Title: A Game of Pool
Author: Dark Roswellian Angel
Elizabeth McDowell
Disclaimer: I don't, and frankly I'm miserably depressed over it, so please don't ask again : (-
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Rating: M, just in case
Synopsis: It's just a game of pool, isn't it? Set during that could-be-yummy-if-the-L-word wasn't so involved "Borrowed Time" episode.
What was going on? He had been aware of the attraction pretty much from the beginning, as though he could smell it between them. At first, he hadn't been aware of whom it was emanating from, not willing to believe that it could possibly be her. He pretty much figured that she was the last one who would ever respond to him like this. But as he'd circled the room, lifting his gaze to every other girl in the vicinity, and instinctively dismissing her as not right for him, he had narrowed it down to her. As he won game after game, he became sure that it was her- this strange electricity could only be coming from her. As he watched her react to his latest victory, he almost felt like preening. He didn't understand why she was responding like she was, but he wasn't going to question it. This connection between them didn't open up very often, but when it did he had learned better than to fight against it. It was stronger than either of them, like it was a part of them, like something deep and primal was waking up in both of them.
He had long ago realized that she was the only one who could ever match him. Even while they'd been in Manticore, he'd known that. As he'd watched her fight, listened to her mouth off, felt her graceful power, realized that she was a true alpha female, he'd realized that they matched each other. At least until she'd destroyed their home and with it the established power structure that had placed him at the very top, leaving him reeling, unsure of his place in this new world, until he'd decided that he was tired of pretending to be less than he was, and went to take back his place at the top of the proverbial food chain, realizing only later that he wanted her by his side. But by then, she was back with her mundane, though better-than-most, Ordinary, and he was stuck watching her in her dissatisfaction, knowing that she'd have to find her own way to his side. In the meantime, he'd amused himself with several other females, most of whom reminded him of her, all of whom he could drop with a second's notice.
So he wasn't sure what was going on now- why she was responding, at least the feline part of her. He hoped it wasn't just heat, though if it was he would know how to deal with it. He hoped that she'd stop fighting it. And attempting to make her listen to her instincts, he began to fan her obvious desire, even knowing that it would also drive up his own desire for her, his own needs to have her closer to him, to be able to mark her as his, to claim her for good. He began to move more purposefully, to verbally batter his opponents more, to clearly mark himself as superior. He began to stare into her eyes, seeing her want increase as he did so. He could hear her breathing alter, almost hitch, see her pulse begin to race under his demanding gaze, and he could feel his body react as his desired mate began to put out her delicious scent of response. By the time he beat yet another opponent, he was so caught up in her mindbending aroma that he was finding it difficult to not leap over the table, catch her in his powerful arms, and take her in front of everyone. By the look in her eyes, he had the feeling that she wouldn't protest (too much- after all, she had an image to protect).
He quickly looked around trying to find his next challenger, unwilling to let this foreplay end so soon. Instinctively annoyed that there was another man so close to her, he challenged him, enjoying his response, allowing it to reduce his need to demonstrate superiority. Then, with a glint of amusement combining with his desire, he turned to his desired mate, challenging her to act against him, hoping that she would demonstrate her own submission to him. He was unprepared for how her response (a thinly veiled statement of his strength) affected him- if he was ready to take her before, his body was practically demanding it now. He responded with a slightly husky quality, enjoying their usual banter.
But he wanted just one more victory before laying his claim, just one more showing of dominance to make sure that she understood that he was the only one who could ever truly satisfy her. He looked around the room, and his eyes lit on the perfect opponent. Her boyfriend, the man who dared stand between them, who dared lay claim on what should have always been undisputedly his. With some threat in his normally completely charming smile, he turned to the man and offered the challenge, aware that if he accepted, this would erase any doubt as to who was worthy of her. He nearly crowed as the man accepted, already demonstrating some weakness in making his conditions.