I am truly pleased with the reactions this fic is getting! Wesley's definitely a supporting character and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I'm so sad we didn't see him in Season 2. Thank you to all who left such thoughtful reviews, they are very much appreciated. This chapter is shorter, but definitely more fun. ;0)

Chapter 5

Release

There was a part of Hannah, a very small part, that was still decrying her lack of judgement. But it call was clouded, drowned out by a more fervent need; one she hadn't bothered to listen to for some time. She felt dizzy and could hardly recall the trip across the street. Wesley guided Hannah through the lobby and into the center elevator. Her heels, though short, clacked loudly against the marble floors. It was a simple thing, but the sound of them always made her feel incredibly glamorous since she rarely had the chance to wear them.

Ever the gentleman, he allowed her to step in first. Consistently, Hannah was surprised by such gestures. The kind that most men, or at the least most of the men she knew, would call old fashioned. She felt his hand deftly press against the small of her back. She looked at him then, her stomach going weak. His eyes were blazing. She had half a mind to kiss him again, right then and there. But before the doors could shut, a small crowd shimmied their way inside. The pair found themselves pressed towards the mirrored wall of the car, Hannah's back only an inch away from Wesley's chest.

Wesley glowered. He had made it a priority to know each and every tenant that lived around him. He easily recognized them all and noted almost instantly that they each occupied a different floor.

Shelley & Michael Cho were realtors that had only recently moved into the corner apartment on the 4th floor. Jane Radcliff, a well known divorce attorney, lived with her teenage son on Floor 9.

Leon Daniels, a sports agent and notorious cad lived on the 16th floor. And finally Eleanor Turner. Long ago widowed, she lived alone on the floor just below him, number 27.

Four stops. Four creeping, crawling stops before they would reach his level. Four stops that would slowly eat away at the thoughtless adrenaline that was driving them to arguable foolish acts. He didn't want to lose even a second of that heat, that drive.

He looked down at Hannah. The sequins scattered over the shoulders of her dress were glinting in the light and reflections surrounding them. Though most would consider the dress demure, he found it a pleasing choice on her part. Something to unwrap slowly, revealing its treasure only to those worthy. He shut his eyes. The elevator had started moving, but it's aching slowness left those riding it sometimes wondering if they were traveling up or down. He was aching to touch her. Had he even a shred of an exhibitionist in his veins he would be tempted to take her right there. It would be a shock yes, and ultimately lead to nothing good. But...nothing in life was so black and white. A rakish smile slid over his face.

He reached up and snagged the zipper at the back of her neck between his thumb and index finger. Slowly he began to pull it down, down, down. Three inches of her skin were exposed before she realized what was happening. He felt her tense. She cocked her head to the side, flashing him a look of astonishment and confusion.

And then the corner of her lip turned up and her brown eyes sparked lasciviously. Without a word, she turned her head away.

Hannah bit down on her lip, trying to contain her own growing smile. Is he serious?

A shiver slithered up her spine as he continued to pull the zipper down and a cool rush of air slid like silk across her spine. Her lips parted and she emitted a slow, nearly silent sigh meant only for him.

Once he had reached the end at the small of her back he released the zipper and slipped his hand into her dress. His skin was warm against hers.

God. She thought. His hands are even bigger than they look.

His hand melded with the curve of her waist, flattened against her bare skin and pulled her closer to him. Hannah's stomach lurched at the unexpected touch. The elevator slowed to a stop. And he wrenched his hand away as the couple at the front exited the car.

Fourth floor.

Hannah's shoulders sagged, thinking the fun was over. But as soon as the elevator started up again, she felt his knuckles tumble over the knots in her spine. Slowly, they moved upwards, rolling delicately over each vertebra.

She shivered again, this time so forcefully she almost lost her balance. He caught her side with his other hand, this one falling over the fabric of her dress. Hannah arched her back against him; she could feel the sturdy cloth of his suit jacket against her back.

Ninth Floor.

When the doors slid shut again, she leaned into him. His hand slipped back into her dress and around her front, holding her close. She could feel his breath against her neck. Hannah's eyes rolled shut. She pressed her lips together tightly to suppress a languid sigh and tilted her head to the side, better exposing her neck and pleadingly silently for him to move in closer.

Sixteenth Floor.

Now they were alone in the car with the elderly Mrs. Turner. He moved his lips up to the crook of her neck. It was all Hannah could do not to gasp loudly. His fingers raked across her stomach, threatening to move lower and lower. Hannah felt the knots in her stomach go lax, if his hand moved any lower he was certain to feel how wet she was, how ready.

If she turns around. Or even looks to the side... Hannah thought, her eyes boring into the woman's back. The mirrors that covered nearly half of the walls surrounding them were sure to give them away. All it would take was one passing glance or whisper of sound. She was surprised to find that she didn't feel embarrassed. If anything the idea of being caught only heightened her excitement.

She leaned her head back so it rested against his shoulder, angling her neck to better his access further. His mouth was hot against her skin, warming her from the outside in. The smallest of groans rumbled in her throat. She reached her hand up and tangled it in his hair, holding him in place. She felt Wesley breathe a laugh against her neck. His hand caught her wrist and firmly pulled it away.

It was faint, but Hannah swore she heard him whisper, "Not yet."

She nearly stamped her foot in frustration. She didn't want to wait. She wanted him now.

This goddamn elevator. She thought, her skin blushing with heat. Is it even moving at all?!

Finally, they reached the 27th floor.

She couldn't wait for the doors to close. As soon as the older woman stepped off the car, Hannah spun around and wrapped her arms around Wesley's neck. The doors fell shut just as their lips met. He in turn guided her back against the mirrored wall and pressed up against her.

God yes, Hannah thought, as he deepened the kiss. She lifted her free hand and fumbled with the knot in his tie; eliciting from Wesley another vain chuckle.

But the infernal elevator slowed again. Thankfully, this time, they were meant to get off.

When the doors opened again, he pulled her up into his arms hitching her legs around him. He barely registered what he was doing, but somehow he managed to get his door open and shut again in a matter of seconds.

Deep fragrant notes of the Bornello still lingered on her tongue, the taste of it only made better when mixed with her own. They fumbled through the dark of his apartment, Hannah allowing him to guide passed furniture and doorways until they reached his bedroom. A wall of glass framed a bustling city, lights of all colors glowed and flickered like embers in the city scape below.

He set her down and took her hand, twirling her. She faced the window now and could see the ghost of her reflection against the glass.

"You're beautiful, Hannah." He growled against her neck. She responded with a low, loud sigh; no longer able to hide it. That voice. She thought, heat crackling between them. I could listen to him all night long.

He grabbed the fabric at her shoulder and pulled it down. Hannah slipped her arm from the sleeve and shivered as he pushed it down past her hip. He repeated the process on her right side and soon the garment was nothing more than a crisp inky puddle at her feet. Hannah finally freed the loop of his tie and she thanked lady luck that she had chosen a matching set of underwear for once in her life.

Once she had slid the tie from around his neck, she moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped her; wrapping his fingers around her wrists and pulling them together.

She looked up at him questioningly, but he didn't saying anything. He guided her down onto bed, straddling her waist and leaving her breathless.

"I-" She started.

He pressed his mouth over her lips, silencing her. His free hand slid lower and lower...only to pull away and move up to her breasts. Hannah groaned and his knee came up between her legs, pressing against her.

"Impatient, are we?" He drawled before returning his lips to her neck. Hannah only squirmed underneath him and ground her hips in response.

"Tell me what you want." He said.

Hannah flushed. She knew what she wanted, but saying the words out loud seemed almost absurd. He speaks eight languages after all.

She whined as he pulled her knee away; missing the pressure the moment it was gone.

"Say it." He growled, keeping a tight grasp on her wrists. "I want you to."

"I want you to fuck me," She gasped. "Hard."

It was the truth, she didn't want to be made love to or teased. She wanted to feel the overwhelming sensation of a climax; pain, ecstasy and all. To banish all of the emptiness and sadness and just feel something deep down in her marrow.

He smiled wide, his teeth ghosting against her jaw. He gripped the last, flimsy piece of fabric at her waist and pulled it down her legs. He hand clutched at her ankle pulling it to the side. Hannah inhaled deeply, readying herself.

"Very well." He whispered, before slipping two fingers inside her. Hannah bucked against him, moaning as he plunged them deeper and deeper. He released her wrists, but she was too caught up in the sensation to do anything with them. As his left hand traveled down to meet his other, it rolled over her breasts awakening a blissful warmth in her chest.

Hannah shut her eyes tightly, giving way to a different darkness. A welcomed darkness.

His hands gripped her waist and lifted her with surprising ease. And then, with merciful swiftness, he was inside her. Buried to the hilt. She moaned loudly and reached out for him.

Fuck. Her head was alight with fireworks, they flashed in her eyes to a dizzying effect.

Their eyes met for the first time since they exited the elevator. All apprehension and doubt had fallen away. A sharp grin slid onto Hannah's face.

"Well," She said, breathlessly. "Get on with it."

Wesley chuckled, pulling out of her slowly.

That goddamned laugh. Hannah thought, maddeningly. It grated her nerves while still somehow leaving her hot and anxious to hear it again.

"So eager." He purred, dipping down to suck on her neck again. "And so rude."

Hanna fidgeted, the absence of him inside her tearing at her patience.

He nibbled the sensitive skin just under her ear. "Perhaps you need a lesson in manners. I'm quite content to go...slowly."

Hannah moaned, her eyes widening. To hell with slowly. She had had nothing but slowly and awkward and downright shitty for far too long. She wrapped her arms around him and clawed at his back.

"Please," She breathed, arching her back to him. "Oh please."

She could feel his triumphant smile against her skin.

"Good girl." He whispered, sliding inside her once more.

His lips returned to her, swallowing up her satisfied cry. With each thrust his pace quickened. Hannah buried her hands in his hair. She could hear his whispers in her ear, praising her, coaxing her on. Yes, she thought, banishing every last horrid thought from her head.

"Harder." She begged. "Faster."

Wesley gladly complied. The fire inside her grew hotter and hotter. Until finally, together, they reached a glorious, shattering release. Gasping, Hannah held tightly to him as he shuddered against her. The lavish fabric of his shirt was soft enough to be skin and she could feel the heat of his own body through its thin layer. He lowered her back down to bed and pulled out of her.

Hannah rolled onto her side, entirely spent. She gazed out onto the city, the night sky was now a lush black blue. Cloudless and clear. Her head and heart felt lighter than air.

Wesley's arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her tightly to him. She felt his lips pressing gently against her bare shoulder. Once, twice, then three times.

Not a word was spoken - what was there left to say? - and they drifted off to sleep.

I can always write these scenes very quickly in my head, then when I write I write them out I feel a bit silly and lament over whether they're any good. Hopefully they are! Thanks for reading as always. I would really appreciate feedback! Until next time...