A/N: Because these idiots have ruined my life and I need professional help. And because her hands are on the stupid collar of his coat. And because she has a great ass. Enjoy ;))
“Don’t you ever got hot in this thing?” she wonders, hand absentmindedly reaching up to finger at the edge of the collar of his coat.
He smiles (her heart skips a beat at his dimples, damn it) and she knows it’s because she’s inched closer, her body aligning perfectly with his.
“No, after three centuries, I’m just used to it I suppose.”
His eyes soften, his expression softens, and he tugs on her jacket, pulling her forward until their bodies bump. She gasps quietly at the abrupt contact, at the heated way his eyes fall to her lips before returning to hers.
“Besides, love, I think it comes in rather…handy during a snow storm.”
He rolls the word handy on his tongue, hand slipping boldly beneath the leather of her jacket and falling to her waist. She burns beneath the thin material of her shirt where his fingers grip, her body coils with heat and the sudden need to drag him in until no space exists between them. He must be a mind reader because all of a sudden his hand moves, sliding down into the back pocket of her jeans.
Her body jerks against his and he starts to knead gently at her ass, dashing grin absolutely wicked and causing her head to spin, then he’s pulling her forward so that her hips press into his. Her hands tighten on his collar (gripping for purchase, about to crush him against her — she’s not 100% sure) until her knuckles are white and she expels another shaky breath and tips her mouth up to his — offering, waiting, wanting.
He merely chuckles lightly at her before placing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose and her mouth, abruptly releasing her and stepping out of her space so she can catch her breath. She’s not as steady as she would like, and his smug grin makes her shake her head at him. Jesus, he’ll be the death of her one day, she’s positive…but damn, what a way to go.
I’ve lived for-soddin’-ever, Buffy. I’ve done everything. Done things with you I can’t spell. But I’ve never… been close. To anyone, least of all you. Till last night. All I did was hold you, watch you sleep. And it was the best night of my life. So yeah, I’m terrified.
That was actually a combination of me and the visual effects supervisor and the production designer sitting down and sort of coming up with the biological growth that’s growing all over the cars and what that looks like and the color palette. And we started to look at the nuclear test films from the 1940s of the nuclear blasts and just decided that it would be great if the landscape was not only violent with these creatures, but also the atmosphere. So we decided that it was kind of an eternal nuclear blast except nothing ever really gets obliterated because it’s eternal and it’s constantly going. - director Francis Lawrence on the appearance of Hell; P.D. by Naomi Shohan