By the time she was doing the count for the day, she was an absolute mess of sexual frustration and a small touch of nerves. Not usually to be one who got nervous over silly things like sex, she was also annoyed at herself for being so high school-ish about the whole thing.
Sex was sex- no big deal.
But there was a small, niggling little voice in the back of her head that said it wasn't just sex and that it was a big deal.
But she blocked that voice out as she walked into the bar and found Daniel already gone.
"What the..." she trailed off, a heady mixture of surprise and disappointment flooding her system.
After checking around just to make sure, she shrugged off the feeling, locked up, made her way home, and attempted to wash the day and especially, the night, away.
She was just wrapping the towel around her when there was a knock at the door.
"Xander, seriously, you should call if you have information about..." she was saying as she pulled the door open and found not Xander, but Daniel.
His clothes were changed and his hair was still damp from the shower.
"Looks like we both had the same idea."
"The same idea?" she asked, blocking his way inside.
"Shower before sex."
And that was why he cut out before her- so he could run home and shower.
"You know, we could have saved water..." she said, giving him a small smile, a little too relieved than she cared to admit that he hadn't suddenly changed his mind about the whole thing.
"Could have," he agreed, moving forward, backing her into her apartment and slamming the door closed behind him. He didn't stop there though, right inside the door. He kept advancing her until the backs of her legs hit the foot of her bed. "But what I have in mind wouldn't work in the shower. Too slippery," he told her as he kicked out of his shoes and socks. As he moved toward the side of the bed, she started to follow. "Nope," he said, shaking his head at her. "You stay there," he added as he sat up against the headboard. His eyes moved slowly over her from the still-dripping ends of her hair to the tops of her feet, then up again until his eyes pinned hers. "Take off that towel," he demanded, his voice a low, rumbling, sexy growl.
Faith sucked in a breath as her hands moved up the rough material to where it was tucked to the side of her breast. There was the barest of hesitations before her finger slid in and unhooked it, the material pausing for a second before falling to the floor in one swift motion, leaving her completely naked.
A rumbling sound came from somewhere deep in Daniel's chest and Faith found herself pressing her thighs together in response to the chaos that sound caused between her legs. Desire was a live wire in her system, sparking off uncontrollably, moving outward from its origins low in her belly and overtaking everywhere from her feet to the very top of her scalp, leaving everything feeling tingly and electric.
Daniel's eyes stayed on her face for long enough for her to be impressed by his willpower before they slowly started moving downward, over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, legs.
She wasn't shy about her body. First because it was simply never something she was raised to believe was shameful and second because she worked long hours every week in training sessions so she felt confident that she was tight and toned in the right places and soft and feminine in the other right places.
"Fuck," he said finally when he finished his inspection and his eyes once again found hers. She felt her belly flutter with the feeling put behind that one word, knowing that in man-speak that was just about the best compliment he could give her. "Get your ass over here," he demanded, eyes burning as she moved across the floor toward him and stood at the side of the bed. He reached down and patted his lap and she felt her lips curve as she moved to straddle him.
His eyes moved over her face again, completely devoid of makeup, her usual war paint, the realization making her feel just slightly more vulnerable than she usually felt about sex. His eyes slid lower as a bead of water dripped from her hair and slid down her chest then over her breast. His hand moved out, his finger tracing the line from where it originated to where it slid off her nipple, his thumb gliding over the hardened peak as his breathing got slower, deeper. He arched to lean forward, to take her breast into his mouth. But her hands went to his shoulders, stopping him.
When he looked up with a raised brow, she smiled and ran her hands down his chest, his stomach, to the hem of his shirt. "This is uneven," she informed him.
To that, his lips twitched up. "So you don't want to be submissive," he observed. "You want to fight for power." There was no disappointment in his tone. If anything, she was sure she heard excitement.