Prayer To Dhanu
by Voleuse

Somewhere between the field and the parking lot they had gotten sidetracked, and every once in a while, Faith wishes they had stopped next to something other than a golf cart. A car, maybe, or a nice sturdy wall.

The rest of the time, though, she just braces against the vehicle, because it's more important to concentrate on the elf between her legs than the metal bar digging into her back.

For someone so quiet, he's surprisingly quick with his tongue.

She snakes her hands into his hair and thinks of B, wonders whether she ever had it this good. There's only been Angel, she knows, and his technique is worth shit. (She wonders if he ever told B about the time he pressed into her in City Hall and proved that perfect happiness isn't what B thinks it is.)

Then Legolas--she thinks that's his name--does something that sparks her, technicolor, and she almost yanks a braid from his head. When it's over, he carefully straightens her clothing and rises. She lunges for his lips, seizes his hips.

A brief look of panic washes into his eyes, and she thrusts her tongue into his mouth to distract him.


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