The Phantom danced around him while he was oblivious. It was quite easy really. His mind was being rolled and he saw nothing. So he stood there in the hallway looking for where the breath on his neck was coming from. Where the ruffling of his hair was coming from. Where gentle brush of lips against his own was coming from. Where the teasing caress leading to...ah right there, was coming from. He fell back against the wall, moaning, eyes closing. His eyes snapped open, looking for anyone that could have heard him. He started walking towards his office, the kisses and invisible hand never ceasing with their torment. He gave up trying to figure out where all this was coming from, chalking it up to a great imagination and the fact that he hasn't had any since She called up his lover and they both dumped him. But he wasn't imagining either one of them as this phantom that was following him. It was the girl from his porn last night, the woman he saw in the coffee house this morning, his secretary, his waitress, his friends wife...he never could just pick one and run with the idea of monogamy. He shut and locked the door. Now that he was in his office chair he gave himself completely over to the assault. This was more than an active imagination but by now he didn't care. He tried to find a body to run his hands over but he couldn't get a hold on it; it was coming up from behind, the side. Hands were buried in his hair and a mouth fell upon his, eating away at it in a frenzy of lips and tongue and teeth. In the onslaught his hands found the body and now his palms were running over its chest; it arched its back and pushed itself closer to him, straddling him. With his mouth free, he let out a deep moan and unconsciously thrust his hips against what was in his lap. His eyes struggled to open as his mind tried to guess what he has just bumped into as a hand slipped inside his shirt and a mouth started running along his jaw. He half watched as invisible hands unbuttoned his shirt and pants while small kisses rained down on his chest. A stray hand found its way down, pulling his pants along to expose part of his upper thigh. He lifted his hips and slid his pants off himself. Within seconds he was free and enveloped in a hot fist which squeezed and stroked and then disappeared leaving him to strain upwards in search of more. Now there was no presence at all; no kisses, no hands, nothing. He was beginning to think maybe this was all his own thoughts when the storm began again. This time it was hard and fast and he grew even harder at the thought of what the finish would be like. The hands were pushing his shoulders down while a mouth savagely bit a trail down his body leaving angry red marks behind. If he wasn't already so turned on this would probably hurt a lot more than it did. He was breathing heavily and sucked the air in through his teeth when that mouth slid over his tip and teeth scraped against him. He stared at his lap as he saw himself develop a sheen of wetness but there was no one there; he involuntarily closed his eyes as another shudder of pleasure went through him. The onslaught never ended, the invisible hands were wreaking havoc on him, from running down his back and over his thighs to up his chest and over his nipples and into his mouth then down his neck and repeating the whole process over and over. All the while the mouth feasted on him. He could feel his orgasm growing, and just as he could take no more the presence left him again. Then just as quickly as it had left it reappeared. Pulling him off the chair and onto the floor, his legs were pushed up and while one hand held him down, another hand entered one finger into him soon followed by another. A mouth drank all his screams. There was no time to think about what was happening to him, and what scared him even more than that was he found himself responding to the attack. He bucked and slid backward as he found himself full of someone else but he began to push back and meet the thrusts. Nothing mattered now, only the finish. He was screaming with each thrust, biting his lip to try and keep quiet. He wouldn't give them the pleasure of his screams along with his body. He tried to touch himself, give himself that last bit to push him over the edge and end it all but hands clamped his wrists to the floor. The thrusts grew harder and faster and he was filled again. And the presence was gone. Before he even had a chance to get a hold of himself he was hit upside the head. This time knees held his wrists to the floor while fists rained down on his face and chest. Nothing restrained his screams now. The racked his body and with the punches he was having trouble drawing a breath. There was movement and the mouth reclaimed his erection but this was a feast in different terms; teeth scraped across him forcefully and then bit down. He screamed wordlessly as his back bowed and burned from pushing against the rug. They bit down again as he was smacked across the face. He was entered again, his own blood a lubricant. With everything so tight in pain the deep thrusts tore tissue and more blood rushed forth. He was filled again and when the phantom left him he could feel semen and his blood running down his thigh. A hand brushed across his leg and then down his face, smearing blood and semen over his eyes. Out of nowhere a sharp pain came from his left side and he could feel a wetness pooling under him. He caught the flash of metal out of the corner of his eye. Another sharp pain and his body spasmed in a mock play of what he wanted to do so badly and then lay still. But the presence didn't leave him this time. In fact he was pretty sure he could see it through the haze of death, sitting in the corner, licking the knife.

He wears the stubble to help hide the scar. The mottled and pink reminder of his mistake. An orchestrated situation predesigned by an evil bastard, but still-his mistake. He is clean shaven tonight though. But that's just fine. She sees him like he is, knows him. He smoothes down his navy shirt, an old nervous gesture. She's the only one who can make him twitchy, and apparently expand his palette more. The blue fabric feels smooth and claming, something with a little more life in it. His clothes, his stubble, his demeanor, everything's been gray for a long time. But she brings a vibrancy to him that's been lacking for as long as he can remember. So, a nice shade of dark blue. He'll never be a bright colors kind of guy anyway. He looks towards the door.

She, however, is all swirling color and shimmer. His vibrancy. A deep red dress, almost purple. He smiles. Little baubles in her ears, a slight gold chain and her light makeup. Just her little outer expression of sparkle hiding the burning pulsing star within. And her skin? Well, it's best he not think about that just now.

They smile, Wesley opens the door and holds her elbow to give her a boost. She slides into the car with grace, not something so easy to do in a dress with an SUV. A comfortable silence fills the drive. He glances at Fred only to catch her looking at him. She flashes an embarrassed smile and looks down. His eyes widen for a split second as his stomach absorbs the shock of her beauty, little flip flops. Before he can stop himself he reaches out and gently runs a hand down that smooth soft arm.

Under the caress it's her turn for the widened eyes and flip flops. She's just sure he can hear her heart beating loud and fast and frantic and she's waiting for him to ask what that thumping noise is. But he doesn't. Just sends her one of those rare gentle smiles, that she's always secretly thought of as just hers; so she gathers it close and stores it away.

They arrive. Someplace nice but nothing too fancy so as to make anyone nervous. They're seated, typical small chat had and orders given. After, he asks her a simple question about a new article in a scientific journal they both read. She lights up and starts rambling on for a second before it clicks in her brain what he's done. She pauses, grins, and continues on at a more normal rate. He listens, interjecting now and again, but is content to stare at the lovely red pout before him. Then he too becomes lost in the conversation and it is her turn to stare-into those flashing passionate eyes. The food, the wine, and the hours are barely noticed. The restaurant closes. She links her arm with his on the walk back to the car. As she's climbing in, she asks if they can have coffee. He agrees and the dinner conversation is resumed-now on demon types-and the drive flies by.

The making of coffee. She takes down two cups placing them on the counter and smiles, looking up at him. He's just watching her, coffee forgotten. He doesn't grab her this time. As he's tilting her chin up she's already putting her arms around his neck.

She tastes deeply sweet, almost like a plum, with the possibility of tartness. Her scent is enveloping him. Heady and spicy and warm. He ducks and licks her neck, wanting to taste that smell, roll it around in his mouth and keep it. She gives a little gasp and soon no one knows where one mouth begins or ends.

He blinks because he's sitting down now. She guided them to the couch and he didn't even notice. He looks at her and she has a small frown on her face. He reaches out and evens the wrinkle on her forehead, as she places her hand on the side of his face. He greedily turns into it, loving her touch. Now both hands are on his face, either memorizing or examining, he's not sure which. She shh's him, smoothing his raised eyebrow. His forehead, his eyes, cheeks, nose, ears, mouth, chin, all are caressed by those gentle fingers. His eyes opened when they reached his neck. Not even looking up at him she shushes him again. Then, leaning down, she drags her tongue over the ragged line. He stops breathing.

She does it again, reopening a wound he wants to forget and yet never can. Her tongue darts out, quick swipes over and over that are making him more aroused than he thought possible. Then she closes it with soft kisses. She sits back, gazing into his eyes, looking so serene. He reaches out to cup her face and a gentle kiss turns hungry, both of them drinking the other in huge gasping gulps. Flinging the need for her out of himself and into their fused mouths only to be bombarded by her need for him.

Maybe later he'll remember details but right now its just Her. Her softness, the taste of her scent from her collarbone and that spot right there between her breasts. Her little gasps and sighs, her hands wandering the most wonderful of places, her unforgettable mouth and that lovely tongue.

She has no idea what room they are in now because everything is Him. That male scent that she's never been able to find anyplace else but will always recognize, his great exploring hands, the worlds sexiest moans, that amazing tongue. Lips softer than any she's found and that voice. Oh, that voice.

She's creating this swirling in him as surely as he's creating it in her. Almost spinning our of control and then he's inside her and it's an anchor. She wraps around him and this perfect blend of human happens.

He thinks if she sinks any more into him she'll be able to caress his heart. She think if he climbs inside her any further he could live with her under her skin, forever part of her. The climax is great crashing waves, twisting them together so that separation is impossible without damage.

He holds her now as close as possible for flesh to flesh. Both unable to move and unable to want to.

"I love you."

"I love you."

They kiss themselves into the sweetest of sleeps.

The fat man stalked me in the ring. I stood in the center, watching him. I had no idea who he was, or why he looked like he wanted to eat me for a midnight snack. At least I was assuming it was nighttime still. I had been shoved into a brick building by the hooded passerby a few hours ago. I had been completely aware of him, had purposely ignored him to piss him off. What I hadn't realized was how young he was, he could only have been between 10 and 12 years old. The shadows had melted so closely around him, making his size seem larger than it was. I had blinked once to readjust my perception and that was all he had needed.

Had it been this night? Last night? How many nights had it been? My mouth felt like someone had stuffed my gym socks in and sewn it shut; stretched, dry and distorted. I knew my right temple was sticky with dried blood, one cheek was tender, and my nose clicked with pain when I sniffed. I smiled softly, ah, add cracked lips to the list, and began to hum. I feel pretty, oh so pretty...

I twisted and cracked my neck and jaw, shaking my shoulders as well, all the while taking in my surroundings. Gray, gray and more gray. Even the shadows seemed gray. There was the boxing ring I was in and that was the only thing remotely resembling furniture in the room. High ceilings, no ventilation ducts, one gray door on each end of the room, one swinging lamp high above. All rooms lead to this one.

Then there was the high black window on the wall in front of me. I looked with only my eyes, and wiggled my fingers once-whoever the hell it was that had wanted to see me fight so badly would notice. Meanwhile the schmuck in front of me hadn't even noticed. He was too busy staring at my body.

Joy, he's going to punch me and then cop a feel.

He grinned at me then, letting me know that his IQ matched about how many teeth he had left in his mouth. He leaned towards me, inhaled my scent.

The punched me dead in the face.

And yes he did cop a feel on the way down. Asshole.

I ducked from the second swing, jumping back and to the right. How the fuck had he done that? I turned and spat red, gently touched a tooth. He just grinned, now relaxing and leaning in the corner. I had watched his fist swing towards me, knew when I had to move. But his fist had not been near enough to hit my face, of that I was certain. It... it was almost like his shadow had tried to punch my teeth through the back of my head.

"Aww, c'mere girlie. Teddy Bear'll kiss it better. Teddy can kiss everythin'... better." He licked his lips. "Teddy dun even mind the blood. In fact, Teddy kinda likes it."

Oh yes. Teddy was very happy that he punched me in the face. In fact, if Teddy became any more happy a small family of four would crawl out of his pants, exclaim what a beautiful day it was and how about a hike, shall we?

Teddy made Fat Bastard look like an Abercrombie and Bitch model.

I smiled, splitting my lips more so they began to bleed. Rubbing them, and the trickle from my now gurgling nose, onto my left cheek and down my neck, I approached him. My right hand disappeared down my shirt and his eyes with it. The family of four crawled out, saw what was happening and ran for the nearest ranger.

I swung with my left.

I punched him in the stomach and recoiled in disgust. It was like punching into warm newly risen bread dough. I wondered just how far my fist had sunk in, but lost the thought as he doubled over in pain, coughing. I swung again and connected with what I hoped to be his Adam's apple- well I hoped it was his neck anyway. Then I aimed for the right side of his face. Not that it did any good.

If he doesn't stop rubbing himself, he might just start a fire.

He grinned - just how much more can this guy grin anyway?- and lapped at the blood now flowing freely from his nose.

"Once more should do it girlie- c'mon"

I grabbed his hands, brought them to the blood on my face. A pink tongue darted out of my mouth and up, almost touching my nose. His eyes grew wide, then slanted in that lascivious grin again.

It was then that I kicked him square in the balls. The family packed up and made a beeline for Canada.

I had had enough of this.

I kicked him again, still holding his hands to my face, smeared in both our blood. He fell to his knees, and I was now holding his arms raised in the air. I took my right palm and shoved it upward into his nose, breaking it and sending bits of bone traveling to the few tiny brain cells he had left. He fell back to the mat, and I stomped on his trachea. For good measure I jumped twice on his chest.

Then I looked up to the still blackened window and wiggled my fingers.

"Got any more friends for me to play with?"