locks, not when she set her mind to them. Wesley was still at work, which suited her plans perfectly. After all, if he'd been here? She might not've been allowed much further than the living room. But Wesley wasn't there. And that afforded her plenty of time to locate a handful of candles tucked under one cabinet, and to light them along the perimeters of his bedroom. Even if truthfully the lights coming from the window were far more appealing.

A bottle of wine and two glasses sat quietly on his dresser. Because it was Paris, and there was more definitely wine. Either way, her lack of deciding aside? Whatever Wesley decided, they could still spend the evening together.

Finally she settled herself -- and a familiar bit of blue fabric -- onto his bed.

And waited.

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Wes very much liked the frank way that Fred gazed upon him. Bold and openly admiring. It made him feel desired. Even his imperfections seemed interesting when Fred beheld them. Grazed her fingertips over them. He sighed into the kiss, shifting closer and letting one of his hands to caress a gentle path upwards over her shirt-clad back to the edge of the collar underneath her hair. He traced the skin just above that line with two of his fingers. Teasing brushes.

His other hand worked to unfasten his trousers, more confident now, barely fumbling at all. A few well-placed nudges at his hips and a step free and then there was only one item left to remove. For both of them.

Edited 2012-01-17 10:13 (UTC)

Fred shivered as Wesley grazed the back of her neck, her body quickly losing grasp of things like logic and reason. She was hypersensitive to his touch, and currently tangled in a study course clearly designed to remind her just how long it'd been. She refused to fully consider the math.

Warm fingers at the nape at her neck and her knees refused to work as they were meant to, buckling slightly.

They were nothing less than traitors, really.

A breath, then composure gained through thorough and complete recommitment to the task at hand. Her hands traced over his waist in a way not all that unlike when she'd asked him to tuck her in outside Caritas. Fingers slipped below the fabric, nails grazing against skin in unapologetic exploration before Fred finally reached to tug the boxers free altogether.

Wes' abdominal muscles went involuntarily taut at Fred's more brazen touches and his breaths noticeably shortened. His hips were lean, much of his body was lean. But it didn't feel like a deficit. He was toned and physically fit. There was nothing to be ashamed of, least of all his arousal which now was in full view. Undeniable visible evidence of his body's physical reaction to Fred. Of the effect she had on him. Stark and tangible desire.

There was something ironically fitting in him being the first to be undressed. Fred was still in the very same blue shirt she'd greeted him in. That she'd intended to gift back to him when this whole evening had begun, in fact. And now, that same shirt was all that remained between them. One thin layer of fabric.

He very deliberately reached up to the first button that held the shirt closed and slipped it free of its button-hole. Then another. And another. His movements were unhurried, though, and deft in their execution. A contrast to his earlier faltering. As each button was freed, a sliver more of Fred's bare skin was revealed, but he waited until there were no buttons left to undo before pushing the shirt wide open and coaxing it to fall from her shoulders.

It was Wes' turn to appraise and admire what was before him. To reach out and touch what his now heated gaze alighted upon; exploring and mapping the contours of Fred's naked body.

She was beautiful to him. Lovely beyond measure.

Passion gripped him and would not let go, making his heart race to a galloping beat and his breaths to become even more quickened. There was far too much space between them now. He removed it all by pulling her flush against him, his mouth seeking hers in an ardent kiss.

Edited 2012-01-17 12:17 (UTC)

He was beautiful.

Did Wesley know that? Did he even begin to see? Fred suspected that he still didn't, and the knowledge only motivated her to redouble her efforts to somehow convince him otherwise.

A conviction, it seemed, that would have to wait. At least in that particular moment. She felt her breath catch, hovering thick in her throat as Wesley reached to tug the first button of her shirt free. Another button conquered, and now an audible hitch of air that caused the edges of his fingertips to just brush against sensitive skin. The quiet, deliberate skill displayed caused a new heat to pool and spread from her center, outwards.

And that was just a button.

She rolled her shoulders when Wesley was done, aware of how the fabric brushed against her skin as it fell to the floor. Fred wanted nothing more than to eliminate the space between them, and then subsequently the space between them and the bed. To tumble into the moment all limbs and mouth and those skilled, skilled hands.

But she forced herself to hold still. To give Wesley the same opportunity he'd allowed her. And she didn't flinch as his hands began to drift over her skin, exploring over less-exposed scars. Not just the still-visible gash on her arm. Or the small, round mark not far below her collar bone where the grappling hook had cut through. There were older, more faded ones as well. The ones that Charles had never once asked about. And fairly, the ones she'd never offered to explain.

It hadn't been what they wanted from her. And it hadn't been what she wanted for herself.

Wesley had seen her wall. Could translate the stories there, if he chose too. And she was...

She was...

Before Fred could navigate her way through the remainder of that thought Wesley pulled her tight against him, his mouth hot and his arousal hard against her abdomen.

Maybe now was the time to start considering that bed.

Wes was having a very similar thought. It happened naturally: the shifting of balance, intent and gravity all combining to create a fall towards the comfort of the bed. It could have been a graceless, awkward tangle of limbs for all the lack of care in the execution. But it wasn't at all. The shock of the soft impact, the collision of bodies, the warmth of bare skin finally contacting against bare skin only served to heighten the thrill of what was happening.

Wes took advantage of the breathlessness of the moment, claiming a deeper kiss. Robbing Fred of breath and hopefully of reason too. He wanted her so much, and didn't have to hold that back from her any longer. The subtle roll of his hips and gentle stroking caresses down her side and along her thigh made that very plain indeed, but he wasn't about to rush things. He was determined to draw out each new discovery. To celebrate what they'd waited so long to enjoy.

He'd start by placing reverent open-mouthed kisses to her throat and collarbone. To the parts of her which had once been shackled by a slave's collar. Fred was free of that now. But he knew that the memories lingered on. The pain of her ordeal in Pylea having dulled over time but never completely forgotten.

Through a heated, thoughtless haze Fred's hips instinctively lifted to meet Wesley's own. A conversation between bodies where her mouth was so clearly otherwise occupied. She could feel it all -- the natural thrum of his arousal, the erratic nature of her own pulse made plain wherever her skin pressed against his and the Wesley's skilled, mind-numbing exploration of her mouth. Not one rhythm lined up with the next.

The effect was dizzying, and for all her encouragement towards precisely this moment? A jagged intake of breath hinted that Fred wasn't completely prepared for the current assault on her senses.

She tilted her mouth free, shifting up and moving so that one leg effectively straddled each of Wesley's hips. Hands on his sides served as anchors, thumbs distracted by the texture of hard muscle under warm skin. Her gaze stated at the scar that marred his neck, before drifting lower.

It wasn't that Fred was avoiding it. Far from it. She'd acknowledged it on more than one occasion, could still remember how it tasted beneath the earthy tones of water from the hot springs. Instead she settled on the scar that stood lifted and raised on Wesley's abdomen. At first just one thumb drifted to trace across it again, traveling to understand what she didn't know.

Her body folded, rearranged itself as Fred moved to place a kiss against the raised and puckered skin. Her tongue traced against it, memorizing how it felt.

His gunshot wound. A relic from his time before Fred. A battle wound which had, for a time, brought him and Gunn closer as brothers in arms. A reminder of how Virginia had not been able to live with the life he'd chosen for himself.

And Fred - sweet, clever, curious Fred - was kissing the marred skin. Allowing her tongue to dart out and taste him there. How was it that everything she touched was suddenly no longer ugly.

Wes drew in a shuddering breath, keenly aware of the delicate pressure of her lips and tongue against his skin. His fingers found their way into her soft brown hair, twining with the tousled strands.

Her name spilled from his lips with the softest of sighs. "Fred..."

Fred smiled against Wesley's scar, emboldened by his favorable response to her touch. She pulled her mouth against the taunt skin skin again, more pressure and heat and the unmistakable scrape of her teeth.

And then she closed her eyes, cheek tilted and pressed against Wesley's stomach as she cataloged the moment. Tastes and texture collected and set to memory.

His fingers tangled themselves in her hair and Fred shivered, aware in her own reaction of every place they touched. Her name, Wesley's voice -- settled over both of them. Whisper soft.

Fred shifted again, dragged her body lower even as sparks lit and fired where his hand was still lost in her hair. It did little to deter her as she pressed another kiss to the valley where hip met thigh. Another place previously unexplored.

"...Wesley."

Wes could barely breathe; each heady moment of anticipation was shifting into the next in a much more heightened way, forcing him to draw in more precious air to compensate. Fred's lips contacting him in such a sensitive place made him make a more audible gasp, his fingers reflexively tightening their grip on her hair for the briefest of seconds before loosening again. He didn't know what he'd do if she kissed him more intimately than that. There wasn't a part of him which wasn't now attuned to her slightest touch, the ghosting of her warm breath against his skin, the feather-like caress of her loose tresses as she made slight shifts in position. This had to be what people meant when they said they wanted someone with every fiber of their being.

The tightening of Wesley's fingers in Fred's hair hurt, but not in any unpleasant or unwelcome way. Truthfully, there was a whisper of disappointment as his tangled grip loosened it's hold. It'd suited the coiled band of heat and ready and want that sat low in her belly. For those few delicious seconds there was balance, and the rest of her hovered in between.

Until Fred's own curiosity took over again. They'd each seen the other by now, tip to toe and every inch between through various situations and encounters. and perhaps that was part of it, the prolonged and respectful 'look but don't (completely) touch' of it all that caused her mouth to travel across Wesley's skin now -- without shame or apology.

Finally there was another kiss, lower in the valley near his hips that she'd explored before. Until she slowly and precisely drew her mouth and tongue up the length of him, a swirling touch along the tip.

And while there were the brief, more logical considerations of expanded blood vessels and threading pulse and sweat-slicked skin? All Fred could think was that now he'd shed his mustier, museum-scented clothing how lovely it was to get down to the Wesley of it all. That made her hesitate, lifting just slightly to study him through the tangled shadow of her hair. Because as enjoyable as her current position was? There was still so very much more to explore.

Edited 2012-01-26 23:32 (UTC)

He'd imagined things. How it would go. What would happen first, or second or after that, even. It was in Wes' nature to run scenarios in his head and plot possible outcomes, the intricate paths to those outcomes. But to be here in this moment with Fred right now? It quite literally took his breath away and exceeded anything he could have dreamt up himself.

Not the physical intimacy of it. He'd had sex before. He'd touched and been touched before. Done things which were as intimate as a man and woman could be with each other.

But how it felt to be touched by Fred. Kissed by her. To have her exploring his body, so openly. With that same fearless curiosity which he admired so much. He knew then. Knew it with utter clarity. That this was what it felt like to be truly loved and wanted.

It was overwhelming. He didn't know how to deal with it. There was a tightness across his chest like his heart was going to burst, it was so full of emotion. When Fred tilted her gaze to look at him, it was too much, he had to look away. Even flung an arm tightly across his face, so she wouldn't see.

Her brow knitted at first, his reaction so sudden that at first Fred wasn't sure what to do with it. She was almost complete certain she'd done nothing wrong, but ---

Wesley hadn't known what waited for him when he came home that evening. Somehow, for some reason maybe he was having second thoughts. It all required a particular skill to navigate the tangle of limbs and emotions, a skill that could not be more on the other end of the spectrum from her recent activities.

There was a sudden, undeniable shift.

But after a breath, and then three more? Fred's head began to clear enough that she started to brush up against the edge of understanding the way she'd traveled across Wesley's skin just moments before.

She didn't say anything. Shifting carefully, Fred moved so that Wesley's other hand drifted free from her hair. She waited for any resistance, but when none came she pulled her body up. Up and against him again, her body briefly in line with his own. Her palms pressed into the mattress as she left a kiss on the arm that concealed Wesley's features.

Fred then moved again, settling just next to Wesley in the bed. One cheek rested in the crook of her own elbow, watching him.

She could wait.

Eventually, after a drawn out amount of time, Wes lowered his arm. He didn't want to hide from her. But the tears which had sprung forth had made him feel embarrassed.

"I'm sorry." He finally said after a few shaky breaths. "It's just that...I've never been so happy. I can't even begin to describe--"

Perhaps he didn't need to. He reached out to caress the side of her face, still feeling vulnerable. So very naked. He was used to hiding everything. Pushing down how he felt. Soldiering on and being stoic about life in general. But with Fred he couldn't. Not anymore.

So he told her with his eyes and his touch and finally with his kiss just how much she had changed his life for the better. No more holding back. Not with Fred. She deserved all that he could give of himself. Everything.

Curled on one side, Fred waited patiently The heat and want, and the the unchecked curiosity of just moments before didn't go away -- there was no away for something like that. But it did pool in her limbs and low in her belly as Fred willed it to a simmer. Wesley was worth waiting for, even if he didn't always see that himself. Even if sometimes she failed at making him see that.

But now wasn't the moment to force anything. At least not any more than she'd forced it by breaking and entering...

When Wesley finally moved, Fred's cheek naturally lifted towards his touch as she savored the warmth of his skin grazing over her own. For some reason she felt the quiet caress all the way down to her toes.

She opened to his kiss even as her body uncurled, naturally shifting closer to his own. One hand moved to tangle itself in his hair, the other eventually settling on a hip.

Sometimes it felt as if he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wanted Fred. Hadn't loved her completely. Without her in his life he hadn't lived, not really. Existed, perhaps. But she had filled a gaping part within himself that he'd not realised was even lacking until she'd been there to show him what he'd been missing out on.

Warmth. A tender acceptance that he could feel- no, trust if he let himself open up to it.

He shifted closer too, finally allowing his body to respond to her touch, her nearness. She wasn't going to reject him, to pull back at the last moment. He knew that in his heart. He sighed against her lips, his breath intermingling with hers; skin brushed against skin, his hands starting to explore again. To caress the woman he adored with all of his heart. He wanted to know every inch of her. To fill her with the kind of happiness he felt in beig closer to her, the joy in discovery. Still so much to learn. Together

Rolling onto his back, he pulled her with him, kissing her deeply again, one hand coming up to stroke the nape of her neck. His hips rocked subtly, not hiding how much he wanted her, but not insisting either.

Her breath caught, uneven and audibly broken as Wesley's hands resumed his exploration of her body. There wasn't any discernible pattern to it, anything that she could hope to predict. It was careless and unknown and the glimmer of an abandoned watch. She couldn't hope to predict the outcome and her entire body reacted to that knowledge, pressing deep into his kiss. Her tongue tastes the last, lingering notes of wine that's settled in the less-touched corners of Wesley's mouth.

It wasn't nearly enough to get intoxicated from. So why did she feel so dizzy?

Fred rolled with him, her body settling over Wesley's own. His hips cradled hers, pressing up as her own answered naturally. There was another broken breath between them at best but still Fred protected that space. She pulled back to look down as Wesley, her hair a dark and tangled curtail. She's surprised him before, she knew that. Now was she needed to know was that he was absolutely certain.

Perhaps the only indication of just how much restraint that involved was her one hand that acted as a brace against the mattress -- her nails cutting deep into the sheets and padded surface.

He answered Fred by locking gazes with her, letting her see how much naked passion he had for her, and then deliberately rolling his hips more firmly against hers. A soft gasp escaped him at the increased friction between their bodies. He didn't want to stop, he wanted to dive in. To know Fred and be as close to her as he could possibly get. There was no doubt in his mind now that he was ready to take that next step with her if she was ready to take it with him.

His gaze found hers and Fred felt herself smile. She was pretty certain she felt everything in that moment, so the sensation of an upturned mouth was a natural consequence. She was less inclined to shed it than she had been Wesley's shirt. As she continued to look at him it flickered into something softer, but still remained.

One hand slipped across the sheets to take Wesley's into her own -- from the same arm he'd so recently cast across his face. Her fingers tangled tightly with his, the unintended epicenter for all the tension coiled tightly inside her. Fred wasn't without her own doubts, perhaps despite certain evidence to the contrary. But she also knew the more time went on, the less weight they all seemed to have.

Her fingers tightened even further still, to the point she could feel the erratic nature of her own pulse. Then she claimed Wesley's mouth in a quick, fierce kiss as she pressed fully down onto him.

Edited 2012-02-27 05:31 (UTC)

Wes was grateful for the increased contact of their hands, that feeling of being connected. They were both falling once again, not over a waterfall while on the deck of a pirate ship, but it had that same sense of inevitability, of not knowing where they would land but no longer fearing it.

When Fred finally took him inside of her, he gasped sharply against her lips, his grip tightening reflexively on the hand clasping his and his back arching a little at the sheer pleasure of the moment. It was an indescribable feeling. He could barely draw another breath, but he forced himself to. No matter what happened afterwards, they would always have this. Just for them.

Edited 2012-02-27 06:15 (UTC)

Wesley's back arched, hips lifting as it did so. Fred met them with a roll of her own, her own natural curiosity flickering to the surface once more. She pressed deeper, took more of him in. Another held breath as she set about discovering just how this worked -- for them. Another exploratory rise and fall of her hips lead her to settle quickly on the conclusion that no, no.

This wasn't going to be work at all.

She pulled back, but only slightly. Just enough that the shadows of Wesley's feature's were visible from beneath the curtain of her hair. If Fred was looking for something, she seemed to find it quickly enough. She kissed him again, mouth and hips settling into a similar rhythm.

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They Say It's Your Birthday

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