Heh.

Someone at TBS has obviously been reading Lord of the Rings slashfic.

First the promo with the long loving closeups of Legolas and Aragorn (am I spelling that right?) and the voice-over talking about the hotness of them...okay, a little eyebrow-quirking but nothing major...but now there's a promo with Sam/Frodo and "Secret Lovers" playing over shots of them declaring everlasting devotion to each other.

Huh.

Makes me wish Xena was hitting its second season stride right about now.

Who knows what we'd get.

*G*

Just a little c/a drabble floating 'round my brain

The bathroom is all steamed up and she's not far behind, smiling into Angel's smiling eyes, that smile that makes vision pain and near poverty just words that doesn't touch her much. They're all soapy, her and Angel, playing in the bath, her legs sliding over his and his thighs so rough under hers. He smooths a hand down the side of her face and she blushes and ducks, not sure about this tenderness and how right it feels but she goes with it, bites her bottom lip and peeks up at him, free of trouble and guilt and worry and just loves being with him.

Angel.

His mouths moves, questions her with no voice but she nods because it's Angel and feels him slide her panties down, wetly down her legs and off they go, plopping onto the tile of the bathroom floor, forgotten. She slides up, closer, clutching him with her cheerleader's thighs, rubbing his erection down where it feels right and good and god it's Angel and she leans down, steam blurring her vision and attachs her mouth to his, opens in a way she hasn't with anyone else and lets him in, that velvet tongue so cool against her gums, tangles with her own until she can't tell where hers ends and his begins.

Angel.

Coarse and callused where her last lover was smooth and unblemished, hair tickling her thighs where she holds him, pressing his flat stomach with her own, rubbing like a cat and she goes slow, doesn't want it to end because it always ends and he's talking to her, coaxing her with those big hands of his and she tries to hold onto the rightness of this feeling, of him, his smile and his untroubled eyes and no, no, she losing him, fading as the edges go white and the feel of him is like some half remembered dream and damned cold hard air forces her eyes open and she gasps, trying to hold on, but she can't and opens tear-filled eyes to see she is still stuck in all the damned cold white space where she is alone but never alone and there's something pressing on her, trying to get into her with cold claws and candy sweet persuasion

and god, Angel.

Angel.