Taste the Forbidden 2: Another Taste
Author: Lucinda
rating: pg, pg 13
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon
sequel to Taste the Forbidden.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.
set before Sunnydale
Somehow, Joyce had known that things couldn't last. Hank had sworn that he would change, that he would stop chasing other women, that he would be more supportive of her, more involved with Buffy's life. She'd wanted to believe him, most especially for Buffy's sake. She'd wanted to hope that Buffy would be able to look out and see her father smiling and applauding at recitals, that Hank would go listen to the teachers comment on how Buffy was doing in school.
It had even seemed as if he might have been sincere. No more mysteriously late meetings, no more lipstick smudges on his collar. He'd been more involved with Buffy, even taking her to some of her rehearsals. But he'd promised to stop the affairs before, and it had never lasted.
But in the end, it seemed that Hank Summers had only learned to be a bit more sneaky. One of the assistants at the art gallery had seen him out to dinner, at this expensive Japanese place that he'd never taken her to, having dinner with some woman, someone with dark hair and a red dress. He'd told her there was a business meeting that night, something about his annual review. That didn't sound much like a review to Joyce.
Now? His company was sending him to a seminar on corporate law, or at least, that was what he'd claimed. But she'd seen the airline purchase confirmation. Two tickets to Reno, for a week. Neither of them were for her.
She'd found herself crying, not from surprise at Hank, but out of a sense of loss. He'd shattered the last sliver of faith that she'd had in him. She'd half expected it, had known that he would hurt her again, but she still found herself crying, deep, painful sobs that left her gasping. It was like a painful purging, and when the tears ended, leaving her shaken and tired on the floor, she could think almost clearly again.
Joyce called her mother, asking if she could watch Buffy for about a week. There was... a problem with Hank, and she would like a little time away from everything to try to think things through.
Her mother had known immediately that 'there's a problem with Hank' had meant another affair. She'd ben willing to watch Buffy, knowing that the last thing the poor girl needed right now was to see her mother falling to pieces. It was hard enough being thirteen without that sort of stress. So, Buffy went to spend some time with Grandma.
Joyce had felt almost disasociated, as if she was in some strange house instead of the place that she'd tried so hard to make home. She'd packed a few things, and been on a plane away, to Seattle before she'd even had time to think about why she was going there. But then the answer came to her.
Seattle was where she'd met Javiar Vachon. Even if he wasn't there, the place held good memories, happy memories. There was nothing there to remind her of Hank Summers. Wouldn't it be easier to think about things in a place where the pain wasn't being constantly ripped out again?
It had been the same little cafe that she'd met him the first time. She'd settled to have a coffee, debating something stronger, wearing a pale blouse and a pair of comfortable jeans. Joyce looked up when the other chair rattled a bit, smiling as she saw Javiar again. He still had the same wonderful chocolate eyes, the same soft curling hair... It was as if the passing years hadn't touched him at all. "Javiar... It's good to see you again."
"Joyce... You look good. What brings you back, business or pleasure?" His slow sensual smile suggested that he hoped it was the latter of the two.
She gave a feeble smile back. "Actually... I came for an escape. But... You certainly do know how to distract a gal from unhappy thoughts." She reached over, resting her hand on his, wondering briefly why his hand was so cool.
His smile would have heated up a statue. "I can take your mind off of problems, querida. All you have to do is say the word."
She had the feeling that there was something, some border that she was hovering over. That her answer would somehow change something. Gripping his hand just a bit tighter, a final effort to keep from being overwhelmed by broken trusts, she looked up, her eyes stinging with tears that she refused to shed. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "please."
It was almost as if this was merely a continuation of the week she'd spent here before. They were in his loft, clothing on the floor as hands touched, desperate to feel, lips explored, tasting, teasing. There was something, almost a sense of urgency, of need to their actions, and when they came together, it was as if they were breaking years of frustrations. There had been a moment when she could have sworn that his eyes looked oddly pale, before he'd bitten into her shoulder during the... intensity of the moment.
Later, curled in his arms, their passions thoroughly sated, she ran her fingers over his arm, contemplating things. If his eyes had looked different... if it hadn't been a trick of the light, a momentary hallucination from the pleasure of the moment, what did it matter? He hadn't hurt her, wouldn't hurt her. She had asked him to help her not think of things, and he'd more than fulfilled that offer. She'd never felt so... loved, so delightfully experienced as she had with Javiar. They'd explored each other all over again, finding the places and actions that brought the most pleasure... It was ecstasy.
Also quite exhausting. With a yawn, she snuggled closer to his chest, frowning slightly about... but it didn't matter. She was to tired to think about it. Joyce fell asleep in his arms.
She didn't know how long it had been before she woke up. She'd shifted in her sleep, now sideways to Javiar, her head resting over his chest. For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, smiling at the feeling of silken sheets, the after-effects of last nights pleasures, Javiar's wonderful muscles...
Then it hit her. He had no heartbeat. He wasn't breathing.
"Javiar? Javiar?" She felt something like panic well up inside of her, and worry. What had happened? He'd seemed so incredibly healthy...
One hand moved, rubbing slowly at his temple. His voice was slurred by sleep. "Joyce? Wha's wrong?"
"You... Javiar, are you feeling alright? I could have sworn that you weren't breathing..." Joyce felt confusion rise up in her. He hadn't been breathing, she knew that. And his heart hadn't been beating, still wasn't beating. But... but he was sitting up now, blinking at her, awake, talking. He was alright, so he must have a heartbeat, must be breathing... What other explanation could there be?
With a slow, sleepy smile, he pulled her close, a one armed hug. "I'm okay, I promise. There's just this thing... sometimes, when I sleep... I have to be careful. There's a name for the condition, but I can't quite remember it right now..."
It all made sense then, almost. Her best friend from high school's husband had that condition, one where he might just stop breathing in the night. "Sleep... apnea? I think that's it's name... Where you just stop breathing in the night? That's very dangerous, you could die." But it still didn't explain the non-heartbeat, didn't explain the lack of a pulse at his throat...
"Good thing I had you here then, isn't it? Should I ask why you came back?" He ran his fingers over a lock of her hair, a soft caress. Then, his eyes fell a bit lower, coming to the mark he'd left on her shoulder, the place where he'd bitten her. "oh... Joyce. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..."
She touched his fingers, resting over the mark which was now a bit tender. "You didn't hurt me, Javiar. Actually..." Joyce could feel herself blushing. "That... last night, we were so... passionate. It was almost... well, primal, if that makes sense. It doesn't... well, maybe it's a bit tender... I think you might have drawn blood. But I'm fine. If you really want to make it up to me, you can bring me breakfast in bed."
He smiled, his eyes still so full of mystery and secrets. Bending just a bit, he placed a feather light kiss over the mark. "I wouldn't ever want to hurt you, Joyce. Remember that."
With a swift change of expression, he tilted her chin up a bit, his eyes gazing into hers. "What has you so upset, you almost looked like you were trying not to cry into your coffee."
"Well... oh, I feel... it's Hank." She couldn't quite understand why she was explaining all of this. Wasn't there something wrong with explaining your marital collapse to your lover? But she found herself explaining it, the whole, sordid, tawdry mess.
"He's no good for you, Joyce. You deserve to be happy, not miserable." Javiar's voice was a soothing murmur in her ears as he pulled her close again. "Let me help you forget for a little longer..."
Javiar Vachon spent the rest of the week helping her forget about her troubles. Giving her good memories, helping her rediscover her attraction, rediscover pleasure and passion. A week of healing for her bruised spirit. She asked no more from him than that, and he didn't offer anything more beyond a small scrap of paper, his name and a number written on it, and a low murmur. "Call me if you need to be reminded how beautiful you are."
"You make me feel beautiful, Javiar. The way that you look at me, the way you can make me blush from just a smile..." Joyce leaned over, kissing him.
"Thank you."
end Another Taste
Author: Lucinda
rating: pg, pg 13
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon
sequel to Taste the Forbidden.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.
set before Sunnydale
Somehow, Joyce had known that things couldn't last. Hank had sworn that he would change, that he would stop chasing other women, that he would be more supportive of her, more involved with Buffy's life. She'd wanted to believe him, most especially for Buffy's sake. She'd wanted to hope that Buffy would be able to look out and see her father smiling and applauding at recitals, that Hank would go listen to the teachers comment on how Buffy was doing in school.
It had even seemed as if he might have been sincere. No more mysteriously late meetings, no more lipstick smudges on his collar. He'd been more involved with Buffy, even taking her to some of her rehearsals. But he'd promised to stop the affairs before, and it had never lasted.
But in the end, it seemed that Hank Summers had only learned to be a bit more sneaky. One of the assistants at the art gallery had seen him out to dinner, at this expensive Japanese place that he'd never taken her to, having dinner with some woman, someone with dark hair and a red dress. He'd told her there was a business meeting that night, something about his annual review. That didn't sound much like a review to Joyce.
Now? His company was sending him to a seminar on corporate law, or at least, that was what he'd claimed. But she'd seen the airline purchase confirmation. Two tickets to Reno, for a week. Neither of them were for her.
She'd found herself crying, not from surprise at Hank, but out of a sense of loss. He'd shattered the last sliver of faith that she'd had in him. She'd half expected it, had known that he would hurt her again, but she still found herself crying, deep, painful sobs that left her gasping. It was like a painful purging, and when the tears ended, leaving her shaken and tired on the floor, she could think almost clearly again.
Joyce called her mother, asking if she could watch Buffy for about a week. There was... a problem with Hank, and she would like a little time away from everything to try to think things through.
Her mother had known immediately that 'there's a problem with Hank' had meant another affair. She'd ben willing to watch Buffy, knowing that the last thing the poor girl needed right now was to see her mother falling to pieces. It was hard enough being thirteen without that sort of stress. So, Buffy went to spend some time with Grandma.
Joyce had felt almost disasociated, as if she was in some strange house instead of the place that she'd tried so hard to make home. She'd packed a few things, and been on a plane away, to Seattle before she'd even had time to think about why she was going there. But then the answer came to her.
Seattle was where she'd met Javiar Vachon. Even if he wasn't there, the place held good memories, happy memories. There was nothing there to remind her of Hank Summers. Wouldn't it be easier to think about things in a place where the pain wasn't being constantly ripped out again?
It had been the same little cafe that she'd met him the first time. She'd settled to have a coffee, debating something stronger, wearing a pale blouse and a pair of comfortable jeans. Joyce looked up when the other chair rattled a bit, smiling as she saw Javiar again. He still had the same wonderful chocolate eyes, the same soft curling hair... It was as if the passing years hadn't touched him at all. "Javiar... It's good to see you again."
"Joyce... You look good. What brings you back, business or pleasure?" His slow sensual smile suggested that he hoped it was the latter of the two.
She gave a feeble smile back. "Actually... I came for an escape. But... You certainly do know how to distract a gal from unhappy thoughts." She reached over, resting her hand on his, wondering briefly why his hand was so cool.
His smile would have heated up a statue. "I can take your mind off of problems, querida. All you have to do is say the word."
She had the feeling that there was something, some border that she was hovering over. That her answer would somehow change something. Gripping his hand just a bit tighter, a final effort to keep from being overwhelmed by broken trusts, she looked up, her eyes stinging with tears that she refused to shed. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "please."
It was almost as if this was merely a continuation of the week she'd spent here before. They were in his loft, clothing on the floor as hands touched, desperate to feel, lips explored, tasting, teasing. There was something, almost a sense of urgency, of need to their actions, and when they came together, it was as if they were breaking years of frustrations. There had been a moment when she could have sworn that his eyes looked oddly pale, before he'd bitten into her shoulder during the... intensity of the moment.
Later, curled in his arms, their passions thoroughly sated, she ran her fingers over his arm, contemplating things. If his eyes had looked different... if it hadn't been a trick of the light, a momentary hallucination from the pleasure of the moment, what did it matter? He hadn't hurt her, wouldn't hurt her. She had asked him to help her not think of things, and he'd more than fulfilled that offer. She'd never felt so... loved, so delightfully experienced as she had with Javiar. They'd explored each other all over again, finding the places and actions that brought the most pleasure... It was ecstasy.
Also quite exhausting. With a yawn, she snuggled closer to his chest, frowning slightly about... but it didn't matter. She was to tired to think about it. Joyce fell asleep in his arms.
She didn't know how long it had been before she woke up. She'd shifted in her sleep, now sideways to Javiar, her head resting over his chest. For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, smiling at the feeling of silken sheets, the after-effects of last nights pleasures, Javiar's wonderful muscles...
Then it hit her. He had no heartbeat. He wasn't breathing.
"Javiar? Javiar?" She felt something like panic well up inside of her, and worry. What had happened? He'd seemed so incredibly healthy...
One hand moved, rubbing slowly at his temple. His voice was slurred by sleep. "Joyce? Wha's wrong?"
"You... Javiar, are you feeling alright? I could have sworn that you weren't breathing..." Joyce felt confusion rise up in her. He hadn't been breathing, she knew that. And his heart hadn't been beating, still wasn't beating. But... but he was sitting up now, blinking at her, awake, talking. He was alright, so he must have a heartbeat, must be breathing... What other explanation could there be?
With a slow, sleepy smile, he pulled her close, a one armed hug. "I'm okay, I promise. There's just this thing... sometimes, when I sleep... I have to be careful. There's a name for the condition, but I can't quite remember it right now..."
It all made sense then, almost. Her best friend from high school's husband had that condition, one where he might just stop breathing in the night. "Sleep... apnea? I think that's it's name... Where you just stop breathing in the night? That's very dangerous, you could die." But it still didn't explain the non-heartbeat, didn't explain the lack of a pulse at his throat...
"Good thing I had you here then, isn't it? Should I ask why you came back?" He ran his fingers over a lock of her hair, a soft caress. Then, his eyes fell a bit lower, coming to the mark he'd left on her shoulder, the place where he'd bitten her. "oh... Joyce. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..."
She touched his fingers, resting over the mark which was now a bit tender. "You didn't hurt me, Javiar. Actually..." Joyce could feel herself blushing. "That... last night, we were so... passionate. It was almost... well, primal, if that makes sense. It doesn't... well, maybe it's a bit tender... I think you might have drawn blood. But I'm fine. If you really want to make it up to me, you can bring me breakfast in bed."
He smiled, his eyes still so full of mystery and secrets. Bending just a bit, he placed a feather light kiss over the mark. "I wouldn't ever want to hurt you, Joyce. Remember that."
With a swift change of expression, he tilted her chin up a bit, his eyes gazing into hers. "What has you so upset, you almost looked like you were trying not to cry into your coffee."
"Well... oh, I feel... it's Hank." She couldn't quite understand why she was explaining all of this. Wasn't there something wrong with explaining your marital collapse to your lover? But she found herself explaining it, the whole, sordid, tawdry mess.
"He's no good for you, Joyce. You deserve to be happy, not miserable." Javiar's voice was a soothing murmur in her ears as he pulled her close again. "Let me help you forget for a little longer..."
Javiar Vachon spent the rest of the week helping her forget about her troubles. Giving her good memories, helping her rediscover her attraction, rediscover pleasure and passion. A week of healing for her bruised spirit. She asked no more from him than that, and he didn't offer anything more beyond a small scrap of paper, his name and a number written on it, and a low murmur. "Call me if you need to be reminded how beautiful you are."
"You make me feel beautiful, Javiar. The way that you look at me, the way you can make me blush from just a smile..." Joyce leaned over, kissing him.
"Thank you."
end Another Taste