"Come spend an afternoon with me, we'll check out the museums, then grab a bite to eat, and go to a club." That's what he'd said.
Actually, he'd just said "Dinner?" But with Oz, you kinda had to fill in the blanks.
Anyway – nowhere in there had there been any mention of enthusiastic fucking with blowjobs for dessert.
They'd spent the afternoon wandering the city, checked out all the old metal shit at the nearest museum, eaten steak and soufflé at the fanciest fucking restaurant she'd ever seen, and then headed to one of Stockholm's louder clubs, where Oz bought them both beer …and then leaned over and started frenching her.
He kissed her – that was the weird part. Faith was rockin' at the whole girl-on-guy, take-him-now-take-him-hard dynamic, but for once she hadn't been putting the moves on, not even thinking it, and suddenly, weirdly, his tongue was teasing its way round her mouth, and the only thought she had time for was:
Then it was all tongue-on-tongue, hands-on-tits, hips-on-hard-on, then back to her motel room for a little man-on-woman.
Give the boy credit, he knew his way round all the moves.
She stretched back, smiling. "That wasn't bad."
"Yeah." Oz's fingers were still tracing soft lines across her stomach.
Faith raised an eyebrow. "What, that's it?"
No response – but his hand moved up, stroking gently across the underside of her boobs.
"No 'oh god, you rocked my world'? No 'you're a sex machine, babe'? No screaming?"
A sceptical look. "Do you want any of that?"
"It wouldn't hurt." She closed her eyes, and tried to relax, feeling the tension not-quite drain out of her shoulders.
His hands kept moving, gently, whimsically. "Well, it was good."
"Fed the hunger, that's for sure." Faith put her arms behind her head, stretching some more. "Been a while."
"Six months – something like that. Ever since Robin took off for India. Or– no. Five months. Not quite as long a drought as prison, but it still leaves cravings, man."
She opened her eyes. "What?"
Oz frowned and said "Prison?" – and she suddenly realised that the only reason she'd given for being in Stockholm was "Hunting vamps – what else?" and he really didn't know.
"Yeah. The big J. Where every good murderer ends up." Faith rolled over on her side, watching his lack of reaction. "Of course, eventually I broke out, brought back the sun, became best buds with Little Miss Summers, and hung out in Sunnydale fighting demons until Willow turned a few thousand girls into Slayers and blew up the town."
She raised an eyebrow. And started running her hands across his chest.
Confusion ran over his face for a few moments, and finally he said, uncertainly, "Oh… right."
What d'you know? Take him by surprise, you could almost double his word count.
It wasn't like he hadn't known, though. He'd been around for most of the worst bits.
Oz looked at her carefully, eyes locked on hers – then leaned in and kissed her, once. And she suddenly realised she'd actually been sorta worried. Like him freaking out would have hurt.
They weren't together, or anything. So her one night stand couldn't handle who she was? Big. Fucking. Deal.
But – yeah. It would have hurt.
Faith shifted, uncomfortably.
"What did you think I was doing here?"
He shrugged. "I figured you'd tell me eventually." And went back to tracing lines along her skin.
She stretched out again.
And opened one eye. "Don't think you get to sleep here. You got half an hour, tops."
Faith closed her eyes again.