I caved in and relented, so...here is another chapter. A nice smut filled one for your reading pleasure.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all. I have no right to any of this.

Warning: This chapter contains adult situations

Chapter 2: Indulging in a fetish.

"Silk," purred V as his bare hand slid down the side of the gown. He had not dared to touch the silk with the wet gloves. They would have only soiled or marred the rich cool fabric. The doublet had to go. It and the shirt beneath were both sodden, dripping on the floor as he backed Evey against the refrigerator. They had to go and they had to go quickly to get the full sensation of the silk against flesh, his flesh.

Pressing his bare chest against her, V growled as he pinned her in place. Smooth cool silk. Smooth cool silk against me. Against her. Silk and Evey, both pressing against me.

His hands slid down till they came to rest on her hips, his fingertips moving in slow, languid circles, savoring the shape of her body and the softness of the fabric. Must smell it. Yes, yes, must smell the silk, must smell her. The silk must be smelt as well as touched. The spot. The right spot. Where is the right spot?

Evey moaned quietly as the lips of the mask skimmed her shoulder and the warm, muscular body pressed harder into hers. He took off his shirt. One moment it was there, the next it is a heap on the floor. Her arms wrapped around his waist, allowing her nails to glide over the rough contours of his lower back. So warm. So very, very warm.

The lips of the mask ran slowly up the side of her neck before tracing the line of her jaw. No, no. Not the right place. Must find the spot. The silk. So smooth. So soft. Must touch, must smell the silk. His head dipped, tracing the lips of the mask to her breast. Yes, yes, the valley. The valley between her breasts.

Evey gasped loudly as a hand left her hip, leisurely gliding up her side, searching for her breast. "V," she husked into the velvetiness of his wig. "The table." Running her hands up his back, she found the blades of his shoulders tracing them, discovering each line, each scar and contour to be found there. So warm, so very warm. I could die here in his arms.

A hand wrapped around her breast, cupping it as if it were the most exquisite object ever to be found. So fine. So perfect. Look at the way the nipple raises, pushing out the silk. The lips of the mask passed over the firm mound, teasing it with its touch. Look how it moves when she gasps. How the silk pulls and tightens as her nipples grow harder.

His other hand began to move, floating up her back, fingers entwining in her hair. So smooth. So soft. Which is better the fine softness of her hair or how her breast swells at your touch? The lips of the mask shifted, traveling till it came between the two perky mounds. Oh the smell. The smell of her and of the silk. Catching his breath, V let the mask linger, indulging in the scent enticing him. My Evey. Mine and no one elses.

"V" croaked Evey, barely able to stand on weak knees. Her fingers were in the wig, clawing at the back of his head as his body began to move against hers. "V, the bed. The table."

"Silk," he husked aloud, as a finger pulled at the strap of the gown, shifting it till it sunk down far enough to release her breast. There was an audible explanation of appreciation as cool air struck the already rigid tit, hardening it more. "Better." Yes, yes, yes, better than the silk. Her skin. Her skin is better than the silk. The way it smells, the way it feels. Better than the silk. Must touch. Must touch the silkiness of her skin. Must, must, must touch.

"V!" cried Evey loudly, digging her fingers into his arms as his knee pushed her legs apart letting him press his pelvis into hers. So hard. God, he is hard. Oh yes, press into me there. Yes, there. Press again. Again, V, again. Move, damn you. Grind, yes grind into me. Like that, keep moving. Please keep moving.

"Evey." It was a whisper, caught on the air. "Oh, Evey."

Your hands. Keep moving your hands. Don't stop the grinding! Yes, yes, like that. Move both together. Ooooh, the mask. Do that again. The cool lips of the mask. "V!"

Her eyes were almost rolling into the back of her head as hot wetness dripped from between her legs with every push he made against her.

The silk must move against silk. Yes, there must be silk against silk. There must be silk against her flesh. Her hands. Has her hands found the silk? Lifting his head, he skimmed her throat before finding her ear, nuzzling the mask into her hair and inhaling deeply. "Boxers. Silk. Silk against silk." It was a virtually incoherent utterance.

"Move V, move."

"Must move, silk against silk."

His hips were moving of their own accord. Up and down, pressing and then pulling back, moving constantly against her. With every move, with every press, his erection grew stronger, more demanding.

Buttons. Where are the damn buttons. Must get it out. Must be in me. She found the fastenings, her fingers trembling as she attempted to work them. He's so large. So large and hard, very, very hard. Must have it. Must have him. Move V, move. Keep moving. Fastenings. Pull the damn buttons…oh God, silk. He has silk boxers.

V smiled as his hands ran down her back, cupping the cheeks of her arse and pulling her closer to him. Push. Yes, yes, push up. Guack. Hold her closer. Push up again. That's right old man, push yourself out. Slide yourself out of the silk and into her. He was only vaguely aware of Evey's strangled cries of pleading and her trembling in his arms. She doesn't have on knickers. No, no, no. Its just the silk. Silk against silk. Silk moving against silk, moving against flesh. Her flesh, my flesh. That's right, out of your silk, into hers.

The gown was gathered between them, curled in bunches at her stomach. His hand slid down her thigh, gripping it, lifting it to a better position as he pushed himself from his black, smooth boxers.

Up, down, up and…oh yes, down and…once more and you're in me. "V! Yes, V!" Her hands arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. "Harder V. Make it harder."

SILK. So warm. So wet. Moving. Yes, must keep moving. Must keep touching. In the silk. Silk surrounding me. She's the silk. Yes, yes, she's the silk.

The thump of the refrigerator striking the wall was a dull thug compared to the cries of Evey's pleasure. "Harder. God, yes V, harder. faster."

So wet. So warm. Silk against silk, Flesh against flesh. Too much. Too much. Can't last. Harder. Getting harder. Can't last.. Throwing back his head, V gave a cry as he felt himself swell and then release, sending long, warm spurts of seed into his obsession.

For a moment neither moved, but remained clinging to the other, panting with release.

"V" whispered Evey, her head on his shoulder. "Are you going to pull out? Are you finished?"

With a sly smile he buried the mask against her. "Not yet. It wants more. It is waiting. It must be touched some more."