Like Much In My Life Ch 02 03

CAUTION: This is a completely unbelievable, profane, fantasy romp. All characters are unfortunately fictional, as are all the events. Sorry people, these chapters are meant to tantalize, ergo: No sex. If there are any insulted by such, please feel free to use the exit. To the rest: Have fun!

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Chapter 2

1

As on many occasions in my admittedly short and uneventful life, I refused without constructive result, to take the facts lying down. I've never been one to shrug my shoulders and accept the inevitability of things. Instead I shrug, accept the inevitable, and fight hand tooth and nail; just in case. After all, I'm not a clairvoyant, and you never know when victory may grace one's powerless existence. What I can say is that, some strand of my ever loving pessimist's nature, is a foolhardy optimist. Despite my persistently hopeful outlook, up to date the success rate of my policy has been nonexistent. I just got a reputation for being high strung and obnoxious, oh and pushy.

So when, several screaming, fighting, kicking, biting, minutes later I found myself deposited into one of my very own kitchen chairs; I was more than mildly surprised. I had expected, in accordance with my track record, that I would be merely bonked over the head and would wake up to find myself a real amnesiac or buried in someone's cellar. My kitchen chair beat both of these options hands down, but my inner pessimist refused to take things at face value, so instead of smiling in relief I frowned instead.

"So?" I growled in a throaty rasp, screaming is not good for the vocal cords.

"Well," he said, leaning delicately against my wall, his black wings folding gently around his large, hunky torso, one hand gingerly investigating the lump I had managed to pound into his skull. "It seems," he continued, in a lazy throbbing drawl, "that you might react to reason rather than force."

"Huh." I grunted, trying to squeeze as much disdain as possible into the comment and my face, while trying not to regret the damage I must have inflicted on my fragile hunk of an angel. I watched him closely, my eyes roaming over his hard yet delicate features, noticing every little twitch of pain that drew his dark eyebrows more closely together. After a few more gentle rubs at his head he then folded his arms over his chest, every action slow and hesitant, in deference to his still healing torso.

"Sit." I snarled, my control snapping once again. "I'll not have you expiring in my kitchen." I jumped up from my chair, strode into my disaster of a bathroom and scooped up the remaining medical supplies. When I returned to find him still standing, I felt my temper once again start to simmer. "You were a better patient unconscious," I stated in exasperation, "now sit!" which he did.

"Are you always quite so," he paused, as I was tugging insistently on his black shirt, "authoritative." he finished, as I looked once more on his glorious chest.

Despite the long gashes down his torso, my pulse still skipped several beats and I felt my skin heat in reaction to his proximity and my lustful recollections. I sighed softly as I saw the long angry looking scabs, the remnants of his injuries, and pondered as to why they seemed to not be healing. According to his swift recovery I had expected the scabs to be visibly fading. As I stared more closely, my nose inching closer to his skin, my breath taking in his musky sent, I noticed that the skin around my silk thread seemed particularly irritated.

"I'm going to take out the thread." I stated bluntly, while reaching for the scissors. "So sit still." I groused while applying myself to the task at hand.

It was much easier to do than I had expected. Once the knots in the silk had been cut off, all it took was a gentle pull for the thread to slide out. I was relieved, for as with all of my nursing thus far, I was going purely on instinct. I had no idea what I would have done if there had been any complications or difficulties.

"You're good at this." He chuckled, his hands resting on my hips, helping my body balance itself as I crouched by his side. Unfortunately for me, those same hands were wreaking havoc with my concentration, as was his wide chest, the smell of his skin, his deep even breathing and the soothing pound of his heart. I tried to curb my lust for him, to ignore his musky male scent, his rock hard abs and the tender feelings that his vulnerability seemed to foster in me.

"No. I'm not." I sighed heavily. "You just seem reluctant to die." I pulled out the last bit of thread from his wounds and watched in fascination as the angry red faded to a gentle pink, while the scabs knitted together right before my eyes.

His deep throaty chuckle had my eyes darting up to his face. I was struck once more by how incredibly beautiful he was and so didn't notice at first that he was laughing at me.

"Not funny." I mumbled, heat seeping into my cheeks as I looked away in embarrassment.

"Let me have my fun, little one, haven't you heard of the healing properties of laughter?" His hands went from my hips to my face, which he gently tilted up towards his, his fingers lightly caressing my jaw. "You should try it some time, wipe that frown off of your sweet face."

I stared speechless into his big black eyes, helpless to stop the need that I felt for him, unable to draw away from the sweetness of his caress. I felt dizzy staring into those molten pools, basking in his gentleness, my mind clouding over with my desire for him. I felt so tired, so tired, I was so tired of fighting him, fighting me, so darn tired...

2

"You know," I drawled, blinking my eyes as I swept away the cobwebs from my brain, "lulling me to sleep before you toss me over your shoulder is no less barbaric. Besides," I murmured, a grin slowly spreading across my face for the first time since his arrival, "its bad manners and I doubt momma bird would approve, little sparrow."

I suppressed a chuckle at the astounded look now stamped across his face, brushed his hands from my face and stood up. I waited for the wave of dizziness to pass by as my body adjusted to standing once more and then went to get a bowl of cold water. He still had a nasty bump on his head and I was finding that I rather enjoyed taking care of him.

"How did you?" he stammered, still looking rather bamboozled.

"Who knows, maybe your superpowers have dimmed somewhat in accordance to recent events. You did take quite a beating you know."

"Mmmm," he murmured, "but I had no trouble with the clothing."

"Except for the lack of style." I teased as I started riffling through his silky black hair in search of bruising or swelling.

"I have style." He groused.

"Hmm, black, black and black," I murmured while pressing a damp cloth to his head "my very favorite."

"I'm a black paladin, it's expected, little girl."

"Of course," I stated in mock sympathy, wondering if kicking him would be an over reaction to his patronizing tone "all the paladins I've met said just the same thing. There, there, black is a lovely color... so uniform."

"I don't see you making radical fashion statements."

"Ah, but I'm only a little girl, fashion would be a waste, a black paladin on the other hand..." I let my sentence trail off as I admired my handiwork, he now appeared to be, chest and all, fully healed. For while we had been talking every trace of his once extensive wounds had vanished seamlessly, leaving behind a totally drool worthy expanse of gorgeous ivory skin. "Seems you're patched up feather, kicking you out now would not insult even the most active of wild life preservers... so if you don't mind..." I made sweeping motions towards my door, wondering how I was going to patch up my life without him in it. Not even severe reminders of his unavailability made me feel better or at least more virtuous.

"Little one," he sighed softly, regret evident on his expressive face, "I cannot leave you here. It's not safe, not for anyone."

"You mean, whoever did to you what they did to you, could do to me what they did to you." I choked, feeling the blood drain away from my face, my imagination for once not occupied in lurid snapshots of his naked torso.

"Plus," he said looking mildly sheepish "you know too much."

This brought me back to my own dreary reality. Know too much? Who was he kidding? It's not like he carried any form of info or identification on that glorious body of his and I should know, as my curiosity had had me looking extensively for any such.

"Really," I drawled, my arms crossing defensively over my chest and my eyebrow doing the can-can with my hair line. "with my access to super-secret information I must, by now, be saturated in valuable secrets. Let's see," I mused while clearing up "I don't know your name, were you live, what a paladin is, why black is important, how you heal so fast, why you have wings... need I continue?"

"Still, you know too much." He stated. "According to law I am obliged to take you in. You are," at this he paused and looked uncomfortable "a liability."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated." I pouted, I couldn't help but try and make him feel guiltier, he looked so cute when he was uncomfortable! All uncertain and worried, his mouth curving down slightly and his eyebrows arching, giving him a sexy brooding look. It made me want to lick and nibble at his mouth.

"For what it's worth," he frowned "I'm sorry."

"You know," I mussed, "taking me in doesn't exactly make sense. I know nothing and besides, who am I going to tell what to? I don't exactly relish the idea of spending time in a mental institution, not to mention my kick ass street cred. would be down in flames."

He sighed and slid his hand through his hair, he managed to look as if he was sitting on a cat, or something equally uncomfortable.

"I have to take you in, please, come willingly." He grinned mischievously. "We neither of us like it when I'm forced to carry you. You kick and bite just like a little kitty cat." His grin spread. "All fluffy with sharp little claws."

"Now, now, feather, just because I have lots of hair does not give you license to make fun of me. I am the savior here, a little respect would be in order, don't you think?" I tried to suppress my own foolish grin, he was sexy as hell when he teased me and I was finding that I liked him teasing me, a lot. In fact, I seemed to like almost everything the man, begging your pardon, the paladin did. Would it be so bad to go with him? At the very least I would still be in his company and the Gods knew that my life could do with a little bit of excitement. So what he was a mythical, wing totting, romantically attached paladin. No one was perfect, least of all me, right?

"Hmm," I mussed. "for how long would I be a liability? A few days? A week?"

"I don't know, you would be cleared," he coughed "or not, by the board of UUC. You would have to live with us for a while, but I'm sure that everything will be sorted out in the end."

"UUC, huh?" I sighed, unbelievably tempted by the idea of days or even weeks spent with him, living with him. Uhh, there was nothing for it, I was turning into a slut when it came to one dark deadly handsome paladin. "Do I have a choice?"

"I'm afraid not, little girl, I must take you in. It would just be preferable if you came willingly."

"Doesn't sound very willing to me." I muttered darkly, a certain female name ringing in my ears. What if I got to meet her? What if he was married to Rosalia-My-Love? I wouldn't be a happy bunny, and besides the dire ring of "or not" still clanged loud in my consciousness.

"What happens in the event of 'or not'?" I asked tentatively. I had a feeling I didn't really want to know, but that's what having a big mouth attached to a curious brain gets you, information you really don't want.

"You don't want to know, little girl." He murmured, staring intently at me as he watched the wheels in my brain go round. "I could take you home with me by force, just for appearances sake," he mussed, grinning slyly "to protect you street cred. and my own dear he-man image."

"Huh," I snorted, "Batman outdoes he-man or even Neanderthal any day of the week. If you want to be cool nothing beets a pair of wings, oh wait," I paused in mock amazement. "you already have wings!"

"Very funny, little girl," he growled in a menacing manner, sending shivers running once more up and down my spine. "but Batman is nothing to my he-man status. I am vile," he stepped towards me, "violent" he raised his hands and spread his wings, a sinister look in his eyes, his lips curling in a snarl over his sharp teeth "valiant and villainous."

"Oh no," I whimpered, only half mockingly, as a genuine thrill of fear shook its way down my body, making my panties damp. "a big bad bird is stalking me!"

"You better fear, little girl, for I am also dastardly!" And with that he gently tossed me once more over his broad shoulder.

3

There are many things that, during the course of ones life, one is forced to repeat. They tend to range from the mildly unpleasant, such as visiting aunt Suzy in the sticks (only for those who have an aunty Suzy), to the ferociously torturous, such as exams and weddings (other peoples). It is hardly ever the case that one is found repeating that which is nothing other than incredibly pleasurable. Even such experiences as chocolate moose can on occasion, disappoint.

Well, as I hung limply from very high up, namely on a certain paladin's shoulder, I wondered whether an ode had ever been written in honor of this particular experience. If there hadn't, I was definitely in the mood to rectify the situation. Now that I was at my leisure to savor the experience, rather than honor bound by myself to struggle like a banshee, I was finding it to be tantalizingly decadent. For one, I felt completely secure in his strong yet gentle grip. For another, I got to stare brazenly at his back and fabulous bubble but; all while being cushioned by the gentlest prettiest black feathers. I nuzzled the closest ebony feather and sighed in contentment, my hands encircling his waist as I breathed in his unique masculine scent. I was definitely in heaven and I never wanted to come down.

"You know," his voice floated into my conscious, intruding on my fantasy drool time. "for someone to appear unwilling, they should at least give some sort of token struggle."

"I'm struggling" I mumbled, "I really am, look, struggle, struggle." As I nuzzled my way deeper into his wings.

His laugh tickled my ears. "I wouldn't call that struggling, little cat. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying yourself."

All I could do was hum in agreement or disagreement, my foggy mind couldn't quite decide which, as I wondered lustily as to what his ass would feel like under my eager hands.

"Ah," I heard him say, "here we are, perfect, this will do nicely."

Curiosity getting the better of me I lifted my head out of my mound of feathers and looked around blearily. All I could see was my bedroom, which was rather untidy, but other than that it was still merely my bedroom. Then I noticed that my black paladin must be facing the wall closest my bedroom door, and hence the mirror, but it was only when he stepped forward that it actually struck me. We were going to go through the mirror! At which point I burst into uncontrollable guffawing laughter.

And that was how I traveled to my paladin's home. Laughing all the way, tears streaming down my cheeks, my hands clutching at his waist, my head buried in his feathers as I laughed and giggled and chuckled. After what seemed like an eternity, giggle time is always longer, my paladin finally asked in a rather disgruntled tone as to why I was so amused; for he claimed "I don't see what's so funny little cat, I'm supposed to be carrying you off against your will, a decidedly unfunny event."

"I know," I chuckled, as he gently set me back on my feet. "but," I giggled as my knees refused to keep me up and he had to hold me, creating a wonderful opportunity for me to put my arms once more round his waist, right way up, with my face buried in his solid chest. "my name is Alice."

"Well little cat, it's a lovely name, but I fail to see..." he trailed off as he heard my muffled proclamations of "No, no, no. Don't you see?"

"Alice" I cried, raising my face to look at him "Alice" I chocked "Alice through the looking glass, see?"

Chapter 3

1

Like many things in my life, this occasion ran true to rote, bad experiences I usually found were not too original and used similar endings. After all, why bother? The monotony of a bad experience being repeated just makes it worse, which would be the point, right? So during the course of a normal life, which up to now had also been mine, the avid observer may observe the phenomenon of the interrupted-almost-fabulous-moment. These incidents, I had found, were the trickiest. They had a knack for holding off, just long enough, till one was about to have that first mind blowing kiss, or was about to glide for the first time on ice, or just at the end of that ice encrusted walkway when you think your but is safe from extensive bruising; when wham! Calamity, fate, bad luck, Venus, whatever, come into play and the moment quickly plunges from almost heaven to definitely hell. It doesn't matter whether it's your dad opening the door just at the wrong/right moment, or that little slip that makes a glide into a cartwheel and you hit someone in the face, or even that last elusive piece of ice that sweeps you off your feet into agonizing buttock exploding pain; you always wind up wishing that either a) you were killed at birth or b) you could kill all potential witnesses at birth.

Despite my awareness of these intrinsic facts, I imagined in this particular moment, that perhaps this time would be my truly-did-happen-wonderful-moment. That mythical unicorn being that we all know is out there just waiting for us to come along and spot it. So, pressed against that broad sinfully delectable chest, I forgot about life and just felt and breathed him in. My chuckles faded, my pulse started to race, my hands tingled from the contact with his toned back and my mind evaporated into a state of heavenly bliss. My cheek was warm against his chest, his arms were holding me, I was pressed against him from head to toe, and my head was starting to tilt up towards his in the universal language for 'Kiss me. Now!'. Through my drooping lashes I watched him stare at my lips and in response my tongue snaked out to wet them for him. My lips were tingling, ready, when our eyes clashed and desire arched like electricity between us. The tension wound tight and our breaths became heavy and fast as his body leant down into mine, his hands sliding from my waist to press delicately against the top of my but as my body arched against him, standing on tip toe to bring his face closer to mine. My lips parted and his eyes smoldered as his head tilted that extra inch to bring our mouths together.

"Raybourn? Oh my gosh, Raybourn! Where have you been... are you all right! You've been missing for days! We've been frantic!"

The voice from hell, or the voice that had just jettisoned me to hell and had commenced with the roasting no trial needed, was the sweetest most delicate feminine musical one I had ever heard. It was also saturated with genuine worry, she sounded, young, cute and beautiful, and very, very worried over my paladin. Scratch that, he was no longer mine, if he ever had been. For, where before we had been glued together his lips inches from possessing mine, he was now standing an arms length away, not looking at me; and blushing, blushing at her. He was also stammering. He didn't need to say it, I could already guess.

"R-Rosalia!"

Ha, I'm a genius. He swept his hand through his hair looking boyish and young and uncertain and so delectable I felt a need to hit my head against the nearest wall. To stop any severe reaction, like boils breaking out on my skin, from his evident infatuation with Rosalia; I decided to smile beatifically at the lady in question. I also started counting backwards from a thousand, in bad French, to help restrain my newly budding homicidal tendencies. Then I made the mistake of looking at her. She was drop dead gorgeous, if I hadn't been so nuts about paladin boy, she would definitely top my wish-I-looked-like-that-idol list. Rosalia-my-love was tall and delicate, with a perfect hart shaped face, wide almond shaped green eyes, pouty lips and a completely straight nose all framed by the most glorious dark curly hair cut into a bob. Oh, and she had gently rounded curves, matchstick thin arms and long delicate fingers; which were currently clasping bird-brain's shirt while her deep green eyes stared into his. Sometimes life just wasn't fair, fun or even feasible. There was no way I could compete in her category, I was outclassed, under-weighed and definitely toast. If Mr. Paladin had looked at me now, I would have taken him to the eye-doctor or to a shrink or maybe both.