I swore I wouldn't write anything for this series until after I'd finally finished Revolution/Evolution-R. Not only are Lina & Gourry hard to write, but this is a PWP, so don't go into it expecting the usual Slayers shinanigans. All you're getting is a lemon. A lemon with a side of angst, even.

Warning: Contains sex/lemon. Lina x Gourry, takes place after Evolution-R.

~BD

Something Else

He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes slightly unfocused as she stared at the floorboards, slowly brushing her hair. Hair that gleamed silver-white by the light of the guttering candle on the vanity table.

Something about that color did something to him. It was so foreign, so intriguing...and yet so chilling. It made him cold and hot at the same time. Odd.

The brush pulled through the silken tresses methodically, in endless repetition, and after standing in the doorway for a full minute, he realized just how transfixed and mesmerized he was by this one simple, sensual action. Or maybe it was just the color that fascinated him. Whatever the reason, he managed to rouse himself, and softly closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

She didn't seem to notice him as he walked closer, and so he slowed his steps just in case she snapped out of her thoughts and realized a man was in her room, no matter that he was her protector and companion. Her powers had returned minimally, even if her hair was still silver, and he didn't particularly want to be attacked. After all, he was still sore from being beaten by the ghost of a demon lord, even with Zelgadis and Amelia's healing spells.

The candlelight caught the strands as she pulled the brush to the very tips, and he found he could vaguely remember the last time he had seen it such a color. That time, she had been unaware of what that spell could potentially do, what could possibly happen if it all went horribly wrong. That time, he hadn't really been turned on by the shade, because it looked so strange on a teenager. Red or silver didn't matter to him back then; she was Lina, no matter the color of her hair, and she could still throw a punch.

On the other hand, now, things seemed...different. Probably because everything was different, he thought dumbly. And really, it was amazing what the semi-darkness and flickering flame did to silvery-white hair. It was almost maddening. He clenched his fingers together to avoid reaching forward to touch it, to see if it was really as soft as it looked, as soft as he sometimes imagined. To see if it felt cool like silver did, or if it would feel warm like fire, because it was usually red.

"I'm so sorry."

Her voice was quiet, almost surreal. Startled, he turned his gaze from her silver hair to her still-crimson eyes, which were watching at him sadly. He hadn't even noticed that she'd seen him; he'd been too interested in her task instead. Apparently she wasn't upset that he was in her room, though. That was a good thing.

"Sorry? For what?"

Her eyes diverted again, back to the floor, to the spot she had been staring at when he entered. She sighed, and whispered, "For panicking. For... For not casting the spell sooner. I could have protected all of you, but I didn't. I'm sorry, Gourry. I'm so sorry."

He took a deep breath, smiled, and sat down beside her. The mattress sank slightly, and she slid a couple of inches towards him, but she didn't push away. She just kept brushing her silver hair – slowly, methodically. Brushing her hair and leaning on his shoulder, still deep in thought.

"I think you're taking too much on yourself," he said as comfortably as he could. Which was hard, because damn it, he wanted to touch her hair, or put his arm around her shoulders. "I can't even imagine how difficult it would be, to have to do what you did! My job was easy compared to yours! I just stood there, and –"

He heard her swallow, and saw two tears dot the knees of her pajama bottoms.

"Don't," she whispered, clutching the brush so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Don't you dare say that!"

Alarmed at her reaction, he stammered, "Say what?"

"That your job was easy! It isn't easy to stand in front of Shabranigdo, even a ghost of Shabranidgo, and get pummeled over and over, knowing any second is your last, knowing I couldn't live if you'd...!" She broke off abruptly, then slapped the brush onto the bedside table and said stubbornly, with a hint of irritation, "What are you doing in here anyways, Gourry?"

"Oh." He shifted. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right, I guess."

"I'm fine."

He thought about it a second, then asked curiously, "Are you?"

She paused and glanced at him. For a fraction, he saw the worry, the pain, the panic, the fear, the loneliness – all reflected in those beautiful eyes, all threatening to destroy her – before she quickly looked away and murmured, "Sure! Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? Now get out."

He reached out without thinking, wrapping her up in strong, corded arms, pulling her against his chest. He heard her squeak and felt her hands feebly push at him, heard her mumble his name in mock annoyance, demanding he let her go. He ignored the protests and folded her against him, sighing softly as he rested his forehead against her small shoulder.

"No, you're not," he murmured. "You're not fine, Lina."

He could feel the strands of hair against his knuckles, soft and silken, almost tickling his skin.

Maddening.

They were cool, just like silver.

"Stop it," she whispered tearfully.

"I don't want to." His voice didn't even sound like him. It sounded too deep, too needy. Desperate. He tried to breathe, to steady himself. He was holding her against him. He'd never managed that one before, except... except once. Once, in another realm of existence, it seemed like. Maybe it had even been a dream.

No... No, it wasn't a dream. Someone very important had given her back to him, then. He wondered who it had been. Ah, heck. He couldn't remember.

She interrupted his thoughts. "Gourry, please –!" she begged.

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing just beneath her ear, catching a trace of the scent he knew so well, the same scent that intoxicated him all the damned time. Rosewater and musk. His tongue darted out to wet his lips; it brushed the soft spot under her ear before he realized it, the silver tendrils of hair brushing against his forehead and nose.

She tensed, but instead of pushing away (which he had expected – along with a fireball), her fists clenched in his shirt. As though she wished to anchor herself.

"This isn't fair." Her voice trembled. "I can't retaliate!"

"Oh. I forgot." (He hadn't.) "Do you want to retaliate?"

She didn't answer, so he brushed his lips slowly against the same soft spot. The muffled gasp from her throat only made something crawl within the pit of his stomach for more. He held her a little tighter and moved his mouth to her earlobe, gently scraping his teeth and tongue over it to hear that delicious little sound again. Needing to hear it, needing to know he was the one who could make her whimper that way.

She groaned and buried her face against his neck, sliding a little closer in the process. "Gourry, please..."

"Please what?" His mouth traveled up her neck, skimming her pulse, and he was so incredibly thankful that he hadn't lost her. There had been plenty of times he could have. Plenty of times he almost died, too. But they were both here now, for this moment. And she'd let him come this far.

"I'm... I'm scared."

She sounded scared. Startled, he drew back immediately, worried and confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... to scare you."

"I'm not scared of you, idiot." For a brief moment, her expression changed from fear to annoyance, which was a welcome relief. Annoyance, he could handle (he dealt with it all the time, after all). But then it faded, and she looked more like a child then a woman. "I'm scared of... this," she went on quietly. "Of this ruining everything. Why does it have to change?" Her eyes fell to her lap again, and she twisted her fingers together nervously.

Utterly lost, he asked, "Why would it?"

She shook her head and laughed softly, almost hysterically. "I don't know that it would or wouldn't! But I'm scared it would. Does that make any sense?"

"Not really...?"

"I forgot who I'm speaking to," she muttered sarcastically. "But then again, two years ago, I would have lost my temper with you for not understanding. So I suppose that's something." She looked irritated by the realization.

"And now?" he queried, wondering if he should bolt from the room while he had the chance, or stay there and hope he could tangle his fingers in that pretty silver hair.

Might as well stay. He'd been charred and pummelled plenty of times; once more wouldn't be anything new.

"Now..." She took a deep breath, and her eye twitched slightly. "It's... sort of endearing. Ugh."

He felt his lips curve into a smile. "Oh."

Her eyes widened. "Wait! I meant...!"

"You meant what you said, Lina. You don't usually say things you don't mean."

She flushed. "Apparently, fighting Shabranigdo has really drained me," she muttered, looking away from him.

"Blame it on that if you want." He shrugged, cupped her chin and turned her to face him once more, and before she could sputter a response, he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was only a temporary struggle. She tried to pull away and he tried to push forward. For those first moments, it didn't feel like a real kiss, but after the few tense seconds, it changed. She stopped fighting; he stopped reaching. She started crawling up his body to press closer; he started running his fingers into that silver hair to touch her and cup her head. The tresses fell over his hands like silk, soft and cool and tickling just a bit. Their mouths changed angles and it felt as though his insides instantly clenched in pleasure; his blood began to race and he groaned with her, needing to get closer, needing what he'd wanted for so long now.

It was almost too much. He drew back, gasping for breath. If kissing her were so intense, what the hell would the rest of it be? Could he even get that far? But maybe he could, because she was panting, and her eyes wide and glittering, and her small hands still clenched in his tunic, nearly tearing the fabric between her fingers.

"I love you, Lina." The words slipped from his mouth before thought, soft and low and pleading. "I have for a while."

She swallowed, eyes darting away from his, belying that age-old fear. They had been traveling together for four years; they had seen more than most anyone else in the world ever would; they had protected each other even though he was technically supposed to protect her. And yet, she still tried to run from the one thing that scared her the most: falling in love with someone who had started out as a dopey sidekick, following her around and pretending to be her protector.

Her grip slackened on his shirt and, for a moment, he panicked that she would tell him to get out of her room.

But instead of standing up and walking away from him, she inched forward and let her forehead drop to his chest.

He smiled in relief and began to softly stroke her hair with both hands, though his fingers seemed to tremble as he did so. He wrapped it around his knuckles and just felt it, enjoying the fetish way too much. Good thing he hadn't felt this way the first time it had been silver; they'd never have made it even this far without him losing crucial body parts.

"Disconcerting as it is," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt as she slid closer and wrapped her arms slowly around his waist, "I love you, too, I suppose."

"Well then, see? Nothing's ruined! It's just the same as it was, I think. Only... well, maybe a little different." He bent and kissed her pulse, relishing the way it beat harder against his lips when he did.

"G-Gourry! Wait!"

Celphied, her hands were skating up his back to his shoulders. He nudged her chin up with his nose and pressed his mouth to her throat, groaning when she gasped his name aloud again, when her back arched to push her breasts towards him, when her nails dug into the muscle beneath his shirt. He removed his hands from her hair and – kissing her on the mouth again, deep and hard to try and alleviate the ache in his lower body – pulled his tunic from his pants, grabbed her wrists, and pushed her hands beneath the fabric.

The second her fingertips skimmed his ribs, he gritted his teeth.

"Lina...!"

It felt like her name had been ripped from his throat without his knowledge. Her eyes were wide with surprise, as though she'd had no idea she could do this to him. As though she'd no idea what mysterious powers she held within her, just for being a woman. He couldn't imagine that she didn't know it already; she was so powerful as it was...

Her fingers stilled against his stomach, and she whispered, "That's three times now in my life I thought I'd lost you, you know." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll thank you not to scare me like that any more."

"Three times?" he asked, trying to focus on anything but how desperate he was for her.

Her voice was barely audible. "When Hellmaster threatened to kill you. When Kuppi took you away from me," she added, in a voice that sounded as though it could kill just with words. "And when the ghost of Shabranigdo was trying to kill you."

He could hardly remember any of these times even when they weren't intimately involved, so he stopped trying. "Well, you haven't lost me. The question is, do you still want me?"

"Y-Yes," she whispered, her voice faltering slightly.

"As a protector? Or something else? Because..." He took a deep breath, placing his hands over hers to keep them against his body. "I'm tired of being your protector."

"I never really needed a protector," she snapped. "That was your own stupid idea."

The words came out of his mouth without thought, yet he knew them to be true, though he'd never told another soul on earth. "No. But I needed someone to protect. And I don't think anyone else would want me."

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened and shut again, unable to think of a quick answer to this.

He plunged on, embarrassed, "But now... now I need something else, Lina."

The pink blush that traveled up her cheeks and across her nose was adorably cute. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, then slid his mouth down to fuse with hers again.

Moments later, he discovered that he was on his back, and she was on top of him, their kissing growing deeper and more hungry each second. When the heck had that happened? When had they flipped over to lie back on the bed?

Then again, it didn't really matter, he supposed. So he grasped her slender hips in his hands and ground against her, cupping her buttocks to hold her into place. It felt as though someone had shocked him with a bolt of lightening; the skin all the way down his legs seemed to hum with electricity and he'd never felt so hard in his life.

She must have felt his erection as well, because she gasped and squirmed on top of him.

"Lina, don't –!" he blurted out, unable to stand the friction.

She froze, her hips still pressed firmly against his. The sudden lack of movement and sudden increase in pressure helped slightly; he closed his eyes and panted for breath.

"This isn't working," she complained suddenly, sitting up and straddling his hips.

"Huh?" His eyes opened again and he gaped at her, utterly stunned. No, no, no. Don't dare say it's not working!

"This!" She gestured towards him, her cheeks bright pink again, and when he still looked confused, she grew annoyed and began pushing his tunic up his chest. "I'm not an idiot, you know! Take it off," she demanded. "It's in the way."

He recognized the burning lust in her eyes, because it was racing through his blood, too. It was just so amazing to see it in her expression for once. He struggled to pull the tunic off and tossed it somewhere across the room, while she began to fumble with the clasp of his belt and his trousers. There was just something about the whole picture that made him physically ache with sheer need to be inside her. Something about watching Lina Inverse strip him down until he was nude that was erotic and perfect. Transfixed, he reached up and began to unbutton her pajama blouse. He managed a grand total of two buttons before she squeaked and grabbed at his hands to stop him.

"Come on, fair is fair," he argued, pulling at the thin fabric. The blush was actually going down her neck. He wondered if it tasted warm, like her hair had felt cool. If it went all the way to her breasts. Celphied, he hoped so.

After a couple of seconds, in which she breathed heavily and stared at him, her hands relaxed slightly and she allowed him to continue his task. However, when he reached the bottom of the blouse, he didn't push it from her shoulders. Something held him back – perhaps it was the fact that he'd been teasing her about her small chest size since the day they'd met. All he knew was that he wanted to see her breasts last, and so he went lower and pulled the drawstring loose on her bottoms.

She didn't seem to mind that as much as the blouse. Maybe she'd been thinking about her breast size, too. But, whatever the reason, she willingly lifted up to her knees when he worked the fabric down, and helped him get the bottoms over her hips. Plain white knickers came into view and he swallowed hard. He could already see the growing wet spot in their center, and he ran his palms over the flesh of her thighs and groaned in appreciation as she trembled under his touch.

Together they worked his own pants off; her blouse gaped open a few times, giving him peeks of the soft, small swells beneath. Unable to stand it any longer, he flipped them back over and pinned her beneath him before she had a chance to stare at his anatomy.

She twisted under him, still embarrassed.

"Is...something wrong?" he asked, one of his hands snaking beneath the fabric of the pajama top to rest against her flat stomach.

She arched into his palm and whimpered. "Okay, okay, damn it! I'm just...really small! You'll just tease me and then I'll get mad, and –!"

"I won't tease you this time. Actually..." He pushed the top open with the back of his hand. "I'm going to do this."

She arched off the bed as his mouth enveloped one of the dark pink nipples and he suckled greedily, running his tongue over the sensitive tip and around the swell. He heard her gasp his name and felt her hands grip his hair convulsively. He placed kisses down her taut stomach to the hem of her knickers, then begin nudging them down, enjoying the gasping breathes above him. As soon as he was low enough, she shifted to her elbows to struggle out of her pajama top. He slipped back up her body, relishing the way their stomachs brushed and seemed to fit together – her small taut flat one against his ridged one. She grunted and closed her eyes at the sensation, and he couldn't really blame her. It felt so good after years of sexual tension to finally feel their bodies touch.

He pulled the knickers off of her legs and nestled between her thighs, watching her gasp at the new position.

"Oh!"

He shook his head once, determined not to let her get her pull away, but instead she whispered, "It just feels odd, t-that's all."

"It'll feel better in a minute."

A look of dawning recognition came across her features, and she started to ask how he knew it would feel better, but he buried his face in her shoulder and opened her with his fingers, then slid inside firmly.

Dimly, he felt her curve into his body with a cry, felt her fingernails bite painfully into his shoulders. But what he really felt was hard. Sweet Celphied, he felt hard. And heat. He could feel heat surrounding him. Tight, wet heat that seemed to milk him as he pulled back to thrust. Gasping her name and squeezing one of her breasts, he drove into her again. The heat pushed him deeper, wrapped him up and made him feel impossibly hard.

Beneath him, Lina bucked and met his hips firmly, her head tilted back against the mattress while her back arched. Silver hair spread across the mused white sheets and he groaned her name desperately as he began to piston inside of her. Her nails scraped down his chest and his arms, he heard her voice,harderharderharder, and he complied willingly, almost unconsciously, his lips tracing her earlobe and neck, one of his hands fisting into her hair.

He could feel sweat building on his chest, between her pert breasts mashed up against him, between their hips. Aching for release, he hooked one of her legs over his waist and Lina moaned at the new sensation.

"Oh...! G-Gourry...!"

He found her mouth and teased her lips, whimpering her name thickly as though it were a spell that would release him from the wonderful torture he was putting himself through. He could feel her trembling, feel the walls of her slick heat clamping down tighter, quivering as she suddenly came around him with a sharp cry. When he came a few moments afterwards, spilling into her, he could only gasp her name and collapse. He attempted to catch himself on his elbows; he was so much larger than her, he'd surely crush her if he didn't. But she seemed to like it, and when he came back to himself a minute afterwards, he realized she had wrapped her arms and legs around him like an octopus.

He decided not to mention the word – she loathed sea life, after all.

The minutes ticked by in silence broken only by labored breathing, their bodies fused together with heat and sweat now cooling. He finally moaned and rolled off of her onto his back and stared at the ceiling, though unable to really see it. Beside him, she shifted, touched his arm, and placed a hesitant kiss on his bicep.

His eyes snapped back to hers in an instant.

She was smiling – a faint, small, kind smile that didn't fit her usual personality in the least. He wondered if it was a smile just for him, that no one else would ever see.

Softly, she whispered, "That... that was amazing, Gourry. I never thought..."

"Yeah." His face split into a grin. "It was."

Her eyes narrowed a bit. "Cocky."

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her. "I never thought you'd let me."

She blushed, the heat creeping all over her body, making him stare. "Yeah, well. As long as nothing else changes between us..."

"Don't worry." He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. No doubt she was, as well. Between fighting demon lords and making love the first time, they would both probably sleep for hours. "Nothing's changed," he mumbled. "I'm not leaving you."

She snuggled into his side and sleepily answered, "Good. You'd better not, or I'll kill you."

He couldn't help but smile at that.

She probably would.

~FIN~